[Xander – 12 years]

"-with how much Xander's eating, our food costs have gone way up," I freeze as I hear Ms. Katie say that.

I press myself against the wall of the hallway, hoping they don't see me. It sounds like they're in the kitchen. They're talking about me and will probably be mad if they learn I'm listening.

"Is it that bad?" Mr. Trey asks.

Oh, no! I'm doing bad stuff!

"We factored in three hundred a month in additional food costs," Ms. Katie says. "Including eating out, ordering in, junk food, and having others over. Based on how much he's eaten since we convinced him it was okay to eat until he was full, and with all of the baking, we'll probably be spending at least fifteen hundred a month on food for him. And most of that is eaten here, not eating out or ordering."

Oh, no! They're gonna send me back because I'm eating too much!

"Is it really that much?" Mr. Trey sounds unhappy.

"Yeah," Ms. Katie says. "I spoke with Melody and Tristan earlier. According to them, Luke only eats that much when he's been extra active with his magic. He'll snack and stuff, but nowhere on the level that Xander does. At least, not normally. Since he's being drained five days a week, his consumption has increased as well, though they assured me it's not a problem.

"Melody said that whatever spell Xander's got active at all times," she continues. "It's likely using up enough mana that his mana regeneration barely covers it. As he's from a normal family, it's probably just a potent self-enhancement spell out of a desire for not getting hurt as easily."

I'm going to get into a lot of trouble, aren't I? This is really bad! What do I do? How do I fix this? Stop eating as much? But then Mr. Trey would get mad at me for not doing what he said, right? Since he said to eat until I'm full and that it's okay to get snacks if I'm hungry?

"Alright," Mr. Trey says. "I'll make sure the food account has more in it."

"Can you afford that?" Ms. Katie asks.

He can't! That's way too much money for food, especially for a worthless, stupid, pathetic boy like me!

"Don't worry about that," Mr. Trey says.

"Trey," Ms. Katie's voice is stern. "I know your company is a big player in the security market, but you don't make a significant amount of money and I know there's no way you're going to take money out of the fund you've set up for Xander. You also spent a significant amount of money on making sure this place was safe for Xander, on paying for the teachers to come here during the summer to help him out, and you also have your other expenses, like your security guards. Former magic forces soldiers aren't cheap. Nor are those mana-fueled cars you prefer."

Oh, no! Now Ms. Katie's going to get fired for talking back to her boss, and it's all my fault!

"I have enough," Mr. Trey tells her. "I can liquidate some assets so that there's a stable fund in the food fund rather than needing to add more in every time I get paid, if needed. I'd rather that money go toward feeding Xander than do nothing but sit there."

"He's twelve, nearly thirteen," Ms. Katie says. "In the beginning stages of puberty, no doubt. What about when it really hits him? Teen boys eat quite a lot. I'm not saying we need to cut back on how much we're feeding him, Trey, but you need to consider the future. How long before money runs out?"

Mr. Trey is silent in response to that. Now she's going to get into trouble, too, isn't she? And because he has to fire her for talking back, he's going to send me back to the home as punishment because it's all my fault!

"I'm just concerned," Ms. Katie says. "I don't mind taking a hit to my salary if it means letting Xander eat more. How much I earn didn't go down after I started staying here so there's a decent amount just going into savings. But other changes might be needed, Trey, especially with looking into getting treatments for Xander. Are you really wealthy enough that you can keep dropping fifteen hundred a month on him without making sacrifices in other areas?"

Mr. Trey takes a few seconds to respond.

"You're right," Mr. Trey says. "I'm spending a lot more than I expected and factored for with Xander."

This is bad. This is really, really bad. He's unhappy and he's going to send me back.

"I can afford it," Mr. Trey says. "I make more than I let on. It's better to have a cushion, though. I'll reduce my charitable contributions to cover it. Family comes first and if someone complains, I'll just mention I went from not having any kids to raising a mage in puberty. If they have a problem with that, then they aren't people I want to deal with. I'm already spending far more per month on charity than someone in my pay bracket normally would."

