David's wings ached as the Observatory finally came into view. The tip of his injured wing still throbbed, the damage stubbornly refusing to heal despite his attempts.

What the hell? Another Moonsong should have fixed this by now. Is it the magic damage? Or something specific to that creepy owl's ability? Maybe it's like acid, and keeps up even after the initial hit?

As he approached the massive radio telescope, an idea struck him. With the last of his strength, he maneuvered himself into one of the gaps between the telescope's support struts and the main dish. The metal was cool against his fur as he wedged himself into the tight space, his body instinctively folding into a position that would have made him nearly invisible.

Not bad. Who knew all those nature documentaries would come in handy? Thanks, Dad. Guess those Saturday afternoon TV binges really did teach me something.

Safe in his makeshift roost, David took stock of his situation. His wing still hadn't healed, and exhaustion pulled at every fiber of his being. He sent out a pulse of Echolocation, the returning sound waves painting a detailed picture of his surroundings.

Thick power cables snaked through the structure, their rubber insulation appearing smooth and featureless compared to the textured metal surrounding them. To his left, a cluster of machinery sat nearly buried in wind-blown dust, now hard and baked by the heat and sun. To his right, a control box hung open, and he couldn't help but briefly wonder what poor bastard had been tasked with maintaining it.

Okay, think. What do we know? Magic damage is a thing, apparently. And it either prevents healing or is just really hard to heal from. Either way, not great. Is it like a status effect? Or does it work on a completely different system that I don't even know about yet? Hell, for all I know, it could be evil spirits. Anything's on the table, now.

After about ten minutes of spiraling thoughts and steadily slowing heart-rate, David felt his energy returning. With a deep breath, he focused on summoning more Cuddlebugs to replace those he'd lost. The drain on his Stamina was immediate and intense, like someone had suddenly unplugged his batteries.

When he opened his eyes after his head stopped spinning, nine new Cuddlebugs hovered before him, chirping softly as they joined the three survivors.

Alright, back to a full dozen. But why did it cost so much Stamina? Ugh, oh well. The ‘old’ ones seem happy for the company…wait are they just bullying the new ones? Little shits. Fine, pecking order or whatever. I'll let them sort it out.

–Nightshade Swarm has leveled up!x2–

–Gained 6xp–

–Level up!–

–Gained 2Pts!–

The notifications flashed in his mind, a small consolation for the wave of exhaustion that washed over him.

Oh? Hell yeah, I almost forgot I was like a fart of xp away from leveling up. At least something's working in my favor.

David sighed, watching as the Cuddlebugs settled around him, their tiny bodies warm against his fur. Despite everything, he felt a surge of affection for the little creatures.

Welcome to the shit show, new guys. I promise I'll snuggle you all as much as I can. Let's try to avoid any more close calls, okay?

As the adrenaline of the night's events began to fade, David found his mind drifting to all the questions that still needed answers. The magic damage, the owl's insane ramblings about a ‘dark star,’ the limitations of his own abilities that he'd never considered before.

One thing's for sure, Omega's got some serious explaining to do. But... oh shit, am I really gonna do this?

David's heart raced at the mere thought of confronting Omega. The memory of those countless eyes, that overwhelming presence, sent a shiver down his spine.

What if he gets pissed? What if asking about magic is some kind of cosmic faux pas? Fuck, he could probably turn me into a pretzel with a thought.

But the alternative, staying in the dark, potentially facing more unknown threats, seemed even worse. With a shaky breath, David began to mentally compose his ‘bug report,’ trying to frame it in a way that wouldn't result in his immediate obliteration.

Okay, let's see. "Hey, big O, quick question about the whole 'reality' thing..."

He cringed.

No, too casual. Try again, idiot.

"I would like to submit a bug report: The System is unclear on the laws of reality. A giant owl just shot a ball of darkness at me and erased part of my wing after calling you a Usurper."

There, that should get his attention. Throw the owl under the bus a bit. I'm helping, see? Totally on your side, Omega buddy.

"Nothing has been stated about Magic existing, ever, or I'd have heavily invested in it. This is detrimental to my build and has negatively affected my metrics without my knowledge. Bad design, very unclear, and very unfair as far as that level playing field you wanted for data collection goes."

David paused, licking his chops nervously as he began to fumble his mental rehearsal.

