Chapter 18 - Journal

Chapter 18 - Journal

O h... I see.

"A spellcaster's mana pool is completely finite. In early childhood, this reserve is naturally minuscule. As the body matures, that capacity naturally grows along with it." I read the faded passage from Source of Power out loud, letting the words echo in the bedroom. I nodded slowly, leaning back in my wooden chair. "Huh, I guess that explains all my questions about how I actually did a thirty-two seconds with Verdant Touch."

Honestly, a tide of conflicting emotions hit me. First, it was great to have a clear idea that explained things. Yet, on the other hand, it was a bit disappointing. I wished to think that there was an active way to train to increase the capacity of the mana pool.

However, the book did not say anything about training or methods of increasing. It caused me to doubt the efforts I put in for a month. I was casting spell after spell until I got a headache and my vision got fuzzy. The first idea was straightforward; by forcing myself to reach my limits, the mana pool would stretch, just like muscles do.

I took a deep breath and turned my head to the window in order to feel the breeze that blew into the room.

I rolled my shoulders and stretched my upper body sideways until I heard several pops from my spine. The ache from the beating Lyra gave me was slowly going away.

"Ah, that felt much better..."

I turned my attention back to my journal, flipping to the section labeled Hypotheses .

---

I have formed several hypotheses regarding the nature of Mana, though testing them remains difficult due to the damaged state of 'Source of Power.' Large sections of the text are missing or illegible, which makes reading it somewhat discouraging. I'll get back to analyzing the remaining pages eventually, but for now, empirical testing yields better data.

Hypothesis 1: Does exhausting the Mana Pool through repeated strain cause it to expand over time, similar to muscle hypertrophy? Result: Negative. So far, there are zero measurable signs of total capacity growth through exhaustion alone.

Hypothesis 2: Maximum mana capacity scales naturally over time as the physical vessel matures, regardless of strain. Result: Unclear, but more likely; I have no sources that I could actually say it is. It may be in Source of Power, but the book was torn, so maybe the answers were within the scratched sheets, or perhaps in future chapters. But this is the best explanation as to why Mages actually get more mana since exhausting the mana doesn't actually increase them, as far as my research currently goes.

(Core Terminology Summary for Reference) 1. Mana Pool : The total available volume of energy/fuel a person possesses. 2. Mana Vein : The internal network of channels used to conduct energy through the body. 3. Mana Core : The central organ or origin point where mana is generated, which is located at the chest.

---

I flipped to the next page, where I had scribbled a new line of thought earlier this morning.

---

Hypothesis 3: A mage could theoretically have a huge mana pool but still be unable to cast a powerful spell because their core can't output mana quickly enough. Hypothesis made from what Source of Power's words mentioned about high-complexity spells. Result: (blank)

---

It's not that I can actually test this hypothesis. For one thing, I have not mastered all the elementary affinities, and hence I lack the power to cast any high-level spells. In addition, I have not even learned one high-level spell yet. Anyway, Source of Power tells me that it's physically impossible at my level.

Perhaps in the future, I may be able to test this hypothesis.

I paused, underlining the numbers beside Hypotheses 1 and 2 with my charcoal pencil. At least they weren't total blind guesses anymore. Source of Power had corroborated them, even if the answers felt somewhat limiting.

I tapped the dull end of the pencil against my chin, staring at the wood of my desk.

"Although... wait a minute."

Was Hypothesis 1 really a complete dead end?

So far, I had always halted my spellcasting the moment I felt light-headedness or nausea creeping in. I was, you could say, playing it safe. But what if I didn't stop? What if I intentionally forced my mana output past the warning threshold and completely drained the core until the well ran dry?

"Hmmmm..." I closed my eyes, and soon the skin next to my right eye twitched.

I remembered that day a month back when I had inadvertently summoned Gale. While casting, an insect had interfered in my concentration and I could clearly feel my mana burst out from my core. It was then that I understood the concept of casting without words, though I am really terrible at casting with words. At that time, when my mana had totally run out, my body simply made me fall asleep right there and then. When I had woken up, I had not felt anything unusual at all.

