Glenn was lying on the ground, contemplating his life and all that came with it. It had been, what…Two months, counting his time in the Thorn’s Church prison since he arrived into this world? During these two months, he got eaten alive, attacked by an eldritch priest, chased by wolves, parasited by an evil entity now living in his left hand, and, of course, the best part, kidnapped and tortured.
And now, here he was, wondering if living was even worth the struggle. He had started learning “magic” with Redan three days ago, creating his first spell. The idea of being the artisan behind the creation of a magic spell was still something he had a hard time grasping. He was a magician. A real one. How cool was that?
The first spell he managed to cast, the… “Bullet of Death”, which he then renamed “Magic Bullet’ out of shame, was still extremely weak. It was comparable to an arrow shot, which was…quite weak. That was why he was now forced to work his ass off and practice throwing spells beyond the limits of his Mana.
‘Lazy bastard,’ Diamanes mocked, laughing loudly in his host’s mind.
Glenn’s eyelids twitched and he ignored the entity, groaning as he pushed himself up. These past three days had been hellish, to say the least. Each time he recovered enough Mana to practice his spells, Redan would force him to train again, and again, and again. First, he had to reduce the casting time, which took an hour or so. That was simple. Next was hitting a moving target, which was incomparably harder. Following that, he had to run while casting his spell, which he eventually succeeded in doing. After all, Redan had refused to let him rest as long as he didn’t succeed in casting his spells ten times in a row successfully while running as fast as he could. In the last hour, he had managed to accomplish all of those things perfectly, finally earning himself a short resting time. And Glenn had no doubt it would soon come to an end, hence why he was enjoying it as much as he could.
Each time Glenn managed to fulfill Redan’s expectation, the difficulty would climb up, plunging him into an endless cycle of pain, sweat, and struggle. Bottoming out on Mana was actually quite annoying. Fever, aches, loss of consciousness… having no Mana meant having spent everything he had. Glenn gritted his teeth, a vein popping out on his forehead as he recalled the old man’s words: “It’s for ya’re own good, kiddo!’
Sure, yeah. The geezer just wanted him to suffer because he suspected Glenn of being the one who hurt him in the cheek. Which wasn’t wrong, but still, this was annoying.
Perhaps he would have been able to endure the training better had he been able to explore other spells or create new things, but Redan kept on repeating that Glenn needed to learn the basics before everything. Learning to crawl before he could walk. He was thinking about how to cast that damned Magic Bullet every second of the day, wondering how to improve it quickly so he could move on from the lesson. The sooner he mastered it, the better he would be.
His physical condition was also not the best. He could only eat when his Mana had completely bottomed out, and sleep only when Redan was done torturing him. “Sleep”, in this scenario, actually meant Meditation. Apparently, reaching a high level of Meditation would allow him to recover energy more quickly than through traditional sleep. It was a strange method, but it was certainly more efficient than just sleeping like a mere mortal. Almost like a cheat.
Diamanes scoffed as he followed his host’s train of thought.
Glenn stretched with a heavy, tired sigh. His back was drenched in sweat from the intensive training. That was one thing that left him puzzled every day. Why did casting spells leave him so strained? It should be even worse, five times worse if he trusted Redan’s words, but his abnormal body spared him much of the struggle untrained mages usually face. Magic had always appeared as something mystical, rather refined, made for the pale guy with a pointy hat and a scrawny body, hanging out behind the party while throwing devastating spells. Something that was not supposed to be physically demanding. Well, that was the idea he had of it. It certainly wasn’t right.
…Or perhaps it was just Redan’s training methods that strained the body so much? Glenn shook his head. He had no way to know. He gritted his teeth and mentally cursed the old man who was subjecting him to this mental and physical torture. He also cursed Diamanes for finding amusement in his every mistake, every movement, or every word he spoke or thought. One positive thing was that he was growing accustomed to the horrible smell of the Sewers.
…Which might not be that much of a positive point when he thought back to it.
Glenn watched the sun go down, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled when he remembered that he got a free meal every evening, motivating him to finally move. He stood up, determined to get his belly filled only to raise his eyes to a familiar face. He initially expected it to be Redan, but to his surprise, he recognized the young Black Heir he had a beef with a few days ago. What was his name? Sandro? Zoro?
“Tired?” Sahro inquired mockingly, his arms crossed in front of him. He wasn’t wearing his shemagh, letting his golden-chestnut hair flow freely. Glenn rolled his eyes and sighed in exhaustion.
‘...I do NOT have the patience nor the energy to deal with his bullshit,’ Glenn thought with annoyance. He brushed the dust off his body and made sure the knot tying his hair in a ponytail was holding on. Glenn was wearing some plain clothes that Giselle had graciously lent to him from the Black Heirs’ inventory, so he wouldn’t dirty Jefferson’s clothes while training. Sahro yawned, his hair flowing naturally with the head movement. Glenn was persuaded that any girl back on Earth would have been jealous of the Black Heir’s hair.