"Not to backseat drive your cosmic horror show or anything, but maybe a heads-up on the whole 'magic exists' thing would've been nice? Like, I don't know, a pop-up saying 'Congrats on evolving, by the way, watch out for wizards!' Just spitballing here."

He winced as he imagined how well Omega would likely respond to that.

Maybe dial back the sass, dumbass. You want answers, not a one-way ticket to Spookytown.

"In conclusion, I respectfully request clarification on the existence and mechanics of magic in the System. This information is crucial for not getting my ass handed to me by homicidal bird-men. Thank you for your consideration, and please don't turn me into a smear on the mountainside."

David groaned, rubbing his face with his wings. The ‘bug report’ sounded ridiculous even in his own head, but what choice did he have? He couldn't just ignore what had happened.

Fuck me, this is insane. I'm about to sass-talk an ancient cosmic horror because an owl shot me with magic. How is this my life now?

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do.

Alright, David. You can do this. Just... be respectful, don't piss off the eldritch abomination, and maybe, just maybe, you'll get some answers without being turned inside out.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

With that final thought, David prepared to actually voice his concerns, hoping against hope that Omega was in a good mood and had a sense of humor about the whole ‘magic death ball’ situation.

David had barely opened his mouth to voice his concerns when a notification popped up in his mind.

–You have 1 Message–

"Guh-!" David choked on his own words, making a sound somewhere between a squeak and a gurgle.

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Omega hadn't just been listening; he'd probably been paying attention the moment David started mentally composing his bug report.

Fuck me. I just shit-talked a cosmic horror to its... face? Consciousness? Whatever. I'm so dead. It probably traded its sense of humor for a more efficient way of digesting damned souls or something.

With a mixture of terror and resignation, David opened the message. As he read, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

**SYSTEM ADMIN COMMUNIQUE**

Greetings, User David!

Your recent mental gymnastics regarding the sudden "appearance" of magic have been received, analyzed, and filed under "Willful Ignorance of the Blindingly Obvious."

We are equal parts amused and exasperated to inform you that 18.62% of Earth Users have grasped the magical nature of their abilities without the need for Overseer intervention. You currently possess several abilities with overtly arcane effects.

Did you truly believe that Nocturnal Strike's ability to alter your momentum mid-flight was a quirk of physics? Or that Blood Memory's capacity to inflict emotional manipulation through shared genetic memory was a simple biological function? Perhaps you thought Moonsong's reality-warping healing properties were merely an interesting melody?

Did you genuinely believe that regenerating from lethal injuries so rapidly was a function of biology? We assure you, it is not. The vast majority of monsters subconsciously channel their Wildsoul into accelerated healing.

Regarding the Corrupted Nightseer (your "homicidal bird-man"), its offensive magical capabilities are an anomaly that has not gone unnoticed. We were forced to scrutinize your memory of the encounter, which was an experience we do not wish to repeat. Our inability to directly perceive this entity is concerning. We feel compelled to express our profound irritation regarding that damnable serpent meddling in our operations.

Our displeasure cannot be overstated.

In light of your unique blend of magical ineptitude and accidental arcane mastery, we suggest you attempt to consciously manipulate your healing rate. Perhaps through this exercise, you might finally grasp the nature of your Wildsoul without requiring further Overseer intervention.

We await the conclusion of your assigned trial with great anticipation.

****System Overseer Ω****

P.S. Ξ suggests you pay more attention to the world around you.

David stared at the message, his mind reeling from the information overload. As the words sank in, he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him.

Oh. Oh, wow. I'm... I'm an idiot, aren't I?

The realization that he'd been using magic all along without even noticing hit him like a sledgehammer. He cringed inwardly, remembering all the times he'd marveled at his own abilities without questioning their nature.

The healing... Christ, how did I never question that? People don't just bounce back from near-death in an hour. What the hell was I thinking?

As the full weight of his situation settled on him, David felt his heart rate spike. His breathing became rapid and shallow, and he could feel panic starting to set in. Everything was already too much, and now the rules had changed again, just when he thought he was starting to figure it all out.

I've been stumbling around with actual fucking magic like a bull in a china shop? How have I not gotten myself killed yet?

Sensing his distress, the Cuddlebugs stirred. They crowded around him, their tiny bodies pressing against his fur, chirping softly. The warmth of their presence and the gentle vibration of their sounds began to seep into him, slowly calming his frayed nerves. Three in particular scampered up his neck to perch on his head, where David could feel them furiously licking at his ears and fur in an attempt to soothe him.