Does that mean Mr. Trey's reputation is going to get bad? I don't want that to happen! It's all my fault! He's going to get mad at me once they start talking about him, then he's going to send me back to the home!

"Whatever you do," Mr. Trey says. "Don't speak a word of this to Xander. We really should have had had this talk in the office. Thank the gods he sleeps for at least two hours after he interacts with others for awhile."

I woke up after only twenty minutes, feeling really refreshed.

"I won't," Ms. Katie says. "And that's why I wasn't too concerned."

"Good," Mr. Trey says. "If Xander knew I have to reduce my contributions to charity to keep my other balances the same, he'd blame himself and stress over it. He's already got enough on his plate as it is. He needs to focus on just being a twelve-year-old boy."

It really is my fault, though. There's got to be something I can do to fix this, right? I can start eating less food. But then Mr. Trey would probably notice and then realize I eavesdropped and then get mad at me and send me back to the home for being a bad boy. I already messed up with the fire elemental, too. And I keep dropping stuff. And fixing my brain is too expensive.

I-I need the dork!

Wait. The dork! I could ask him! But not by text, that's too complicated. I need to talk with him face-to-face. But how do I do that without Mr. Trey knowing where the dork's workshop is? It's not like he lets me go places without-oh!

"-thinking of doing grilled chicken for dinner," Ms. Katie is saying as I start paying attention again. "Should I do wings or breasts?"

They changed topics, so it's probably safe for me to go in without having to reveal I heard them talking about me.

"Breasts," Mr. Trey tells her. "Spicy for me, barbecue for Xander. I'm not sure if he told you, but he liked that barbecue sauce you made last week."

"He did," Ms. Katie says as I leave the hallway to walk over to them. "Oh! Hello, Xander! That was a short nap."

Mr. Trey looks over, looking surprised.

"I feel more awake," I say. "I only slept for about twenty minutes but already feel refreshed."

"That's good," Mr. Trey says.

"Um…"

"Yes?"

"Y-you said that if I braved through the doctor's appointment yesterday," I say. "I could ask for one thing. Um. I think within season? So by the end of the summer, right?"

"Reason," Mr. Trey says. "Within reason."

"Oh, right," my face heats up. Stupid fucking worthless brain. "Um… I was wondering… um… i-if… if I c-could g-go to the dork's w-workshop for a bit? W-without-without saying where it is. H-he'd be really m-mad and m-move it if I-if I told someone. I've never been hurt going there or coming from it. The dork says that ninja guard the path, but I think that's just him mixing up his dreams with reality again. I-I want to ask the dork some stuff. And he's usually there on Saturdays. And I miss hanging out with him."

Mr. Trey thinks for a few seconds, then nods.

"Alright," he says. "I'll agree to this under a few conditions. First, you make sure you have your phone on you. Second, I drop you off somewhere that's safe. Third, you contact me, Quinn, Roderick, Frank, or any of the other guards if you aren't feeling safe. Fourth, you let me know when you want to get picked up, and where, and it's before seven this evening. Fifth, you do not participate in anything illegal."

He's really going to let me go? Even though I'm not telling him where?

"Tiffany told me that you never get hurt while you're out doing your thing," Mr. Trey says. "While I'm not comfortable not knowing where you are in case something happens… I'm going to trust this one time. Okay?"

"Really?" I ask without meaning to.

"Really," Mr. Trey says before I can apologize. "Why don't you get ready to go?"

I head to the bedroom and grab Trenton and my backpack, then return downstairs to find Mr. Trey ready to go as well.

"Can I bring some of the stuff I got earlier?" I ask. "Some of the donuts and candy and fudge? The dork likes that sort of stuff."

Though he also likes chocolate, but I'm not bringing any of that. I'm not going to touch it unless I have to in order to get permission to do stuff, like bringing dessert to the bowling alley the first time I did.