I grinned. If muscular growth required true tear-and-repair strain, maybe mana required unconditional exhaustion rather than mild fatigue..?

With a renewed spark of curiosity, I pressed the pencil back to the paper and began writing:

---

Hypothesis 4: Complete mana drain (total available depletion resulting in unconsciousness) may act as the necessary trigger for core expansion, whereas mild fatigue only refines the efficiency.

---

I leaned back in my chair, reading the line out loud. It sounded a bit wild when spoken into the empty room, but the logic made sense. If mild fatigue wasn't forcing my core to adapt, then I needed to push past that.

I slid down off my seat and walked over to my bed, grabbing two soft pillows. I carried them over to the floor right beside the open window. After dragging my chair a few inches to clear space, I went to the closet, retrieved my remaining spare pillows, and tossed them into the pile. Stepping back, I framed the target area with my thumbs and index fingers, judging where my body would land when I passed out. I nudged the bottom pillow an inch to the left, then nodded.

"Alright," I muttered.

I climbed up onto the wooden chair and reached my right arm out toward the open sky. With my left hand, I gripped the windowsill tight, just in case the recoil tried to fling me backward.

This is crazy. This test is going to leave me totally bone dry; just because my body didn’t feel anything wrong during the last time, that doesn’t mean that this one won’t. Who knows what kind of things could possibly happen if I exhaust my Mana Core again. It happened by accident the last time, but this time it’s on purpose. A loud groan escaped from my mouth as doubt filled me. This was probably the dumbest thing that I had ever done, but there was no room for doubt.

I took a deep breath.

"Okay... let's do this."

Gale!

Energy flared in my chest as my Mana Core dumped its entire remaining reserve into my veins at once. Energy surged down my shoulder and burst from my open palm.

Fwoosh!

A fierce gust of wind blasted out into the afternoon air. Before the breeze even settled, the room spun out of focus, and my eyes rolled back.

"Ugh..."

Every muscle in my legs went limp. I tumbled backward off the chair, my weight collapsing straight onto the cushioned floorboards.

Flop.

"...Zzzz."

***

--Lyra--

I crouched in the dirt behind the house, aggressively stabbing the dirt with a short weeding knife.

Papa had postponed my sword training today, and I hated that fact that he did. My punishment for failing to follow his lessons was clearing out the overgrown weeds along the backyard fence, and I'd been stuck out here for at least an hour. I was wearing the oversized straw hat Papa usually wore when tending crops, the broad brim flopping down over my eyes every time I bent over.

I twisted the blade into the soil, popped a stubborn root free, and hurled the weed over my shoulder without looking. It joined the growing pile behind me.

"Stupid Kyro," I muttered, stabbing the dirt again. "Teaching me the wrong way to do subtraction. Making fun of me in front of Mom like that... Grrrrr."

I yanked another handful of weeds out of the ground and threw them over my head.

"Stupid Kyro," I growled, moving down the row. "Always acting so smart just because he can do numbers faster than me..."

I straightened my knees and stretched my aching back, staring at the messy mound of pulled weeds sitting on the grass behind me.

"Stupid Kyro..." I muttered under my breath again, wiping sweat off my forehead with the back of my dusty sleeve.

My eyes drifted toward his bedroom window on the second floor. The wooden shutters were propped wide open, and a funny thought crossed my mind. A mischievous grin spread across my face.

I looked down, spotted a smooth little pebble near my boot, and scooped it up. Throwing rocks at his wall always got a reaction out of him—especially when he was busy talking to his weird little papers like a lunatic. I tossed the pebble up and down in my palm with practiced ease, my grin widening.

"I'll show you—"

I stopped mid-sentence when Kyro's small frame stepped up directly into the window frame.

Yeah, even better! I thought, adjusting my grip on the rock. Now I can actually hit him instead of just hitting the wall or guessing where he's sitting.

Before I could wind back my arm to throw, Kyro reached his hand out into the open air. His other hand gripped the wooden window frame tightly. I raised an eyebrow, squinting up through the brim of my floppy straw hat.

