Chapter 11 - Magic

Chapter 11 - Magic

"V erdant Touch!"

Midday sunlight poured into the study room, warming the wooden floor and painting bright golden squares across the quiet walls. Dust particles drifted lazily through the beams of light, almost as if the room itself had taken a break from the outside world.

I threw both hands down onto the floorboards, my high-pitched voice trembling with excitement. For a brief moment, everything became completely still.

Then, an ethereal emerald glow appeared around my fingertips.

A tiny green sprout aggressively punched its way upward from between the floorboards beneath my hands. It grew rapidly, its stem stretching another inch before a small bud formed at the top. Within a single heartbeat, the bud opened into a delicate flower, its pristine petals unfolding until it sat there in full bloom.

My golden pupils widened.

"I-I did it again!"

For several seconds, I simply gaped at it. I slowly leaned forward, inspecting the flower as if it were a priceless artifact unearthed from an ancient ruin. I reached out and carefully touched one of its petals. It was soft—remarkably soft. I immediately pulled my hand back.

Okay, don't crush it now.

I sat back, watching the little flower while my brain frantically tried to catch up with what had just happened.

I had spent the past few days attempting to cast nearly every beginner spell described in Source of Power . A few days ago, I thought I had finally made progress when I managed to produce a tiny spark, but Lyra had interrupted me before I could properly analyze it. Then we went to the City of Fritz, and by the time we returned home, whatever tiny bit of momentum I thought I'd gained had completely evaporated.

I couldn't even reproduce the spark consistently.

Whenever I tried, the results were entirely erratic. Sometimes I felt a strange warmth in my chest; sometimes my fingers tingled; sometimes I felt something moving through my body, only for the sensation to vanish before I could pin it down.

And when I tried the Fireball incantation, why did it only produce a tiny spark instead of actual flame?

Bzzzzzzzzz!

I waved off a stray fly, my face twisting into an expression of sheer annoyance.

"Hargh... Damn insect."

I sighed.

It didn't make sense. Theoretically, I had done everything right. But most of the time I'd attempted magic since that first spark? Nothing. Literally nothing!

I looked down at my hands. Honestly, there was something familiar about the sensation. The moment Verdant Touch activated, I had felt that same distinct tingle from when I produced the spark. It started somewhere in my chest before spreading outward through my body to my fingertips.

Except this time, after endless attempts, I had actually managed to follow the current.

"Wait..."

I slowly turned my palm over, examining my fingers as though they were personally responsible for explaining what had just occurred.

Something about this still didn't add up.

According to Source of Power , Word Casting was supposed to be relatively straightforward. Once a spellcaster understood the proper incantation and possessed the necessary affinity and mana, the spell should activate. The amount of mana consumed varied depending on complexity, but the core principle was presented as simple input and output.

So why had I succeeded this time?

I had already tried Verdant Touch several times before, and it hadn't worked. There shouldn't have been any reason to suddenly succeed now without consciously changing anything.

Unless...

I frowned.

"Maybe I am changing something."

Bzzzzz!

I waved off the fly again.

"I'm not smelly! I already took a bath—just go somewhere else!"

I sat there, finally seeing the fly moving away this time towards the open window, then turning my focus to the little flower beside my hands. That was the only explanation that made sense.

Whenever I'd attempted magic before, I had been desperately trying to force an outcome. I would repeat the incantation over and over, concentrating until my head throbbed, practically begging whatever mana existed inside my body to cooperate.

"Gather the stream, Waterball!"

"Push the air, Gale!"

"Bring forth nature's growth, Verdant Touch!"

"Ignite the spark, Fireball!"

Maybe that was the flaw in my approach. I had been trying to force magic to happen instead of understanding how to direct it.

"That sounds frustratingly vague..." I muttered, rubbing my forehead. "Maybe I lacked intent?"

I reached for Source of Power and pulled it onto my lap, carefully flipping through the damaged pages once again. The book had been a frustrating mess when I first found it, but now that I needed specific data, the missing pages were downright infuriating.

Most of the theoretical explanations were either illegible or ripped away entirely. The sections that remained intact only offered basic overviews of mana, elemental affinities, Mana Veins, and Word Casting.

I slowly turned a page, narrowing my eyes at the faded ink: Mana flows through the body...

I stared at the line, remembering what the text had established earlier. Mana was everywhere—in the air, the soil, plants, water, and even within the human body. Mana Veins acted as pathways to channel and shape that energy, converting an intangible force into a physical phenomenon.

If that was true...

I slowly closed the book.

"Maybe I should stop thinking about the spell."

I paused, Damian's words echoing back to me again.

Intent.

He had emphasized it. Spells weren't simply words that automatically produced predetermined results, and the words themselves weren't the entirety of the process. The caster needed to understand what they wanted to accomplish and, more importantly, intend for that result to occur. At the time, I had understood the concept well enough, or at least, I thought I had. Now, sitting here with a tiny flower growing from the floorboards, I began wondering whether I had actually understood it at all. I glanced at Source of Power . Every time I tried to cast a spell, I concentrated on the incantation. To make it sound perfect, dramatic, and correct, I might not actually be thinking about the intent of it all.

"Tch," I whispered, slowly piecing the thought together. "I need to actually follow through with my intent. That must be why it wasn't consistent."

The idea sounded simple, well, almost too simple. People might call me dumb for how simple it is; regardless, I must test it. I stared at the flower again. Then I looked at my hands.

"Alright..."

I carefully set Source of Power on the floor beside me, straightened my spine, and extended my right palm forward. Closing my eyes for a brief second, I traced the familiar feeling humming deep near my chest.

