Chaldea and Staff: Attaining divine powers by play behavior (252)

Play behavior was considered one of the markers of a highly developed intelligence, not only in humans but also in animals. It was precisely by defining whether a living being operated with concepts like ‘fun’ and ‘play’ that the level of intellect of many living creatures were determined. 

After all, even if a living being used bodily adaptations for hunting or survival, even ones built on mind-bogglingly complex physical, chemical, and biological principles, such a thing could ultimately only be seen as an example of instinctual processes, and unconscious actions. Such things were entirely divorced from the level of specific intellect of the individual creature. 

In the end, even when all the physical laws of the world were to be titrated into the abyss of tangled quantum mechanics in all its possible diversity of effects, this did not mean that an atom assembled from quarks, forming a molecule embedded in a single living cell, made that cell a genius.

Meanwhile, entertainment required a multitude of conventions before it could be enjoyed. 

A complexly developed mind, and an awareness of oneself as a separate entity in this world, capable of manipulating the surrounding nature…

As well as an understanding of the concept of boredom.

In other words, intellect walked hand in hand with boredom.

And so, every living being claiming sentience strove with all its might to manage their boredom. 

This included all Servants in Chaldea.

It would be fair to expect, and assume, that Servants summoned for war and battle would adopt combat as their form of amusement. As some Servants, for instance, Scáthach and Nobunaga, who periodically clashed in battle with each other, or Mordred and Artoria, who eagerly joined such conflicts, do use a level of violence to reduce their boredom.

It would also be simple to imagine Servants finding entertainment in socializing with others, like Jeanne and Jalter did, for example.

And, finally, Servants could always devote themselves to hobbies they had practiced in life or, more rarely, discovered after their summoning. Archer with his cooking, Semiramis with her scheming, or Mozart… playing video games.

Various Servants spent their time on various activities to fight their boredom.

Baal, however, was in turmoil. 

Not because turmoil was his hobby, but because, as a thinking being, the cream of the crop in matters of intelligence in fact… He was bored. 

None of the activities he could do in Chaldea had found his fancy, nothing that could entertain him.

Battles? Speaking truthfully, a rarity for someone like Baal, he could admit that battles held a certain charm to him. What could be more satisfying than crushing an enemy daring to rise against you, watching as hope for victory fades from their mind with each panicked second? And Baal possessed abilities perfectly suited for combat, and he did indeed wish to use them at least occasionally. There was nothing sadder than having power yet finding no opportunity to wield it, trapped forever in a solitary cell called ‘absolute freedom’.

Sadly, battles in Chaldea could only be called spars, where victory is meaningless as the opponent is still standing and alive in the end.

Baal did not enjoy fighting just to fight — what was the point of it if he couldn’t even crush his enemy, torment them to his heart’s content, and sever their head at the peak of their despair? Was he to merely stand still, enduring blows, only to defeat the foe at the last second without even killing them, settling for a symbolic ‘victory’ declared by some referee?

No, Baal would not be joining the mockery of battles that the Servants regularly engage in, he’d rather kill himself.

As for hobbies? Baal has many of them ; skinning his enemies alive, conquering territories and kingdoms with his demonic armies — he even prided himself on his skill in drafting accounting estimates and his talent for calligraphy. Yet none were currently available for him to indulge in. 

He currently ruled over no lands, unless he wished to beclown himself and claim the charred lands outside of Chaldea as ‘his’, and viewed working under Olga-Marie as meaningless and beneath his dignity. After all, if Ainz had already agreed to fulfill his wish to revive his demonic race, there was little point in humiliating himself or trying to win over another of Ainz’s paramours. 

As for his other hobbies? It was unlikely that dissecting the scant remaining humans in Chaldea to harvest the bile that is suitable for calligraphy ink would be viewed positively by his current superiors. Even if Ainz was merely playing at empathy, he did so convincingly enough that Baal dared not test whether the charade would continue if he disposed of a few ‘unnecessary’ individuals in this backwater mage’s institute for his hobbies.

Socializing with the Servants? Cainabel, the only other Servant that Baal might deign to socialize with, regarded the subject with wrathful contempt. A sentiment that is entirely mutual with Baal. As for the other Servants? Baal considered them a full two evolutionary steps beneath him, deeming conversation with them no more productive than attempting to discuss existential matters with a primate. A meaningless waste of time — though occasionally amusing, if only for the spectacle of watching a primate earnestly mimic the mannerisms of a thinking being.

