I made up magic and taught a world-destroying witch?

The next morning, Grace followed Joseph's instructions from the previous night and did not disturb him, instead practicing in her dormitory.

Grace sat at her desk, her back straight, with her notebook open beside her.

She wrote a title for today's exercise:

Observation on the stability of a first-circle spell slot under unconfirmed conditions

She reminded herself to remember her husband's words: slow down, don't rush to attract traffic, don't rush to package, and don't rush to get results.

She closed her eyes and focused on imagining only the first side of the square.

At first, everything went smoothly. When she slowed her breathing, the edge became even clearer than yesterday. She could even vaguely sense a slight temperature change near the edge.

Grace's heart beat slightly faster.

Is this magic?

She had no magical perception; from childhood to adulthood, her world had never witnessed the flow, tremor, or response described in magic books.

But now, she seemed to have indirectly touched something through the edge of that square.

  

She immediately wanted to write it down, but she remembered what her husband had said the night before: don't go to him for confirmation as soon as you have a feeling. So she forced herself to suppress her excitement and continued to build the second and third edges. When the fourth edge was about to close, Grace suddenly realized that as long as this box was completed, the Royal Academy's test, the court mage's sigh, and those euphemistic comments that "His Highness might be more suited to administrative affairs" would all be overturned.

It's not that she doesn't have magic; she just hasn't encountered a way to access it.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the frame wobbled, and its once warm edges began to become chaotic, the four sides twisting like candle flames blown away by the wind.

Grace instinctively quickened her breathing, trying to recapture that feeling, but the next moment, the frame completely collapsed.

She opened her eyes.

For the first time, she felt so clearly that she was only one step away from success. And it was precisely because she was so close that she failed.

Meanwhile, in Mia's dormitory.

The red-haired girl sat cross-legged on the bed, muttering, "Warm up the furnace, warm up the furnace, don't hammer it too hard, don't hammer it too hard."

She imagined the spell slot as an iron mold. Yesterday, the master said not to start hammering right away, but to warm the furnace first.

She understands this.

Before forging, if the furnace temperature is unstable, the iron billet will be ruined. If the fire is too strong, the outside will be burned while the inside remains unburnt; if the fire is too weak, the iron won't soften. So she won't hammer it today.

She first imagined the fire gradually rising, slowly heating the crooked iron mold. At first, the effect was surprisingly good.

The thick, ugly frame with its distinctive style slowly appeared in her mind. The frame was thick, asymmetrical, and even bulged out a bit at the upper right corner, but it was sturdier than yesterday.

Mia was so excited she almost opened her eyes.

No, I can't rush it. She gritted her teeth and continued warming the stove.

But as she warmed the stove, she couldn't resist anymore. Now that the stove was warm enough, could she tap it a little?

It wasn't a real hammer blow, just a light trimming of the edge. The gentleman said not to hammer hard, but he didn't say not to tap lightly. A light tap doesn't count as a hammer blow; at most, it's just a reminder to the mold.

Mia thought this logic made a lot of sense.

So she tried to flatten the bulge in the upper right corner a bit. The frame shook after the first tap, and she panicked, so she tapped it again.

As she patched it, the left side leaked, so she immediately went to plug the left side, but then the bottom bulged up again. Mia got impatient and simply picked up her imagined hammer and started fixing it.

The next instant, the entire iron mold vanished from her mind with a loud bang.

When she opened her eyes, her ears were still ringing, as if a hammer had really hit her head.

"...I didn't hit him hard."

She tried to defend herself in a low voice, but no one in the room answered her.

At noon, Grace and Mia met at the entrance of the experimental tower.

Neither of them spoke.

Mia spoke first, asking, "Did you... succeed?"

Grace paused for a moment, then said, "No."

Mia wanted to laugh, but seeing Grace's expression, she just scratched her head, swallowed her relief, and quickly added, "I didn't either."

The two stood in brief silence at the entrance of the experimental tower.

They all thought they understood what their teacher said last night. But when they actually practiced without supervision, they realized that "slow" wasn't just about saying "slow."

Grace said softly, "I panicked when I was closing it at the last moment."

Mia looked down at her hands: "I said I'd warm the stove, but I still knocked twice."

"How many times?"

"...maybe more than two times."

Grace glanced at her.

Mia immediately retorted, "But I really didn't knock at first!"

Grace looked up at the top of the experimental tower, where the curtains were drawn and there was no movement.

