Translator: CinderTL
No longer were they mere cold words or abstract concepts.
Instead, countless profound laws concerning the essence of magic, its flow patterns, structural intricacies, and the fusion of energy and matter were directly imprinted into his mind like indelible brands.
Roland abruptly closed his eyes, a fine sheen of sweat beading on his forehead.
Within his skull, it felt as though countless invisible chisels were working simultaneously, deeply engraving these ancient and precise arcane secrets.
Accompanying this influx of knowledge was a new, urgent sense of power gathering at his fingertips, restless and eager to be unleashed.
As the torrent of information gradually subsided, Roland slowly opened his eyes.
The world seemed subtly different through his gaze.
The air was no longer just air.
The previously invisible, faint Magic Elements suspended within it now appeared as tiny, shimmering particles of light, each glowing with distinct hues, flickering in and out of view within his highly focused spiritual vision.
They were no longer vague concepts but something...
observable, even "touchable."
He instinctively raised his right hand, staring intently at his index finger.
Without conscious effort, a mere thought summoned a wisp of mental power—subtle yet pure and concentrated—to his fingertip, flowing like a gentle stream.
No longer a chaotic energy within his body, it had transformed into a tool with distinct "texture" and "directionality."
He could clearly feel the mental power pulsing at his fingertip, docile yet brimming with potential.
"Elemental Imprint..."
Roland murmured the skill's name, his mind suddenly illuminated.
The arduous days spent carving spell patterns onto the surfaces of tools, his deep dives into magic theory, the countless nights hammering metal before the forge...
All his accumulated knowledge and experience now seemed to click into place, forming a cohesive whole.
This wasn't merely inscribing patterns; it was forging invisible magic directly into the material's structure, like shaping metal according to a specific arcane blueprint imbued with inherent rules.
The mental power coalescing at his fingertip was his new chisel, his new hammer.
The intricate rune sequences were the forging process laid out on the blueprint.
And the resulting magical effect was a new, extraordinary property he personally imbued into the object—akin to enchanting metal with unparalleled excellence!
A primal excitement and thirst for discovery, rooted in his craftsman's instincts, ignited within Roland's heart.
The sensation was both familiar and foreign.
Familiar was the sense of mastery over matter and energy; foreign was the realization that this power stemmed directly from his spirit, transcending the physical limitations of anvil and forge.
Before Roland could fully savor the exhilaration of acquiring this new skill, another line of golden text materialized before his eyes:
Acquired Trait: Material Empathy
Material Empathy: When an enchanter's fingers or spiritual perception touch any substance, an innate talent activates. They instantly perceive the material's core affinity for Magic Elements—its inherent capacity to channel specific types of magic—and, as if listening to the material's whispers, discern its internal flaws and weaknesses. Whether it's impurities in a metal vein, fractures in wood grain, microscopic fissures in crystals, or weak spots caused by uneven leather tanning, these minute defects become vividly apparent in their perception, like candle flames in the darkness. This empathy is instinctive and continuous, serving as the cornerstone of an enchanter's understanding of matter's essence.
The moment the subtitles vanished, an unprecedented flood of sensory information washed over Roland's senses.
It was as if an invisible veil had been abruptly lifted, revealing an entirely different inner nature of the entire room—no, of the entire world he was in contact with.
Almost instinctively, he pressed his palm against the cold iron anvil beside him.
Buzz!
A deep, resonant hum vibrated not in his ears, but directly within his spirit.
No longer was he merely sensing the metal's coldness and hardness; a more fundamental stream of information surged into him like a tidal wave.
This anvil, forged through countless hammer blows, possessed a core imbued with a resilient and stable magical affinity, akin to bedrock. It leaned toward bearing the earth element's profound strength.
Yet beneath this overwhelming sense of power, countless minute "noise" became distinctly discernible.
These were impurities within the metal that hadn't been completely melted and homogenized, microscopic stress fractures accumulated from countless impacts—invisible to the naked eye, they lurked deep within the structure like a spiderweb, each point representing a potential weakness.
Roland abruptly withdrew his hand, his fingertips still tingling with the heavy, slightly rough sensation.
He took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the room.
The pig iron ingots stacked in the corner were no longer mere lumps of metal in his eyes. They now radiated a faint, complex magical aura.
The dominant element was the somber energy of earth, yet interwoven within it were restless strands of untamed fire element, remnants of the smelting process.
More importantly, he could now clearly "see" the uneven distribution of slag and air pockets within the ingots, like dark blemishes marring the metal's inherent purity and conductivity of magic.
He casually picked up a piece of rough, unprocessed coal used for quenching.
The sensation at his fingertips was no longer mere roughness, but a deeply concealed, volatile affinity for the fire element, like a sealed core of molten lava.
Yet this strength was firmly locked within layers of impurities and a porous structure, making it fragile and nearly impossible to effectively channel or utilize.
Amidst this perception of ordinary materials "whispering" to him, Roland suddenly noticed that the Mithril Longsword hanging at his waist had become incredibly "loud."
He didn't even need to touch it deliberately; a mere glance was enough for the weapon that had accompanied him for so long to transmit an incredibly clear message.
It felt like a block of pure, frigid ice, yet possessed the lightness of the wind.
Mithril's near-perfect magical conductivity flowed through every inch of the blade like the clearest stream, encountering no resistance.
What surprised him even more was that the sword's affinity for magic wasn't the earth or fire elements typically associated with metals, but rather the highly active wind element.
He could "sense" countless tiny, invisible channels within the blade.
The wind element surged and swirled through these channels with joyous abandon, granting the weapon extraordinary swiftness and sharpness.
This was the material's innate call, the natural resonance between mithril and the wind element.
At the same time, a barely visible, perfectly repaired old scar along the sword's spine became vividly clear to his senses.
It was a mark left by a fierce battle long ago. Though skillfully mended by a master craftsman, it remained the sword's weakest point.
"Material Empathy..."
Roland murmured to himself, his heart filled with an indescribable awe.
This wasn't simply "seeing" or "touching"; it was directly hearing the material's own "voice," understanding its intrinsic "language."
Each ore, each piece of wood, each molten droplet of metal lay open before him like a book, whispering its essence, desires, and flaws.
Impurities, fissures, weak points...
These hidden defects, once requiring repeated hammering, grinding, and even failures to uncover, now became as clear as fireflies in the night the moment his fingertips or spiritual perception touched them.
He surveyed the familiar blacksmith's workshop, but through his eyes, it had undergone a complete transformation.
It was no longer merely a collection of tools and materials, but a vibrant world composed of countless whispers, calls, and pulsations.
Each object told its own story, revealing its potential and limitations.
"So that's how it is..."
Roland slowly withdrew his gaze.
He understood now that Material Empathy wasn't just an aid for enchantment; it was a key—a key to unlocking the deepest mysteries of the material world, allowing enchanters to converse with the very foundations of creation.
This perception was instinct, the cornerstone, the first step toward understanding the essence of all things.
With it, he could truly "forge" miracles in the manner of an enchanter.
The world before him suddenly became both overwhelmingly noisy and crystal clear.
(End of the Chapter)
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