Yet staring at the wall, waiting for some new diversion to emerge from the tiny imperfections in the paint, also held no appeal. 

Baal’s active nature craved problems more than their solutions — and so, after a few minutes of contemplation, Baal concluded that at least some primates had, in the past, shown a capacity for learning and even communication. Similarly, some Servants residing in Chaldea might yet prove worthy of entertainment, or at least a fleeting distraction.

Truly, he must be desperate.

Still, a Servant Da Vinci was undeniably the cleverest of all Servants. If one were to isolate a detached parameter like ‘intelligence’, divorced from personal experience or accumulated knowledge, she at least approached Baal himself, albeit tinged with naivety, inexperience, and ignorance of certain worldly intricacies. 

Which is a dangerous thing.

In the past, if he were to find himself heaping such flattery on another creature, it would have compelled Baal to order her seized, dragged to his personal dungeon, and executed by his own hand. Allowing subordinates that are no less clever than oneself to thrive was folly, at least in his former demonic household, where jockeying for position is their way of life. Only a personal execution could confirm such an adversary’s demise, especially an adversary whose intellect Baal deemed equal to his own. 

Rebirth and resurrection was one of the most basic of backup plans, after all.

But now, Baal was no supreme ruler and Chaldea was not his domain, murder was no longer a readily available tool. And, more importantly, without Da Vinci’s wit, he’d perish of infinite boredom. 

Thus, he found himself seated in her office, in the presence of both its mistress… and her guest.

Tesla.

Of Tesla, Baal could only say he radically failed to comprehend him. Perhaps the man was a genius — Da Vinci acknowledged his intellect, though Baal harbored doubts about her judgments in that regard. Tesla simply embodied a type of brilliance Baal simply could not grasp. A physicist might disdain a historian’s craft; a litterateur, a geologist’s expertise, so too did Baal find Tesla’s so-called ‘genius’, inscrutable.

Baal’s own understanding of technology was rooted in magic, Humanity, most of them bereft of innate magical aptitude, was shackled in perceiving and wielding it, rendering their innovations bizarre and nonsensical to him. And of those that could, the Magi, are so backwards and luddite in their understanding of Magic - or magecraft, as they insisted on calling it -  at least for most of them, that their ‘technology’ might as well be like cavemen striking rocks to create fire.

Still, to create massive nuclear reactors, harnessing the power of the sun to boil water of all things, all in order to power a lightbulb thousands of kilometers away? In a way, it commanded respect — as any absurd endeavor might endear a certain level of awe, but little more.

Tesla and his zeal for technological progress evoked both admiration and bewilderment in Baal, akin to watching someone attempt to recreate an internal combustion engine using only primitive tools, materials, and labor. 

Astonishing — and utterly futile.

Tesla, for his part, offered Baal no reciprocal courtesy – unburdened by even the basics of diplomacy, he made no effort to conceal his hostility towards Baal. And Baal might have indulged in a game of unraveling the cause — was it his reputation in Chaldea, his demonic nature being the antithesis to humanity, or some personal slight? A multifaceted, yet pointless, inquiry. 

Not something to be indulged in while he was seated in Da Vinci’s office, whose owner had gone away to do something, leaving the two to have their staring contest.

Meeting Tesla’s glare with his own, Baal shifted his attention to Da Vinci, when she had finally returned, balancing three mugs on her arm like a seasoned waiter, a packet of cookies in her other hand. She then set them deftly on the coffee table for the participants in the ‘negotiations’ to come. 

That is what Baal’s intrigue-honed nose had sensed the moment he spotted Tesla in her workshop.

Da Vinci herself, however, as if completely oblivious to the lingering tension in the air, settled comfortably into her sofa, adjusting her position so that she could form an equilateral triangle with Baal and Tesla. Then, unhurriedly, she pulled out a notebook and glanced at Baal, her pen tapping at the paper. 

"Please, we may begin."

Baal, opting not to use his abilities to figure out the mystery as a tactical choice, so that Da Vinci would have the chance to explain, merely raised an eyebrow. Gods knows the woman loved the sound of her own voice, not that Baal could throw stones.

Tesla, however, voiced Baal’s thoughts before Da Vinci could react to his silent signal. 

