Chapter 591: Scribing the Scroll

Chapter 591 -590: Scribing the Scroll

“Simply put, it’s a spell that disrupts the mind over a large area. In addition to dealing damage to an enemy’s brain, it can also impair their motor functions, and it doesn’t consume the caster’s stamina,” Morel said. “If you’re up against Orcs, it’s an excellent choice.”

“I’ll learn this spell, then,” Colin said.

“A wise choice.” Morel snapped his fingers.

A Scroll Box then floated down from a bookshelf. He opened it, took out the Scroll inside, and handed it to Colin.

He then swept a large pile of trinkets off the table and onto the floor. Thanks to the efforts of the Invisible Servants, the glassware didn’t shatter.

Finally, Morel scrambled to drag a wooden chest out from under the table. Inside were smaller boxes, each containing different materials.

“Silver Foil Shavings, Spiritual Mud Monster Powder, concentrated Inkfish Juice… ah, and a bit of incense.” Morel muttered while rummaging through the chest for the various materials, then handed Colin a mortar and a medicine pestle.

This was familiar territory for Colin.

He added the required materials to the mortar and carefully ground them into a powder. Beside him, Morel directed an Invisible Servant to bring out an Incense Burner and prepare the incense.

Scribing a spell was a much simpler process than learning one. All it required was preparing the ink; no complex magical experiments were necessary.

While working on the materials, Colin asked curiously, “Speaking of which, why not just let me copy directly from your Spellbook? We could save a Scroll that way.”

Morel’s expression grew serious at his words.

He said, “Don’t say something like that to any Mage other than me. You’ll risk making them angry.”

“That serious?”

“For a Mage, a Spellbook is their most private and important possession. The weaknesses of rival Mages, one’s own Casting habits… a lot can be gleaned from a Spellbook.

No Mage would willingly let someone else see their Spellbook. Some paranoid Mages even believe that anyone attempting to look through their Spellbook is an enemy who means them harm.”

Morel added, “Of course, some Mages who lack ambition might not care.”

Colin nodded silently.

‘Like Donkexes, and this Mage enjoying his retirement right in front of me.’

“Of course, the main reason I’m not having you copy directly is that when recording High-tier Magic, most Mages incorporate their own interpretations into the magical formula.

Mages don’t exchange notes on such things, so I’m not even sure which parts are my own unique additions. That could have a negative impact on you.”

Morel said, “This is much less of an issue with Scrolls for High-tier Magic. Their format is closer to the standard, since Scrolls are meant for public use.”

“So, does that mean most Mages who scribe High-tier Scrolls are very particular about following a standard format? And that it must cost a lot for them to learn that?”

“Exactly. That’s also why the higher the tier of a spell, the rarer it is. Unless they’re desperate for money, not many Mages are willing to waste time scribing Scrolls. But that’s enough talk for now. You get started on the scribing. I’ll let you know if any problems come up.”

With that, Morel pulled out a bag of dark powder from under the table and began using that strange distillation apparatus to…

Colin suddenly caught the aroma of coffee.

He grumbled to himself, ‘So he really is brewing coffee!’

He paid Morel no more mind, focusing his concentration on scribing the spell.

While Colin scribed the spell, Morel stood nearby, occasionally offering useful advice. Colin also hit him up for coffee and bread from time to time, and as a result, he made rather good progress.

After what felt like an eternity, Colin wrote the final letter in his Spellbook.

As he braced himself on the table to stand, his arm joints cracked sharply twice.

Colin then twisted his neck and waist, and a series of pops and cracks echoed from his body.

His entire body ached, especially his lower back. It felt as if it were encased in concrete, frighteningly stiff.

After all that time and effort, the spell from the Scroll had been successfully scribed into his Spellbook.

**Synaptic Freeze**: A Tier Five Magic. The caster designates a point within forty meters. Every creature within a seven-meter radius of that point suffers 8-48 points of Mind Damage to their psyche. If a creature’s Intelligence is too low, it will be plunged into a state of mental confusion for the next minute. During this time, the affected creature can attempt to focus its mind to break free of the effect.

This spell was also one developed by Mages through their research and simulation of Spiritual Energy.

As mentioned earlier, this spell would be particularly effective against creatures with generally low Intelligence, like Orcs.

“I’m honestly impressed. You sat here scribing for ten hours, and in full Armor, no less. You’re not some kind of Construct disguised as a human, are you?” Morel’s voice came from nearby.

Colin turned his head and saw Morel fiddling with a sparrow-like Construct, using it to tease the little owl perched on the table.

But the little owl remained perched in place, staring blankly, completely unresponsive.

“Your familiar is as boring as you are,” Morel said with a stretch. “Alright, time to head home for the day.”

“Right. Thanks for letting me stay for so long.” Colin glanced involuntarily toward the door.

‘Knowing Ale, the Half-Elf is probably waiting at the door right now. I wonder how long she’s been standing out there.’

“I’d appreciate it more if you’d just get up and go home instead of thanking me.”

Morel yawned, got up, and headed for the door.

Colin gathered his things and left the Black Tower with him.

As he reached the entrance of the Black Tower, he saw, just as he’d expected, a figure standing under a lamppost.

Ale had changed her clothes at some point.

She was wearing a thick, white woolen dress embroidered with platinum-gold animal patterns. Over it, she wore the **Protective Cloak** made from White Frost fur. The white fluff of the cloak’s hood framed her delicate, fair face, with strands of golden hair spilling out from between the fur.

In the glow of the lamppost, her smooth golden hair and the white fur shimmered faintly, as if adorned with stars.

Passersby couldn’t help but turn to steal a second glance at the Half-Elf standing there. Although all Half-Elves have Elven blood, it was rare to see one so stunningly beautiful.

But Ale paid them no mind, engrossed in the book she was holding, as if completely disconnected from the world around her.

“Looks like I’m the third wheel here. See you around, Colin.” Morel yawned and turned to walk off in another direction.

Colin walked over to Ale’s side. “Let’s go home.”

With a soft SNAP, Ale closed her book, leaving its world behind.

She returned to reality, looked up at Colin with a smile, and said, “Okay.”