Julian did not stop reading there. He turned the page and continued into the next section, which detailed obligatory rituals.
These functioned both similarly and differently compared to sacrificial ones. Like sacrificial rituals, something had to be traded in exchange for a benefit. The difference lay in duration. A sacrificial ritual was a single transaction, completed once and done. An obligatory ritual, however, demanded ongoing payment. One had to continue giving or performing something repeatedly, sometimes indefinitely, to maintain what had been gained.
The author explained it with a simple comparison. If you wanted a fire to keep burning, you had to keep feeding it wood. Stop, and the flames would die.
...
Some of the examples struck Julian as useful but irritatingly tedious. One ritual required the caster to sit beneath the full moon for the entire night every single month in order to maintain a perfectly accurate internal sense of time. Having a flawless inner clock would certainly be convenient, yet the effort required made him wrinkle his nose. Spending a whole night outside every month was not something he found appealing.
He read through every obligatory ritual listed before moving on to the next section.
...
Finite rituals came next.
These were essentially temporary enhancements gained through a sequence of actions. The sort of behavior that would earn strange looks from anyone unaware of what was happening. One example involved dancing with a rabbit's foot at sunrise to gain improved luck for the rest of the day.
It sounded absurd.
Yet according to the author, it was quite real and did in fact produce results under the right circumstances. The writer made no effort to hide his contempt for this category and provided only a single practical example before proceeding onward.
...
Fusion rituals followed.
As the name suggested, these combined multiple ritual types into a single working. The book used the ritual of All Hallows Eve as its example.
This ritual blended sacrificial and obligatory elements. A family would make offerings to their ancestors during the holiday, requesting prosperity for future generations. The condition was strict. The tradition had to be upheld continuously. If it was ever abandoned, then three full generations would need to pass before the family could perform it again.
Julian wanted no part in luck altering magic like that. Tampering with fate carried risks that could just as easily bring disaster as prosperity. One mistake, one unintended twist, and ruin could follow. He would rather earn his success through effort than gamble with unseen consequences.
...
All of this information, including the detailed examples, comprised only the first half of the book.
When Julian reached the midpoint and discovered what the second half contained, his excitement flared.
It was an in depth, step by step guide to designing rituals from scratch, along with instructions on modifying existing ones to better suit specific needs.
To Julian, this was treasure.
The material was dense and complex, difficult to fully commit to memory, but the potential benefits were enormous.
...
Unfortunately, he ran into a major obstacle almost immediately.
Creating or altering rituals required a solid understanding of arithmancy, the discipline that applied mathematics to magical structure. Without that knowledge, any attempt at modification was reckless.
The problem was obvious. Arithmancy was not taught until third year.
He could attempt self study, of course. But diving into something so delicate without guidance was practically an invitation to disaster. All it would take was a single incorrect number in a modified ritual. Instead of offering grapes for a heightened sense of taste, he might end up becoming the grapes.
That was not an outcome he found amusing.
...
With no immediate solution, Julian returned the book to its shelf and began searching the "ancient" section for other texts on rituals.
To his surprise, he was spoiled for choice. Within ten minutes, he located five separate books that contained ritual content.
Two of them focused entirely on human sacrifice.
He did not even consider touching those.
The remaining three, however, contained obscure yet practical rituals covering a wide range of effects.
...
He managed to read only halfway through one before it was time for dinner. Reluctantly, he stored the others inside Greed and left the library.
Even so, he had already identified three rituals he intended to perform, each one capable of giving him a tangible edge.
The ritual of reflexes, which he had already studied in detail.
The ritual of night eye, which required the eyes of a bat and the eyes of a beetle, granting the caster enhanced vision in darkness.
And finally, the ritual of breath.
This last one stood apart. It demanded the lung of a dragon along with the caster's own blood. In return, it granted the ability to draw ambient magic from the air with every breath, replenishing one's reserves steadily over time.
Julian could not deny it.
That final ritual was dangerously tempting.