The Summit and Foothills of Magical Technology

Hospitals. I hate them.

Doctors ask questions as part of their examinations, like, "Where does it hurt?" Just being asked that makes me feel worse.

Yet when life and death are at stake, I can't insist on having things my way. After holing up at home and devouring eighty years' worth of papers obtained from Magic University, I finally went to Tokyo Magic Hospital to receive a vaccination against Shadow Loss Disease after Hiyori repeatedly urged me to go.

Shadow Loss Disease, also known as Shade Syndrome, is an infectious disease that raged across the world thirty years ago.

The disease is transmitted through contact via human shadows. Europe is said to be its Ground Zero, but the truth is uncertain. The European bloc claims that it was brought in by travelers from Asia, though.

In any event, Shadow Loss Disease claimed a great many lives at the time. It wasn't as bad as the Mushroom Pandemic, but it was dangerous enough to bring cities under lockdown and prompt declarations of a state of emergency.

After infection, Shadow Loss Disease has an incubation period of about ten days. When it manifests, the infected person's shadow begins moving of its own will, siphoning mana from its owner and growing.

It causes no particular physical discomfort, but throughout the illness, the victim's maximum mana is gradually whittled away, leading to symptoms such as reduced mana recovery speed, runaway effects when using incantation magic, and magical hypersensitivity.

If an infected person's mana capacity is below 3.0K, they will almost certainly suffer magical death due to the reduction in maximum mana, turn to dust, and disappear.

Anyone capable of mana control can easily drive the pathogen hidden inside their shadow out and cure themselves. Even someone without mana control can endure until Shadow Loss Disease reaches its terminal stage and the shadow splits apart and escapes, provided they have 5K of mana.

Anyone who manages to endure it develops immunity and will never be infected again, while the lost mana can be restored through mana training.

However, during a localized resurgence in the United States just five years ago, someone with a mana capacity of 3.1K suffered magical death. The pathogen in the second outbreak had become more vicious than in the first.

My mana capacity is 6.6K, so I would be fine even if I contracted Shadow Loss Disease.

But if a third outbreak occurred and the disease had grown even more vicious, I couldn't say for certain that I would be safe. If it became virulent enough to strip away all 6.6K, I would suffer magical death and reach absolute death, beyond the reach of resurrection magic.

That's why vaccinations are necessary.

The days when Shadow Loss Disease had a high mortality rate are long past.

These days, hospitals around the world store a weakened strain called the "weakened shade," which can be used for vaccinations. Infection with the weakened shade reduces one's maximum mana by 0.5K, but after making a full recovery, the patient develops immunity and can never contract Shadow Loss Disease again.

After receiving the Shadow Loss Disease vaccination at the hospital, I was ordered to rest for seven days and seven nights.

Since I was told it would be best not to use magic or go outside, I obediently stayed shut in at home. The weakened form of the disease had mild symptoms; the shadow I created merely swayed weakly back and forth instead of frolicking energetically like the original strain's shadows.

I used the idle time during my recovery to upgrade Cuanos.

This upgrade was a hybrid system incorporating the Yamagami style into the Demon Lord-style incantationless mechanism.

The mana input I had previously performed entirely by hand should now be possible semi-automatically. I can't even conceive of a theory for full automation yet.

The Yamagami style operated on principles different from those of the Demon Lord-style Geometric Assembly Gremlin.

Although the materials were similar, most of the mechanisms used in the Yamagami style did not exist in the Demon King Gremlin's structure.

I suspected this was because the Yamagami style had been inspired by electrical appliances from the previous age, the Lost Technology.

It seemed likely that magical civilization had never possessed electrical technology, or that such technology had remained primitive even if it had existed.

Humanity on Earth lost electricity in the Gremlin Disaster. Magical civilization, on the other hand, had even developed pebble magic on the assumption that Gremlins would be used, so it must have been a civilization founded on their existence.

Therefore, it seemed more reasonable to conclude that magical civilization had never transitioned from an electrical civilization to a magical one; it had simply never experienced an electrical civilization at all.

One piece of evidence was that magical civilization had no lightning magic.

There were spells that came close, but they were merely "magic that produces something like lightning," not actual lightning. The magical language contained no words for "lightning" or "electricity," either.

