“The spherical spell model that envelops the fire-element to form the fireball — that’s already a perfectly stable construct!”
“And it’s been fixed that way from the very beginning!”
“A spherical geometry possesses stability on par with a tetrahedron!”
“As everyone knows, the triangle is the most stable planar shape — and in three dimensions, the sphere is no less stable.”
“I actually tried to compress an already-stable spherical model into a smaller size? How could I have been so foolish?”
Having pinpointed the flaw, Rune couldn’t help but laugh at his own elementary mistake.
Of course.
The spell model of Fireball was spherical by design — constructed that way from the outset. Everything afterward was simply channeling mana, converting it into fire-element, and using that to stabilize and draw in ambient free fire-element to complete the construct.
Rune attempting to use his mental force to forcibly compress an already-formed spherical model was absurd — like trying to squeeze a perfectly balanced architectural dome with bare hands.
The spherical construct was braced not only by his own mental force but by the intrinsic structural integrity of the most fundamental geometric form.
He was essentially pitting his mental force against itself… while simultaneously fighting the innate rigidity of geometry itself.
No wonder he had failed.
The fact that he could already make the fireball rhythmically expand and contract without disintegrating was borderline miraculous.
It was a laughably basic error — one that left him shaking his head in wry amusement.
Still, he simply noted the mistake, committed it to memory as a lesson, and moved on without dwelling.
“But if a spherical spell structure cannot be compressed… then perhaps I should switch to a different, more compressible spell model?”
Rune shifted to the next logical question.
Level 2 Fireball had granted him the ability to modify the spell model.
That was the essence of shape alteration.
Yet this realization plunged him into another round of deep analysis.
“The spherical model may prevent compression, but it carries an irreplaceable advantage!”
“Stability.”
“That is the single most important virtue of this construct! If I switch to another geometric shape, will Fireball remain this stable?”
Mental simulations raced through his mind.
He had already experimented with disc shapes, short lance forms — they looked flashy, yes, but the cost was immediate: instability. He could feel the construct teetering on the edge of rupture, ready to explode at the slightest disturbance.
Unacceptable.
A spell he could not precisely control was not truly his power.
So he instinctively rejected that route.
“Wait — if the spell model is fixed from the moment of initial construction… what if I construct a smaller model from the very beginning, then inject the original quantity of fire-element into it?”
The moment the question crystallized, inspiration erupted like a dam breaking. Ideas surged in a torrent.
Very quickly, one viable path emerged from the flood.
And when it fully formed in his mind—
His eyes snapped open, blazing with razor-sharp reason and fierce excitement.
“Theory holds!”
A brief chain of reasoning produced an overwhelming intuition: this method was feasible.
Near-perfect theoretical viability.
Proof-of-concept complete. Next step: experiment.
Whoosh!
Rune focused, raised his hand — and a fireball appeared above his right palm.
But this one was only half the size of a standard Level 2 fireball.
Exactly the size of a Level 1 fireball.
Apple-sized, orange-red, and loosely flickering — burning steadily.
“Mana — flow!”
He did not stop there.
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He kept channeling mana from within his body, continuously converting it into fire-element and pouring it into this smaller construct, reinforcing the undersized spell model.
The apple-sized fireball responded almost immediately: its color shifted rapidly under the relentless influx.
In less than two seconds it transitioned from dull orange-red to a brighter, heavier yellow — the flame visibly denser, more substantial.
“It works!”
Rune’s eyes gleamed as he stared at the transformed fireball.
The core hypothesis had been validated.
His concept was realizable.
But he pressed on.
He continued directing every last drop of fire-element available from his Level 2 capacity, using razor-fine control to force it into the baseline Level 1 volume — the apple-sized spherical model.
Then qualitative change occurred.
The fireball’s hue swept from dark red → orange-yellow → a piercing, clear orange-red.
Its light sharpened until it hurt to look at directly.
The surrounding air began to hum faintly — a high-pitched buzz — as it struggled against the sudden thermal spike; the space around the orb visibly warped and shimmered.
Only when he had poured the entire Level 2 mana budget — fully converted into fire-element — into this newly formed apple-sized model did the influx abruptly halt.
He had reached a conversion threshold.
Rune recognized the sensation immediately and paid it no mind.
He gazed at the brilliant orange-red fireball in his hand and moved to the critical test.
From the folds of his coarse tunic he withdrew a thick piece of raw iron plate.
Using a crude iron tongs, he slowly brought the plate to within about ten centimeters of the fireball.
The surface oxidized black almost instantly. Within seconds it began to glow red and soften.
“Exactly as predicted! Temperature has risen — and this level…”
Rune watched the iron rapidly blacken, then redden and lose rigidity.
Rough estimation: the core temperature of this compressed Fireball had surged from the original pitiful ~300°C to at least 800°C or higher!
His initial attempt had succeeded!
Level 2 Fireball could indeed elevate core temperature through volume compression!
The path was clear.
Power emerged from the fusion of control and intellect.
