23.5
Across Miss Elisabeth’s wooden countertop, John beheld many loose papers containing scribbles of what looked to be on magic and scientific theories.
All of which came with charts and sketches alike depicting the complex string of logic behind it all.
Clearly the ‘gift’ from Elisabeth was not among them.
Then there were a few books and pens left on the same table, he quickly skimmed through them but found no interesting titles that he would ever understand nor had the interest in.
Things ranging from, Ancient Science to Lady’s Restraint Desire—clearly a women’s romance book of sorts—did nothing but bored him further.
“Where did it go… Aha!!!” the magic tome was placed at the center of the the table with an oil lamp sitting on top of the leatherbound cover.
Without a doubt, that was the ‘gift’ the witch intended for him.
An oil lamp as a gift?
Young John rolled his eyes.
In the age where lighting is easily powered by mana cores and electricity, most of the Easterners had long abandoned the use of the oil lamp. Gifting an ancient relic like this to John was a clear jest at his immature age.
Does she think I am stupid?
Young John shook his head, tired that an old fossil like Elisabeth would take the time to mess with him.
I’m sure she doesn’t want me listen in on Serene’s palm reading, that’s why she distracted me here. Lying about some gift she had for me.
Though the shopkeeper looked nothing like her age, John was acutely aware that underneath her youthful façade was someone that could very well be someone’s great grandmother.
His skin crawled at the notion that he was teased by an old grandma.
“I’ll just read until Serene is done with her palm-whatever-reading-thing.”
Setting the oil lamp aside, John flipped through the book once more, intending to start from the beginner’s segment to get himself familiar with the basics.
Magic was broadly categorized in multiples of practices, while it is usually referred to the act of someone tapping into their mana pool and use said mana to cast spells, there exists three main ways an individual would tap into their mana.
Memory-based: Individuals who cast magic by memory, usually done so with the help of a tutor that aid them in casting their first spell. Repetition is the most effective way to hone their skills
Emotion-based: Magic comes to these individuals by evoking intense stress or joy, which in their states of extremes allows the to cast powerful spells.
Knowledge-based: Achieved by having an innate understanding of Ancient Science, thus, able to recreate the magic phenomena based on scientific understanding of the world.
There were many more sub categories that spanned under the three ways of mana usage but it was generally understood for magic learners to understand and learn all three in tandem to have a rounded understanding of the basics.
“There’s specialization for these three categories…”
John uttered, taking note of the small annotation below the pages.
“Warning: Specialization is a double-edged sword, the immense reliance of any style of mana tapping will yield extraordinary results but will cause immense…deficiency?”
John raised a brow and continued to read.
“Specialization of mana usage is also synonymous with poor magic casting habits, for not many understood their innate access to their mana pool. There are many magic users that met their demise at their over reliance over a singular way of mana usage. Refer to Mana Tapping Deficiency for further elaboration.”
Was mana tapping deficiency ever a problem?
For his limited knowledge of magic casting, to be able to tap into one’s mana pool was already a scarce enough talent, there had never been talks nor discussions among the people that dictated tapping into mana required caution.
Of course, his memory could be wrong. However, with ‘Use whatever way to tap into your mana’ as the motto for all magic schools throughout Eastern Contient—including the National Academy—the author of this magic tome seemed to be misguided.
Without another word, he grabbed a huge number of pages, and flipped them to the back pages where ‘Warnings and Hazards’ was titled in crimson red ink.
“Death caused by misuse… Mana blocking… Hijacking… Corruption… Anti-magic reaction… Miscast… Degradation of mind…”
His voice trailed as he sought through the heavy pages that held words in tiny fonts, labeling a plethora of unheard negative reactions that stemmed from magic use.