"Da Vinci… Would you please have the courtesy to explain why you call me here?!"

Da Vinci paused for a moment at the rather exasperated inquiry from Tesla, seemingly baffled by her colleague’s lack of insight. She blinked, then, realizing he clearly lacked the context she considered obvious, smiled. 

"Why, we will be creating a new magical system, of course!"

Baal momentarily regretted not taking a sip of the tea placed before him earlier; if he had, he could have dramatically spat it out in shock. A jest of course, it would take more than that to break his composure, but it would be entertaining at least. Tesla, however, showing off just how much of a good clown he is, choked on air instead. 

Despite just one second ago looking like he was one step from a furious rant, he now only managed to wipe the sudden tears from his face, muttering confusedly. 

"W-what?! I’m sorry, did I hear you right?"

"No need for apologies," Da Vinci smiled and clapped her hands, barelling past Tesla’s incredulity with ease, Baal was just interested in where the conversation would go. 

"Ever since Ainz suggested the idea, I’ve been pondering… What truly separates a genius from an above average mediocrity?"

Baal wasn’t surprised that his Master, Ainz Ooal Gown, was somehow involved. Even with his vaunted intellect, Baal couldn’t figure out all the ‘coincidences’ and secret schemes of that monstrous genius — finding Ainz’s fingers in unexpected events was not just routine for Baal; it was expected. 

Tesla, however, focused on another part of Da Vinci’s exclamation. 

"Achieving the impossible… That’s what separates genius from the above average, simple. Did you really bring me all the way here to ask something so mundane?"

Tesla’s gaze moves in between the two, snorting at the rather simple question. Meeting Da Vinci’s eyes then Baal’s to see if the two agreed, Baal, who had been too busy dissecting Ainz’s latest convoluted scheme to register Da Vinci’s remark, responded to Tesla’s look only with a raised eyebrow. After a beat, Tesla turned to Da Vinci, urging her to explain what point she was getting at. 

Da Vinci unhurriedly sipped her tea before continuing. "All magic is built on its own principles."

Baal nodded silently, deeming the statement too obvious to warrant debate.

The oldest magic, wielded by humans in the Age of Gods, mimicked divine miracles. Through artifacts, grimoires, formulas, connections to natural elements, or the very essence of ‘divinity’, humanity sought to replicate the wonders of the natural world and the gods. Some, like Medea or Semiramis, used their Divine bloodline or venerated talent to create magic for grand creations, while others failed to perform even the feeblest of parlor tricks. 

As in science, early magic relied on intuition, with mages stumbling, and reinventing basic laws and formulas to craft powerful spells and rituals one by one, and erred repeatedly. They hoarded knowledge in their deepest vaults, chasing after miracles and divine mysteries.

The origin of the Magi, covetous and ever so hungry seekers of knowledge.

And with the flourishing of human magic, judged by the power of its greatest practitioners, revealed that each mage and their magic system was unique. Sumerian and Greek magic, for instance, were rebuilt anew by solitary geniuses, constructing entire systems alone — Mages of that era were great because mediocrity was untenable. To become a mage meant creating an entire magical system from scratch, a feat possible only for the extraordinary — yet one that shackled them to their own brilliance. 

Those who couldn’t do so couldn’t even rise to be ‘mediocre’ in such a world.

Though, gradually, eventually, each system began to coalesce into concrete schools and magical clans that meticulously guarded their arcane knowledge, passing it down from master to heir, accumulating and expanding their understanding. Yet this process was agonizingly slow. 

While science surged forward, plodding as it were in the beginning, it was propelled by Earth’s ever-growing population. While magic could only advance through the rare geniuses who saw beyond mere rote memorization — those capable of dissecting, reimagining, and rebuilding the entire system from its foundations. 

Magic’s decline relative to science did not begin with the first airplane, automobile, or even the crack of gunpowder. It started the moment the first teacher taught a student arithmetic. Magic was potent, but even a tortoise overtakes Achilles, if Achilles could only ever take half a distance remaining of the road.

Then everything changed with the arrival of Solomon, the Grand Caster — the first ‘true’ Magi.

Of course, that did not mean that he invented Magic, long before him, humans had harnessed divine miracles and crafted entire systems based off of it. But, Solomon was the first to abandon the futile path of mimicking divine wonders and crafting inefficient, one-of-a-kind spells — masterpieces sure, but better suited as museum relics in forgotten towers of obscure Magi Families. 

