Chapter 51: Offspring of Gods and Demons (Please Recommend and Add to Your Favorites)

Due to the necessity of splitting the soul, most magicians choose small animals with limited intelligence as magical companions, such as owls, cats, or lizards. Of course, some opt for snakes, toads, or bats. The reason for not selecting more powerful beasts, or even magical creatures, is not merely a matter of intelligence—it also concerns the success rate of the ritual itself.

After the falcon flew away, Bourn glanced at the spell model. At least a third of the areas marked in red by the chip indicated problematic spots. Red meant errors.

"It won't work. There are too many mistakes!"

Bourn sighed softly. "Forcing an advancement really is excessive!"

Normally, a spell could tolerate a tenth of errors and still be cast forcibly. With a third of the model flawed, this spell was far from viable.

This was the stage that demanded countless experiments—correcting and refining the spell, a process that consumed vast amounts of the caster's time.

There are, naturally, other ways to slightly reduce the difficulty of spellcasting.

For example, faith in divine beings. If one’s devotion is sufficiently fervent, the gods will lend their aid!

Especially for the divinely favored—even without understanding a single principle of spellwork, such a person could become a caster. They could even cast spells beyond their level, rarely suffering any consequences...

Of course, this depends on whether the god truly favors their chosen and is willing to pay the price for them.

Another factor is spellcasting materials.

Especially for spells that can utilize materials, the margin for error can increase to as much as one-fifth.

Take, for example, the first-tier spell "Featherfall." If the caster fully comprehends and constructs the spell, they can usually cast it silently or even instantly. Even a seven or eight percent error rate poses no issue.

But with the aid of spellcasting materials—even a small feather or tuft of down can allow the spell to be cast with a twenty percent error rate.

Most spellcasters use materials to improve the success rate and efficiency of their spells.

"System, how much time is needed to optimize the spell?" Bourn asked in his mind.

"Beep! Eight years and seven months required!"

Damn...

Bourn was speechless.

The last fourth-tier spell took just over two years, and this spell’s structure was basically complete—only the details needed refining, yet that would take more than eight years!

Of course, Bourn knew that with experiments or adding new templates, the time could be shortened further.

"Looks like I’ll have to ask Grandfather for help. Eight years is far too long!"

The Academy’s resources no longer served him. High-level spells were out of reach, and although Count Iolum specialized in alchemy, any high-level arcanist inevitably dabbled in spatial magic.

"If all else fails, I’ll just snatch the Teleportation Array!"

Bourn thought silently.

Far away, in the Mage Tower, Count Iolum was engrossed in an experiment when he suddenly sneezed. Because of a tiny mistake, a mound of precious magical materials before him instantly turned to ash!

The Count looked up thoughtfully, puzzled. "What mischief is that brat up to now?"

Direct bloodline and powerful mental strength allowed the Count to sense a faint trace of malice.

"Whatever he’s planning, I’d best hide first," he muttered.

The Count summoned his student and experimental assistant. "Vic, seal off all the corridors on this floor—no visitors allowed!"

"Yes, Professor!"

The middle-aged mage, who had been cleaning lab equipment nearby, paused in confusion but dutifully shut down all teleportation channels as instructed.

...

Meanwhile, back at the Academy, the Arcane Council’s enforcement team gritted their teeth—they had once again spotted Bourn swaggering through the grounds, openly using the Flight spell!

Upon arriving at the merchant guild’s temporary residence, Bourn found a crowd of children lingering outside. Once inside the warehouse, even more children appeared!

Originally, the place was cramped with a hundred or two residents; now, with the children, it was almost bursting at the seams.

Bourn sought out Rayman. "What’s going on here?"

"Boss, it’s a bit of a mess."

Rayman looked embarrassed but explained everything from the beginning.

In the past fortnight, numerous murders had occurred—especially in recent nights, clashes between patrollers and unknown assailants echoed through the streets.