“Body rupturing… Unwanted sacrifice… Unholy spawn… Forsaken’s curse… Inborn…” until he came upon the particular entry. “Mana Deficiency, a condition deemed as an overreliance of one method of accessing mana, causing a complete block in mana usage by the individual. Occurs most often to people who never learn to master their vast mana pool…”
John halted his voice when the light around him dimmed, he turned to the oil lamp, flicked his finger at the glass to stoke waning flame inside it, but no luck, the fire got smaller.
Serene and Miss Elisabeth seemed to be unconcerned as the two were too deep in conversation that only unrecognizable chatter was the only thing that came from them.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Miss Elisabeth’s bookstore was not dimly lit to say the least, but for some reason, when the oil lamp beside him lost its luminescence, everything, including his vision waned.
“Come on…” John opened the cap of the lamp, gently, he blew a steady wind into the fire source.
The fire grew slightly at his breath, as soon as he stopped, he started to dim once more, leaving John to be surrounded in the dimming bookstore as he watched beyond the glass windows where the lights from the merchant district came in.
“This is getting tiring. Puff…puff…puff… How long is Serene—”
He froze when two figures appeared to his view.
Beyond the glass, beyond Elisabeth’s bookstore, John’s keen eye caught the glimpse of gruff large man pulling a child across the streets.
What is going on…?
The man’s pull and force on the child increased the more the child resisted, he could see the child screaming to the people around them for help from the large man.
But nobody pay heed to the child’s pleas.
In Eastern Continent, the powerful do what they are can and the frail are doomed to suffer for their weakness.
This Fedration of a nation was built upon unbridled meritocracy. To survive, the fittest must thrive, the weak shall perish or submit under the strong.
The man continued to force the child to follow him. Instead of obedicence, flurries of punches came from the child only to bounce of the large man’s body, promting the gruff man to laugh in mockery.
Dong!
A flash of movement came from the child as the man’s groin was kicked with full force.
A horrible expression appeared on the man as gigantic fists came down with tremendous force, pounding the boy for having tried something on the man.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The loud strikes reverberated through the glass.
John could only watch from inside of Miss Elisabeth’s shop, powerless to do anything about it.
I shouldn’t look…
John thought to himself as he turned his head back towards the magic tome.
I don’t care. People suffer everyday. Today that kid gets beat, and on some days it will be me.
His fingers moved along the pages of the magic tome with a rushed urgency, forcing his eyes upon the pages that he were reading moments ago.
But none of the words registered in him.
The scene of the man abusing the child continued to play out in his mind, as the cruel sounds continued to enter his ears like a broken record, playing on an endless loop, with each iteration getting worse and worse.
His toes curled at the notion that an adult would do such a thing to a child.
Even so, he had to harden his resolve.
None of it has anything to do with—
Pang!
A loud sound from the outside caught John’s attention. Prompting him to turn his head to the man’s direction as the child fell to the ground, with splotches of crimson liquid splattered all across the child’s face.
“!!!”
Young John’s eyes were glued to the scene.
Not the people on the streets, not the merchants, not even Serene and Elisabeth saw what just happened.
The man lifted the child’s body, shaking it as the boy’s soot filled black hair dangled in thin air, shouting and screaming as the child’s limp body for him to wake.
It took a while until the man came to the same realization as John.
He d-died…
The large man’s then dragged the child’s body by the legs, disappearing into a dark alley nearby.
Shoom!!!
The flame from the oil lamp left its housing, became a floating flame orb as it levitated before John’s magic tome.
“What? Why are you floating?”
As soon John brought the oil lamp to capture it, the orb of flame sped forwards to the store front.
Pew!
“Hey wait!”
Young John hurried after the floating flame, running after it as the fire danced about as he gave chase to it.
“I wasn’t done reading!”
He called to the flame as though it were a sentient being, alas, the flames continued to rush forward until it eventually stopped at the edge of the streets.
“Hah…h-hah…” a panting John wheezed for air as the flame spun above him, seemingly to know that he was exhausted and waited for him to follow it.
By the time John caught his breath, he found himself already exited the bookstore and was a few steps into a dark alley way.