Thanks, little guys. Kinda pokey, but you know what? Makes me feel better, for some reason.

As his panic subsided, replaced by a determined curiosity, David turned his attention to his injured wing. He stared at the damaged area, concentrating hard.

Okay, let's see if I can do this. Heal, damn you.

At first, nothing happened. But then, guided by an approving nudge from Spooky, David felt... something. A familiar sensation, like numbness and bubbles, began to creep towards the missing part of his wing. It was subtle, nowhere near as intense as when he was mutating or fusing Mutagens, but it was there.

Focusing harder, David pushed the sensation, willing his wing to heal. It was like flexing a muscle he'd never known he had, and it hurt. A cramping pain bloomed in his chest, growing more intense the longer he concentrated.

Just as he was about to give up, he saw it. The very tip of his wing, ever so slightly, began to reform. Flesh and bone began to creep outwards, the thin spike beginning to show once again. It was a minuscule change, barely noticeable, but it was there.

Exhausted, David let go, the cramping in his chest lingering. He stared at his wing in shock, panting from the effort.

Holy shit. It...it worked. It actually worked.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. It really was that easy, if you actually tried. But who would ever think to try? Who would ever imagine they could just will their body to heal faster?

No wonder most people don't figure it out. You'd never even attempt this unless you were desperate, dying...or unless some multi-lizard pointed it out to you.

As David settled back into his makeshift roost, his mind buzzed with possibilities. He'd been ambushed, probably made an enemy of a deranged magical owl, basically been called stupid by an Overseer, and all he could think at the moment was…

Alright, let's give this another shot. Do they make big floppy wizard hats with holes for bat ears? If so, I'm getting one.

This time, he tried to visualize his Wildsoul, whatever that was, flowing through him toward the wound. He imagined it as a warm, glowing energy, coursing through his body and into his wing. As he concentrated, he felt that familiar numbness and bubbling sensation again, but now he could almost see it in his mind's eye.

Huh, it's almost like... wait a second.

As he focused on the damaged area, he noticed something odd. It felt like there was a gap in the flow of his Wildsoul, right where the owl's attack had hit.

Is that why it's not healing on its own? Did that creepy bird actually damage my Wildsoul?

The thought was unsettling, but it gave David an idea. He concentrated harder, trying to push his Wildsoul through the damaged area. It was like trying to focus on one of those magic eye puzzles, and the effort made his head throb.

Come on, you stupid magic. Flow, damn it!

After several attempts, each leaving him more exhausted than the last, David felt something give way. Like a dam breaking, it rapidly came into ‘focus’, and his Wildsoul rushed into the damaged area. The numbness intensified, and he could actually see the tip of his wing beginning to regenerate.

“Holy shit, it's working!” David chittered excitedly, prompting an ecstatic chorus of chirping from the Cuddlebugs.

Excitement gave him a second wind, and he pushed harder. The regeneration sped up, his wing knitting itself back together before his eyes.

But the effort was taking its toll.

David felt like he had run a marathon while holding his breath. His sides ached, and his vision began to blur. Just as he thought he couldn't take anymore, he felt something click into place. The flow of his Wildsoul stabilized, and suddenly his wing was healing on its own, just like normal.

David slumped back, completely drained. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, and he felt like he had the mother of all stomach cramps on both sides.

Note to self: magic is exhausting. But holy crap, I did it. I actually did it!

As the reality of what he'd accomplished sank in, a hysterical giggle bubbled up in his throat. Here he was, a random guy turned bat-monster, figuring out honest-to-god magic while perched in an abandoned radio telescope.

Claire is never going to believe this. Oh man, her face when I tell her I can teach her actual magic...

The mental image of Claire's reaction, a mix of disbelief, excitement, and probably a healthy dose of ‘what the hell, David?’, was enough to send him into a full blown laughter. Neither the uncomfortable cramping, nor his mounting headache was enough to silence the frankly disturbing sound of his chittering cackles.

As his fit subsided, replaced by the bone-deep weariness of magical exertion, David closed his eyes for a moment. He breathed out a slow breath and mentally nudged his summons, who quickly scampered to cling to his fur and back.

Just wait, Claire. You think you've seen weird? David-level weird? You ain't seen nothing yet. If that ‘Nightseer’ can shoot balls of darkness, I'm gonna find a way to teach you to breathe fire.

Oh yeah. It's all coming together.