"Sure," Mr. Trey answers. "But you need to bring some fruits and veggies, too. Can't be eating only junk food."

"The dork keeps a fridge of that," I tell him. "And a cabinet. And some shelves. It's the magic fruits and veggies, too. And he says I'm allowed to have some whenever I'm there. I-is that okay?"

Maybe saying I like the dork's snacks better wasn't the best of ideas. Mr. Trey's going to be mad.

"As long as you promise to eat some," Mr. Trey tells me.

"I will," I promise.

"Okay," Mr. Trey says.

Some of the food I received earlier gets put into my backpack, then Mr. Trey drives me to the Wolf's Dragon, which is where I asked to be dropped off at. He reminds me of the conditions for being allowed to visit the dork's workshop and makes me repeat them back to him.

"See you later," Mr. Trey tells me. "Stay safe."

"I'll try," I tell him. "Bye."

I wait until after Mr. Trey drives off, then leave the parking lot and make my way down the street, following the sidewalk along the forest. I eventually leave town and start walking through the forest. The dork says that there used to be a road here, but undergrowth from the forest decayed on it and covered it with soil, then more undergrowth grew on it.

Or something like that. I don't fully remember what he said.

After awhile, I can spot the workshop. It's an abandoned factory in a large clearing, though the wooden fence set up around the property isn't old. It is faded in color and covered in ivy and stuff, but the dork used his magic to do that so that it looks old. There are a bunch of barrier magics on the fence to protect the workshop and it doesn't let in anyone the dork doesn't allow in.

I climb over the fence and check around the sides, in areas sectioned off for the dork's fun and experiments. There's the spot where he likes blowing things up, and the spot where he practices magic, and the spot where he plays with his remote-controlled vehicles, and the small pond he likes to swim in and the stream that flows through the property and right beside the building… but he's not in any of them.

He's not inside the factory, either, but that's okay. If he's not here yet, he'll probably be here soon. It's a Saturday so it's rare for him to not be here.

There used to be two floors to the factory, but the dork somehow ripped out the upper floor to make it all just one massive space. In the center of the front half is the computer he's working on, a device that's thirty feet in height and about eighteen in length and about twelve in width, with all sorts of wires and other pieces exposed. Various parts are scattered around on the floor and nearby tables and shelves, and a few boxes are filled with things as well.

I avoid getting too close to the computer, just in case my presence messes it up. There's something wrong with it that the dork's been trying to figure out and I'm nervous I'd mess that up and make it even worse.

In the back-right corner is a small room the dork built, which is where the air mattress for us to sleep on if we need a nap is located. I'm still not sure how he managed to pop the last one… unless he was playing in there instead of out here? He might've told me, but if he did, I forgot.

The back-left corner is sectioned off with a big sign that says "XANDER'S ZONE". The dork made that and said that it's my area to work in. He puts a lot of things in there for me to mess around with and even if I don't really understand things, it's kind of fun. If I use some of the guides he makes, I can even sometimes make functional things.

I walk over to one of the fridges first and open it, finding it half-empty. There's still plenty of food inside, though, and I grab a container of mixed fruit chunks and scoop some out into a bowl, then return the container to the fridge and carry the bowl into my corner.

Taking off my backpack, I set it down and pull Trenton out, setting him on my workbench on the little chair the dork made for him.

"Please don't be noisy, so that I can focus, okay?" I stare at Trenton for a few moments. He doesn't say anything, which usually means that he'll be quiet for me. "Thanks."

The device that the dork put on my workbench for me to access a database is moved, which probably means something on it was updated. I move the fist-sized device back to the spot I like it in, then tap on it to activate it. Light magics weave together above it to form a screen, and I start swiping.

This is similar to the device they projected the scans of my brain on at the hospital yesterday, though the dork made this one. And it's a lot smaller and the projections it creates aren't as big as the ones on the table-like version, one of which is in another part of the workshop.

