It had been a fortnight since Kenan had acquired his magic tomes and a week from the conversation with his father. The duration of both of the events made him an insomniac. A nervousness would riot inside of his stomach and his skin would Itch. He stayed up at night as he watched Carth. He didn’t know what made him retract from magic. Fear? It was a close definition but just off. It took time to understand that it wasn’t mana and spell that turned him. But a sick consternation of a collapse. To fail his chosen instruction and face disappointment.

Then his thought process would inevitably turn back onto it’s self and implode. If he didn’t start, he couldn’t fail. But isn’t inaction itself an avenue of destruction? Kenan was stuck in a self-implemented cycle of desire and dislike.

Doco and Ava had initially set about to pressure him, nudge in the correct direction. Constant harmless questions, time set up just for him to study, and other small interactions. Their scheme was toppled by Tyris with little reason why. Kenan’s father doubled down and put Kenan’s chores either with him exclusively or by his son’s lonesome.

Kenan was grateful. Nonetheless of the intention or reason. The tasks that they pursued together were in silence and taxed all of his muscles. The physical motion greased Kenan’s mind. Forced arrant thoughts to settle. Let his conscience tackle the core of his problem.

As the days passed. The fear that churned inside spun to a degree to change its makeup. A scratch started to grow. The uneasiness of an undone task. The weight of anxiety to relax. Insidious emotion that crawled all over the brain.

It was another sleepless night and a rare event occurred in the sky. Carth was gone, disappeared in the endless black behind the stars. While Luarlia got to show its full radiance. Not even the clouds could block its blood-light. Something about the moon had a message. A sign. Then the strange mixed feeling of fear, anxiety, and an unneeded state of preparedness revived in a sudden rush. His subconscious screamed. It told him, whispered into his actions that he needed to do something. Anything.

The battle in himself raged. The war was spent and he shot up. He had enough. He was tired of waiting, tired of dawdling his thumbs in the desperate hope everything else was whisked away. Dion yapped as his rest was disturbed. Kenan used the red light to his advantage. He fumbled around and found a match. More time was spent to search and light his lamp. Prone and perpendicular to his bed he reached under it.

After a few too many questionable bones, he grabbed his chosen flame tome. Kenan touched the leather and felt the rough skin. He thought with aimless drive. What was to coax fire? He picked up the cover and opened it. Tried to. The weight of a black and white fox forced the tome closed.

“Dion Move.” Kenan lightly shoved the tiny beast off. The fox dodged to respond to the action and swerved his jaw to bite down on his friend's hand. Kenan's skin didn’t break, but the pain caused him to wince and wave his hand about to soothe it. “What do you want?” Kenan whispered. He had been accustomed to these bites. He got them when the fox wanted food or tried to tell him something.

Dion swiftly pushed the book back under the darkness. He too then disappeared into the unlit area. The ground rumbled as Dion flopped into the unknown. The fox came out as he pushed the old tan book with his snout. He stopped and sat beside it while he yapped proudly. “You only want me to read it because you picked it out,” Dion growled and tried to bite Kenan's hand. Missed and then growled again. “Fine.”

Despite his agitation with Dion, he was quick to lose himself inside the book. It interested him. Mana was the building block of life. That magical potency was needed to live. Because of that fact. Magic could be fueled into the body and increase its vigor.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

That was already widely known. It wasn’t much used though. He knew his father did the trick from time to time, but it didn’t make sense for his uncle to do it when he could just lift any object with telekinesis. The main demographic for magical tomes who used such a technique was adventures who used large weapons and took the greatest chunk of danger. There was another divide other than preference. Magical intake would need to be cut in half.

In total, there were fifteen different gates scattered on the body. Places where mana is gathered and then absorbed. The forehead, neck, chest, upper and lower stomach, shoulders, elbows, hands, knees, and feet. Each had a pathway to the dantian. The core of any being's magical prowess.

He knew that. Everyone knew that. What he didn’t know was that the dantian had natural microholes and fractures that allowed mana to seep into the body. For those who couldn’t control mana, potency would flow into their physical self without direct intervention.

What this book proposed was that there was another way to induce the body with power. It effectively made it so you can gain all the benefits of charged strength without its loss. There were points that covered the body. When punctured, they would break down the barrier between the metaphysical and the physical. They would function identically to a gate, but lead directly into the body.

The book explained the process to start it. The first action was simple. Prick his arm at one point. Then mana would be used to smooth the dantian and hole up any cracks. After that, there would be a period to adjust. The author put special emphasis on how these actions were permanent, and how much strain it was on the body.

It would not be until later would Kenan open other points. For now, his body needed to get used to living on the least amount of mana possible. His muscles were supposed to build with a focus on nutrients. When he did start to introduce more points, he would have to find certain mana-infused materials to make a needle.

The sun had risen, and Kenan didn't notice.

The idea of this was tossed into thought. It mingled around and he questioned it. The effects could be major in the long run. He would do it, wanted to even. That wasn’t the problem. It was why? There would be sweat, pain, and hard work. A lot of it of all three. For what? So he could shovel manure more easily in a few years. Kenan sighed and looked out his window.

A part of his mind knew that it was day. He knew that his chores were expected soon. He ignored it. Something more important edged in the cliffs of his understanding. Did he want to be a soldier? An adventurer? Have the strength to tackle beasts? A decision was upon him.

He shrugged and threw away the choice. He didn’t need one. Not yet. Besides. He was Kenan. Son of Tyris, conqueror of pigs. He wasn’t afraid of pain or hard work. Even if they didn’t have a reason.

“I just need a needle.” He said. Dion roused from a nap and stretched. The fox nipped at his side and from his teeth produced a porcupine needle. “Oh…” Kenan remember the foolish fox had tried to take down one of those animals a while ago. It didn’t go too well. He thinned his eyes at Dion. “Convenient.”

Kenan looked at his left arm and the instructional picture. Then back. He checked and rechecked. There was supposed to be an effect when he punctured. It was a sudden energy boost. He poked the crook of his elbow. Blood peeked out and nothing happened. He stabbed it again, just to the left. More blood came as a result. Five more pricks and a small pool of blood. On the sixth, he sucked in breath. Fatigue from the night left with the introduction of extra mana.

He fought down his excitement and focused on the next step. Kenan traveled his attention to his inner self and brought the image of his dantian to bear. He had done this a few times since his birthday, it was easy. His dantian was full. All but one of the gates that led to his core were closed off with debris and other impurities. He didn’t know what that meant, but it was a question for a later time.

To him, mana seemed like a blue gaseous form that sparkled brightly. He hadn’t manipulated his power before, but it felt natural. Like he flexed a muscle. He coaxed his mana to wash against the sides of his core. The action cleared the breaks and smoothed the walls of the spherical center. He only stopped when he was absolutely positive his dantian had been completely sealed.

He opened his eyes. A wave of exhaustion hit his body and mind like a brick. His eyelids slid back down and he passed out.