Roland recalled what he did earlier.
He drank a little beer and tried to cast a spell in reality!
F**king hell, that's the reason?
If Roland had told someone earlier that he was trying to cast a spell as he did in the game and then fainted from a nosebleed, he would probably have been mistaken for having eighth-grader syndrome.
But now Roland had a strange intuition.
The reason why he fainted was definitely that he tried to cast—this was definitely the reason.
He was lost in thought. Schuck, who was watching him on the side, also suddenly showed a subtle expression as if he had thought of something.
This speculation distorted Roland's perspective of the world. After a brief daze, he found his phone on a small table beside the bed, gestured for his childhood friends to stay quiet, and then dialed a number.
A few seconds later, a familiar voice came on the line.
"Dad, I'm not going back for lunch. Schuck told me to come drink at his place."
"Don't drink too much and come back early."
"Yes, no problem," Roland replied in the most spirited tone.
As soon as the call ended, he was immediately back to his listless self.
"Don't tell my family." Roland looked at his childhood friends and smiled weakly. "And Li Lin, I will transfer some money to you, help me buy a set of clothes. These clothes are covered in blood. I'm afraid that my family will find them If I bring them back home."
"Don't need the money!" Li Lin muttered, then turned and left the ward.
Betta asked, "Brother Roland, are you hungry? I'll go outside to get you something to eat."
"No, I'll get a lean pork congee takeout."
Roland felt hungry and empty. In his college years, when he got his ex-girlfriend to eat meat at night, he wasn't even as tired as he was now after five kenja times in one night.
Brazil, Raffel, and Husseret saw that nothing was really wrong with Roland, so they let him know they were leaving.
Schuck and Betta stayed behind, intending to take care of Roland because they were the ones with the most amount of free time.
After a while, the congee was delivered. Roland woofed it down, then lay on the bed and chatted with Schuck and Betta on and off for less than ten minutes before gradually falling asleep.
Schuck had Betta go home first. He would stay here to take care of Roland.
It was evening when Roland woke up again.
The doctor came to examine him, found nothing wrong with him, and allowed him to leave the hospital.
Then, Schuck put a bag on Roland's bed. "These are the clothes Li Lin bought you. He had some urgent matters and went home first. See if they fit you."
A.P.C's clothes, minimalistic, were quite in line with Roland's tastes.
After changing in the dressing room, Roland and Schuck left the hospital.
On their way home, Schuck said, "If you still feel uncomfortable, make sure you say so. Don't make us worry too much."
"Don't worry, I'm not the kind of person to bite the bullet."
The two parted at the fork of the road and Roland went home. He especially avoided his parents, went to his room, changed into a pair of pajamas, and then went to the living room.
After chatting with his family over dinner, Roland's father suddenly asked, "Son, today I was watching the news, and it said that the knowledge and skills learned in a 'virtual' game could be applied to reality. Is that the one you're playing?"
Roland nodded. He assumed that his father had probably also seen today's popular news feed.
"If that's the case, even if you don't make any money, you should play for a while longer," Roland's father said slowly.
Roland said with a smile, "I still have to make money—the savings in my bank account have already surpassed 500,000 yuan."
Roland's parents looked at each other—how much time had it been? It seemed that their son should be able to succeed in his plan of earning a million yuan in two years.
It was hard for them to clearly express their feelings. Although they were quite happy that their son had made money, as people of the older generation, they always felt that playing too many games wasn't a good thing.
In their hearts, they hoped that their son wouldn't achieve this goal so that he would go take the functionary exam and have a lifetime of peace and stability.
Something like playing a game to make money, from their perspective, this would always seem like a bit of a fantasy.
No matter how much you earned, you wouldn't have a sense of security.
They just couldn't find a reason to stop their son from developing in this direction.
This was why they didn't seem too happy, even after hearing that Roland had made a lot of money.
After dinner, Roland returned to his room and lay in bed.
He was not in the mood to browse the forums right now; instead, he was thinking about the previous events.
He fainted because of casting.
Assuming this was the case, then the proposition that one could cast spells in the real world would be plausible.
But why did he faint?
Mental power recoil?
Or… there were no magical elements in this world, so one couldn't cast spells?
Or perhaps both?
The spell model of an Inferior Fireball emerged in Roland's mind. That morning, he had attempted to form an Inferior Fireball to scare his friends, but he passed out in the end.
The Inferior Fireball was a level-one spell. If he passed out because of it, then what if he tried a level-zero trick?
Roland's heart began to thump rapidly, the thrill of exploring the unknown flooded through his body.
Level-zero tricks didn't require much mental power, and the effect of magic recoil was minimal.
Give it a try?
What if I have a nosebleed again?
Give it a try?
I'll scare Dad if anything happens again.
Give it a try?
He went back and forth between these two thoughts in his mind.
Roland sat up straight, his expression cycling between thrill and hesitation.
Finally, he slowly raised his right hand.
In his mind, he already switched to the Light Ball model.
A soft snap.
There seemed to be a faint surge of light in the air, but nothing happened.
Roland lowered his hands, and when he was about to feel disappointed, a sharp pain assaulted his head.
The pain was quick and sharp, like a needle going in between the eyebrows, then turning in the brain several times, and finally going down the spine—all the way down.
The pain was exactly the sensation of a needle moving through one's veins.
It tingled with a kind of nerve-twitching sting.
Roland grabbed the edge of the bed tightly with his hands. The veins near his forehead sprung up one by one. His face was red from the pain. Crowded together, beads of sweat the size of soybeans rolled down from his forehead.
It was really painful. The pain lasted for about ten minutes before it slowly went away.
Roland lay back on the bed and laughed aloud elatedly.
Although he did not succeed in casting, he understood one thing… one could cast spells in reality, or he wouldn't have felt so terrible.
There was a simple reason why casting failed.
He had no magic power!
Or, it was that this world didn't have magic power.
Mental power was only a catalyst. Magical elements were the roots that shaped magic.
He rested on the bed for a while, and when he recovered, Roland went to clean himself up. At ten p.m., he entered the game world punctually.
After entering the game, he instantly felt the magical elements in the air.
He finally knew why every time he returned to the real world, he would always feel that something was missing in the air.
The magical elements were what was missing.
 kenja time. lit. wise man's time, Japanese slang for a period of emptiness after an org**m
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