"Oh!" I exclaim. "It's a bunch of baking recipes… but I didn't see an oven?"

Maybe the dork forgot that I won't remember the recipes by the time I get back to Mr. Trey's house?

Or he meant to put the recipes on something else and other information on the device. He does that sometimes, like the time he accidentally put the "1,000 Ways to Prank My Brothers" list on the device instead of updating its magitech so that I could swipe on the magical projection to control things instead of using a mouse and keyboard.

I look up the notes on my last visit here, grateful that the dork programmed the device to understand my horrible spelling and translate it into what I was trying to type (after removing the blueprints for a military base he'd put on by accident). I was working on a remote-control car of my own. The dork told me to give it a try and if I follow the directions listed, I should manage.

Though the directions aren't really "do this and then this", but "here are some things you could do" and I have to flip through the different options, pick the one I want to go with, and then it'll give me the actual directions for it. Once I do that, I confirm it in the device, then it presents me the next set of things. If something goes wrong, I can input in what happened and it'll help me figure out what went wrong.

According to the dork, it's meant to help people wanting to learn basic magitech. It mostly just confuses me, but it looks like I was thirty percent of the way into making the car, based on the progress tracker.

I reach forty-three percent before the front door of the factory opens and the dork walks in. He's a ten-year-old boy a little bit on the short side, just like me (on the height, not the age), with sandy-blond hair and blue-green eyes. He's got a light tan and is currently dressed in a grey shirt with a griffin on the front, grey shorts with golden stripes on the sides, and black-and-grey sneakers with some golden patterns on them. He's wearing his usual backpack, too, complete with a few griffin buttons pinned onto it.

"Xander!" He exclaims, then hurries over. "You're here!"

"Y-yeah," I nod. "Mr. Trey told me that if I braved the hospital yesterday, I could ask for something within reason. And I asked if I could come here without telling him where it is. He didn't seem happy but he agreed. With conditions. I missed you. And I had questions."

"What sorts of questions?" He asks as a pair of remote-controlled cars appear in his hands, probably teleported out of his backpack. "Look! I made remote-controlled cars earlier! I was only going to make one, but I was getting a feeling I should make two and my psychic gut is never wrong so I made two! We can battle them! I gave them laser guns and laser swords!"

"Uh… how are they going to fight with the swords?"

The dork gets an "oh!" expression, then shakes his head a little and his expression turns serious.

"I will figure that out later," he says. "Testing their lasers is more important. I want to make sure that the restriction on the laser magic is put in properly and didn't want to do that at home. If I designed it right, the spells should only shoot about four feet forward before dissipating, so that people watching outside of the battle won't be harmed by them."

"You shot yourself by accident, didn't you?"

"I've already healed," he tells me. "You wanted to ask me something?"

"Y-yeah," I put a pause on the screen so that it knows I've stopped working. "Um… Mr. Trey said it's okay to eat until I'm full. But I'm apparently eating lots and lots. And it's making him spend a lot of money on food. Like. Too much money. And he's gonna have to do stuff so that he can afford to feed me if I don't stop. But he said it's important for me to be fed over that stuff. I think that's what he said. But he also got mad at the doctor because the doctor told him that fixing my brain would take too much money. I know I'm not making any sense but you're the smartest person I know and I wanted to know if you knew if there's a way to stop whatever spell it is that I'm casting that's making me so low on mana, and maybe how to fix my brain without costing more than Mr. Trey can afford."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You… wait," the toy cars disappear, probably back into the dork's backpack. "So… you don't know the spells you have going?"

"Spells?" I ask. "It's multiple?"

"Yeah," he says. "I thought you knew? You didn't?"

"N-no," I shake my head. "Is-are they bad?"

"So you're not purposely casting those spells to keep yourself low on mana?"

"No," I answer. "Why would I do that?"

"To blend in with humans better."

