Chapter 8: 7. Magic Training: Part Two

When my mother comes in the next day to change my diaper after a long sleep, I kick up my legs and wave my arms, garbling in excitement at her. Look, ma! Your child did it! I am now a real mage with a working magic pool.

“Wow, my little baby is so smart and impressive!” She coos as she grabs my toes and wiggles them happily. “Now we won’t have any more little accidents, right? Normally, your magic pool would grow with you as you get older, but you take after your father I guess. Always rushing headfirst into things.”

Eh? Is that so? I guess that makes sense. What use does a baby have for a magic pool? More like, they’re likely to accidentally cast a spell and burn the place down if they do! A normal baby doesn’t have the self-awareness of a reincarnated adult like me.

But I don’t regret it. I’m not a normal baby after all! I want to be able to learn magic as soon as possible, before it becomes so normalised to me the excitement wears off.

After changing my diaper, my mother picks me up and carries me out to the kitchen. “Then, today we will learn a simple and harmless spell. With this, you will know how to use your magic properly without hurting yourself again.”

She sets me down on the floor, pulling a tray of freshly baked wild cherry tarts from the oven. Using simply wind magic, she blows them to cool them down slightly, then turns to me with a smile.

“Take a bite, little one. Aaaah.”

Mm! It’s sweet, but has a sour tang that doesn’t make it overwhelming! Plus, there’s a little cream cheese layer between the pastry and the cherries that mellows out the flavour. So good!

“Okay. Now close your eyes, and mummy will hide this tart. If you want to finish the rest of it, you will have to learn to use your magic to find it!”

Wow! A finding spell, huh? Something like a simplified version of detection magic, maybe? I faithfully put my hands over my eyes, counting “go, boo, gi…” out loud.

Although I can hear my mother shuffling around the room, I don’t cheat by trying to figure out where she’s going by sound. I concentrate on the sound of my own voice counting out loud, until I finally feel my mother crouching in front of me and gently ruffling my thin layer of hair.

“All right! Time to search. Remember the shape of the tart with a bite taken out. Keep it clearly in your mind. Once it’s locked in, then slowly draw out your magic. Imagine you’re weaving it into a thread, then pulling on that thread, unravelling it and pulling it out of your body. Keep a clear image of the item you want to find in your mind at all times while you slowly send out that thread, out into the world.”

Hmm, sounds simple enough—famous last words. Although the spell my mother set out for me seems like a simple one, it turns out she’s shoving me into the deep end. Being able to sense my own magic pool is one thing, but trying to control it in even the most rudimentary fashion is harder!

Pulling a single “thread” from the fire feels impossible. At first I end up grabbing a handful, tearing half of my magic up by the roots. Although I quickly shove it back down into the mass, a little of it ends up dispersing and I tick down to 8/10 MP. 

Delicately! I focus harder, concentrating on only pulling the tiniest thread out. This time I over-correct, however, ending up pulling out a thread so fine and delicate it snaps and disperses, knocking off another MP point.

Although it’s called a magic pool, it’s not still like water, but constantly shifting and dancing like flame. As I get more frustrated, it becomes harder to concentrate and grasp it cleanly, and it constantly slips out of my grasp. In the end, rather than making progress, I am getting gradually worse at trying to manipulate it. Each failure causes my MP to disperse a little bit, until I only have 3/10 MP left and I’m stopped.

Waah! As a baby, it’s my privilege to cry when things get too hard. So I let out a deep roar, my face turning red with frustration as I fail over and over again.

“Aww, there there. Magic is hard, y’know? Especially for a little baby. I was twelve when I started to learn and didn’t manage to cast my first spell until I was fourteen. My little one is already so impressive!”

My mother picks me up, patting me on the back until I stop crying. My yelling peters out into sad hiccups and snot, which I wipe on her shoulder.

Twelve? That’s so long away. I don’t want to wait that long! Moreover, even once my mother started training, it took her two years to cast a single spell! Isn’t that ridiculous? Maybe she started me out so fast as a way to teach me a lesson about patience.

I am not my father’s child if I abide by common sense, however! Although this day ended in failure as far as the spell went, I now know how to train in magic manipulation. If I can create a thread of magic without any loss and then project it from my body safely, I will have taken my first steps on the road to becoming a full-fledged mage!

I spend the next few days on this project, using naptime in order to travel within myself and concentrate on my magic pool. I don’t immediately start trying to pull at it, but instead spend time observing it. As a part of me, I feel like I should know it intimately, like the back of my own hand. Although it moves about randomly, dancing and twisting like falling silk, I do find patterns. Small flares of activity in time with my heartbeat, like a dance beat. When I exhale roughly through my mouth and nose, the flame flickers slightly as though being blown on.

