It had only been one day since Kevin's first "lesson."
Keyword: chaos.
Between Lyra's squirrel-chasing, my failed dice push-ups, and the tragic cabbage incident... not a single spell was learned.
But somehow, we all came back for round two.
Kevin, with a fresh stick and a face that screamed I-will-make-this-work.
Lyra, suspiciously well-behaved—for now.
And me? Slightly more curious than sarcastic.
So yeah.
Day Two.
Magic lessons: this time for real.
The morning air was cool, thick with dew and silence.
Kevin lit a small flame in the grass, just enough to ward off the chill.
His robe fluttered as he stepped forward—calmer this time.
He didn't yell.
He didn't sigh.
He just began his history lesson.
Long ago, Eden was quiet.
No sparks flew from fingertips.
No incantations echoed through forests.
No man—no elf, no dwarf, no beastkin—held power beyond flesh and bone.
Then came the skyfire.
Far beyond the stars, something raged.
A war—not of swords, but of wills.
Not of men… but of something else.
Some say it ended with a scream that split the stars.
Others say there was no end—only an explosion so violent it rewrote the universe.
"Wow. So dramatic," I muttered from the boulder.
"I'm shocked he didn't pull out a chalkboard and fire emojis.
I bet you guys need subtitles for this stuff.
Also—'a war far beyond the stars'? What does that even mean?
Who was fighting? Space goblins? Galactic toddlers?
Kevin, please. How much weed did you burn today?"
The sky burned.
A star shattered.
And from it, fragments spiraled outward—flung across galaxies like seeds of forgotten power.
Some were no larger than dust.
Others, vast as mountains.
And a few… were alive with something stranger.
They drifted.
"Look, here's the deal," I added, rolling slightly.
"Something big went kaboom.
Fate went boom-boom ka-BOOM with it.
The fragments rained down like cosmic sprinkles."
And one day,
They fell—
To Eden.
They didn't ask.
They didn't wait.
They sank into Eden.
Into stone.
Into blood.
Into us.
Tiny shards of broken fate—
Lodged in bones, bound in relics, hidden in dreams.
Some became weapons.
Some became magical ruins.
"Some ended up in rocks, some in relics,
and some—unfortunately—inside little goblins like Lyra.
Boom again."
Some became artifacts that think and move and...
Complain.
Like Dan, over there.
"Great. I'm a living PowerPoint slide now."
And some?
They became roots.
Twisting deep inside our souls.
Waiting.
Growing.
That was the birth of power.
The moment fate stopped being written for us—
And became something we could bend.
The birth… of magic.
At its center lies the Mana Root—
The first gift.
The chance to bend destiny itself.
"And Mana Root?" I added,
"It's basically a magical bellybutton with extra drama."
Kevin paused, letting the weight of his words settle like ash.
He looked at them, waiting for awe.
And Lyra, ever the chaos queen, cooperatively supported his dream.
Lyra, wide-eyed:
"COOL."
Levin nodded slowly, like he understood all of it.
I bet he didn't.
But he looked proud anyway.
"...And that, kids," I said, "is how you gaslight an entire generation into thinking you're a mystic."
As a sign of respect for Kevin's storytelling, I figured I'd leave him an honest review on Google:
'Five out of ten,' I typed. 'Needed more space goblins.'
"Great. CAN I FIREBALL NOW?!" shouted Lyra, jumping up like she was trying to punch the sky.
Kevin held up a hand like he was trying to tame a magical donkey.
"Hold your horses—no one's throwing fireballs yet."
Lyra pouted. "Boo."
Kevin exhaled, calm but firm.
"Before you can use magic, you need to sense your Mana Root.
Think of it like... finding your own heartbeat.
You don't see it—but it's there.
Beating. Breathing.
You just have to feel it."
I scoffed internally. "Oh no. Here comes the deep breathing nonsense. I knew it. Kevin's about to zen them into submission. Should I call 911 for children brainwash project?
Kevin knelt and drew a glowing spiral in the dirt—soft arcs branching outward like vines.
"There are stages to the Mana Root," he began calmly, tapping the center of the diagram.
"Most people start at Stage Zero. That's when you first connect with it.
You can't cast spells yet, but you can feel the flow—like your body is breathing something it never noticed before."
Lyra stared at the diagram like it was a pancake.
Kevin continued, drawing the next ring around the center.
"Then there's Stage One through Five.
Each stage expands your mana capacity—how much energy you can store and channel.
But more important than that… is control. Growth without control is just a bigger explosion waiting to happen."
He tapped the center.
"Stage Zero – Mana Seed.
This is where everything begins.
Your Mana Root is still dormant—buried deep in your soul.
You can't cast spells, but you might sense mana in the air.
Most people never even reach this point."
He added the next ring.
"Stage One – Mana Sprout.
The seed awakens.
At this point, you can channel basic mana—enough for small spells or tricks.
It's fragile. But it's alive."
Another arc.
"Stage Two – Mana Shoot.
Your Root stands steady. Mana flows more clearly.
You can guide it with focus and begin building real spellcasting skill."
Then a branching curl.
"Stage Three – Mana Branch.
The Root grows outward. You gain flexibility—casting multiple spells, shaping mana mid-flow.
This is where battle mages begin to shine."
He drew a bloom.
"Stage Four – Mana Bloom.
The Root matures. You can instinctively manipulate and fuse spells.
