There were more side effects, and they were quite serious. The runes engraved in a mage's core disappearing would mean the spell matrix was corrupted. The result could be a simple spell failure or something much more catastrophic, like the spell exploding in your face.

'If you are not careful, you could die...'

"Hiss." He breathed in sharply.

Imagine a high-ranking mage casting an explosion spell. The spell should travel a few meters, striking the target before releasing the explosion. However, with corrupted runes, it could just explode the moment he released the spell. It was dangerous, to say the least. Just imagining something like that made Zephyr dizzy.

'I don't know the implications of a cracked core, but it wouldn't be anything good either.' Zephyr felt the urge to gaze into his mindscape.

'I now understand why the general population of mages fears innovation. After all, who would want to risk their life doing something stupid? Sticking to a well-established, conventional way of using magic is safe. Trying out new things often comes with the risk of death. That's why the orthodox wing of magic—the magic towers—rules supreme.'

'When you think about it, the social structure, the brainwashing, and the rigid rules built over it all reinforce this belief in adhering to a standard. No one wants to question the standard or the seniors propping it up. The reason the magic society is in decline must be related to this way of thinking.'

Zephyr sighed.

He felt the environment was not conducive to learning or experimentation.

As he had said before, humans were stupid creatures; they learn through mistakes. Without constant trial and error, there would be no progress. To develop, they needed a robust system that rewarded research and development into magic.

The Azure Kingdom and the whole of the human domain lacked such a system. Even the Philarune Empire, which had the most robust magic archive, didn't have a system like that.

'Decay of magic through pure risk aversion and hubris. They believe magic is in its final form and consider themselves the apex. They believe there is no room for improvement and thus don't even try. It's a pity.'

'If only there were a systematic way to reward magical experiments and reduce risks. If only there were a way to share information...'

Zephyr dreamed of free and open-source magic. He dreamed of a collaborative environment in which everyone shared their knowledge and experience. He dreamed of a new world where magic became more than just a method to kill.

As his thoughts flowed, he gathered his attention, slowly peeking into his mindscape.

The world he dreamed of would not form naturally; greed and grudges would destroy any hope of such a world existing. He could do nothing about it for now. He pushed the thought back, storing it deep in his mind before looking at the mana cores and spell structure floating in his mindscape.

Immediately, he noticed the problem. Some of the mana cores, once arranged in order, had been thrown around. Some of the spell matrix was missing entire cores, and a few cores were obviously showing signs of the rune engravings coming off.

Just as Aurelia had said, the side effects were present within his mindscape. Instead of core cracking, some of his cores seemed to have disappeared entirely.

"2160 out of 2200."

Zephyr noticed the lack of about 40 cores. It was not crippling damage; after all, he could create 200 mana cores a day if he was willing to meditate. Still, it pained him to see the loss. He frowned slightly as he exited the mindscape.

"Hm... my mindscape indeed looks like a storm passed through it," he mumbled.

"Is there damage to your core?" Aurelia asked, concerned.

"Not really. It's manageable. But a few runes are missing," he added.

His multicore system was a secret, so he couldn't really talk about it. However, he could talk about the runes.

"Why did this happen?" he asked.

"It is normal in cases of mana overuse. Without a strong mindscape holding everything together, the core is prone to danger. So, don't even try to do the same thing again," Aurelia warned him.

Zephyr noticed the real concern in her voice and nodded. It was not technically a promise—he would certainly take risks in the future—but he was stealthily avoiding the issue to give her peace of mind.

"Oh! There is more to the mindscape than meets the eye. Great to know..." he mumbled, looking at the flickering fire between them.

Finally, Zephyr regained his bearings. He used his hand to support his body as he sat on the floor.

"Can you tell me why we are still here?" he asked, moving onto the next topic on his agenda. "I thought I killed a lot of rabbits. And with you, they should all be dead, right?"

"That's what you would think," Aurelia sighed.

Elenor, sitting next to her, frowned. Both of them looked weary when the word "rabbit" was mentioned.

"What happened?" Zephyr pressed.

Aurelia suddenly stood up. In the darkness, she weaved a spell with her hand, creating a single ball of light.

"Let me show you something," she said, motioning for Zephyr to follow her.

After hesitating for a second, Zephyr climbed to his feet, wobbled a little, and walked to her.

"Look carefully at the ground."

Aurelia pointed the ball of light toward the sky, shooting it upward. It flew over a hundred meters. Then, like an incandescent sun, it bloomed in the sky, releasing a brilliant light.

Zephyr looked at the ground. Instantly, a sea of berserk rabbits came into view.

Gulp.

Zephyr swallowed hard. All around them, in all directions, spreading far and wide, the only thing he could see were berserk rabbits with red eyes, looking up at him.

"They have yet to find a way to climb up. But if your initial deduction was right, these creatures are smart. Any second now, they will find a way," Aurelia added gloomily.

The light shining from above caused the rabbits to rile up. They released a collective screeching noise, chilling Zephyr's soul.

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