Instead, he pioneered a theory of magic itself: codifying its laws, forces, and fundamental truths, in doing so, he had annihilated magic as it existed before, etching its path to obsolescence into unyielding stone.

One of the base tenets of Solomon’s system, and contrary to the beliefs of his contemporaries, was that magic was finite — a dwindling resource. The more science flourished, the weaker magic grew as its essence relied on mystery, on divine miracles that defied human comprehension. 

How could lightning remain divine when it could be tamed in earthen pots, primitive as the Baghdad ‘battery’ might be? 

As humanity continued to subjugate nature, magic withered, yet even as it faded, the dwindling number of mages did not weaken those who remained; the innate requirements to become a magician stayed unchanged. Solomon’s thaumaturgy, however, democratized spellcraft, transforming it from a rare, innate talent into a teachable science. 

This opened the floodgates to mediocrity, diluting magic’s potency. Worse, his systematization contradicted magic’s very nature, as a force of the unknowable and the indescribable. 

Solomon’s contribution to magic was a paradox: he was both its father and its executioner.

But even as the march to the death of magic was inexorable, it was not an abrupt end, nor did it erase all magical achievement. Aristocratic families honed their ancestral crests into art, and isolated communities cultivated their unique magical traditions, leading to a localized renaissance. 

Great mages still emerged after Solomon, figures like Paracelsus and da Vinci among them, who built upon his legacy. 

Merlin doesn’t count, as being nonhuman, he sidestepped mortal constraints — though he would probably complain about that judgement.

Yet the truth remained: magic was eroding. Modern mages paled against their ancient predecessors, and science continued to be the victor. Lightning and fire had already been conquered — what would happen when sentient homunculi, biological or mechanical, crafted without a drop of Einzbern blood, walked the Earth? Or when True Magic itself came under siege?

It had already been reduced to a measly five, when it was uncountable before.

And reversing this tide was impossible. 

Even the radical measures, like culling all but the most worthy and talented of mages, would be merely delaying the inevitable. Magic would bleed from the world, drop by drop, until nothing remained.

In that case, there were only two paths that a Magus could take. The first — was to admit that the age of magic had passed, and all that one could do was to sup on the remaining oases of Magic, as it bled out from the World. A final celebration amidst the dying light.

And the second — was impossible.

“I want to replicate Ainz’s magic.” Da Vinci uttered words that made Baal blink, then, breaching his aristocratic composure, laugh so loudly and raucously that his cup of tea, placed back on the table, trembled from the force of his voice. 

So abrupt and thunderous was his laugh that Tesla had to raise his hands to his ears and plug them, and not merely to display his displeasure. Baal had momentarily lost control of his demonic nature, and so his laughter carried with it actual sonic force, infrasonic vibrations, like stones slowly grinding against one another. 

Only after a full minute did his laughter finally cease, ending with an inelegant whine before Baal grabbed his teacup and drained it in one gulp.

He could use the refreshment, he had almost laughed to tears, after all.

“I thought being driven to madness was a punishment — yet here I see those who chase it willingly…” Sucking air through his teeth, Baal turned to the teapot beside him, ignoring all eyes, as he refilled his cup, before emptying it again — still ignoring every gaze. With how much he had laughed, his throat had become remarkably dry.

Da Vinci said nothing in response, nor did Tesla. After a dozen seconds of silence, Baal drummed his fingers on his chin and smiled. “What if I refuse to partake in this folly?”

“It would be sad, but not necessarily fatal to my plans.” Da Vinci shook her head slightly before glancing at Tesla. “I believe my, and Tesla’s abilities, will suffice, at least, to lay the foundation for it.”

With a raised eyebrow, Baal took a measure of what Da Vinci meant.

“Because Ainz’s magic is fundamentally antithetical to magic itself, is it not?” Da Vinci spoke as she smiled at Baal, prompting him to roll his eyes — a reminder that even lesser magical minds of this world could not be underestimated.

Initially, Tesla seemed an odd addition to any magical endeavor, particularly one as complex and foundational as crafting an entire magical system. A child of science, he seemed the absolute antithesis of magic — a modern thunderer whose mere existence undermined the irrefutable truth of lightning’s divinity. 

Yet, as with all things tied to Ainz, even his magic is paradoxical in nature.