What is he doing?

Suddenly, an invisible force erupted just above me.

FWOOSH!

A blast of wind roared out from his window, sweeping across the yard in a sudden wave. The tall grass flattened for a moment, the young green wheat stalks beyond the fence whipped back and forth, and my oversized straw hat nearly flew right off my head.

I instinctively shielded my face with my shoulder, blocking the dirt kicked up by the sudden breeze.

When the air finally settled, I turned my eyes back toward his window, completely frozen. I knew the gust had come from him. Mama and Papa had mentioned before that Kyro was a mage, but I had never really believed them. I'd never seen him do a single piece of magic—he just spent all day reading books or staring out the window and never played with me, or anyone in the village. In other words, a very weird squirt.

I squinted up at his face, and I saw his eyes rolled right back into his skull. His knees went completely limp, and he collapsed backward into his room, disappearing from the window frame.

My jaw dropped, the little stone slipping right out of my fingers and plopping into the dirt.

What just happened...?

I hurried by Mom, who was sleeping soundly on the wooden bench in the living room, making soft noises while lying in the afternoon sun. I did not stop to wake her up. I ran up the wooden stairs two steps at once, my boots stomping noisily until I got to the door of Kyro’s room.

SLAM!

I burst through the door in a hurry.

Kyro was lying face up on the floorboard, completely still, buried under an enormous heap of cushions.

I walked over to him, standing right next to his head. I pushed him with my boot.

"Huh! Wake up!" I said, bending over. "What have you been up to?"

He did not move a muscle. He had his mouth half-open, and he did not even blink. I frowned in annoyance. I squatted down and lifted my hand to slap him hard on the cheek.

SMACK!

"Wake up!"

There was not even the slightest movement, only his chest moved up and down.

"That.. usually works…" I mumbled, remembering slapping my dozing-off underlings during playtime. I withdrew my hand and rubbed my palm. "Tch."

I stood up and rolled my eyes. As I turned to the door, my eyes landed on the grey notebook, which was open in the center of his wooden desk. Curious, I wandered over to see what he spent all his time scribbling down instead of playing games with my friends within the village or with me.

I leaned over and squinted at the pages... but it was filled with weird symbols, crossed-out diagrams, and messy cursive that made zero sense.

"What a weird kid."

I took the pencil from the wooden mug, drew over his face once more, and rubbed the stick to make him appear like a dog, complete with whiskers and all.

Nyehehe... Perfect.

I smirked. I placed the pencil back in the wooden mug, then snatched the notebook off the desk, walked over to the tall wooden bookshelf against the left wall, then tossed it up onto the very top shelf, and it was too far out of his tiny reach.

"Good luck finding your stupid paper, you wuss," I giggled.

I glanced at Kyro, whose body lay motionless on his pile of pillows with a sense of satisfaction.

"That's what you get for making fun of me! HAHA!"

With a triumphant grin on my face, I turned on my heel and strutted right out of the room, shutting the door hard behind me.

***

I opened my eyes and groaned.

I was still lying face-up on the cushioned pile of pillows on the floorboards. The room was dark, save for the faint indigo light filtering through the open window, signaling that evening had already settled in.

"Ow... my head..."

I had a piercing migraine that would not go away, pounding against my temples. Trying to fight the numbness and get up from my seat, I was met by a sudden bout of vertigo; dizziness sprawled over my vision for a brief moment.

"KYRO! DINNER'S READY!"

"Huh, talk about timing..." I muttered, composing myself and stretching out my stiff joints.

I padded over to the door, opened it a crack, and called down the hall, "In a minute!"

I turned back into the room to log the results of Hypothesis 4 into my journal, but I froze as I noticed the gray notebook wasn't on my desk. I glanced left, then right. I checked the corners of the table, circled the entire room, and searched under the bed, inside the closet, and beneath the pile of cushions. I even leaned out the window to see if my spell had somehow blown it into the backyard grass. But there was nothing.

An irritated twitch formed near my eye.

"W-where the hell is my journal?!" I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "That makes no sense. Did my Gale spell fling it out of existence or something?"

