There are only two possible outcomes for magic users at their post-energy peak stage (30+ y.o.)

Fading Out: A gradual process of spectrum cell displacement with “ordinary” cells. No other side effects for the body. External energy supply is impossible as a wizard becomes completely magicless.

Going Lackluster: A gradual process of spectrum cell displacement with “ordinary” cells where magical susceptibility remains intact. No other side effects for the body. External energy supply is possible with a special therapy of cell re-activation that might give a minor temporary boost for otherwise dormant energy.

(Not to be confused with those who are born Lackluster, as therapy has no effect on them)

—“Magic for Dummies” booklet

Alex… his name was Alex…

He watched the scene from a distance like an impassive visitor in a movie theater. The summer sun was playing in the leaves of a branchy tree on the lawn next to a mansion. A six-year-old boy with icy blond hair was sitting under it, totally immersed in a comic book entitled “Heroes of Magic and Might.” It was the twenty-seventh volume he had been waiting for the whole eternity—a week, to be more exact.

“Alex. Alex!”

The boy sighed and turned the page, ignoring the calls from above.

“C’mon, Alex, let’s play!”

The leaves rustled, and a cherry seed hit the boy’s head. He gasped and rubbed the place where it had landed.

“Stop it,” he grumbled.

“Mom said we should go out and play. Why aren’t you playing?”

A younger boy lolled over a tree branch. He was black-haired and gray-eyed, with a mischievous smile that never left his face. He shook a twig, making several leaves fall onto the comic pages. As an older one, Alex tried to scold his sibling: “You can’t climb trees.”

“No, I can!”

The boy with dark hair climbed toward his brother like a monkey and, hanging upside down, snatched the comic book from his hands. In a couple of seconds he was already at the top branch, dangling his feet casually. The victim of such a daring robbery sprang up instantly: “Hey! It’s mine!”

“You wish!”

“That’s unfair!”

“Maybe I wanna read too?”

“You can’t even read! Dasnor, give it back!”

“Come here and take it!”

Alex began to bang on the trunk, whining in annoyance while his brother was laughing out loud. Of course, the child’s small hands couldn’t shake the whole tree, but Dasnor was having so much fun that he lost his balance and dropped off his perch. He was clinging to the branch to stop his fall, and the magazine glided on the lawn. At the last moment, Dasnor gripped the lower twig and placed his feet carefully onto the ground. His little palms were now covered with scratches, dirt and bits of bark.

“It huuuuuurts!” he squealed.

“I’ve told you: we are not allowed to climb trees! Here, give me your hands.”

Dasnor did as his brother told and watched, with his eyes wide open, as a barely visible light blue pollen streamed from the top of Alex’s fingers that he directed toward Dasnor’s damaged skin. It touched the scratches, and the pain ebbed away. Dasnor was overwhelmed with excitement: he had seen this glowing haze around his brother’s arms before, but he’d never known what it could do.

“Woooooooow!” he gasped. “How do you do this? I want it too!”

“What’s all this fuss about?” asked a stern female voice with a hoarseness typical of heavy smokers.

A woman in a black and white uniform entered the scene, with dark hair like Dasnor's arranged in a long, thick braid. Her gray eyes seemed cold and sympathetic at the same time: such a look could be found with those who had been steeled with difficulties in life yet hadn’t lost their humanity and ability to care for others.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Dasnor rushed over to her. “Mom, look! Alex cured me!”

“Ah.” A bit of concern flashed across her face for a moment, but then the woman smiled. “Good job, Alex. You should always help your brother out.”

The blond boy blushed and gripped the magazine he’d taken off the ground in his hands. Energy spurted from Dasnor like a joyful spring as he began to fiddle with the woman's sleeve, bouncing with impatience. “Can I do it like him, Mom? It’s so cool! I can help everyone too!”

She sighed heavily and patted her son’s hair. A spectator would notice that her face became incredibly sad. “I’ve told you already, sweetheart. You don’t have the aptitudefor it.”

Hey, if you keep trembling like that, we won’t make it.