That was why the Yamagami-style Geometric Assembly Gremlin, modeled after electrical appliances, had a different character from the Demon Lord-style Geometric Assembly Gremlin.

They belonged to the same genre, but were separate fields.

The Yamagami style's weakness was the large overall structure resulting from immature fabrication technology, but with my dexterity, I could make it unbelievably compact.

I disassembled the old incantationless mechanism from the Cuanos I'd been entrusted with, then tightly fitted a hybrid Demon Lord-style and Yamagami-style Geometric Assembly Gremlin into the empty space within its seven-layer structure.

Thanks to the fact that High-Strength Gremlins and Ghost Gremlins could now be manufactured, I had enough materials.

Improving the quality of the Melt-and-Resolidification Gremlin had raised its basic efficiency.

I also newly manufactured and installed a regular dodecahedral fractal, which had become an OOPArt.

As a down payment on the technology fee, I sent Yamagami-san five regular dodecahedral fractals, apparently among the more sought-after items in my Lost Technology. I hoped to get along with him from now on. Through correspondence, that is.

Thus, the latest 2111 model of Cuanos was complete—a marriage between magical civilization and electrical civilization.

Yamagami style? Eighty years of progress? Cute. Very cute.

Even after eighty years, my dexterity remained one of a kind. I gratefully absorbed all eighty years of technological progress and went beyond it.

By fusing the Demon Lord-style theory and Yamagami-style theory that Iruma, the scumbag who had traded his goodness for intelligence, had manipulated me into deriving, Cuanos's Geometric Assembly Gremlin performance evolved from "I can perform the four basic operations with numbers up to two digits!" to the level of "I can perform simple differentiation and integration!"

That was a super-evolution from a third-grader to a second-year high school student.

The gold and silver magic Octameteorite used was far beyond what this Cuanos's mechanism could handle. However, it should be able to use magic roughly five or six levels below that.

There was a chance it could use the Silver Fist or Golden Tentacles, the inferior byproducts created while Iruma was trying to imitate Octameteorite's magic.

I had managed to claw my way up to a level of technology where I could actually glimpse the full scope of the inhumanly advanced Demon King Gremlin and the staggering height of its summit. That was huge.

If things continued to progress at this rate, I might be able to completely analyze the Demon King Gremlin in another hundred to a hundred and fifty years.

I enchanted the 2111 model of Cuanos with my feelings, returned it to Hiyori, and prayed to the fragment of Octameteorite enshrined on the altar.

O gods, O Buddha, O Octameteorite-sama. Not only did you risk yourself to beat that vile, tyrannical mage to a pulp, you also showed us an example of ultra-advanced magic—according to Iruma. Thank you.

This unworthy Dali Kenshi will continue to devote himself to his studies. Please continue to watch over me...

"Hey, Dali. The number of mana infusion ports has increased tenfold. I don't know how to use it."

While I was praying, Hiyori stared at the new Cuanos and asked me in utter bewilderment, so I interrupted my worship and explained it to her.

Even so, I couldn't give her very concrete advice. In the end, she would just have to learn by using it.

"In practice, I think the fastest way is to use it and learn. But if I'm going to lecture you... The default circuit arrangement is set to that, uh, that simplest black beam you had, remember? Pour mana into the infusion port at the very front, and it will activate."

"I understand that much. But how am I supposed to use the other nine mana infusion ports? This makes no sense."

"You know how calculators have the numbers zero through nine and the symbols for addition (+), subtraction (−), multiplication (×), and division (÷)? The one on the very surface is the equals sign (=), which produces the answer and outputs the spell. The seven infusion ports in the middle layer of Cuanos's multilayered structure are... What do you call it? That thing that inputs the elements of a spell. They're equivalent to the calculator's numbers from zero to nine. Do you understand?"

"........................................................ I... get it. A mechanism that accepts simultaneous parallel input through mana control and retains it...?"

"Yes! Exactly! That's it!"

Hiyori frowned and stared at Cuanos's core, struggling to think with a serious expression, but the answer she hesitantly gave was worth a perfect score.

So mana control really did let you understand things like this just by looking at them. Iruma's theory had been correct. Much as I hated to admit it.

"If I hadn't thoroughly used the previous version of Cuanos, I wouldn't understand any of this. I've spent all this time using nothing but the four basic operations, and now it feels like I've suddenly been forced to do high school mathematics."