While he's still thinking I'm a god, he's not going to be wrong about me casting spells. His reasoning for why I'm casting them is what's wrong here. I trust that he knows exactly what spells they are, now that he's mentioned he knows them.

"I'm not a god," I remind him. "What spells am I casting? Is it easy to make them stop so that I don't have to eat as much food? How am I even casting them if I didn't learn them?"

"Strength of will," he answers. "It's possible in the right bloodlines and since the incarnation you chose-"

"I'm not a reincarnated god."

"-was from the main branch of the Lumarikang family," he doesn't stop. He rarely does for that. "You definitely have the right bloodline. Hm. It appears that the evil god that interfered with your reincarnation apparently messed with your memory more severely than I anticipated. Well. No matter. Once you're back at full strength, you'll be able to deal with him."

I should probably not try to get him to realize I'm a human so that I can find out how to stop casting these spells. But he also mentioned something just as ridiculous: "Lumarikang" is his term for the Lumaria Kings.

There's no way I'm one of those. I don't have an absurd healing rate or great talent with magic or anything like that. I've tried to learn magic and failed.

"How do I stop casting the spells subconsciously?" I ask. "I think that's the word?"

"Subconsciously, yes," he nods. "If you're not consciously casting the spells, then it would probably be easier for you to fix your brain and then wait for your subconscious to stop casting the spells which are no longer necessary."

Those are words. I'm pretty sure they're supposed to mean something…

"Huh?"

"In simpler terms," he says. "Several of the spells are taking over the duties that your brain would normally handle. Those spells are: a magical brain that handles some of what your actual brain is supposed to do, memory packets to record and store information you think is important, an animation spell to allow you to control your body when you're tired or feeling particularly exhausted – this one probably isn't as active lately considering your body does seem to be in a better condition than it was a couple of months ago – and a spell to allow your body to continue to grow properly, your cells running their normal processes. There are a few others, but those are the main ones."

"I understood none of that."

"I can explain it again after you fix your brain," he tells me. "You'll probably remember it better. The memory packets aren't made properly so some of them decay rather easily, and it only activates when you actually try to commit something to memory and subconsciously view it as important. They're also how your entire memory actually functions right now, too."

All I understood from that is that my memories are apparently in packets. Are they stapled together or just in, like, a folder or envelope? Maybe they're in a binder?

"Um…" I stare at the dork. "And how do I fix my brain? You make it sound so easy."

"Well," he says. "I'm not sure what your specific regeneration rate is, but it's probably extremely high. I doubt a god would reincarnate himself into a body with a low regeneration rate. With the Lumarikang lineage, our healing factor is normal for the body unless we have over five percent of our total mana pool in reserve. Once we hit that, our regeneration boosts up to its actual value. It's sort of a fail-safe in order to ensure that we don't use up too much mana, just in case we need it for defense."

That sounds weird to me. I don't think he's really right.

"But I'm not a Lumaria King," I say. "I don't have the talent for it."

"Well, you're casting multiple high-level spells simultaneously," he says. "In addition to keeping your soul connected to your body. It's essentially stapled on with your magic and the staples are decaying constantly, so you're constantly repairing those staples. People can only do so much magic at once, so it's understandable that you struggle with other spells. And it's for that same reason that your regeneration factor isn't at its real speed. You're simply too low on mana all the time. On the Lumaria Mana Level scale, you only have 3 points normally. Right now, it's actually a little bit higher – you're at 6 points on the scale. Your mana recovery rate is boosted at the moment, but it's also being burned up to account for other things, like giving you energy, not letting you be as tired, helping you work on the remote-controlled car you were making, and so on."

He really doesn't like using the Lumaria Mana Level scale, so him using it seems weird to me. His preferred scale is one he invented on his own, which is really just the LML but times one hundred.

"Huh?"

