The fascinating thing about [Verification Principle] was that it not only provided him with a tool to observe the interactions between the Mana Field and his formulas, but also offered a way to change things on the go.

  His desk had been set back down after too many groans, and Orion had ended up settling on a spare chair as a test subject. Given how many could be found in this semi-deserted area of the Sanctum, he didn’t feel guilty about breaking a few.

  And break them he did.

  Initially, he had simply used his newfound insight to calibrate the amount of strength he was applying to the chair he was levitating. However, after a while, he noticed that he could immediately see the effects of every minute adjustment on the spell’s formula.

  Which meant he could start messing with the syntax, and not just the effects.

  F = κ?ω2?R was a simple formula. It certainly did its job, allowing him to generate an upward thrust that he could control through the variable κ, which included both velocity and altitude.

  But was it the best he could do? No, he knew that much just by looking out the window. Kids a little older than him were playing a game of catch, flying through the air on their brooms.

  They certainly weren’t calculating all variables at every moment. Whatever enchantment was carved into the brooms, it was vastly superior to what Orion had been doing so far.

  This was simply unacceptable. Now that he was no longer constrained by the limits imposed by his Initiate class, he would develop a better way.

  In practice, this required a great deal of tinkering and experimentation.

  First, Orion attempted to reintroduce the object variable, which proved to be a great success.

  Who would have known that the System preferred the target of a spell to be included in the effect?

  Well, when framed that way, it seems straightforward; however, not every spell I’ve heard clearly identifies its targets. But then again, these spells come from witches much more experienced than I, so it's understandable that they can leave out elements of the chant that would disclose their intended targets.

  That simple change to his formula gave him far greater control. Suddenly, the force he was applying was no longer unbound, free to expand everywhere if he missed the slightest shift in position.

  Now, the chair was the focus of the spell, regardless of where it moved. It was a genuinely massive improvement on its own, but now that Orion had started, he couldn’t stop.

  His second breakthrough occurred when he shifted from using the variable κ, which included velocity and altitude, to the variable p, which indicated the position of the broom. This change created motion just as well, but since he no longer needed to manually calculate exactly how much thrust was required, he could simply anchor the chair’s position elsewhere, allowing him much more mental space to direct speed and the specifics of flight.

  “I can see now that my mistake was thinking about a broom as if it were a plane. Using aerodynamics to describe its path wasn’t exactly wrong, as I did manage to achieve lift-off, but it was wildly inefficient. Without a dedicated calculator, I was forced to constantly process every single factor from trajectory to speed and stability. This formula is just so much more efficient.” Orion smiled as the chair zipped around the lab.

  Honestly, he was surprised it had taken him this long to realize just how poor his initial attempt had been. Sure, he could admit to an innate streak of stubbornness that had followed him across the worlds, but this was just so simple…

  “No, I can’t blame myself. I just didn’t have the tools before,” he murmured, shaking his head and sending his white curls flying.

  “It’s too easy to criticize ex post. But when the vast void of ignorance covers everything, every path might appear just as worth following,” he recited, remembering a quote from one of the few professors he’d bothered to listen to.

  The progression of science may have seemed linear to most, but it was anything but. History was littered with failed experiments, flawed extrapolations, and even basic misunderstandings.

  Semmelweis, the Hungarian obstetrician who was the first to advocate for physicians to wash their hands with chlorinated lime water before examining pregnant women, documented a dramatic reduction in the mortality rate from eighteen to two percent. However, he was ridiculed, rejected by the medical establishment, and even committed to a medical asylum.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  And even he had the benefit of standing on the shoulders of giants. Before him, countless individuals, from Thucydides, who first posited that plagues spread from the infected to the healthy, to Athanasius Kircher, who used the microscope to identify bacteria in milk and suggested that they were the origin of disease, had worked to bring light to the issue.

  Orion, on the other hand, was alone.

  Oh, he’d managed to grasp some concepts from reading the theory of magic as it was understood here, but that was like saying that one could derive Newton's law of universal gravitation by reading Aristotle’s Metaphysics, which proposed that objects fell toward the Earth because it was the center of the universe and thus attracted all mass.

  After the research was completed, kernels of truth could be seen in the works of the ancients; however, before that truth was fully understood, it may as well have all been gibberish.

  So, Orion didn’t feel too bad. He was like a blind man who had finally been given his sight back.

  [Verification Principle] served as his microscope, in a way, and he would use it to explore the depths of magic, at least until he required better equipment.

  His last breakthrough in the levitation spell wasn’t merely an addition to the formula, which now read [T: p?ω2-?g] and worked exceptionally well, but a new approach to utilizing magic.

  He had gone from throwing concepts at the wall to see what stuck to observing the changes work in real time.

  The fourth chair he had requisitioned had survived unscathed up to this point, but when Orion suddenly increased the mana draw without changing the spell’s structure, something had to give.

