Chapter Twenty-One: Transcribing Spells

But when Zhao Xu actually began studying those subjects in earnest, he realized he had underestimated the difficulty. Among so many mage players in the game, the fastest record for graduating after the server opened was seven days—there was a reason for that. It was like asking a middle schooler to self-study advanced mathematics—not impossible, but certainly challenging.

The content covered in high school wasn’t much compared to university, yet it was studied repeatedly over three years. The goal was that, when faced with all manner of transformed exam questions during college entrance exams, students would respond intuitively. There wasn’t enough time in the exam to ponder deeply, so everyone advocated for a “sea of questions” approach, exchanging experience for compressed thinking time.

Spellcasting was much the same. Those models and various spellcasting gestures needed to become instinctive. After several days of study, Zhao Xu understood that much of the work in casting spells was actually completed during the hour each day spent preparing them. Casting a spell was more like driving a car—the spell itself, the vehicle, had already been assembled and set aside. But the process still demanded effort and focus.

A mage couldn't wait until the last moment to flip through a book and check how to recite an incantation—doing so would be laughable to any opponent. Yet even looking at the syllables of those spells gave Zhao Xu a headache.

Nevertheless, his progress wasn’t entirely stalled. According to Antinoya’s schedule, this phase was meant to be reinforced over several rounds. By the fifth day, Zhao Xu had finished reviewing the two volumes on spell models and incantations, and began to approach the zero-level spells.

"Our mage spellbooks are all written in arcane script. It's a universal system, but each mage personalizes it. So if you’re handed a spellbook, you must make a ‘Spellcraft’ check to decipher it before you can read it in its true form," Antinoya explained.

In other words, spellbooks were encrypted. You needed a key to translate them. Spellcraft was one of Arthur’s character skills, like Investigation or Insight, requiring practice and improvement.

Zhao Xu hadn't yet reached the advanced Spellcraft lessons, so he wasn’t concerned for now.

“You’re able to read these spells because this ‘Compendium of Cantrips’ is specially designed for it. Or, when the owner of a spellbook allows you to read it, you don’t need to make a Spellcraft check,” Antinoya continued. “Through the zero-level spell ‘Read Magic,’ we mages can also read any spellbook without traps or special protections.”

Zhao Xu nodded; in short, “Read Magic” was a universal key.

So, it wasn’t that arcane script was encrypted on purpose, but rather its complexity naturally kept outsiders at bay. Thus, mages developed a spell to break that barrier—for themselves, not for outsiders.

“But remember, the spellbook is the foundation for every mage. Apart from ‘Read Magic,’ which can be prepared without a spellbook, all other spells require you to have a transcribed spell in your book in order to prepare and cast it,” Antinoya emphasized, speaking slowly and seriously.

Zhao Xu had heard tales of mages going bankrupt from copying spells. Curious, he asked, “Instructor, is there a cost to transcribing spells?”

Antinoya handed him a book. When Zhao Xu opened it, he found that every page was blank, though the sturdy parchment made it feel thick—about a hundred pages, he estimated.

He looked at Antinoya, puzzled.

“When you spend a whole day studying a spell, you can then transcribe it into your own spellbook. The number of pages matches the spell’s level—a zero-level spell still takes one page,” she explained.

Zhao Xu frowned. Spending a day studying each spell was one thing, but with only a hundred pages, he could only transcribe eleven ninth-level spells. These books really weren’t capacious; he’d have to carry several with him.

“Moreover, the cost is 100 gold pieces per page. But for new mages, the association covers the cost for all your zero-level spells and three first-level spells, so you needn’t worry about those,” Antinoya assured him.

Zhao Xu had heard the prices were steep, but he hadn’t imagined they’d be so outrageous.

“Instructor, who does this money go to?”

“No one. It’s simply the cost of materials. The spellbook, a dedicated quill, special ink, and incense to prepare the environment—on average, filling a hundred-page spellbook costs about 10,000 gold pieces. So, we accept 100 gold per page as standard,” she replied. “Without these expenditures, how could the spells you transcribe gain the necessary resonance to be cast?”

Hearing this, Zhao Xu could only lament the poverty and hardship of mages. No wonder no one in his past life considered mass-printing spellbooks—the costs were prohibitive. Only those with deep pockets could sustain such expenses.

“If you’re copying spells from your own memory or from scrolls, this is the process. If you copy directly from another’s spellbook, the time and cost are halved—only 50 gold pieces per page, since you can reference their work. This is what experience has shown us,” she continued.

Zhao Xu perked up at this. But he could just imagine Antinoya, beneath her cloak, smiling slyly at his reaction, waiting to see him stumble.

Even watching a web series required a paid membership. These were a mage’s tools of the trade—if someone lent you their book, even halving the time, it meant they couldn’t prepare spells from that book during that period.

Copying one’s own spellbook also cost 50 gold a page; no one would bother unless absolutely necessary.

Antinoya didn’t keep him in suspense; she explained, “Currently, the borrowing fee for a spellbook is 50 gold per spell level. Some rare spells require an extra fee or aren’t available at all.”

Zhao Xu nodded. The borrowing fee matched the savings from copying, so learning spells from borrowed books cost 100 gold per spell level.

“So now, you must choose between two paths,” Antinoya said.

“The first path is this book.” As she spoke, she produced from nowhere a book with an iron cover, silver-edged and locked, about thirty by fifteen centimeters, and fifteen centimeters thick. It floated into his hands.

“This is the Goddess’s Book of Blessings—a wondrous item. Because it’s imbued with spiritual resonance, you don’t have to pay the transcription material costs. It holds a thousand pages and sells for twelve thousand five hundred gold pieces, though it’s hard to find—every mage wants one.”

Looking at its unremarkable cover, Zhao Xu hadn’t expected such a divine artifact could reduce his transcription costs to a tenth. With this, the average cost per page dropped to 12.5 gold—far more affordable than the usual 100 or even 50 gold per page when borrowing.

As for its rarity, that was a problem for outsiders. Having finally joined a powerful organization, Zhao Xu had access to internal channels—an advantage, a privilege, really.

But he didn’t get too excited, because Antinoya had mentioned two paths.

“The other path is to activate the ‘Mindful Caster’ feat,” she said. “From then on, all your spells would be transcribed in your mind, and you’d no longer need a spellbook.”

At this, Zhao Xu’s heart pounded. He had finally set foot on the path of the mage, and the powerful specialization of this organization was now within his reach.