Frustrated, I opened my bedroom door and scanned the dark hallway. Whispers of curses filled my mouth. The ambient glow from the living room lantern bled up the wooden staircase. I hurried downstairs, where hanging lanterns illuminated the living space and the dining table.

Dad was helping Mom set down the food while Lyra sat at the table with her cheek resting in her palm, looking utterly bored. But the moment her eyes landed on me, her expression shifted into a wide, suspicious grin.

I raised an eyebrow, keeping silent as I took my seat across from her.

Dad wiped his hands on a dry towel and stepped over to sit beside Lyra, placing a wooden bowl of fresh rice on the table. The moment he looked up at me, his eyes widened, and he burst into a warm laugh.

"Kyro?" Dad chuckled. "I didn't know you got a new makeover."

"W-what do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"You look like a dog," Lyra snorted, covering her mouth.

"Huh?" I glared across the table at her.

Mom walked in carrying a heavy pot of pottage, her bare hands gripping the hot iron handles without so much as a flinch. She set the pot in the center of the table and sat down beside me, catching sight of my face.

"What happened to your face, sweetie?" she asked with a light laugh.

"What's wrong with my face?"

Instinctively, I rubbed my cheek with my middle finger. When I pulled my hand back, my fingertip was smudged with a dark, powdery black substance. I smelled it, and it was charcoal. I leaned over to check my reflection in a cup of water sitting on the table. Sure enough, black whiskers and a messy nose were drawn across my skin.

"Pfft..." Lyra turned her head, her shoulders shaking as she fought back a laugh.

I snapped my head toward her. "You did this, didn't you?!"

"W-what?" she chuckled innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about, you wuss. I was plucking weeds in the backyard the entire time."

"Stop lying, Lyra!" I gritted my teeth.

I wasn't even upset about the childish scribble on my face, but I was furious because she was clearly the one who had taken my journal. Weeks of meticulous research, mana calculations, and spell data were inside that notebook. Losing it would set my progress back to zero.

"Did you hide my journal too?!" My voice cracked as I raised it.

"No idea, you wuss," she shrugged, smirking. "Like I said, backyard. All afternoon."

"Grrrr...!"

"Kyro," Mom's voice cut through the air.

I froze instantly upon hearing her. Her tone wasn't her usual warm, gentle breeze, but it was sharp and stern.

"Keep your voice down," Mom commanded. "We are at the table to eat, not to yell."

"M-mom... you don't understand," I argued, trying to keep my composure. "I know Lyra did this. I mean, I'm certainly not immature or foolish enough to draw dog whiskers on my own face, unlike certain people in this house."

Lyra's playful smirk vanished. "What is that supposed to mean?!" She slammed her hands onto the table, rattling the wooden bowls.

"Lyra!" Mom's voice boomed louder. "Stop it. That is rude."

"B-but Mom!"

"Why are you getting defensive?" I smirked faintly. "I never named anyone."

"Rghh...!" Lyra growled, her fists clenching.

"Kyro, Lyra." Dad's deep voice interjected, calm but commanding enough to instantly quiet the room. "Both of you, stop it. We are about to enjoy dinner, and you're ruining the mood."

He turned his stern gaze toward me. "And Kyro? What did I tell you about belittling others?"

I opened my mouth to rebut, but under his watchful gaze, I couldn't bring myself to do that. I swallowed my pride and lowered my head.

"Sorry, Dad..."

Dad then turned to Lyra. "Lyra, did you take his notebook?"

Lyra let out a nervous chuckle, shifting in her seat. "N-no? Why would I touch his boring papers? I was just doing my punishment outside like you told me to."

"Liar," I muttered under my breath, crossing my arms and glaring at her. She shot me an equally sharp glare right back.

Dad let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead. "Let's all just take a breath and eat, alright? We'll sort this out tomorrow morning."

"Fine..." I grumbled, staring down at my bowl.

I knew there was no point pushing the issue at the dinner table, but as I picked up my wooden spoon, I swore I'd tear my room apart after dinner until I found where she hid it.

[End]