Glenn walked away without uttering a word, ignoring the groan of displeasure from Sahro. However, the Black Heir quickly intercepted him, putting himself in the way. Sahro was pressing his lips together, avoiding Glenn’s gaze awkwardly.
“...Do you have something to say to me?” Glenn asked with a frown. Sahro opened his mouth, grimacing before shaking his head with frustration. Glenn sighed and walked past the Black Heir, heading for his quarters; a small tent hosting an equally tiny bunk bed. He had previously offered to sleep at the inn, but both Redan and Giselle considered it a waste and a dangerous thing to do. The old couple seemed hellbent on training him personally and keeping him at hand’s reach, oddly.
Glenn recalled the conversation he was surprised between Redan and Giselle. He didn’t get to hear what they were talking about, but they both had dark and serious expressions. They stopped talking when he went closer. Since then, they had been fervently focused on shaping him into a mage worthy of such a name.
'Why are you complaining? You have a teacher, a place to sleep, and training, all for free!' Diamanes exclaimed in his head.
'I know, but I feel like it's too much. They seem to be in a hurry for some reason, even though it seems like the war with the Thorns Church hasn't started yet,' Glenn pondered internally.
'What I meant was that you should hasten your progress to become stronger. Reaching the Third Circle should suffice. At that point, I'll be able to reveal my purpose,’ sated Diamanes mysteriously.
Glenn scoffed, 'Hah, so you do have a purpose. You're not just a magic hand?'
Diamanes laughed heartily, 'Hey, you're no longer calling me an evil hand; I sense progress!'
'Shut up;’ sighed Glenn, tired of always losing in these verbal jousts. Or should he say mental?
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"Glenn, right?" A voice called him from behind. Glenn groaned and turned back to Sahro, who had followed him all the way there.
“Listen,” Glenn began with a tired and annoyed voice, “If you’re there to bother me, please, don’t. I’m exhausted, annoyed, and most of all, hungry.”
Sahro shook his head, appearing somewhat ashamed, “No, I’m…I’m not trying to bother you. Giselle spoke with me.”
Glenn blinked, “...And?”
The Black Heir rubbed the back of his head, “She told me you are no noble. So, I’ve come to apologize for trying to provoke you last time. Sorry,” He smiled awkwardly as a weight was lifted off his chest. Glenn paused for a moment and smiled back weakly.
“...Thank you. I also take back what I said about your parents if that means anything.”
Sahro held his hand out peacefully, “It does. We’re good?”
Glenn shook the extended hand, “We’re good.”
Sahro nodded and left Glenn there, who was finally able to go back to his tent and collapse on his bunk bed.
“Well, it seems like he just had a problem with nobles, not me. Great!” Glenn muttered with a laugh.
‘Well, well, well, isn’t that an opportunity to make a good friend?’ Diamanes mocked with a wicked laugh. Glenn’s eyelids twitched.
‘That might be pushing it a little too much. He still tried to provoke me and almost punched me out of rage. I’m fine with us not hating each other, but…’
‘But what?’ Diamanes replied in contempt, ‘I’m pretty sure he came forward this way because he wanted to make amends. And don’t you think it’d be time to find people of a similar age to you? I know you’re fond of older folks, but…’ Diamanes trailed off with a wicked laughter. Glenn rolled in his bunk bed while plugging his ears.
‘Why do you even care?’ He grumbled mentally, trying to find the best position to sleep—ah, no, he could only use Meditation, that’s right. He forced himself to sit up and concentrate, his consciousness slowly but surely pulling away from Diamanes's mocking laughter and pitiful arguments. He would have loved to sleep traditionally for once, but he was pretty sure that if he did so, Redan would fall from the ceiling to violently wake him up with ice buckets. It wasn’t even a metaphor; the damned geezer actually did that the first night he slept for real instead of Meditating.
Nonetheless, Glenn had no choice but to admit this form of “sleep” was more advantageous, as he could recuperate his energy more efficiently while using the time to contemplate his Mana Heart and deepen his comprehension of Mana. In addition, every time he emerged from a long Meditation session, all the aches and pains in his body disappeared, and miraculously healed.
It was, undoubtedly, one of the best discoveries he had made in this world. The ability to have a pain-free body, even after a grueling workout, was a welcome relief. Although he hadn't completely mastered Meditation, still feeling somewhat strange after each session, he genuinely appreciated this skill. Too bad he was training it under such a sadistic teacher…
A freezing cold against his forehead pulled Glenn straight out of his Meditation, breaking his concentration. He sat up brusquely, the ice cube Redan had conjured on his face shooting out in the tent. Glenn groaned and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He could have used a longer rest time. He yawned and got up from the bunk bed under the watchful green eyes of the old man.
"Come on, time's ticking, ya can't be lacking in your training! I hope ya Meditated last night as well!"
Glenn hid another yawn with the back of his hand as he nodded with difficulty. It felt like he had spent barely a few seconds with his eyes closed.
