This Clueless Hero

With a bit of hesitation, I lightly tugged on the cork on the ink bottle. However, I couldn't get it off the first few tries.

Only after holding it with both hands and doing it resolutely, did the cork pop off. A strong scent of ink permeated the air, piercing my nose. It wasn't the most pleasant scent, given how strong it was, but it wasn't inherently disgusting.

I picked up the feather clumsily, fiddling around with it for a few moments. It was pretty clear to any onlooker that I had no idea what I was doing.

I slowly brought the feather down until it just barely touched the ink within the bottle. From there, I retracted the feather, leaving only a tiny black spot at its tip.

With that, I cast my eyes onto the spell diagram, before looking at the blank piece of paper in front of me.

I drew in a deep breath... then set down the feather onto the paper.

Once more, I found myself in the elusive labyrinth. The walls were as cold and empty as they always were.

But now, I had a torch with me, brightening the place up a little more. The flame was weak, but still did its job fairly well.

After walking down the paths for a few moments, I didn't find any immediate difference in having this torch with me. It made me a little concerned that I might have wasted my time, but I decided to have faith in it.

However, not long after, the fire from the torch died out.

The blank piece of paper in front of me had several lines drawn out onto it. However, as the lines continued, they gradually faded until they disappeared altogether.

The ink ran out quite fast, but that was to be expected since I didn't put that much ink on the feather.

This time, I dipped the feather in a little deeper, but was still rather hesitant in doing so. I wanted to save as much ink as I could so that I wouldn't have to buy it again in the future.

Once again, I made my way through the maze. The torch lasted longer this time, but died out soon after, abruptly taking me out of the maze.

The side of my face twitched.

I decided to dip the feather in quite a bit further, drenching the end with ink. As I brought it over to the paper, some of it dropped onto the table. I hurriedly pulled the feather back over the ink bottle and let it hover there for a few moments, letting the ink slowly run down it.

Then, I brought it back over to the paper.

This time, I brought a blazing torch with me into the maze. However, the excess light hampered me more than it helped, making it hard to keep my eyes open and see the labyrinth walls.

A soft sigh escaped me.

In the end, a long line of ink appeared, bleeding across the page excessively. It almost looked like a fuzzy rope, which was quite jarring compared to the thin lines next to it.

...Not too much, but not too little. That was how I had to do things.

Frankly, that was probably how all things were supposed to be done, which was quite annoying when I think about it.

After all, it means committing fully to anything would cause me to overdo it, achieving lackluster results. However, on the opposite spectrum, not doing it also makes me fall behind, as there was nothing much done in the first place.

Again and again, something in between was the ideal spot. But as for where this spot was, it required experimentation and persistence.

In short, it was complicated.

...But I guess everything was complicated, really. The answers were always so complex, even if they seemed simple.

Yet, that also meant there would always be something to explore.

Well, at least from my limited perspective, it seemed that way.

I drew in a deep sigh, before sinking the feather within the ink less than a centimeter within. Although not perfect, at least the feather wasn't dripping with ink, or had barely any to speak of.

This time, I went through the maze with a rather reasonable torch. It lit up the path before me clearly and was easy to follow.

While the torch would run out eventually, I made sure to light it back up soon after each time.

Like that, I got lost in the rhythm.

At some point, dipping the feather into the ink bottle became natural, like it was something I had done countless times before. But this was definitely my first time, from what I could remember.

Slowly but surely, the spell diagram was gradually replicated onto the paper before me. Although I wasn't intensely focusing on it, the sense of progress brought by seeing the paper being filled up was quite satisfying.

And then... I finished.

The spell diagram was quite large compared to the paper in front of me. Since I did the drawing to scale, I was only able to get about a third of it on the paper. However, if it was just the connections between the smaller diagrams, it would be about half.

...In other words, I only needed two parchments to draw out the entire spell.

My eyes followed the wild lines on the paper. The ink was still wet, glimmering with a soft light. Other than the few mess-ups at the start, the lines were startlingly accurate compared to the actual diagram.

It made me feel a little proud.

As for the actual effects on what I remembered, I didn't truly take it in at first.

I was still half in the rhythm of drawing the spell diagram. However, once I finished, it all felt so clear.

Before, it felt like I was walking through a foggy wasteland, where I could hardly see a few meters in front of me. The only way to know the path I had taken was purely by memory. However, that was simply too unreliable.

After all, sometimes I believed I remembered the path, but it was actually wrong the entire time. Sometimes I actually remembered the right path, but second-guessed myself and took another path.

But now... it was all laid out before me.

As though I had a map...

No, as though the wasteland wasn't foggy at all, and my vision somehow expanded across its entirety.

Some of the paths I misremembered were instantly cleared up, meaning I didn't solidify fake truths.

Back then, I thought I had memorized maybe a little over half of the spell diagram because of how fuzzy it all was. But now, I realized that it was at most a third.

But now, I had a pretty strong understanding of half the diagram.

However, the parchment was now used up.

...Wait.

What if I turned it over and used the other side?

With that thought in mind, I picked up the parchment and flipped it over. The back side of the parchment had faint visible lines of ink that had bled over from the front.

My eyelid twitched.

...Could it still be used like this?

That was when a thought flashed into my mind.

What I could do... is close my eyes and attempt to retrace the entire diagram. The faint ink stains would let me know if I had messed up along the way, or if my understanding was correct.

Since the parchment had been flipped over, it wouldn't be in the exact same pattern. Instead, it was like the opposite. As though it had been reflected.

However, the spell diagram was three-dimensional, meaning reflecting it didn't change the overall structure.

It would be a challenge, but would let me truly see if I had memorized the spell.

And so, I closed my eyes and attempted to retrace this section of the spell diagram from scratch.

This time, I walked through the labyrinth in complete darkness. Instead of a torch, I had a ball of yarn that I slowly unfurled as I traveled.

It was like a trail of breadcrumbs, but I didn't have to worry about any birds eating them up.

The longer I spent in this darkness, the more aimless I felt. It was hard to tell if my memories were leading me the right way, but instead of second-guessing myself, I simply moved onward.

After all, I still had that ball of yarn that would let me know if I had gotten it wrong.

The darkness was already pitch black, but it somehow felt like it was becoming darker. It gradually got suffocating, like the darkness wanted to swallow me whole.

But I kept my faith in the light until the very end.

And eventually, I was done.

I opened my eyes to look at the parchment before me.

There were a few wrong lines here and there, but it was something to be proud of.

I lifted the parchment with a smile.

...To see ink stains on the table.

Oops.