Chapter 95 Failed Spellcasting

After the spell failure, Shaoke quickly began meditation at the suggestion of another mage. Relying on the silver light from the diamond-shaped array, the spatial turbulence caused by the failed spell gradually calmed down.

After the other mage refused Shaoke's request to cast again, Shaoke had no choice but to sit on the carpet and begin meditating to recover from the various drains of his recent spellcasting. Through this period of meditation and heavy use of medicinal aids, the mental energy within his spiritual space had increased severalfold compared to when he had just been promoted. However, reaching the peak state required for advancement still needed time to slowly condense.

Immersed in meditation, Shaoke pondered the reason for his earlier failure, but he found nothing unusual in his meditation space. Moreover, he felt that the meditation array he traced in his mind was always unstable. In the end, he reluctantly withdrew, leaning against the wall and quietly recalling the scene of his earlier casting.

The mage who was casting spells did not pay attention to Shaoke, only furrowing his brow briefly before continuing his work.

The number of warriors sent into battle by both sides was increasing. Batch after batch of first-order and second-order warriors, mixed among ordinary soldiers, rushed fiercely onto the city walls to fight. Only then could they be intercepted by the low-order warriors of the Blue Feather Empire, after which they would be locked onto by mages and obliterated.

Shaoke did not pay attention to the events on the battlefield but wracked his brain over the reason for his failure. At that moment, another mage, while casting a first-level spell, suffered the same fate. The newly formed spell structure suddenly dissipated. The mage's face turned pale, and he swayed before sitting heavily on the ground. After signaling Shaoke to temporarily take over, he quickly began meditating to calm the spatial turbulence.

Seeing the other mage's failure, Shaoke hurriedly stood at the spellcasting window, trying hard to calm the specter of his own earlier failure. He slowly began chanting the incantation. When the "Blazing Ray" accurately sliced off most of a second-order warrior's head, his worries during the casting eased a bit. However, the shadow of failure haunted him every time he cast a spell. Accompanied by the seemingly never-ending sounds of slaughter, Shaoke felt his mind growing increasingly chaotic. Just as one spell was about to be completed, he saw one of their own warriors being cut in half by the enemy, falling to the ground, gone. His shattered concentration could no longer control the formation of the spell structure, and the nearly completed spell suddenly dissipated.

For a moment, Shaoke did not know what to do. He hadn't expected to fail twice in a row today, especially after casting a support spell.

The other mage withdrew from meditation and quickly took over Shaoke's position. "What are you thinking about? Now is not the time for you to be distracted. All we need to do is lock onto the target and chant the incantation. There's nothing threatening us right now." Without waiting for Shaoke's response, he stood there and began casting spells.

Long-term mental fatigue. Shaoke leaned against the wall in a daze, the term suddenly popping into his mind. For nearly a month, he had been hiding in this stone tower, watching the soldiers battle outside. Various bloody scenes kept replaying in his mind. This was different from the wars of the past. Back then, he had felt no pressure, and the wars weren't purely about harvesting lives like this one. This battle felt to Shaoke as if it were purely about seizing the fragile lives of humans.

The two mages sat quietly in the stone tower, listening to the fierce sounds of slaughter outside. Shaoke broke the silence first. "When I cast spells, I always feel as if the screams of the dead are constantly swirling in my mind. And seeing those killed soldiers, my spirit becomes terribly agitated."

The other mage took a pill and licked his dry, cracked lips. "I feel the same way. And after your first failure, I kept worrying that the same thing would happen to me. So..."

Shaoke suddenly felt extremely tired. It wasn't just physical exhaustion; a deep weariness swept over him from within. Based on his past life's experience, he knew he needed a good rest now. However, in the face of this war, low-rank mages like them were granted no right to rest.

The enemy's attack stopped as usual in the evening. Watching the soldiers expressionlessly cleaning up the corpses on the battlefield, Shaoke grew increasingly irritable. Finally, he grabbed his staff, quickly chanted an incantation, and a fireball the size of a washbasin, under the astonished gaze of the surrounding soldiers, slammed heavily onto the ramparts.

Then, under the somewhat panicked stares of everyone, Shaoke slowly followed the mage team ahead toward the barracks.

After hastily eating a few bites of dinner, Shaoke leaned on the bed and repeatedly told himself, "What are you afraid of? They're not your own people! Why do you keep thinking about those bloody battle scenes? Just treat them as something false. Get a good night's sleep!"