To be precise, Da Vinci had observed and analyzed Ainz’s workings, even when perpetually stymied by the limits of her own understanding — which is a surprise, since the self-proclaimed genius among geniuses understood most if not all. But, Ainz’s workings are things that stood against logic and the laws of the universe, so perhaps it was no surprise. 

Still, Da Vinci had done so. 

Rejecting the very logic upholding the universe’s laws was no small feat — yet she had done so, thanks again to Ainz. It was in abandoning all dogma that she suddenly grasped the central paradox of Ainz’s magic.

It was not an unknowable force from beyond, beyond understanding, as one might first assume of a being like Ainz — it was actually codified. Overly so, in fact.

Modern magic rested on fixed laws and irrefutable truths, while ancient magic relied on discrete incantations, each tailored to its purpose. By abandoning attempts to fit Ainz’s magic into the former framework, Da Vinci realized how closely in fact it resembled the latter.

Rather than magic built on parameters and laws, Ainz’s magic was a collection of spells akin to humanity’s ancient arts — each effect predetermined, varying only in potency. Vast and orderly, yet still a set of known incantations, not rules.

And despite what an outside observer might dismiss as ‘primitive’ magic, Ainz's magic instead aligned far more closely with the very ‘essence’ of modern magic itself. As it consisted of a set of far more precise spells and abilities compared to the magic of modern mages. This was because the magic of contemporary mages was built on laws that could take countless forms, often bending in unpredictable ways under exceptions. Ainz's magic, however, was a collection of phenomena — each resolvable with absolute clarity.

It was this clarity, not mere magical knowledge, that drove Da Vinci to seek out Tesla. 

As a true scientist, he could not ignore such a phenomenon, and as a staunch opponent of magic at its most rudimentary level, he could not turn away from this form of sorcery.

Baal understood this just as well as Da Vinci did. He also knew that a creator who ‘crafts the incredible yet meaningless’ had crept dangerously close to uncovering the secrets of true magic.

Could Da Vinci replicate Ainz's abilities — the magic of Yggdrasil? Most likely not. The probability of Da Vinci failing exceeded ninety-nine percent point nine, repeating until infinity – but geniuses were renowned for achieving the impossible.

Even if she couldn’t recreate Yggdrasil’s magic, she could understand it. After a century of research, if only to grasp a single example at its most basic level — it didn’t matter. She would comprehend it. 

So what was Baal to do?

Perhaps the wisest course for him would be to eliminate Da Vinci and Tesla outright — some knowledge had no place residing in humanity’s hands.

Yet Da Vinci had calculated correctly that Baal would not take this step. She relied solely on Ainz's protection as her shield… But when it came to Ainz, no greater protection was ever needed.

Baal drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table, then frowned at Da Vinci.

Truthfully, his expertise in magical research was not unparalleled. While he was exceptionally well-versed, his knowledge stemmed from his aristocratic education and vast experience, not the intellect of a prodigious archmage. Thus, he couldn’t predict with certainty what would happen if Da Vinci began to unravel Yggdrasil’s magic — a system built neither on rules nor on mimicking natural phenomena or divine abilities. 

Yet even his limited understanding sufficed to know one thing that is certain — Da Vinci must not wield such power. In truth, no one should. The magic forged by the primordial demigods of a world long devoured by the World Eater was a force beyond the control of this realm’s inhabitants. And if they could harness it? Worse still — for who could say how they might wield it?

But among all the reasons tipping him away from caution, the foremost was not Ainz’s ability to effortlessly unveil these secrets, nor the inevitability of their continued research, nor Baal’s hope to mislead the two geniuses. No, the reason for his acquiescence lay in…

Baal’s utter boredom.

“Very well,” He finally said, interlacing his fingers and smiling at the two Servants before resting his chin on them. “I presume you both are familiar with the principles of Yggdrasil’s creation?”

Da Vinci nodded, and Tesla reluctantly followed suit—she had, after all, briefed him thoroughly beforehand.

“Excellent,” Baal replied, his gaze sweeping over his captive audience as he felt himself slipping back into his element. 

“But what exactly do you know of how this world was forged — or how the Supreme Beings came into it? Or why did they name themselves… ‘Players’?”

And so, with a wide grin on his face, Baal started sharing secrets that might result in the end of the World… again.

But well, in his defense, Chaos, after all, was much better than tedium.