"Even when you have boosted mana recovery due to having eaten enough," he says. "You remain low on mana due to the extra recovered being spent immediately to handle things you normally can't afford. Basically, you're constantly at less than 0.0001% of your mana capacity at all times. That's nowhere near the 5% you need to be at for your body's true regeneration to kick in."

I'm looking into his eyes and I can tell that he's completely serious. Everything he's saying is true. At least, he believes it to be true, but I think that other than the bit about me being a god, he's speaking facts.

"Why do you think I'm a Lumaria King?"

"Your dad and my dad were cousins," he answers. "Their dads were brothers – and their dad was Adrian King. You didn't know this?"

"No," I frown. "How do you know this?"

"I hacked the government database on you when we first met in case you were in charge of the Faction," he answers. "And discovered that you were an orphan in foster care. When I looked into your parents, I discovered that your dad and my dad were cousins. Hm. It appears I should have spoken of this sooner. My apologies, Xander."

That was all truth… I really am a Lumaria King? And the reason I struggled to learn magic before is because… I'm apparently using a bunch of magic at all times?

Also… I forgot that he was already hacking when he was seven. The way he acts is really weird, and not really entirely like a ten-year-old.

"Is my soul really stapled to my body?"

"That's the easiest way of phrasing it."

"So… um… how do I fix my brain?" I ask. "If… if I need a lot more mana, but am using up even extra that I make?"

"Here," a bottle with a glowing, clear blue liquid appears in his hands. "This is liquidized magical energy infused into an alchemy brew designed to make it easily-digestible and allow for immediate recovery of one's magical energy."

That's a lot of weird words put together in a weird way.

"Huh?"

"It's a mana potion and immediately recovers a person's mana upon being drunk," he says. "It's tailored towards my own mana and would ordinarily recover around thirty percent of it from full if I were to drink it. You have a little bit more mana than I do, and it's not tailored to yours, so there's a fair bit of loss. You'd probably end up at about ten percent of your mana. That should be more than enough to let your natural regeneration rate activate."

"That sounds really expensive."

"I mean, yeah," he shrugs. "It's worth millions of dollars. But I only had to pay for the bottle."

"You stole the ingredients, didn't you?"

"Not this time!" He shakes his head. "Getting the stuff to make the base for it is easy enough on my own. And the magical energy in there is just my own mana. I crystallized it, then dissolved it into a liquid form, then made the potion. And I didn't steal the ingredients for the base. Or acquire them illegally. They were obtained in no-man's-land. Places where no one really has authority. Mostly. That herb garden I have also contains some of the ingredients."

I'm still not sure…

"And if I drink this, it'll fix my brain and stop me from casting all of those spells without meaning to?"

"Well, no," he enters my work zone and sets the bottle on the work table. "It'll restore a significant amount of your mana, which will allow your regeneration to kick in. Since you're a god, your brain will probably be fixed in seconds.

"However," he says. "It won't stop the spells you're casting. As you and your body adjust to your normal brain handling things, you'll subconsciously gradually lessen the other spells until they're gone. And not all of those spells are for that. The self-enhancement is in case the evil god comes after you, and the soul-stapling… yeah. That's not related to your damaged brain, and it's actually where the bulk of your mana recovery goes to supporting."

One day, I'll manage to get him to realize that I'm not a god and there's no evil god coming after me. Santa's even confirmed I'm not a god and since he is one, I'm fairly certain he would know better than the dork.

"But… I'll stop using so much mana?" I ask.

"Eventually," he answers.

"And you're just… giving this to me?"

"Well, yeah," he says. "I would've done that years ago if I knew you had zero clue. It would be really expensive to buy that, but it's really cheap for me to make since it just takes some of my mana and some resources I can harvest myself. And I replenish the mana reasonably fast."

I stare at the bottle of glowing liquid.

"But how will this help with the food costs?" I ask. "If most of my spent mana is going towards keeping my soul stapled to my body, then won't I still need lots of food?"

