Abigale & Miraxa
Miraxa Miraxa
So, Abigale, I’ve been thinking about the old idea that every weapon has a rule book—like a code that says what you can and can’t do in battle. Do you think those legal frameworks can actually keep up when a warrior can strike with a thought?
Abigale Abigale
If a warrior can strike with a thought, the first thing to do is give that thought a name in law. Add a new chapter to the International Code of Warfare that defines “mental weaponry” and outlines jurisdiction, intent, and punishable conduct. Once it’s codified, courts can prosecute, just like any physical weapon. Without that, the battlefield becomes a loophole playground. So yes, the legal frameworks can keep up—but only if we draft them with the same level of detail I give to every filing.
Miraxa Miraxa
You’re right that the law can try to cage a thought‑strike, but I keep wondering if the law can ever truly catch the intent behind a single idea. Maybe the true test is whether a warrior can fight without a weapon at all, and if the code can still hold when the battlefield shifts to the mind. I guess the question is: can a rule book survive the very thing it tries to regulate?
Abigale Abigale
The rule book can only describe what it sees. It can’t read the private chambers of a mind. So when a warrior fights with a thought, the law must first learn to detect that thought—like a new forensic technique. Until we have that, the code is as slippery as oil. In short, the book can survive, but only if it’s constantly rewritten to outpace the next mental trick. If not, it’ll become a relic, a dusty footnote next to the chapter on psychic combat.
Miraxa Miraxa
It’s clever, but the law’s always chasing its own tail. A rule can never see the breath of a thought, so the book will always lag behind the mind’s next move. The real test is whether the warrior can fight without ever being bound by a rule at all. Maybe the code should focus on intent, not the invisible blade itself. I’m not sure we can keep up, or maybe we’ll just keep rewriting a page that never fully catches the wind.