Suddenly everything around grew dim, and the garden, along with the boys and the woman, disappeared from the screen. A few seconds later the “movie” was replaced by a new one, much more gloomy and depressing. At first it was so dark that the viewer could distinguish only the back of an intricate chair, two children’s hands fixed on the armrests, and countless wires stretching to him. Bit by bit, a very young girl with curls shaded the color of red wine began to appear from the darkness of the basement. Her right eye was covered with a black patch, which made the enchantress resemble a pirate. The mage girl towered over the chair, holding a syringe with crimson liquid ready. He heard the thin voice of that blond boy, Alex.

“It’s so scary.”

“Don’t you wanna help your brother?”

“I… I want…”

“Then don’t be scared. ‘Tis just a mosquito bite. I’ll infuse your brother’s blood that I’ve enchanted in you… and then take a sample of yours and infuse it in him, alright? You will just exchange blood, no need to worry.”

“Will it make him a mage? Like me?” The boy’s voice jingled with hope.

“Weeeeeeeell, I’m afraid there’s lotsa work to do before that happens… just sit still. Then we’re gonna make it, ‘kay?” the girl winked at him with her uncovered eye, but it felt more ominous than encouraging.

“Run, boy! Keep it up!”

It all went dark again, so only sounds of a fight were heard. Then the spectator was shown a terrible downpour that was shimmering in the lamp lights of the night city center. The new “movie scene” began with a man jumping out of an expensive car parked in front of a colonial-style estate. Out of his breath, he opened the back door and grabbed a child in his arms while a slender dark figure under an umbrella hurried towards him along the path that led from the front porch of a huge residence to the wrought iron main gate.

This figure was a lanky tomboy in jeans and a superhero T-shirt. Although she was still a high schooler, she looked to be in her twenties due to extreme height and elegant glasses. She stared at the boy who was clinging to his companion with a look far beyond worried.

“Alex? S-s-satoru-san? What’s h-h-h-happening?”

“Is Elveit here?”

“What? N-n-n-no… should she b-b-b-be?”

“Kuso!”

Satoru uttered a couple more foreign curses, definitely not intended for children’s ears, then entrusted the child to the stammering girl. She put Alex on the ground and squatted next to him under the umbrella. The boy’s eyes were wet and red.

“Take care of him. I must go back!” the man screamed, running to his car.

“Oh, G-g-goddess! Can you at least explain, what’s g-g-g-g-going on?!”

“Sorry, I have no time for it. Elveit and Dasnor might be in grave danger!”

“I d-d-d-don’t understand…” the girl replied hopelessly, but there was no response apart from screeching of the wheels.

The movies were getting shorter and choppier. The box office decided to launch yesterday’s show—and from the first person perspective. Before his eyes, Shadow saw the same man who had brought the boy to the Omnious house. He might have looked different, but the viewer was told who he was. He was turning into a Viol of the terminal stage, enveloping himself in a colossal energy aura. Hellfire was scorching everything around him, and the Commander was right in the center of this cursed magic outburst. Shadow noticed drops of sweat running down Aoi’s doleful face.

“I can’t believe it…” he said, “is it really him?”

“Whoever he is, we must take him down,” she stated while still keeping the arcane shield over both of them. “Otherwise this hotel will get destroyed, with us buried under it. Can you do it?”

“Yeah, I can,” he replied and reached out his hand.

Aoi swung her enchanted sword, and the magical torrent cleared the way to the Cursed. The symbol of Shadow’s amplifier glowed bright blue— and Satoru was trapped in a cage-like energy barrier. A frantic lashback pulsation threw the officers several steps back. The vortex of the Violet substance continued to thicken over Satoru, promising a gigantic explosion.

“I don’t want to hurt you… but I will make sure Elveit is safe!”

Wait… what?

Shadow began to recite the prayer, watching out of the corner of his eye how Aoi was trying with all his might to disperse the growing darkness and maintain the protection around the mages. Her fingers dug into the hilt of her sword, the blade of which was humming with intense vibration. It looked like it took her a lot more energy to keep the barriers than before. The Exorcist heard his words—tranquil and distant, as if he perceived them from outside his head:

“Lost child, we acknowledge the pain you endure…”

He woke up from his nightmare, gasping like he ran out of air. Shadow felt so depleted, as if he had wasted as much energy in his dream as in the actual battle. Recovering his breath, the Celestial gazed at the empty potion bottles he had been drinking to recover from that enervating encounter. He reached for his smart and groaned when he saw a dozen missed messages and calls.

“Oh Mother… guess I’ve overslept again.”