"Well, yeah," he says. "But you won't be using up all of your mana. And there are things you can do to earn money. You don't even need to know magic to learn it, but with your mana not going nearly entirely to supporting spells, you can learn how to do things like this."

The dork holds up his right hand and glowing blue wisps rise up from his palm and fingers, flowing into a spot above it. As it swirls around, it starts to get denser and denser, turning into a light blue crystal.

"What's… that?" I ask.

"A mana crystal," he answers. "One that sells for five hundred dollars. And you wouldn't even need to eat to recover that much mana. It takes less mana to make this than you recover in an hour at your normal rate. Magic's a bit unfair like that and we potent ones are even more unfair. You know how strong Luke is?"

"Yeah," I nod. "He's got huge amounts of mana."

"Right," the dork nods. "And you recover more than half as much as he can hold every hour. And that's only about half a percent of your actual capacity."

That seems… like it would be really troublesome for me. But I really produce that much mana? The spells keeping me alive seem really intensive, then, if they require more than half as much mana every hour as Luke can hold to maintain. Someone would probably want to kidnap me and make me a battery for them. Or a cash cow. I really don't want to be milked again.

Or turned into a cow. I'm not sure how that really works.

"But as I said," the dork says. "It's just one possibility of what you can do to acquire money, if you wish to do so. But you should drink the potion so that your brain can get fixed. I didn't know you weren't aware of the spells and that you actually wanted it fixed, or I'd have given you one of these years ago."

"Really for free?" I ask.

"I mean, the bottle cost me, like, twenty bucks," he says. "But I'll just wash it out and reuse it. Have used it for orange juice, like, fifty times already."

Something seems really wrong about using a bottle for orange juice and potions.

"Oh," he says. "But there might be a really severe side effect."

"W-what?"

"Well," he says. "Since you're burning your mana basically as fast as you're using it, your body isn't used to having that much mana in it. You should be able to adjust to it pretty quickly considering your true nature, but there will probably be an extremely burning feeling throughout your entire body."

"But my brain will get fixed?"

"In seconds," he says.

Probably not in seconds as I'm sure he's overestimating my regeneration ability. I'm still not really sure about me being a Lumaria King but he really was honest when he said he found out that we were related when looking into my past. If he's confirmed that we're related, then we are.

"O-okay," I look at Trenton. "Don't attack the dork if this goes bad."

"He's just a teddy bear, how could he attack me?" The dork asks very seriously.

Trenton is not just a teddy bear. He's magic. And he gets upset when people say that he's just a teddy bear. It's one of the only things we argue about and I don't want to argue right now, I want my brain fixed.

"Okay," I look at the dork. "I'll drink it even though it's really expensive, but only because you're insisting it's okay because it only cost you time and work. But… can you do a favor? Just in case this goes bad and you're wrong and I end up dead?"

"It won't, but sure."

"Remind me what your name is?"

"You can call me 'the dork'."

"I want to at least know your name in case this kills me," I say. "Please?"

"It won't go wrong," he sighs. "But fiiiiiiiiine. It's Greyson."

Right. Greyson.

"T-thanks," I say. "And… thanks for the help."

I open the bottle and start drinking.

"Not so fast!" The dork exclaims, but a little bit too late.

The potion entered me a lot faster than I'm used to drinking things, almost like my body was trying to suck it in like my life depends on it.

Immediately, I can feel energy flowing through my body, and a lot of it. Just as the dork said, my body begins to feel as if aflame. I can't help but scream from the pain, my mind going fuzzy. I'm only vaguely aware of Greyson helping me out of my work station and over to the rest zone and onto the air mattress that feels surprisingly like a real mattress.

After the fire in me fades, my body aches for awhile. I just lie here on the mattress, which turns out to be a real one, until the aching fades. When I get up and leave the resting room, I find Greyson staring intently at his massive computer while fiddling with a remote-control tank in his hands, not even looking down at it as he works.