Having caught a glance of the darkness his heart froze.
“I s-shouldn’t be here… It’s too dangerous.”
He turned back to where he came from, just as he did, the floating flame got into his path, halting him in his footsteps.
“What’s the matter with you!? Move!” John slid his body, making past the orb of fire, losing interest in it the moment he realized he was at the wrong part of the merchant district.
The fire, however, was just as quick as he was, he barely moved half a step before he was stopped again by the levitating flame.
“Another one!? How many times do I have to tell you to bring them to me, unharmed!!?”
A rageful voice came from a distance behind him.
“This one tried to kill me, boss! So I punished him.”
A gruff voice replied.
“And you killed him for that!?”
“…he is still breathing.”
“Barely, you idiot!!! Mind I remind you that our business here requires, unharmed, unviolated children? What is the purpose of sending them to our clients if…”
“Boss?”
“Hush… There are ears in these walls, let’s go inside.”
“And the child?”
“Leave him… If he doesn’t succumb to his injuries, his sickness will take him any time now.”
“You said the doctor could heal him.”
“That was before you beaten him, besides we still have…”
The two voices became smaller and smaller as it parted off into the distance.
That boy is still alive! I…
When John looked to the bookshop, the levitating flame was nowhere to be seen. It seemed that while he was listening to the voices in the alley, the floating fire had vanished from his sights.
“I should get back.”
His toes curled. Now that the flame had disappeared, there was nothing stopping him from returning to where Serene was. He had promised Uncle Edgar and Aunt Dalene that he would not run off on his own.
But…
The child was still alive.
No one but John knew that.
If he ran to get help, he was certainly to be dismissed for lying or being meddlesome. The child bore no ties with him nor anyone, both common sense and his upbringing screamed to leave and forget what he saw.
“Is…t-there…any…o-one?”
His ears caught a ghastly whisper, one that stoked the embers of his heart into a grand flame that burned away all preconceived notions that he had.
“P-please… I-I d-don’t want to be…a-alone.”
The cries of a dying child. One bereft of hope.
“I-I…am s-scared… hic…hic…”
John sprang to his heels, ran straight into the lightless alley that stank of garbage and mold, for the fire in his chest immolated his every being to move, to answer the call of the dying.
“I’m here, I’m here!”
John did not know how far or how fast he ran, but by the time he found the child lying against a blood smeared wall, the dazzling lights of the merchant districts were no longer in his sight.
“H-hey, can you hear me?”
John held the boy by the shoulders, gently shaking the boy as he tried to get a response.
“I’m here, I-I’m here, you’re not a-alone.”
John’s hands tremble as the muddled expression of the child met his. Upon the bloody cheeks of the child, a single tear was shed with a slight curve of his lips.
“P-please don’t go, I’m here now.”
Tears flooded John’s eyes, he had never witness someone’s passing, much less a child like the one before him.
He could not do a thing for this boy earlier, at the very least, he will try to save this innocent child.
“I’ll g-go get help. Ms. E-Elisabeth is a witch, s-she’ll know magic. You’ll be fine, I-I will go find help—”
“N-no…” the child spoke before John could get to his feet. “D-don’t g-go… T-there a-are… still…o-others…like…me…” with what little strength the child could muster, he lifted a finger into the darkness.
“W-what do you mean you don’t w-want help? I’ll—”
“T-thank y-you… I am g-grateful…”
Thump.
The child’s body collapsed to the ground, whatever life that was in him moments ago had departed this world.
His stomach dropped.
He did not know the boy by name, nor understand what happened to him, yet in the child’s last moments of life, beneath the muddled eyes of the child, were gratitude that he did not deserve.
For if he had acted earlier, the boy would have lived.
He could have mentioned the man stirking the child to Elisabeth when he was inside the bookstore, she could have done something about it.
At any point of time, John could have acted and done something to interfere with this random child’s death, but he did not.
John was not responsible for the child’s death.
He simply allowed it to happen.