  And that something was the weakest link in the formula. It was not the planar positioning, the angular velocity, or the concept of gravity. It was the T (target) that experienced the extreme mana overload.

  The chair exploded, showering Orion with wood and sending him crashing to the ground, groaning as pain wracked his arm, where numerous wooden splinters had pierced him.

  “Well, at least I know.” He grumbled, picking himself up.

  Blood was starting to seep through his shirt, and he decided that he had done enough for one day.

  “Oh, Orion.” His mother murmured as she entered their apartment and found him on the couch, pulling splinters out of his arm.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, wincing at a particularly deep one.

  Summoning a Torchlight spell, he gently allowed the Light mana to work its magic, and the hole began to clot at a visible pace.

  It wasn’t exactly a healing spell, but through his intent alone, he could redirect the spell from its purpose of creating light, transforming it into a formless blob of Light.

  And while that wasn’t enough to restore his skin to its former state, he no longer resembled a pasta strainer.

  “You could have gone to the infirmary. You know they don’t ask questions, especially to children who have just received their class. It is expected for you to get in an accident of some kind while you get used to your new power.” Asteria said, placing her bag down and walking over to the kitchen cabinet, where she pulled out several powders and dried plants.

  Summoning a glob of water with a simple gesture, she placed the ingredients inside and snapped her fingers, making the liquid churn violently and heat up.

  For a moment, Orion forgot the pain he was in. This was advanced potion-making, something he wouldn’t be able to reproduce for years, according to the Sanctum’s curriculum, and that was only if he decided to take the class after he achieved the basic proficiency required of all.

  When she finished, a perfectly smooth ball of minty green liquid floated in the air. At her gesture, it zipped toward him, enveloping his arm.

  “Hey, I still need to take out a few!” He complained.

  “That is a Draught of True Restoration. It is enough to reattach an arm. A few splinters will just dissolve.” She explained while taking a seat on the couch next to him.

  Together, they watched in silence as the potion took effect. Instantly, the foreign objects still embedded in his skin were drawn out, without pain this time.

  Then, the already scabbed areas regenerated, returning to smooth skin, while the still-bleeding holes closed as if they had never existed.

  Overall, it showcased incredible skill, considering that Asteria had brewed the potion in just a minute without even using a cauldron.

  It clearly demonstrated why she had been granted the rank of Magistra despite her youth.

  “Feeling better?” she asked, once the last of the potion dissipated and was absorbed into his skin.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Orion mumbled. It might have been a bit reckless to fiddle with his spell so much, especially since he already knew something would give when he fed it too much mana, but he couldn’t help it.

  [Verification Principle] was truly a game changer, providing him the opportunity to significantly enhance his understanding of every aspect of magic.

  Light mana would no longer be a mystery once he could observe someone who knew what they were doing at work…

  Oh, dang. I could have gone to the infirmary and studied their healing magic!

  Drooping further on himself, Orion sighed. He needed to establish some lab safety principles. Going at things halfheartedly was never advisable, especially when breaking new ground.

  He really ought to know better.

  “Now, now. No need to look so down. Everyone does this,” Asteria said, breaking him out of his funk.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you really think you are the first teenager to overcharge a spell after getting a big boost to their Attunement? If you had gone to the infirmary, you would have probably found half your class there being treated for similar problems.” She smiled, sounding nostalgic.

  “Did you?” He asked curiously.

  Asteria tilted her head back, reminiscing. “I did. Now, my class was Potioneer back then, nothing that should allow for vastly more powerful spells… But I did try my hand at a Tier Two potion. The Draught of the Rising Moon requires significant Attunement to coalesce fully; otherwise, the growth aspect simply doesn’t have enough oomph… So I brewed it and promptly passed out into the cauldron.” She smiled.

  Orion couldn’t suppress a snort at the thought of his prim and proper mother failing so miserably.

  “Of course, I had brewed it properly, so what happened is that my hair began growing massively, and the natural fibers in my clothes began sprouting. Fortunately, a passing witch was there to intervene before I choked inside a forest of my own making, so I just had to spend some time in the infirmary and a month with a bad haircut as punishment.”

  Orion looked down at his now blemish-free arm and concluded that he hadn’t had it that bad after all.

  With a sigh, Asteria stood up. “Normally, this is the moment I’d impose your punishment for being so reckless, but I assume you’ve already figured out all there is to know about your failure, right?”

  Orion smirked. Overcharging a spell is dangerous. Who knew?

  "That’s why you’ll handle an errand for me in Silverpeak. Since you know Lucina, delivering a letter to her shouldn’t be too challenging for you." She smiled, but this time it was less warm.

  Orion suddenly had a premonition that if he tried to wiggle out of it, he would pay in new and inventive ways, so he agreed. He’d like to visit the town anyway.