In the weeks that followed that day, my life became a complex web of tasks measured with the smallest of care.

I used every second of free time to practice the cultivation technique, trying to understand how I had achieved it and what I could do to improve it.

Before I went to sleep, I developed theories that could provide realistic and scientific data to show how what I had done worked. In the morning, I'd get back to my training before Krista or some other servant came looking for me.

My obsession could only be described in one way: I slept little and thought a lot.

However, I couldn't be so miserable as to complain now. I knew that the price to pay for awakening my magical core at this age was not going to be something simple and that I could take lightly. In order to overcome innate talent and gifted minds, I had to be a slave to exhaustion and bow my head to the inevitable reality of my filthy greed to know more.

Regarding my capabilities as a human being; still couldn't talk, couldn't walk, only crawl, pant and cry. It was a brain encased in a piece of flesh and bones with no apparent physical capabilities.

Every day and night, my magical understanding was greater. But it seemed that I was still not able to unravel the mysteries behind the cultivation technique. It was obvious that the magic of this world was managed by techniques that focused on strengthening the magic core.

Magic users could perhaps siphon energy from the core to strengthen their bodies, increasing their physical strength and enhancing their human senses. They would fall under the category of warriors and melee fighters.

Although it was a theory, I backed up my data with common sense. Since it was entirely possible to be able to enhance physical abilities if a person used a gravity spell on himself, for example.

As my understanding grew larger and clearer, I could feel a strange confidence in my ability to cast.

But it was obvious my anxiety was knocking on my door, because having awakened my core didn't mean I automatically had enough mana to back up a spell capable of creating a nuke-worthy explosion.

I was a mere human with the privilege of "opportunity" and nothing more. I had the same possibilities as a farmer and less than a noble child, because although my body was that of a prince, my mind was that of a commoner and not in this lifetime or in a thousand lives would I be able to change that.

So if I wanted to be a magician or shine my words, I had to first understand what I was doing and not get carried away by the power it could have.

Stolen story; please report.

The technique was there, next to my nucleus, now I had to feed it.

* * *

I called it "Breathing Technique" and its function was simple.

First I had to relax my body, letting out all my sighs and discomfort. Then I would close my eyes and imagine that snake, with its gleaming crimson scales and elegant tar-colored eyes. When her form appeared in my head, I would gather the air into my lungs through slow breaths and letting myself go.

The form of mana that I saw were particles of dark light. I arrived at the simple theory that there were several types of mana, perhaps the darker ones were typical of beginners, and the whiter the color, the more control and skill the mage would have.

Although I had been using the Breathing Technique for days, I really had no idea if it would work. Because while I did see the mana being drawn into my core, I hadn't tried to conjure anything.

At least not until this day...

I was back in my room, where it all started. I had "woken up" from a pretend nap and was now crawling towards the center of the room.

Today, unlike last time, I would really test my efforts.

I made the proper preparations; I sat on my butt, crossed my legs, closed my eyes and put my hands together.

On my head was a white canvas, it was as white as snow and as clean as marble. Then, a red drop fell on that canvas, staining the whole place with a violent and striking color. Suddenly, that drop swayed slowly from here to there, drawing something that gradually took shape.

When I opened my eyes, a small ball of water was levitating inches from my face.

—GUHHHH!

When I yelled with excitement, the water ball lost its force and landed on my crotch. But nothing could sink the incomparable sense of victory and fulfillment that I felt at that moment.

Finally, after so many failures, I had succeeded. I had conjured magic.

* * *

The altercation that day was resolved with the power of my urine. They didn't even wonder what it meant.

Beyond my shameless and childish excitement, it was obvious that the spell was lacking in potency. That was due to only one thing: Not conjuring with song.

If we compared perfectly imagining a ball of water, looking for its shape, measuring its size and forcing your mind to bring the image to life, we could consider that we were taking the longest path because it was simply the only one in front of us. But on the other hand, if we looked to the side, we were able to see a couple of letters in the form of runes that just by naming them, we would all cross that path in a moment.

Singing was easy because you just had to know the magic word and know the spell, then we'd put in some mana and go "Bang!". But as simple as it sounded, the difficulty was certainly so great for me, that I had even been able to go to such extremes as to conjure in silence.

That was because, well, I was a baby and I couldn't speak yet.

This is what I meant when I said that taking one step is taking two steps back. Because when I discovered something, I realized that in order to put it into practice, I had to do something else first, but when I did that "something else" I discovered that I actually had to do something else to do it.

However, it was also true that every setback made me learn something new and valuable. But the way and the method were stressful and annoying.

For now and until I could speak, I switched my training to controlling the duration of the water ball spell. That included his manipulation, of course.

On the other hand, it was the priority to keep all this in absolute secrecy. In doing so, I lost my freedom, but it was better than being seen as an abnormal creature.

Because even though I had only been in this world for a few months and knew a hint of magic, I still did not know the name of this kingdom and the laws of this world.

I never tired of repeating to myself that I was not a prodigy and that I had no talent, but if I put aside my humility and weighed coldly; How common was it for a one and a half month old baby to be able to awaken her magical core and even conjure magic from her?

Although lowering my esteem was intended to not fill me with myself and make me lose any confrontation for my egocentrism, it was not so easy to avoid that I actually had outstanding characteristics...

If that witch who welcomed me into this world saw me again and she had a spell capable of detecting mana, would she consider me a miracle or a devil?

I didn't think my life was at risk, because as a son of royalty and above all, the one chosen for my mother's unconditional love, it was unlikely that I would be burned at the stake as a heretical monster. However, that didn't mean that I couldn't be exiled and lose my place in the family. I didn't know to what extent my mother could oppose my father's mandate. So for now I had no choice but to keep my abilities in the shadows and hide my true self behind the stupid smile of a baby.