"Yeah, I did. Remind me why you're training me again. Oh right, because I asked you to," Glenn shook his head, adding under his breath, "Why did I ever think this would be like Hogwarts classes?"
The old man glanced at him, one eye half-open and the other fixed on Glenn, “This ain’t going to cut it, “ He shook his head.
Glenn paused, his tiredness fading away, “What is?”
Redan crossed his arms together and leaned against the tent’s entry.
"Kid, why do you want to learn magic?"
Glenn took a second to think. Right now, the priority was to survive against the Thorn’s Church, to grow strong enough to be sure they wouldn’t capture him once again to perform more experiments on his body. So, the response was evident…
“To defend myself,” He replied confidently.
Redan sneered, “In that case, go learn swordsmanship or something. Don’t bother with magic if it’s just for “defending yourself”.”
Glenn shook his head confusedly, “What? But—”
“No but,” Redan cut him off dryly, “I ain’t teaching someone who considers magic to be a martial art of some sort.” He turned around and left the tent, spitting on the side of the road with disappointment. Glenn blinked and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
“What just happened? Did I just lose my teacher? Why?” He muttered, wondering what went wrong.
Diamanes whistled, clearly impressed, ‘Great job! You somehow managed to drive away your teacher in just three days! That’s a real talent!’ He laughed wickedly.
Glenn groaned, ‘Your sarcasm isn’t helping, Diamanes.’
He sat back on the bunk bed and mulled over the question Redan had posed. Why did he want to learn magic?
Well, survival was the most evident answer. But it wasn’t the right one, or Redan wouldn’t have reacted this way. The old man was right; why bother with magic if he wanted to find a way to protect himself? Why not train in swordsmanship?
“...What even is magic?” Glenn questioned, pondering aloud. It was an art, an art that made the impossible possible. That was the simplest, and yet most precise explanation he could come up with. A realm of boundless potential, limited only by one’s mana reserves, imagination, and efforts.
And apparently, Circles too, but that was another issue entirely. It probably counted under the effort square anyway.
‘Let’s admit I learn magic and become strong enough to easily defeat the cultists. What then?’ Glenn wondered, his hands clasped together. He could take his revenge and destroy the Thorn’s Church too, but that was the same issue. It was only a side goal, not an end in itself. No, what he really wanted…Glenn’s expression darkened, his fingers trembling slightly.
To be free.
Free to do whatever he wanted, free of the fear that seemed to always push down on him ever since he arrived in this world.
Free to go back to his home and family, to Earth… To find out the truth behind what or who brought him here, and kick their asses for good measure. He was greedy for magic, not because he wanted to destroy, but because he wanted to create, create a way back. Create new things, and new spells, and climb the stairs to power, so that no one would ever be able to torture or look down on him again. Strong enough so that he could stand up to anyone, even… Glenn gritted his teeth, his fists tightly clenched.
He wanted magic, to be strong enough to pursue his goals, to be strong enough to keep on pushing on without ever stopping. Because if he gave up, what would happen to his sister? With that other bastard running free…
Glenn’s eyes focused with cold determination. No, he needed to go back. He needed to survive and search this world for an answer, be it by asking gods or demons. Oh, and if he could get rid of Diamanes in the same way, that’d be perfect.
‘Hey, I thought you were finally warming up to me!’ Diamanes protested with a mix of sadness and disappointment. Glenn chuckled and clenched his left, bandaged hand tightly.
“I’m just joking. Alright, it felt great to have this little introspection,” He stood up and stretched, before suddenly pausing. He remembered Giselle’s revolver, the Smith and Wesson that came from Earth. It was ancient, two hundred centuries old. What if time was passing at a different rate between here and this world?
‘Then you’ll have to learn time magic or something. Whatever, man, you have no way to go back right now anyway,’ Diamanes sighed in annoyance. Glenn’s worries disappeared with the entity's words. He slapped himself on the cheeks and, determined, pulled the flap serving as the door to his tent. He headed straight for Redan, who was sitting nearby with an unreadable expression. The old man did not even give a glance at his approaching apprentice. Glenn took a seat in front of him and clasped his hands together.
“I know why I want to be a mage,” He began as he drew a deep breath, “...Magic is the only way I’ll be able to understand this world and its mysteries…”
The corner of Redan’s lips twitched but he kept his gaze on the floor. Glenn gritted his teeth and clenched tightly, his knuckles whitening, “And I also want to be strong. Strong enough to survive, and to never end up helpless against my demise again…” He continued, aware that Redan was listening to him.
“And finally,” He closed his eyes and tried to keep his emotions in control, “...Magic is also the only option that will maybe allow me to find my family again,” He looked up and stared into Redan’s eyes resolutely. The old man looked up and stared for a long time into his eyes, before shaking his head.
He sighed loudly, a smirk hidden underneath his beard.
“Dam’ clueless kid…”