Rather than being a single part of me, like an extra organ, this so-called “magic pool” is more like a mental visualisation of a much more vague concept. It’s more like a spirit or soul, something that exists in all of me and is a part of everything I do.

Fire is a good mental key for bringing magic to life, since it’s something that isn’t alive, yet has a life of its own. But it’s not helpful for trying to master its use.

Calm, I think. Fire is wild, constantly moving. I need something calm. A bowl of water? No, not that, it feels too still and stagnant. Wind? Not wind, which feels too ephemeral to grasp. Something else. Something alive, yet calm. Something still, but not dead and inert. Not fire, not water, not wind.

A small sprout. It sways, ever-so-gently, the tiny buds of newly formed leaves shivering delicately. A violet-red trunk with glossy dark red leaves. The roots reach deep inside me, winding through my veins and bodily cavities, drawing strength from all of me. I don’t need much.

I count the leaves, strongly enforcing the image of the number ten. Ten leaves, one for each point of magic. I pluck one, but it wilts quickly in my hand and turns to dust. Not good enough! I grasp a second leaf, willing it to remain. You are more than the tree! You are alive, with your own vitality. You are still a part of me!

I pluck it from the branch, holding it in my hand within my mind’s eye. I can almost feel the texture of it as it sits there, iridescent with its own inner light. I slowly open my eyes, looking at my hand. As big as my thumbnail, there sits a glowing red-violet leaf.

I release it, and it disperses into the air.

You are reading story Capitalism Ho! Peddling Wares in Another World at novel35.com

Now, I’m ready for the flames.

 

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“Lio, come quickly! Look what our child can do!” My mother calls excitedly as she motions for me to close my eyes before going to hide the ball somewhere around the living. I do so dutifully as I hear my father’s footsteps coming in from outside. They’re heavy, undelicate steps that suit him.

Once the ball is hidden, my mother encourages me happily, “Okay, baby, go find it.”

I get up on my two wobbly feet with my mother’s help. Yes, two months old and I’m already walking!

I really have to wonder what my father put in me.

I don’t need to manually use my magic anymore in order to cast the “Seek” spell, but I do so anyway as it helps me continue to learn how to manipulate it more smoothly. With an image of the ball in my mind, complete with the tooth marks from where I chewed it this morning due to teething and the shiny veneer of slobber, I send out my magic. It’s only a ten foot radius, but within that radius of searching I am able to pick up the faint aura of the ball.

Yes! Actually, I found out that if the item I’m searching for has some of my “essence” on it—such as, saliva—then it’s much easier and faster to find it. That’s probably why my mother let me take a bite of the tart that morning. She wasn’t being cruel, just unrealistically ambitious.

Ah, but I learnt in a week what it took my mother two years to learn, so perhaps that’s unfair.

With the location of the ball in my mind, I toddle over on dangerously unsteady legs just as my father bursts into the room.

“Eh, walking already?! No, about time! With this we can finally start sword training!”

He sweeps me up in his arms, totally breaking my concentration. I immediately scream and wail, kicking and punching him with my weak, squishy body. This oaf! What have you done, geez!

“Aaaah, you idiot, Lio!”

Yeah! You idiot, Lio!

“Huh?”

“Our child was using magic! It took only a week to learn the ‘Seek’ spell, that’s the standard of a genius! Look, baby, where’s the ball? You show daddy and he’ll help you get it.” My mother gives my father another round of angry punches after I finish, then turns to coo at me, pride written all over her face.

Sorry, mother. It’s not that I’m a genius, it’s just a unique ability. Not only that, but your child won’t amount to anything truly incredible with magic; I’ll only have a stupidly diverse catalogue. But you know, variety is the spice of life! Cleverness over brute strength!

“Oh, is that all.” My father is visibly disappointed with my incredible progress.

I take it back! You bastard, your child is a genius! Show a little enthusiasm!

I point angrily at the location I sensed the ball, giving the big oaf a firm complaining of “biba!” until he carries me over. Having to once again invoke “Seek”, I manage to precisely point out the location of the ball. Heh, see that?

“Have you been putting this in your mouth?” My father asks.

N-no. Anyway! Praise me! Praise me or else!

He shoves the ball into my mouth, patting me on the butt in a friendly way. “Right, good job. Now let’s go do some muscle training.”

Nooooo!

 

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