The wedding was in a month.

Burn, being a responsible emperor, made sure the world wouldn’t collapse in his absence.

In the three-year loops he used to suffer through, it had always taken him the full three years to beat the world into submission, Wintersin included. This time around, it didn’t even take a year. Wintersin still stood, sure, but everything else had folded neatly.

In those past timelines, he'd also ignored the mythical races because, frankly, he didn’t have the energy to directly deal with them yet. But now, he had Morgan, and unfortunately, no excuse.

With Wintersin left and the Alliance conveniently available to help them, he figured they could handle that final headache together.

Stabilizing the realm didn’t require his micromanagement anymore either. The Round Table was functioning, and the Mythical Assembly hadn’t imploded. That alone was enough.

So, Burn did something that would’ve made his old self frown in disbelief: he sat down to study magic. Vision Magic.

“Spells are formulas,” he muttered aloud, squinting at some text. “With formulas, any Vision Mage can reproduce what others do. But interpretation… that’s where it gets complicated. Interest, identity, knowledge, emotions, wisdom, philosophy—basically a personality test in magical form.”

Morgan nodded. “Let’s try it out?” she offered.

Burn picked a basic fire spell, mostly out of nostalgia. She liked teaching that one to kids. He figured it would be poetic if he passed a first-grade lesson on his first try.

“What’s your understanding of fire?” Morgan asked.

“Inferior to plasma,” Burn said flatly. She laughed, because of course he said that.

He raised his hand and conjured a small flame with Vision successfully. But then, slowly, the flame began to flicker and wane. Burn squinted.

“What are you doing to it?” he asked, brows pulling together.

“I’m using an air spell to remove the gas the flame needs to burn,” she replied.

“A counterspell, then,” Burn noted.

“Yes.”

“Can I try?”

Morgan held out her palm, summoned the fire, and waited. He focused. He knew what she had done—now he just needed to replicate it.

“Careful,” she warned. “Air and wind spells are not the same. One moves around itself, the other never stops in one small place.”

“Yes,” Burn said, still watching the flame. “I don’t want to accidentally air-blade your hand off.”

Two seconds later, the flame above her hand sputtered and died. He had done it.

Burn hummed. “This is just knowledge-based spellcraft. Where exactly do emotion, wisdom, or philosophy fit into this?”

Morgan grinned, clearly enjoying herself, and told him to make another flame.

“Make it hotter.”

“Just by adding more gas to it?” Burn asked, then did it. The flame grew.

“More,” she said, watching the process. The flame shifted, gradually taking on the heat and intensity of plasma.

“It can’t get hotter than this without suffocating us,” Burn pointed out, keeping an eye on the room’s oxygen level.

“It can,” Morgan said.

Then, with no buildup, she raised her hand and created exactly what Burn had made—except she did it in less than a second. No change in air composition. No suffocation risk.

Burn’s eyes narrowed. “What? How?”

“Rage. Will. Vengeance. Bravery. Passion,” Morgan said plainly. “Vision Magic uses the soul. That’s where emotion, wisdom, and philosophy come in.”

Burn was starting to get it now. Force magic had structure and rules. Vision magic, on the other hand, was a vague mess with just enough logic behind it to stop being random. Somehow, it still made sense. Annoyingly fascinating.

“Alright. Now teach me the mind reading spell,” Burn said. He didn’t bother hiding how much he wanted it.

Morgan laughed immediately. She was practically vibrating. “Are you ready?”

Burn nodded. “Mm.”

This was the real reason he was here. The rest of the spells could wait. He didn’t need them. He already had the void seal spell under control—yes, her signature spell to keep the Demon Lord locked up. Also, yes, the event horizon one that cut the Demon Lord in two. But none of that mattered now.

He just wanted to read her mind since she’d been casually waltzing through his for too long.

Morgan began teaching him the same way she always did, like teaching him basic spells—fire, wind, air, water, earth, whatever. She used her fingertip to draw the diagram onto the wooden table. Light responded, arranging into neat runes and calculated patterns.

“Can you see it in your head?” she asked.

Burn started drawing the same pattern with his finger. The light mirrored hers above the table. He locked it into memory.

“What’s this part do?”

“Tracks and matches your brain’s mana flow.”

“And this one?”

“Stops you from frying your own neurons.”

“And this?”

“Pulls data from the electrical signals in your head.”

“Okay, got it,” Burn said. He focused and cast the spell, his hand resting over hers. He concentrated.

[Seven two nine—need to enchant the curtains later along with his new blue tunic—nine eight, counting the mana particles in the air—I love him so much—this part of the circle, if drawn wrong, causes cranial rupture—Lunch: roasted eggplant with honey dip for Ain—Nemo needs another recalibration—ask Master Vlad—]

Burn yanked his hand away. His head was already spinning.

“Takes some adjusting,” Morgan said with a smile.

“Why is there so much in your brain?” Burn groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“There’s plenty in yours, too. Should I list it out?” Morgan offered.

“I doubt it’s as chaotic,” Burn said flatly.

“Well, just now you looked at my chest and thought boobies four times. Then your brain jumped to Luminus’ debts because you were mentally comparing Vision Magic to Holy Technique. Right after, you thought bullshit twice, then followed it with an actual swear.”

“…Okay. Fine. You win. My mind is noisy.”

Morgan reviewed his magic circle. “You’re brilliant with formulas, rules, and neat little measurements. Pity this has no interest in any of them.”

“How much is the margin of error, then?” Burn asked.

“There isn’t one,” Morgan said flatly. “You can draw the thing in your own alphabet, invent your own geometry, your own logic, your own everything. Rules aren’t prisons unless you lock yourself in. And even with rules, you can always be maliciously compliant to them.” She smiled.

“Ahh,” Burn finally nodded at that last bit.

“In the end, it’s just a conversation with your soul. So use whatever language gets it to talk back. Only two people will ever truly understand how to do that—yourself and God. And unless you’re an Apostle, God won't tell you,” she chuckled, drawing a rare smile from him.

Burn began sketching his own circle, glancing at the samples she had shown. “Morgan, how does someone even become a saint?”

A saint—someone other than an Apostle who could wield Holy Energy.

Morgan hummed, skimming over his rough draft. “You just have to do something purely for God. That’s all.”

Not something from a book. Not something laced with want. Not something convenient or strategic.

“Something done for a Being you’ve never seen, never heard, never touched. And whose existence is deemed imaginary by half the population. Simple, right?” she said, bone-dry.

“With holy techniques around, who wouldn’t believe?” Burn asked.

“Well, if holy energy is just another energy, and some… Romeuf person finds a way to ‘control’ it and use it to fight… it’s indistinguishable from Vision or Force Mana, isn’t it?” Morgan replied.

“You’re saying…” Burn stared at her. “People don’t believe in God because holy energy can be controlled?”

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Some growth interlude worldbuilding chapters for now. Will be back on the story in a bit.