Every morning, bloodstains still lingered on the roads, not yet washed away.

Even living next to the Academy, Rayman’s guild members felt the tension, let alone those elsewhere.

The Mage Tower’s deterrence was still powerful; all the houses near the Academy were packed.

The chaos in the eastern district was even worse. That area was the slums, teeming with vagrants and thieves. Patrols were thin, and nearly every day four or five cartloads of corpses were hauled out.

Rayman, born to the lower classes, couldn’t bear it. While he couldn’t help everyone, aiding some children was within his means.

Luckily, most guild members were from humble origins and gladly pitched in to help. The number of strays exceeded all expectations, and the warehouse was now too full—even those unable to enter simply wandered outside.

Of course, Rayman had brought this trouble upon himself; he wouldn’t ask Bourn to clean up the mess. He had summoned Bourn for another matter.

Leading Bourn to the depths of the warehouse, Rayman revealed a small room at the very back.

Rayman gently pushed open the door, which was shrouded in darkness.

But with his "Qi" sense, Bourn could clearly make out the scene inside: a boy and a girl huddled together, resting.

"Two children?" Bourn was puzzled.

Sensing someone’s arrival, the girl woke from deep sleep, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sat up. The boy quickly sprang to his feet, his scarlet pupils wary and defensive, the small blanket draped over the pair slipping to the floor.

Bourn finally saw their faces and murmured in astonishment, "What!"

The boy’s eyes were red, and faint horns could be seen amidst his hair. The girl’s eyes were golden, and her hair was silver.

"How did you find them?"

Bourn’s expression grew serious as he turned to ask.

Rayman explained with a wry smile. While distributing food to the strays, he noticed the boy wearing a peculiar hat. Though short, the boy was remarkably strong, always elbowing his way to the front for food.

Strength alone wasn’t unusual, but his constant downward gaze drew Rayman’s attention.

After observing for some time, Rayman discovered the boy’s unusual eyes and horns. The boy rarely interacted with others, so Rayman suspected something was amiss. Eventually, he found the boy’s hideout in a sewer, where a similarly unusual girl lived.

Both the red and golden eyes were striking.

Ancient bloodlines?

Rayman mused. The two children must have hidden in the filthy sewers to avoid trouble, judging by the recently tidied traces on the floor.

Rayman attempted to communicate with them. Though he’d given the boy food several times, the boy remained guarded, while the girl was completely unafraid—she chatted with Rayman quite happily. In the end, Rayman brought both children back.

He hadn’t expected it to go so smoothly. Both were obviously endowed with unique bloodlines.

This brought to mind the bloodline sorcerer, Rayleigh, though these two appeared even more exceptional.

After bringing them back, Rayman regretted it—their rare bloodlines would inevitably attract interest, and who knew where they had escaped from? With no alternative, he had to seek Bourn’s help.

Bourn listened, then covered his face, inwardly screaming in frustration.

"This guy must be blessed by Lady Luck—his fortune is absolutely outrageous!"

Bourn, expressionless, asked, "Have you heard of the Celestial-Demonborn?"

"Celestial-Demonborn?" Rayman shook his head.

"But you know about devils from the Inferno and beings from the Heaven, right?"

"You mean they have some angelic and demonic blood?"

Rayman was startled.

"Yes, they are Tieflings and Asimar—also known as Celestial-Demonborn!"

Bourn was incredulous. "Do you realize how rare this is? Celestial-Demonborn are solitary and unique—meeting another of their kind is nearly impossible! Finding two together is harder than winning the lottery!"

Though Rayman had no idea what a "lottery" was, he grasped the miraculous nature of encountering these two.

The more extraordinary the circumstances, the heavier Rayman’s guilt. He knew he lacked the power to protect them, and their presence could bring disaster to the guild.

...

(P.S. If you have recommendations or votes, please spare a few! Grateful beyond words! If the book becomes popular, maybe I can write full-time—haha, ‘cry-laugh face.’)