Mia asked softly, "Did the master know we would fail today?"

Grace remained silent for a long time.

"Maybe."

"Then why didn't he come and remind us?"

Grace looked at the Twilight Vines on the experimental tower, which had become ordinary during the day, and said softly:

"Because some failures must be experienced firsthand to understand what the gentleman really meant by 'slow'."

Mia lowered her head.

She suddenly realized that what her husband meant by "warming the furnace" last night wasn't about making her immediately develop a thick frame, but rather about teaching her to resist the urge to hammer.

Grace also looked down, opened her notebook, and wrote down today's entries on a blank page.

First day of independent practice result: failure.

Reason for failure 1: The eagerness to close down leads to instability in the mental structure.

Reason for failure 2: The rush to make corrections led to the continuous collapse of the boundary.

She paused here, then added another line:

"The gentleman did not appear. It is suspected that this is a deliberate attempt to leave room for failure."

Mia leaned over and took a look.

"Failure margin?"

"Hmm." Grace closed her notebook.

"In the old magic classes, failures would be immediately corrected, criticized, and recorded, eventually becoming a line on the expulsion notice."

She looked at Mia.

"But the gentleman did not do that. He made us fail once, but he did not let that failure become a verdict."

Mia was stunned.

She suddenly remembered all the accidents she had caused during her previous practical training: burning curtains, dredging lab benches, and blowing up storage cabinets.

After each failure, the teachers would immediately frown, sigh, make notes, and then tell her: Miss Taylor, you are not suited to continue learning magic.

But nobody says that today.

She failed, but her husband neither appeared nor rejected her.

Mia looked down at her hands and said softly, "Then I'll try again tomorrow."

Grace nodded: "Me too."

Joseph was still asleep at the top of the experimental tower.

He rolled over and pulled the blanket up a bit, completely unaware that his late sleeping in had already conducted a profound educational exercise in the minds of two students.

Joseph was in a good mood when he woke up in the afternoon.

He slept until he naturally woke up. No students knocked on the door, no Marco delivered documents, and he didn't sense anyone's sarcastic remarks.

This was one of the few pleasant mornings he had experienced since his transmigration.

He even began to seriously consider whether he should fix his independent practice days to seven times a week.

However, the thought of the demonstration class next week dampened his good mood.

Demonstration lessons always have to be done superficially.

He dawdled as he made his way to the office on the next floor, picked up a quill pen, and prepared to draft a presentation that sounded sophisticated enough.

He had already thought of a title: either "Observation Report on the Initial Structural Stability Training of New Magic" or "Observation Report on the Priority Principle of Spell Slot Structural Stability and the Low Manifestation Stage".

As for the content?

First, write a few sentences like, "New magic is not old magic, so it cannot be judged by the effects of old magic. Students have special aptitudes and need a longer observation period. Pursuing spellcasting too early will disrupt the stability of spell slots. Demonstration classes can only show theoretical models and practice records, and it is not advisable to force spellcasting."

Anyway, students are unlikely to actually develop anything.

He became more and more satisfied with his writing.

Perfect. Even if they don't release anything next week, it can be explained as the new system still being in the structural observation stage.

Joseph dipped his brush in the ink, preparing to continue writing, when he suddenly sneezed.

He rubbed his nose, feeling like someone was talking about him behind his back.

Never mind, he probably just didn't get enough sleep.

Ugh, I really want to run away.

Just as Joseph was seriously considering whether to buy a southern estate with a vineyard or a fishpond, there was a knock on the office door.

He paused, his quill pen still. At this time, there were usually only two types of people who would come looking for him.

One type is Marco delivering the documents, the other is someone worse.

"Please come in."

The door was pushed open, and Marco poked his head in, carrying a stack of documents, with his usual diligent smile on his face.

"Mr. Joseph, excuse me. This is the consumables requisition form for next week's experimental tower, and also the demonstration class procedure confirmation form that the association just sent over. We need your signature."

Joseph breathed a sigh of relief.

Thankfully, it's the first type.

He put down his quill and regained the composure befitting a great magician.

"Let it go."

Marco placed the document on the table and was about to leave when his gaze inadvertently swept over the parchment in front of Joseph, which had just been titled.

"Prioritizing the Stability of Spell Position Structure and Observation Report on Low Explicit Stages"

"Mr. Joseph,"

His voice was filled with barely suppressed admiration.

"Have you already started preparing the materials for your demonstration lesson?"