Elements, forms, motion—everything becomes fluid."
Finally, he encircled the whole spiral in a ring of lines and leaves.
"Stage Five – Mana Tree.
Your Root becomes fully integrated with your soul.
You don't cast spells.
You are the spell.
You enhance others. You amplify magic by existing.
But the higher the Root, the harder it is to control.
Without balance, your own power can destroy you."
He sat back, stick still glowing faintly.
"Don't focus on rushing through stages," Kevin added.
"Power isn't about how far your Root has grown… but how well you've nurtured it."
Lyra blinked.
"So I'm still a seed?"
Kevin shook his head.
"No. Surprisingly, you're already Stage One—Mana Sprout."
Lyra frowned.
"Can I at least be a spicy seed?"
Kevin muttered under his breath,
"I don't even know how her brain processes anything.
It's the first day and I already feel ten years older."
He sighed.
"Let's just… sit still and meditate, okay?"
Then, as if remembering, Kevin raised his voice again.
"Oh—and one more thing.
Just because someone's at Stage Three doesn't mean they're stronger than someone at Stage Two."
Lyra blinked. "Wait—what?"
Levin leaned in. Intrigued.
Kevin continued, trying not to smirk:
"It's not about how big your Root is.
It's about how much of it you can control."
I choked on my own laugh.
"Kevin, bro… did you hear yourself?
'How big your Root is'?
'How much you can control'?
What is this, Playboy 101: How to Control Your Root With Your Girlfriend?
Did we sign up for magic training or wander into a cursed adult self-help seminar?"
Lyra raised a finger like a proud know-it-all.
"Oh! Just like Little D!
He's small, but during that market incident? He controlled everything!"
💀
Dan:
"I thought today was my day off…
How do I STILL get dragged into this?
F.M.D.L."
Kevin cleared his throat quickly, redirecting the lesson before it spiraled further.
"Anyway—here's an example.
Normally, bending or fusing elements is a Stage Four ability.
But with incredible control, it can be done at Stage Three.
The problem is—most people don't have the talent or precision.
So they compensate by using more mana than necessary.
That's why only Stage Four mages usually handle that kind of technique—because they can afford the cost."
"Remember mana control is everything.
Without it, the energy leaks out—wild, unstable.
At first, it's minor: maybe you summon fire and light your clothes on fire.
But if it builds too fast...
You can suffer from mana overdose.
Too much mana, too fast, and your body becomes the battlefield.
Best case? You pass out for a week.
Worst case? Your Mana Root ruptures and you… die."
Lyra raised her hand like she was answering a pop quiz.
"Is that how your backyard exploded that one time when you awakened, Levin?"
Kevin froze mid-blink.
Didn't answer.
Levin nodded solemnly.
"...I think so."
Kevin clapped his hands once, trying to reclaim authority from the void.
"Alright! Sit still. Close your eyes.
Levin's already practiced this.
Now Lyra—
you'll need to focus harder than last time you tried to cast magic using a stick and raw emotion."
He knelt again, redrawing the root symbol with steady fingers.
"Breathe slow.
In through the nose… out through the mouth.
Focus. Feel your center.
Your Root should feel like a warm thread inside your chest—soft, but deep.
When you find it, just... rest there."
I sat watching them from my rock.
At first, I was enjoying the show—
This comedic trio, fumbling through magic like it was group meditation therapy.
I imagined popcorn in my nonexistent hands and mentally gave the scene a 7/10.
But then…
Somewhere between Kevin's calm tone and the weirdly hypnotic vibe of the dirt spiral…
I started doing it too.
Not on purpose.
Just… instinct.
I focused.
And there it was.
That soft thread.
Faint. Quiet.
Not in my chest exactly—
because, well, I don't have one.
But somewhere deeper.
Inside me.
The thing Kevin was describing…
It wasn't just for them.
I could feel it too.
The Mana Core.
I don't have a body.
But I have a core.
Maybe because I'm an artifact now?
Not sure...
Then Kevin's voice broke through the stillness:
"Good. Now slowly draw in the mana around you.
Feel it like mist in the air.
Guide it—gently—into your core."
I didn't mean to.
It just… happened.
And then—
I saw it.
My Root.
Not shaped like a heart.
Not glowing gold.
Just a simple point of light.
Flickering.
Waiting.
Except… it wasn't gently absorbing anything.
It was devouring.
It gorged on the mana I was guiding in like a starved beast at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Oh—
Sorry.
My bad.
My Core. Not Root. Core.
Blame Kevin.
His gaslight corrupted me too.
I was once an honest student…
Until I met Professor Kevin,
in PB class.
(Playboy Basics.)
Kevin's voice continued—totally unaware of my internal panic attack:
"Once your Core has drawn in mana,
you do the same thing—but in reverse.
Channel it back out. Shape it.
Let your intention guide what you form."
He lifted a hand, calm and focused.
A tiny flicker of flame danced above his pointer finger—stable, delicate.
Lyra raised a hand, eyes locked on the flame.
"So… it's like imagination, right?"
Kevin nodded.
"Yes. Sort of.
Imagination… with rules."
I froze.
"Imagination… with rules…"
I repeated it to myself.
Quietly. Then louder. Then again.
"Imagination… with rules…"
Wait.
What happens if I imagine my body…
with mana…
Can I have my body back again?
A perfect body with legs… arms… abs…and root.