"You understand it perfectly? That's right. Continuing on, the remaining two infusion ports..."

I explained the design philosophy and operating principles to Hiyori with painstaking care, but our ways of thinking were simply too different.

If I had mana control, I could have given her an explanation that was easier for someone using it to understand.

But I was from the technical side, while Hiyori was from the field side. We shared a certain amount of common knowledge, but giving an explanation that clicked perfectly was difficult, especially for a mechanism as complex as this version of Cuanos.

We put our heads together and somehow managed to explain how to use the new Cuanos while aligning our understanding.

"...So once you've finished the manual input, input the equals sign, and the magic will be assembled and activated automatically. Easy, right?"

"What's easy about it?! My head is starting to hurt just from the operating instructions!"

"No, no, you're good at mana control. You'll get the hang of it once you get used to it."

"Oh, and you know that mana-powered communications device? In principle, this can interfere with its communications. It might even be able to intercept them."

When I introduced her to one of the new Cuanos's functions, Hiyori recoiled.

"Y-You added a hacking function?! That's not okay!"

"No, no, I only mean it's capable of it! It probably can do something like that, that's all! It's the same as how you could kill me ten thousand times over, but don't, right? If I don't do it, it's fine."

"Dali, watch your language. Don't use such a bad example. But... hmm... you really are outside the norm, Dali. Could a single paper really transform something this much?"

"No, that's..."

I started to say, "It's thanks to my joint research with Iruma," but I abruptly changed course to avoid putting Hiyori in a bad mood.

"Uh, that was thanks to Octameteorite."

"The magic stone's...? I heard from the Spider Witch that Iruma had been fiddling with something."

"Octameteorite somehow used some insanely advanced magic all on its own and beat the crap out of Iruma. It did serve as a model for me. But then Iruma shouted something like, 'Yurauto Kunas?' and destroyed it."

"Did someone amplify advanced magic with Octameteorite and use it to resist Iruma?"

"No one else was there... I think?"

From my perspective, Iruma had suddenly started suffering after entering the workshop.

Then Octameteorite abruptly emitted beautiful golden waves that wrecked the workshop along with Iruma. Iruma's incantations were sealed, and then some sort of silver knockout-wave magic turned him into a newborn fawn.

And finally, he shouted, "Yurauto Kunas!" and destroyed Octameteorite.

Thinking back on it, the whole thing was pretty incomprehensible.

But I did know that Octameteorite had beaten up an evil mage for me. It really was the guardian deity of my workshop. Thank you, thank you.

I once again prayed, feeling sorry for the pitiful state of Octameteorite-sama, but Hiyori spoke thoughtfully.

"I don't know about Yurauto, but Kunas is a word in the magical language meaning 'great woman.' Kunas is a title of respect for a woman whose status is higher than a king's."

"Oh. Then... what does that mean?"

"Who knows...?"

We both tilted our heads.

What had Iruma thought about Octameteorite, and what had he known? That bastard had vanished, taking all the information with him. What a scumbag.

"So Iruma thought Octameteorite was a great woman? A witch?"

"Iruma had a fetish like that?! No, actually, it's plausible. That piece of trash would see a witch and, uh, try to get his hands on her and make a move on her, whoever she was."

"He was turned on by a magic stone? Creepy. What a total pervert. And a sadist who destroys the girl he likes? He's beyond saving."

We shuddered and ended the conversation.

I never wanted to know about Iruma's perverted fetishes. How terrifying.

Octameteorite had looked as though it had used magic of its own accord, but perhaps, as Hiyori said, someone had been hiding somewhere and used magic to save me.

Or perhaps someone, somewhere, had used extremely long-range magic, just as the Demon Lord, while in America, had summoned Class-A monsters from around the world through some kind of resonance.

That seemed more reasonable than believing that Octameteorite, which was nothing more than a magic stone, had cast magic by itself.

Hmm. A mystery. I have no idea!

The Demon King Gremlin and the Nameless Epic are mysterious, but magic stones are mysterious in their own way, too.

Would the day ever come when we understood "What is a magic stone?"

Just as research into the Demon King Gremlin and incantationless mechanisms was advancing, I wanted to believe that research into magic stones would eventually progress as well and reveal their mysteries.