Just as Shaoke was repeatedly telling himself not to take this war seriously, Mage Roland knocked and entered. "I heard about what happened to you," said Mage Roland, looking weary. "You should go relax. Otherwise, your condition will only get worse."

This time, Shaoke proactively poured two glasses of wine and gestured for Mage Roland to drink. "Relax? Where should I go to relax?" Shaoke thought about the entertainment methods he knew but found he couldn't think of anything. Years of magic study, border garrison life, and nearly a year of fortress warfare had left him unaware of what could help people relax in this different world.

After pouring wine for both of them, Mage Roland took another sip. "The only place suitable for us to relax here now is the tavern. We can find a maid there, have a good chat, and then everything will be fine."

Shaoke nodded. Just as the other had said, in his past life, he knew that soldiers, after intense battles, would find release with women. At the time, he didn't understand why they did that, but now he truly understood.

"You go by yourself. I don't think this is a good way to relax," Shaoke said, though somewhat tempted. He still refused. In this world, he hadn't yet experienced the intimacies between men and women. He believed he needed to first raise his strength to a certain level—at least to the Third Rank—before he could qualify to enjoy such things. Otherwise, it would delay his magic cultivation.

Mage Roland shrugged. "Come with me. Since you don't agree to that, at least you can go see the tavern's evening scenery. It's quite charming."

After hesitating for a moment, Shaoke agreed this time. He felt that perhaps going to the tavern and interacting with other mages might help. With this thought, Shaoke put on his cloak and went to the tavern with Mage Roland.

"Mage Xueye, over here. Your seat is here!" Just after separating from Mage Roland in the tavern, as soon as Shaoke entered the room, he heard a woman drawl lazily. Following the sound, Shaoke saw Mage Roman, her long white hair spilling over her shoulders, casually leaning on a chair in his usual spot, slowly savoring the fine wine in a transparent crystal glass.

"Mage Roman, it seems you're in a good mood!" Shaoke had never seen Mage Roman in such a relaxed state. Looking at the beautiful female mage before him, Mage Roland's suggestion suddenly popped into his mind. "Your glass is very beautiful."

Mage Roman took a sip of wine with her rosy lips and said lazily, "My mood isn't good, but I think it's probably better than yours." Mage Roman pointed to the chair next to her. "You can sit here today. I heard that after the battle ended, you threw a fireball onto the ramparts. Is that true?"

Shaoke nodded awkwardly and sat on the chair right next to Mage Roman. When his arm brushed against her robe, he felt a coolness emanating from her. "Yes, I felt very irritable at the time, so I lost control a bit."

Mage Roman narrowed her eyes, placed her glass on the table, and bit her lip. "Mage Xueye, this situation is a hurdle that every mage who experiences prolonged warfare must cross. I hope you can find a solution smoothly. I don't want the Blizzard Legion to have another low-rank mage who frequently fails at spellcasting."

Shaoke didn't like Mage Roman speaking to him like this, so he gently moved his arm, which had been touching hers, creating some distance. "Mage Roman, did you experience something like this back then?" As he said this, Shaoke, who had been staring at Mage Roman, suddenly noticed a strange smile appearing on her somewhat weary face. This made him very uncomfortable. He didn't realize that she had revealed this expression after noticing his earlier small movement.

"Experienced it? How could I not have? Every mage who has participated in real combat will experience such a mental state for a shorter or longer period. As long as it's handled properly, there's no problem at all." Looking at this young mage, Mage Roman couldn't help but recall her own experiences from back then.

"A companion of mine told me that proper relaxation could solve this problem, but I don't want to do that. I'm afraid it will delay my future cultivation progress." Shaoke slightly lowered his head and told her about the method he had heard. "Mage Roman, do you have any other methods?"

"No. Either you endure the never-ending death wails, or you relax to a certain extent as your companion suggested." Mage Roman's expression turned somewhat unnatural. "As long as you can control yourself, I don't think it will delay your cultivation speed."

Shaoke opened his mouth, wanting to ask the female mage before him how she had overcome this situation back then. However, upon seeing the Third Rank insignia on her collar, he wisely stopped this somewhat presumptuous thought. Instead, he picked up his glass and silently began pondering his own concerns.