Despite a minor incident at the end, the dinner and drinks concluded successfully. After I finished tidying up and returned to my room, I found myself with nothing left to do... though it was still a bit too early for bed. I had barely touched a drop myself, and sleep felt far off.
"I know."
I still had quite a bit of the alcohol I’d intended to share at the party, so I decided to offer some to the gods. With that in mind, I retrieved a book from my Item Box. As I channeled mana into it, my vision was swallowed by a brilliant white light. The mechanics were identical to those of the church chapel; the crossing was effortless.
The next moment, I stood in a void of pure white. My eyes immediately found a chabutadai—a low dining table—sitting solitary in the expanse. Willieris and Grimp were already seated before it.
"Good evening. Is it just the two of you today?"
"Welcome. The others are out at the moment," Willieris replied.
"Come on in. Pull up a seat, ya see," Grimp urged.
As I sat at the table, a tray with tea and baked sweets appeared as if it had been there all along.
"Thank you for the welcome, especially on such short notice."
"You are free to visit whenever you like," Willieris said. "Fernobelia went to the trouble of crafting that Artifact for you, after all."
"The thing’s rigged so ya can't drop in when we're busy, so don't you worry about that," Grimp added. "More importantly, what brings ya by? Did somethin' happen?"
"Right, that’s why I’m here."
I explained my purpose and produced the seishu I had brewed with the goblins. I also pulled out some glass sake cups I’d crafted through alchemy along with some appetizers. Naturally, the three of us began to drink.
"I’m not sure if it’ll suit your tastes," I said. "There should be enough for everyone... though depending on how much Tekun drinks, we might run short."
"Now this is a fine gift," Grimp said, looking pleased.
"It truly is," Willieris agreed.
"I’m glad you like it. I worried for a second if it was rude to bring leftovers."
"We don't care about none of that. It might be a bit rough around the edges, but it’s a fine brew that shows real effort and wit. I can feel the heart the goblins put into makin' it. Above all, gettin' to drink it directly is somethin' special, ya see."
"Directly?"
"We receive countless offerings throughout the year," Willieris explained, "but we rarely have the chance to receive them first-hand. In principle, items cannot be transferred between the Divine Realm and the Mortal Realm. There are rare exceptions, but they require a massive expenditure of power that makes them unsuitable for simple offerings. Therefore, we use our own power to manifest replicas that perfectly mimic the taste and texture, and we consume the 'intent' of those who gave the gift."
"That's right," Grimp said. "As long as the feelin's are in it, anythin' goes."
I see... if that was the case, I should probably visit more often. They were always looking after me, and the goblins would certainly keep brewing. Besides, if this seishu became "alcohol with a track record of being offered to the gods," it might actually provide some sort of divine blessing when I used Curse Magic.
As those slightly ulterior motives began to surface, Willieris laughed.
"We would be delighted if you brought more, but please only do so when it's convenient for you. While it might serve as a useful mental image when performing Curse Magic, its actual impact on the spell will be negligible. That aside, it seems you’ve grown quite comfortable with Curse Magic in a very short time."
"I’ve managed to learn the basics for now—everything from Miasma Purification to the fundamentals of curses. I have an excellent teacher, and the magic seems to suit me. Right now, I’m just struggling to reproduce Lost Magic."
"Ah, well, that’s only natural, ya see," Grimp chuckled while savoring the sake. "That stuff wasn't built for the humans of this era."
That caught my attention. "The humans of this era? Is there a difference between ancient people and modern humans?"
"Ah—where should I start so it makes sense..."
"If we're going to discuss this, it's best to start with the prerequisites," Willieris suggested.
The two deities shared a look, and after a moment, Grimp spoke.
"It's a fact that there's a gap between the folks of the era that used the magic you're tryin' to revive and the humans today. Specifically, the difference lies in 'mana capacity.' People back then had mana, but the amount was tiny compared to what modern folks carry."
"Ryoma-kun, are you familiar with 'Magic Elements'?" Willieris asked.
"I remember seeing the term in some magic books... they’re the 'smallest unit of mana,' and the mana in our bodies is just a collection of those elements, right?"
"Precisely. Think of mana as a mass of gathered Magic Elements. The humans of the era when those spells were used were constitutionally incapable of harboring the massive amounts of elements that modern people do."
"Wait... was it mana hypersensitivity?"
"Bingo," Grimp said. "The humans of the old days here were more like the folks back on Earth. Magic was somethin' that priests did together in groups, usin' rituals to get things done."
According to them, the gods used to be much closer to humanity, providing aid through "Divine Miracles." The origin of magic lay in the rituals humans performed while seeking those miracles. To put it in modern terms, it was essentially an Application for the Use of Miracles.
"I appreciate you making it easy to understand, but that sounds a bit... casual," I noted.
"That's because that's exactly how it felt to us," Willieris replied with a smile.
"Our power has too much kick when we use it ourselves," Grimp explained. "Goin' through humans helped tone it down. Even then, it was still a bit much, so we set up criteria for when to allow miracles, taught specific folks from each group, and made a system where they’d apply for help if it was somethin' humans couldn't handle. Eventually, that turned into the Prototype of the Church of Genesis. And that’s one of the reasons the human body changed."
Once the church’s precursor was established, ritual matters were strictly controlled. However, people inevitably appeared who wanted to study miracles as Theology or who sought to use them for their own greed. Information leaked, and it didn't take long for people to attempt to reproduce miracles on their own.
The legitimate methods the gods had provided included strict warnings about handling Magic Elements, but since the information was fragmentary—or because people decided safety procedures were unnecessary—they caused numerous accidents. The massive amounts of mana released caused plants, animals, and even humans to undergo Mana Mutation.
"I remember mushrooms underwent a Mana Mutation from the scavenger slime fertilizer... so it happened to humans too."
"Modern humans possess physiological systems to safely store and vent excess mana," Willieris said. "Unless something truly extreme happens, you usually only end up feeling a bit nauseous. But ancient humans hadn't developed those functions yet. As generations passed, the creatures of this world gradually built up a resistance to mana, eventually becoming able to handle magic individually and branching off into different races."
"So that’s how Elves, Dwarves, and Beast-kin came to be?"
"That's part of it, but there were way more races than just those, ya see," Grimp said. "To use an example close to you, Ryoma, Goblins are also a human offshoot."
"What? Goblins were originally human? On Earth, some thought they were a type of fairy."
In my shock, I blurted out the question. Grimp made a sour face as he drained his cup, then spoke slowly while pouring another.
The changes brought by Mana Mutation were varied, often resulting in appearances that bore no resemblance to humanity. Those with peculiar physical traits and their descendants were branded "Demon-kin," persecuted as enemies of the gods, and hunted.
Conflict was inevitable, escalating until several nations were laid waste. It was in the midst of this ruin that the ancestors of the Goblins were born.
"Since you’re brewin' sake with 'em, Ryoma, I reckon you’ve noticed that Goblins are honest with their pleasures, right?" Grimp asked. "But they don't give a lick about bad smells or dirt, and they forget about unpleasant things almost immediately."
"That's certainly true."
Grimp described Goblins as a race that had evolved specifically for survival and preservation in a devastated world.
"When the world’s so broken that ya can't live a normal life, persecuted humans aren't gonna be treated well. In a life where ya never know when you'll be hunted from your home, bein' thick-skinned enough to ignore the misery was better for the head. They traded intellect and reason for a psyche resistant to despair, ya see. But if that was all, the folks usin' their brains would’ve wiped 'em out. So their bodies got tougher than humans... they became hard to kill, their stomachs could handle rot, and they started breedin' like crazy."
"It might look like regression," Willieris added, "but it was a magnificent adaptation to the environment. As a result, their species survives to this day. There was even an era when Goblins were the most numerous and prosperous race in the world; they are a superior race in that regard."
I had no idea. But when I thought about it... if Earth’s civilization collapsed, it made a certain kind of sense. What would happen to modern Japanese people—surrounded by infrastructure, electricity, safe food, and hygiene—if they were dropped into a pure survival environment?
Living in a disaster shelter is incredibly stressful, and even there, problems arise. If everything was gone, the mental burden would be unimaginable. Not everyone would be strong enough to endure it. How many people would actually remain healthy in mind and body?
On a related note, in my old company, the new employees who were serious and sensitive to the atmosphere were always the first to burn out. To keep your mind healthy and live happily, perhaps it really is better to be a bit thick-skinned.
Besides, I recall hearing that the genetic difference between humans and chimpanzees is only about one percent. It wasn't hard to believe that the ancestors of Goblins and humans here were once the same.
"Anyway, that’s enough about human history," Grimp said, bringing the conversation back around. "The Curse Removal Lost Magic you’re tryin' to revive was magic meant for people with almost no mana. To put it simple, the density of your mana is different from what they used, ya see."
"Your technique is correct," Willieris explained, "but your own mana is preventing you from properly drawing in the Magic Elements. Imagine a slope where small pebbles are rolling down. If massive boulders come crashing down the same path, they’ll simply knock the pebbles aside."
"...No wonder the magic activates but doesn't feel effective."
No matter how much moonlight I gathered to draw in Magic Elements, it was pointless if my own mana was scattering them. In fact, I probably wasn't even using my own mana at full efficiency, which explained why the cost and the effect didn't seem to add up.
"Now that I understand the cause, I probably should have prioritized finding a way to communicate with Kormi."
"In terms of efficiency, that’d be best," Grimp agreed. "The boy’s a fairy, so his mana sense is leagues beyond any human's. Bein' able to draw mana from nature means he can handle Magic Elements like it's nothin'. He’s the perfect one to give ya advice."
"We wanted to explain the mechanics to you ourselves," Willieris added, "mostly because he would have figured it out the moment you asked him anyway. Your inspection lasts two more days, and then you're returning to him, aren't you?"
I was. And I’d definitely be telling Kormi stories about the trip, which would lead to the topic of Lost Magic. Essentially, this was a problem I would have solved in a couple of days regardless.
"We’ll handle the Curse Removal on this end," Grimp said, "so you just take it easy, ya see."
"Your studies also seem to be bearing fruit—oh?" Willieris paused.
The time had come for me to return. My body began to glow with a soft light.
"Time really flies when you're having a good conversation."
"It does. But I'll be back soon."
"We look forward to it," Willieris said. "And as thanks for the wonderful food and drink, one more piece of advice. Regarding your subordinate, Eleanora; I recommend giving her plenty of work once you return to the city. It's unavoidable during this trip, but she has far too much idle time on her hands."
"Understood. I was planning to put her to work in earnest once we got back anyway, so I’ll give her all the paperwork she can handle."
"Please do so," Willieris smiled.
"Take care, now," Grimp waved.
Their parting words were the signal; vision was briefly swallowed by light. The sensation was identical to using the church chapel; the transition was seamless. The next moment, I was standing back in my room at the lodging.
...I’d only intended to share a few drinks, but I walked away with an unexpected harvest. I’d heard some fascinating stories, too. I’ll keep giving it my all starting tomorrow.