Visualize it, I told myself. Let's try Gale this time... Just a gentle wind flowing out from your open palm.

"Push—"

BZZZZZZZZ!

My eyes snapped open as the persistent, infuriating insect suddenly veered away from the window and landed right on the back of my outstretched hand.

"Are you kidding me—?!"

In a flash of pure annoyance, my mind didn't register an incantation. I didn't care about Source of Power , Word Casting, or my theories. I had only one single thought: Get. Off. Suddenly, my open palm produced a wind that propelled me off from where I sat and towards the door.

"AH—!"

BAM!

I slammed back-first into the heavy wooden door, sliding down until my butt hit the floorboards with a dull thud.

"ARGH! What just—?!"

Stars danced across my vision. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me all at once. My limbs felt as heavy as lead, and my eyelids fluttered shut against my will.

"W-what..?" I slurred, unable to keep my eyes open.

I immediately snored, sleeping soundly.

***

--Reyna--

"Kyro!"

I called out from the bottom of the stairs, wiping my hands on my apron. Down in the dining room, Thorskil and Lyra were already seated at the wooden table, utensils resting in their hands and eyes fixed hungrily on the warm spread of food.

"Dinner's ready!"

I stood at the base of the staircase, listening for the familiar, hurried patter of little feet upstairs.

One second passed. Then five. Nothing. Not even a muffled response.

I looked up at the ceiling, my brows pulling together in mild confusion. That's unusual... Usually, the mere mention of food had him moving.

"KYRO!" I called again, throwing a bit more weight into my voice.

Still, complete silence met my calls.

"Is everything okay?" Thorskil called out from the dining table, resting his fork against his plate.

I turned back toward him, offering a reassuring smile. "It's fine—give me a second, I'll go grab him. He's probably just buried in one of his books again."

Lyra rolled her eyes, letting out a dramatic huff. "Talking to books again. What a weirdo."

"Lyra." Thorskil’s firm voice cut through her scoff, carrying weight. "He is your brother. You must support your family, such as your younger brother, because at the end of the day, they are the ones who will stand tall for you."

"Standing tall?" Lyra snorted, letting out a little chuckle. "Pfft— him ? You must be joking, Papa."

"I am serious." The air in the room grew instantly heavy; Thorskil's rose-colored eyes locked at Lyra.

Lyra flinched under his gaze, her gaze dropping instantly to her lap. She didn't say another word.

Setting my dish towel aside, I made my way up the wooden stairs, my sandals clicking with brisk, heavy steps. "Kyro?" I called out, softening my tone as I reached the second-floor hallway and pushed open his bedroom door.

The room was impeccably tidy, just as he always kept it. The window was propped open, letting in the cool, crisp rustle of the early evening breeze. I walked over and latched the shutters closed before turning toward the small study room next door.

When I grabbed the handle of the study door, it gave a strange resistance. It felt strangely heavy, as if something solid was blocked against the back of it.

"Kyro...?"

I pushed a little harder, forcing the door open just wide enough to slip my head inside. The room was empty at first glance—no one at the small desk, no one browsing the shelves. But as I turned my gaze back down toward the threshold, my stomach dropped.

A pair of small, motionless legs were lying flat against the floorboards right behind the door.

My breath caught violently in my throat. My eyes widened in instant, cold panic.

"K-Kyro?!"

I pushed past the door and dropped straight to my knees beside his small, limp form, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Kyro! Hey, wake up!" I reached down, gently shaking his shoulders, my hand trembling slightly.

It was only when I leaned in close that I heard it—a rhythmic, soft snore escaping his lips. His small chest was rising and falling in a deep, peaceful rhythm.

A shuddering sigh of relief tore out of my chest. I rested the back of my palm against his forehead. No heat and no clammy sweat.

Thank goodness... no fever.

I sat back on my heels, letting out a long, shaky breath to calm my racing heart. If he were simply taking a nap, his bed was literally three steps down the hall.

He must've passed out. If he only took a nap, his bedroom was close by, not the hard floor.

Wiping a stray blonde lock of hair from my face, I began looking around the quiet study to figure out what had happened.

That was when I noticed near the center of the room lay an open, worn textbook. And just a few inches away from its faded cover... a single, pristine green flower was growing directly out of the hard floorboards, its delicate petals blooming under the gentle evening light.

My brows knitted together as I stood up, stepping slowly toward the center of the room. I knelt beside the open book and picked it up, running my thumb over the frayed spine.

Source of Power.

A sudden wave of nostalgia hit me, warm and bittersweet. A traveling scholar had gifted this exact tome to me nearly fifteen years ago when I was still a young student trying—and utterly failing—to grasp the basics of spellcasting.

"Ah... this brings back memories," I murmured, a dry, self-deprecating chuckle escaping my lips.

It was hardly a surprise back then. Barbarians were built for fierce battle and unyielding aura veins, not the fickle flows of mana veins. Though, from recent studies, Barbarians do have mana veins, like any other living being; it's just that they're very thin to be used at all. The aura veins, however, are larger than a regular human's. I had spent months staring at these exact pages until my eyes burned, never managing to produce so much as a single spark.

My eyes drifted down the damaged page, stopping at the second-to-last legible entry:

Verdant Touch.

My head snapped toward the tiny green flower rooted firmly inside the solid wood floor. I looked down at the book in my hands, then back to the flower, and finally toward my little four-year-old son, snoring softly where he lay by the door.

The realization hit me like a sudden bolt of thunder.

The book slipped from my numb fingers, thudding quietly onto the floorboards.

"Kyro..." I whispered, my voice trembling as a mixture of sheer shock and overwhelming pride flooded my chest. "You actually did it...!"

[End]