Граф Орлов
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"Wow. Well, not a wolf."
By intuition – and how Marei hated this concept, the lover of rationalization and cold logic. He remembered that stuffy night at the beginning of summer, more than a year ago, and the greedy tongues of flame. Yes, it was probably by intuition... The Sorcerer smiled.
A rational approach didn't work; his practical and sober mind was hindering him this time, limiting him. The potential of the spirit was beating in the cage of reason.
"And just a few months ago, would such ideas have occurred to me?"
Marei suppressed an extraneous thought; his mind had to be clear. In turn, he perfectly remembered how magic was defined in textbooks – as a continuation of the mind and will of the spellcaster, its material embodiment.
"I'll unwind my mind like a lasso."
Marei began to "spin." What is a demon, in his understanding? Something elemental... before his eyes, fire danced and whirlwinds swirled... Mystical... The fire transformed into a candle flame, and a gust of wind opened a window in the hall of Reisen Reim's palace – Marei had never seen it in reality, but he knew for sure that it was him; his appearance changed to the dead landscapes of Laithia during the time of the Schism... Mighty... Purple flames engulfed the earth, and a winged colossus rose from the fire... Beautiful...
Shogo probably thought that his classmate was going crazy: all of Marei's muscles tensed, his teeth clenched tightly and bared in a狂笑, his unblinking eyes fixed on the space in front of him. And in the Sorcerer's mind, wild fantasies continued to dance: icy flames devoured the sea, and people rose from their graves, and winged figures obscured the sun, and stars fell on the gray ash of the scorched desert, and in the general chaos, not limited by the concepts of time and space, the emperors of Arkhon and Reisen, palace spires and lights in the night sky, the scabbard of "Priscilla" on Rinze Reim's belt, the tattoo on his palm, and for some reason, Naru's face, flickered. Marei released the rope. The exact form, the image of the summoned one – all these trifles came together, tightened into a loop in hundredths of a second, already at the moment of creating the spell. By intuition.
By intuition – and how Marei hated this concept, the lover of rationalization and cold logic. He remembered that stuffy night at the beginning of summer, more than a year ago, and the greedy tongues of flame. Yes, it was probably by intuition... The Sorcerer smiled.
A rational approach didn't work; his practical and sober mind was hindering him this time, limiting him. The potential of the spirit was beating in the cage of reason.
"And just a few months ago, would such ideas have occurred to me?"
Marei suppressed an extraneous thought; his mind had to be clear. In turn, he perfectly remembered how magic was defined in textbooks – as a continuation of the mind and will of the spellcaster, its material embodiment.
"I'll unwind my mind like a lasso."
Marei began to "spin." What is a demon, in his understanding? Something elemental... before his eyes, fire danced and whirlwinds swirled... Mystical... The fire transformed into a candle flame, and a gust of wind opened a window in the hall of Reisen Reim's palace – Marei had never seen it in reality, but he knew for sure that it was him; his appearance changed to the dead landscapes of Laithia during the time of the Schism... Mighty... Purple flames engulfed the earth, and a winged colossus rose from the fire... Beautiful...
Shogo probably thought that his classmate was going crazy: all of Marei's muscles tensed, his teeth clenched tightly and bared in a狂笑, his unblinking eyes fixed on the space in front of him. And in the Sorcerer's mind, wild fantasies continued to dance: icy flames devoured the sea, and people rose from their graves, and winged figures obscured the sun, and stars fell on the gray ash of the scorched desert, and in the general chaos, not limited by the concepts of time and space, the emperors of Arkhon and Reisen, palace spires and lights in the night sky, the scabbard of "Priscilla" on Rinze Reim's belt, the tattoo on his palm, and for some reason, Naru's face, flickered. Marei released the rope. The exact form, the image of the summoned one – all these trifles came together, tightened into a loop in hundredths of a second, already at the moment of creating the spell. By intuition.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers