In this world, there are many ways to calculate the duration of a continuous skill, but the main one is the amount of magic used to maintain the effect. It was curious to realize that mana had no direct relation to the efficiency of magic — its function was, roughly speaking, like a fuse. The beginning of something didn't determine its end, and for all intents and purposes, mana was just the push a car needs to roll downhill.
— Very well, I'll cast the skill… but how do I make it protect something instead of just going around killing everyone? — I asked.
My question was direct and to the point. I knew my summon had limitations, but I didn't know how far a command could be followed without opening room for ambiguous interpretations.
— That's a good question… but I think there's someone who can help you with that, right, Lunara? — Zomeia said.
— Actually, I can help you — replied Lunara. — What really matters is the intention. Take a look.
To my surprise, Lunara, in addition to being skilled in magic, also mastered the art of summoning. She made a gesture and, suddenly, a huge sentient bear appeared beside her.
— That's the size of a horse! — I exclaimed.
— Of course. I call him Baby. It's a common summon for a mage. Not useful in battle, but excellent for transportation. And that's exactly what I'm going to teach you.
Lunara spent several minutes explaining the nuances of summons and their limitations. A summon needs to be created with a clear purpose from the start and, as I suspected, the more complex the purpose, the more magic it demands from the summoner — not mana.
For most people, magic and mana were almost identical concepts, but for Lunara, their functions were radically different.
— As you probably know, mana serves as a push for magic. But it's magic that lets your creativity flow. If you don't have much magic, the best you can do is summon a creature with a simple purpose, like my Baby: transportation. However…
She paused and began a long summoning. Slowly, a raven appeared and perched on her shoulder.
— This raven, unlike my transport, has a more complex function: to relay to me what it sees and hears. That consumes much more magic, because the intention is far more elaborate.
— I see… the more complex the intention, the more magic is required.
— Exactly. I always say that even the most complex things can have simple intentions. In the end, it all comes down to protecting something, killing something, or… simply watching.
When she said that, the raven took flight, circling above the dungeon. But just a few seconds later, it vanished as if it had never existed.
— Of course, even a simple intention has its cost. In my case, just a few seconds of duration.
It made sense. The creature wasn't originally summoned to watch; changing its function afterward only shortened its lifespan.
— Having clarity in your intention from the beginning is harder than it seems — Lunara continued. — Changes after the summoning only reduce its duration. My advice: imagine the creature and give simple, objective orders that cover all possible situations.
I understood. To summon my cards, I needed to define from the beginning what they should do… and what they shouldn't. They had to protect the dungeon, but allow authorized people to enter. Attack monsters coming out of the portal, but not harm citizens. They needed to know exactly what to attack and what to ignore.
— Okay… I think I can try.
I closed my eyes and visualized my goals: protect, watch, fight, signal, control. The words spun in my mind as I tried to condense everything into a single command.
— Fulfill your missions, cards.
I extended my hand toward the dungeon and, once again, saw the ground open. The cards emerged one by one, marching toward the portal. It was still early, and the portal was empty, but they took up the positions previously held by Leonan. The difference was that now, I had three times more soldiers than he did. I knew quantity didn't mean quality… but the idea wasn't to prevent anything from going wrong — it was to buy time until the Rhino Guild arrived.
— Very well, they seem to be in the correct positions. — Lunara commented. — Now let's wait and see how long you can keep the summon active.
It was the moment of truth. I was curious to see how long it would take before my magic ran out and my summons vanished.
People began to approach, one by one. Curiosity seemed to outweigh caution, and many came close to my cards. Fortunately, my concern didn't come true: they simply ignored the adventurers.
— Very good, you managed to place the intention in them. — said Lunara. — But how would they react to an enemy?
— We're about to find out. — she answered herself.
With a gesture, Lunara summoned her bear again. As soon as it appeared, the cards immediately noticed it. A few seconds later, ten of them were already on the creature, stabbing it with their spears.
— Fascinating… — Lunara smiled. — They recognized the summon as an enemy.
— To be honest, I didn't know how to differentiate an enemy from an ally. But I know the dungeon monsters are summons, so my intention was to treat any summon as hostile. After all, I don't know all the local races.
— Very good, Fly. I hadn't even thought of that. — she admitted.
— Either way, I'll put up a sign warning summoners to only call their creatures inside the dungeon. — she added.
Five hours later, my mana was fully recharged. I was relieved not to experience the pain of the first summon again, but a new problem was approaching.
— Fly… are you feeling your body getting drained? Weakness? — Lunara asked seriously.
— No… why?
The tension in the air was palpable. The glances exchanged between Malaca and Lunara said it all: something was wrong.
— Please, Fly, dismiss the summon. — Malaca asked.
I didn't understand at first, but she pulled me closer.
— From now on, I need you to cancel your summon every few hours.
— But I feel like they can keep going…
— Look around you.
I noticed that people looked relieved as they saw my summons vanish. It didn't make sense.
— They look happy? — I asked.
— Yes… In fact, I've never seen anyone maintain a summon for more than a few hours. But you summoned more than forty cards, and they've been standing there for hours. That shouldn't be possible. People fear the unknown, Fly. I have no idea why you're able to keep them going for so long, but let's keep this just between the three of us, okay?
— Of course.
I didn't have much to say. That infinity symbol in my magic status probably meant nothing to them… but to me, it was clear. My summons weren't going to disappear due to a lack of energy.
On one hand, that was great. On the other… the nail that sticks out always gets hammered. I understood Malaca. Maybe she saw this as a trump card. For now, I had nothing to gain by revealing the secret. To everyone else, I was still an anomaly within believable limits — after all, I would have to dismiss the summon from time to time.
The moment I canceled it, I felt the relief from those around me. Many probably still doubted what they had seen.
— Very well. — said Malaca. — Since you can hold the line, I can focus on defending the wall.
— But… did he go there? — I asked.
— Honestly, Fly, I don't know what's going on in Vriu. But it's probably much more serious than he let on.
— And these wolves… are they strong?
— I've faced a few. They're not stronger than regular wolves, but they're smarter and craftier — and that makes everything harder. Dumb creatures falter due to overconfidence and recklessness. But smart ones ambush and retreat when they realize the enemy is stronger. To me, that's the worst kind of creature, even if it's weak.
— But… if they're so intelligent, why is the dungeon rated D?
— That one's easy, my friend. The smartest wolf in the world doesn't pose more threat to me than the smartest fly. At my level — and Leonan's — they're way too weak. But in large numbers, I'd be worried… not about the ones that attacked me, but about the ones that slipped past. The punishment for losing control of a dungeon is harsh, and he knows it.
Malaca understood her own power and its limits — and most likely, so did Leonan. She knew she could take on many enemies, but it was impossible to fight them all. Inevitably, some could escape and strike the city in a devastating way. The punishment for such negligence was severe, even reaching the death penalty. The kingdom didn't care to send help… but it wouldn't hesitate to dispatch the Inquisitor.
— Very well, I'm heading back to the city to organize the team at the gate and the wall.
Malaca stepped closer to Lunara, just enough to give her instructions.
— Lunara, watch over him while I prepare the people in town.
— No problem, ma'am. Let's go, Fly.
— Sure.
On the first day, I had to stay close to my summons to identify any flaw in my intentions. Neither Malaca nor I wanted anyone who wasn't a monster to be attacked. Luckily, everything seemed to go smoothly. My cards were able to recognize enemies — even the dead ones — but they didn't pursue the corpses carried by adventurers, which had been a concern of mine. In the end, the summons were perfect as guards: they didn't tire, didn't need to eat or rest. By the end of the day, I felt confident enough to leave them without direct supervision.
— Tonight we're sleeping in this tent. — said Lunara.
While I kept watch over my summons, Lunara had managed to reserve one of the largest tents, set up near the dungeon. Normally, camping that close would be forbidden, but Malaca had made an exception.
— This tent is in a privileged area, with at least forty meters of open plain all around. I'm going to set up some traps and be right back. If you get tired, just dismiss the summons and re-cast them.
I was already approaching the average time I'd mentally set to keep the cards active, and it seemed to be working — even Lunara seemed to have memorized my "made-up time."
— Sure, I'll do that now.
I wanted to use the glove's second ability, but I didn't have enough mana to endure it… and honestly, I wasn't in the mood to feel that pain again so soon.
I need to level up soon. When all of this is over, that'll be the first thing I do.
— Alright, I'll be back soon. Make yourself comfortable. — said Lunara as she left.
The tent wasn't large, but it was comfortable — about ten square meters, with a height similar to a normal wall. It had a bathroom, or rather, a separate compartment accessible from inside, with a hole in the ground and a magic water box. Simple, but functional.
The main space was roomy, but what bothered me was that the tent was transparent from the inside. From the outside, it was impossible to see in — even with detection magic — but from inside, we had a full view of the surroundings. It was a strange kind of magic, disorienting… and, above all, unsettling.
Lunara returned shortly after.
— I'm back. The traps are set… Hm, I see you've never slept in a war tent.
— No…
— Don't worry, you'll get used to it. No one can see anything in here from outside, not even with magic. But, as you probably noticed, we have a clear view of the outside. It's hard to sleep like this at first, but trust me, you'll get used to it.
The night was unsettling. The dungeon emitted a low, continuous sound… like breathing. It was impossible to tell whether it came from something human or something far more terrifying. It took me a while to fall asleep, until finally, my eyes closed.
— Hey… wake up. We have company.