After Barov left, Roland tucked the statistical sheet into the drawer and turned to the nightingale, wanting to ask what had happened to her, but hesitated for a moment before failing to bring himself to ask.
A vague answer lingered in his mind, but speaking of such matters was always awkward—misjudging would only make things worse. Roland swallowed his words and said, "Let's head to the North Slope Mine next." "Want to see how Soraya's new abilities have evolved?" Nightingale's behavior had grown peculiar, yet her demeanor remained unchanged. She removed her hood and smiled, "Let's go." Perhaps he was overthinking it, Roland thought, watching the Witch approach him with quick steps.
The impact of that day of hot-air balloon flight was far more than one or two people.
He never imagined Soroya would become the second Witch to undergo a radical transformation in her abilities.
In fact, she herself has not noticed the change.
Roland only happened to notice this yesterday.
Ever since he gifted the hot air balloon to Anna, he kept it in the castle courtyard. Anyone who wanted to go skydiving could simply invite Anna and Lightning. But the day before, when it rained, Roland suddenly remembered that the rattan basket would soften and peel if soaked, and even after drying, it would lose its resilience. He decided to bring it back to the castle.
He had initially planned to have a servant handle the task, but then realized the hot air balloon was a gift he'd given to Anna, and components like the ropes and airbag were prone to damage. So he decided to personally transport it back to the castle. When he called the hummingbird to the front courtyard, the sight before him left him utterly astonished.
The basket was filled with intricate patterns—bird's-eye views of Border Town, but unlike her previous photorealistic works, these paintings now seemed to stand upright. Roland, oblivious to the falling rain, examined them closely and noticed for the first time that her art had gained a tangible' thickness'.
It's not surprising that paintings have depth. Theoretically, all genuine artworks should possess depth—since pigments inherently carry volume. In oil painting, this depth can even be harnessed: through brushstrokes, brushes, or palette knives to create uneven textures, enhancing the visual impact and expressive power of the artwork via layered variations.
Unlike Soloya, her paintings aren't created with brushes and paints—they're the tangible manifestation of Magic Power.
As a result, the thickness created by these Magic Powers appears particularly unusual.
He still remembered that when he gently touched the protruding wood with his hand, it felt as if he were scraping through the branches and green leaves, which were not hard solids but slightly soft gel-like substances. In contrast, the ground felt much firmer to the touch, as if he were actually touching a stone.
It's incredible.
The rainwater trickled down the landscape painting, failing to penetrate the vines even slightly.
Back at the castle, he immediately summoned Soroya, and Nightingale confirmed it. Under the mist's observation, the Magic Power within Soroya no longer formed the golden swirling vortex as before, but instead coalesced into a continuously rotating... ribbon.
...
As they entered the military factory compound, Anna greeted them with a smile and gave Roland a big hug.
Ever since they confessed their relationship, she had been making noticeably more affectionate gestures toward him. Roland rubbed her head with a smile, his silver hair clip gleaming in the sunlight.
But in a flash, he noticed Soroya—originally poised to approach and bow—now standing frozen, her face flushed as she turned away, feigning obliviousness.
"Ahem," Nightingale pulled Soraya back to the table and deliberately asked loudly, "Did you draw all this?" Roland shook his head with a smile, released Anna, and walked over with her.
The table was strewn with Soroya's paintings, each capturing the courtyard's scenery. The only variation was their thickness—some barely a millimeter above the paper, others nearly three centimeters. This was part of Roland's morning training, designed to test how thick the' paint' generated by Magic Power could be.
"This is the thickest one?" Roland ran his fingers over the three-centimeter-thick scroll. The enchanted blue sky appeared as if the paint were so soft it lacked texture, but when he slid down to the courtyard wall, the gritty sensation of sand and gravel hit him instantly.
As he had suspected, the evolved Magic Power brush not only replicated the object's appearance and color, but even its tactile sensation closely mimicked the real thing.
"It could be thicker, but beyond this point, Magic Power consumption becomes prohibitively high," Soraya pointed to a brownish protrusion on the table. "I was planning to draw a tree outside the wall, but after just sketching the trunk, I used up half my Magic Power." "So this is your creation?" Roland gestured, noticing the paint layer was a solid ten centimeters thick. "I thought it was real bark that could stand upright." Despite its thickness, the paint adhered to the table with surprising durability. Prince grabbed the bark and lifted it, but even when the two table legs lifted off the ground, the bark remained firmly attached.
The Nightingale drew her dagger and spent considerable time carving a small slit at the base. "This thing seems to be wedged into the table," she murmured. In the end, Anna took the task. Black flames coiled into threads that swept across the tabletop, sending white smoke billowing from the paint as it fell. The cut was smooth yet uneven, marked by black burn marks. When Roland picked up the fallen paint fragment, he found it surprisingly light—far lighter than he had expected.
"How did you suddenly decide to change the painting style... or rather, how did you choose to add depth to the artwork?" he asked.
"I suppose it was the first time I saw such scenery," Soloya recalled. "When I looked down at the land from the air, I realized those paintings I'd made—what you called' photorealistic works'—were not real. It became even clearer after I painted the landscape from the basket." She paused briefly, slowing her voice. "The treetops were pointed and swayed in the wind, the mountains undulating like a chest, rivers carved into the earth, and boats gliding across them. That was the scene I saw, not a flat, thin plane. So I wanted to make the painting more real, to make it stand like these magnificent vistas. But I tried several times and failed... Just when I was feeling frustrated, I suddenly remembered the little ball you mentioned." "The little ball?" Roland raised an eyebrow.
"Um," she nodded sheepishly, "the very knowledge you taught us. If all things are made of tiny spheres, then wouldn't the patterns drawn be the same? I tried several more times, imagining the patterns under the Magic Power brush as colorful spheres stacked together, eventually forming solid blocks of color. Then... the image suddenly wriggled, with emerald forests rising and dark green rivers sinking, until it took on the form you see. At the time, this transformation startled both Anna and me. If you hadn't mentioned it later, I wouldn't have guessed it was an evolution of my ability." "I see." "But compared to Anna's Blackfire, my evolved ability seems to serve only to make the drawings more vivid," Soroya said, sticking out her tongue.
"No... how could it be?" Roland shook his head. "To me, it's not just a painting." It would be a waste to use this ability solely for artistic purposes. He recalled the rain sliding over the surface of the hanging basket, yet failing to penetrate it at all—more like a "coating" of Magic Power than paint.