Chapter 70: The Will of Spells?

Su Nan stood still, perplexed. Why was it that his magic, though identical in form and structure, seemed weaker than the spells cast by the gray version of himself?

He had needed dual casting to counteract the black fireball insect spell cast by the shadowy figure.

What was the issue?

Could it be a flaw in the spell model? No, the models were identical, as were the quantities of magic used.

Then he recalled the gray figure's reference to a "will of spells." Did this mean that his spells lacked the malevolent intent and raw instinct driving the power of his shadow self, a fusion of his primal instincts and mental turmoil?

In the depths of his mind, the fiery orange fireball insect spell clashed with the gray figure's dark counterpart.

As Su Nan experimented, allowing more malice and primal instinct to seep into his magic, he noticed a significant change. The power of his orange fireball increased by roughly 30%, but it still fell short of matching the might of the black fireball, amplified by dual casting.

The black fireball surged forward, threatening to knock Su Nan off the Wizard's Path and into the abyss of his mind. In that critical moment, inspiration struck him. He realized that, for brief moments, the magic of the gray fireball spell flickered and destabilized.

Then it hit him—the issue was with the gray figure's chant speed.

The gray figure chanted at twice the speed of a normal spellcaster, far exceeding the capabilities of the obsidian bull statue that served as his external caster. While Su Nan's Language Acceleration Potion had enhanced the statue's speed, it still had its limits.

The gray figure, ignoring the limitations of the statue, had forced it to keep up with his incantations, leading to minor disruptions and conflicts in the dual casting process.

Recognizing this flaw, Su Nan seized the moment. He timed his next spell perfectly, amplifying the power of his fireball insect at the precise instant the gray figure's spell destabilized.

For the first time, the orange fireball consumed the black fireball, shattering it. The remnants of the fiery orange burst toward the gray figure.

The gray version of Su Nan, now cloaked in werewolf regenerative magic, smirked. "Have you forgotten something, Su Nan? Werewolves' greatest weakness is fire. This spell can't protect me against flames."

Su Nan raised his left hand, summoning another fireball insect and launching it at the gray figure.

Yet, as the spell flew, doubt crept into his mind.

"Something is wrong. Even after amplifying my malice and letting it seep into my magic, the power increase was only about 30%. This approach won't suffice to defeat him. I must have overlooked something."

"Why does it feel like I'm being deceived? Like I've been misled."

"Wait… the one who knows me best is myself. Why would I believe anything he says? His talk of my spells lacking 'will' is probably a lie."

Suddenly, clarity struck. Su Nan muttered under his breath, "If my spells lack will, then so do his. His magic carries more malice, but mine is more balanced. Overemphasizing one aspect of magic might make it unstable."

"He's trying to mislead me. He's hiding something, and that secret is the key to winning this battle."

Despite being consumed by flames, the gray figure stood unscathed. He sneered, "This useless construct. Should I have it destroy itself out of sheer incompetence?"

Su Nan's eyes narrowed.

The gray figure grinned. "While I'd love to do that, my current permissions don't allow it. After all, you're still the primary consciousness here."

"True, werewolves' regenerative magic is vulnerable to fire. But I've merged it with the Death Knight's power."

Behind the gray figure, a black cloak unfurled—a manifestation of the Death Ward spell. The ward extinguished the flames, leaving him unharmed.

Su Nan's mind raced. Of course! If he could transfer the magic of his wolf pack using the Wolf Pack Effect, then naturally, the gray figure could do the same.

The gray figure smirked, taunting him. "Why are you just standing there staring at me? You could be using this incredible power to crush everyone in your way."

"Why do you hold yourself back, Su Nan? Why suppress me—suppress yourself?"

The question lingered in Su Nan's mind. If the gray figure truly intended to overthrow him, why hadn't he immediately drawn all the wolf pack's magic to himself and attacked?

That would have left Su Nan defenseless, easily cast into the abyss of his own psyche. Instead, the gray figure seemed more focused on provoking and taunting him, treating their conflict as secondary.

"Why is he acting this way?" Su Nan wondered. "What is his true goal?"

"Brain, analyze his behavior," Su Nan commanded.

Simultaneously, the gray figure sneered, "Brain, block his analysis of me."

Su Nan froze. Could the gray figure access the Brain too?

No. They were sharing the Brain's processing power.

The Brain responded in Su Nan's mind.

"Apologies, but as you are both Su Nan, I cannot simultaneously execute conflicting commands."

Su Nan frowned. "Don't I have higher permissions?"

"No. He is merely an emotion, a fragment of thought. He is you, and you are him. You are fundamentally the same entity."

---

Meanwhile, at West Virginia Lake, Gu Ke gazed at the shimmering surface. Under the sunlight, the waters began to flow upward like an inverted waterfall.

The lake split in two, revealing the entrance to the Four Seasons Garden—a circle of thorny rose bushes surrounding a single purple conch.

Gu Ke's expression grew intense. "At last, I've found the relic of that great wizard mentor."

Turning around, his face darkened. A horde of cultists and warlocks stood behind him, their greedy eyes fixed on the lakebed.

In the distance, the clatter of hooves signaled the late arrival of the Church's forces. Knights whipped their Storm Kingdom warhorses, urging them to gallop faster toward the lake.

At the forefront rode Archbishop Achaea on a white steed. Spotting the two Forgotten Wizards standing prominently on the lakeshore, his face twisted in fury. "Damn it. Wizards. Evil wizards."

Then his gaze fell on the cultists and their grotesque, blasphemous banners mocking the Storm God. His rage escalated.

If wizards were enemies, then cultists were heretics—the very definition of blasphemy.

To the Church, enemies might be tolerated. But heretics? Never.

The archbishop bellowed, "This region is cursed! Wizards and heretics alike? This land must be purged."

"No matter."

"If we kill them all, the world will return to order."

"This world and everyth

ing in it was created by the Storm God and the gods of order. Any change in life is the greatest blasphemy!"

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