“800°C… enough to melt lead, make steel glow red and turn malleable.” Rune stared at the quietly burning orb in his palm — now containing terrifying thermal potential. His heart pounded. This flame now possessed genuine sustained lethality: capable of igniting timber, burning through leather, and inflicting severe damage to the vulnerable eyes, mouths, or wounds of low-tier magical beasts.
What had once been dismissed as a mere cantrip had — through his upgrade panel and his own reasoning — transformed into legitimate combat strength.
“Phew… Let’s name this compressed version ‘Fireball: Condensed.’ And this fist-sized, orange-red compressed fireball shall be ‘Fireball: Condensed v0.5’! The uncompressed originals are the foundation — call them ‘Fireball: Base.’ Level 1 size is ‘Fireball: Base v1,’ Level 2 uncompressed is ‘Fireball: Base v2.’ Simple and clear.”
Rune exhaled long and slow, excitement cooling into calm rationality.
He assigned provisional names to the variants.
Then, abruptly, his gaze sharpened again — a new, even wilder idea igniting behind his eyes.
“What if I keep the total fire-element quantity constant… and compress ‘Fireball: Condensed v0.5’ even further?”
Yes.
Rune was not satisfied.
The insatiable exploratory drive born of scientific thinking propelled him toward the next extreme inference: if density increased again, temperature would rise geometrically!
The notion was both perilously dangerous and irresistibly tempting.
After a brief moment of consideration, he acted without hesitation.
He could sense that his control over the spell model had not yet reached its limit.
He could do more.
The extreme heat and risk of catastrophic explosion might threaten his life — but it was worth it.
Because the theory held.
Whoosh!
With a casual wave, he dispersed the orange-red fireball in his hand.
The fire-element scattered harmlessly.
Since it had been converted from his own mana, it could not harm him — not even the prior high temperature had scorched him.
Rune found the phenomenon intriguing but did not pursue it further; it touched on fundamental world rules beyond his current right to investigate.
Whoosh!
He immediately began the second — and far more difficult — compression trial.
This time the target volume was not apple-sized, but ping-pong-ball-sized.
He intuitively knew that was his current absolute limit.
It meant compressing the flame energy down to a fraction of the baseline volume.
The process was exponentially harder, demanding precision at the edge of human — or rather, mage — capability.
Whoosh!
The next instant, a familiar chantless cast — but this time a dim, fragile-looking ping-pong-ball-sized fireball materialized.
Rune wasted no time.
With near-miraculous control, he directed the conversion of mana to fire-element, reinforced the undersized spell model, and drew ambient fire-element into the tiny sphere in a continuous stream.
It was anything but easy.
If injecting Level 2 fire-element into a Level 1 model had been like guiding a gentle stream into a reservoir…
…this was like threading a high-pressure water jet through a hole barely wider than the stream itself.
An immense challenge to both the base model integrity and mana output uniformity.
Rune felt as though he were riding a raging flame stallion while simultaneously sculpting its form with a master engraver’s precision.
The mana flow had to remain perfectly even, stable, and uninterrupted; the slightest fluctuation could collapse the energy structure, triggering backlash or premature dispersal.
Fortunately, even though he had pursued the wrong direction for over a month, the mana control he had forged was real.
Though it was his first attempt at this scale and took nearly half a minute, he succeeded.
He forced the entire Level 2 fire-element quantity into the ping-pong-ball-sized spell model.
The tiny fireball shifted hue: yellow → orange-red → finally pure, blinding white.
Unlike the earlier hazy, flickering flames, this compressed sphere possessed an almost solid density — a condensed core of searing white at the center, radiating outward into clear orange-red corona.
The surrounding air warped violently from the heat wave rolling off it.
Most astonishing: absolute stability. Not a single stray spark escaped. All that ferocious energy remained locked inside the minuscule orb.
Just as theorized — the sphere’s innate geometry provided unparalleled stability, allowing Rune to maintain the model with minimal mental expenditure.
“Hypothesis confirmed! Initial experiment successful!”
A smile finally broke across Rune’s face — one of supreme, unshakable confidence.
Everything had unfolded precisely as his reasoning predicted.
He had used his knowledge to alter the magic of this world.
“Now… let’s see what kind of power you truly possess!”
Rune did not linger in triumph. After a brief surge of exhilaration, he moved immediately to the next phase.
Temperature test!
The eternal truth remained: a flame’s ultimate lethality was its temperature.
Using the same crude tongs, he retrieved the thick iron plate — now cooled and no longer glowing — that he had set aside earlier.
Slowly, he brought it toward the breathtakingly beautiful, incandescent white orb the size of a ping-pong ball.
Honestly, Rune found it stunning — almost divine. It no longer resembled ordinary fire; it looked like a tiny fragment peeled from the surface of a star.
The sheer thrill of wresting a sliver of cosmic majesty into his palm nearly overwhelmed his composure.
But he drew a deep breath and locked his rationality in place.
He positioned the iron plate fully beside the blazing white sphere.
Then watched, unblinking, for the changes to begin.