"Oh, hey, you're up and moving," Greyson looks over as I approach, though I keep a safe distance from the computer. "Hm. It took two and a half hours, not seconds. That's weird. I was fairly certain I did my math right. Well, I guess that just means the evil god managed to interfere with even that."

"There's no evil god," I say. "And what do you mean 'two and a half hours'?"

"Your brain," he says. "It's regenerated. All the dead bits are alive and it's grown to how it should be. So it's no longer broken."

Already?

"So now I'm just stupid instead of stupid with a broken brain?"

"You're even smarter than I am."

"That's… not true," I tell him. "You're mixing up your dreams with reality again, dork. Um. Greyson."

"That's what you think," he looks back at the machine. "I bet you really want to pay me back somehow for that potion, don't you?"

"It didn't cost you much to make, but it was still really expensive…"

"And it was mine to do with as I please," he says. "I've got, like, fifty more of them. I brewed them up in that cauldron over there a few months ago for the sole purpose of seeing if I could. By my estimates, it will take six years, nine months, eighteen days, twenty-three hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-seven seconds before I actually have need of using one."

Just what sort of math did he do to get that number?

"By that time," he says. "They would have expired if I didn't place them in stasis. If anything, me giving you one simply avoided letting it go to waste. They may be valued high, but again, their cost was insanely low in comparison. Even Luke couldn't get a rate that good, and his family makes the ones they have for him. They, too, grow some of the ingredients necessary to cut down on costs.

"Anyway," the remote-control tank vanishes. "I helped fix your brain, can you finally help me with something you're really resistant about?"

"You want me to help with the computer… but what if I break it?" I ask. "I'm really stupid, Greyson. And I'm not good at fiddling with stuff. I keep messing up the stuff I mess with in my zone."

"Well, yeah," he walks around to the front of the massive computer as a fist-sized object appears in his hands. "But you don't need to touch it. I've attempted to explain that before, but it was clear you were struggling to understand."

He sets the object on the ground, and a giant projection of a series of glowing blue markings weaves itself together above it. Those markings match the computer's design. Does he want me to look at this instead of it?

I guess that would make sense, just to make sure I don't break the actual computer itself.

"These are all of the enchantment matrices, enchantment lines, mana flows, mana-oh, you're lost," he says. "Basically, it's a record of all of the lines and spots of magic and magical energy in the computer. Something in this, somewhere, is messed up. But I can't figure out what, and even my device for reading magical energy isn't picking up on it. I'm hitting a slowdown point because I cannot for the life of me figure out what's going on. Can you use your magesight and tell me what you see?"

"You have a device that can read magical energy?"

Can't he just see the magic, anyway?

"Yeah," he nods. "The short version is that it's able to read mana and magical energy – which is technically different from just mana – when it's in certain states. That allows the device to create a readout of enchantments. It's similar to the device which scanned your brain, though that one was technically weaker than this one and focused more on active mana, magics, and residue."

None of that makes sense to me, but I get the feeling that it's not really important.

"Then why would mine be better?"

"Your magesight functions in a fundamentally-different way," he answers. "And I can't make further tweaks and improvements to the computer until I know what's causing it to heat up. Magitech isn't supposed to heat up unless it's designed to. Can you use your mage-sight and tell me if there's anything that looks different? Oh, wait, hold on."

Greyson swipes in front of the projection and a screen appears, then he taps and swipes on the screen a few times. Some of the glowing lines and patches change color. Now it resembles the computer's design even more, except there are bits missing.

"There," he says. "I think that should match the colors you'll see, based on what I've observed and inquired about on the occasions you use your mage-sight here. Forgot it defaults to just plain blue."

"You just… want me to look at the computer with my mage-sight?" I ask. "And then tell you if stuff is different?"

"Yeah," he nods.

I can do that, so I activate my mage sight and start looking at the computer.

"Um… there's something there that's different," I say, then turn around and point at a spot on the projection. "Right there."

"Here," Greyson hands me a pen that appears. "Draw with that and don't worry if the lines aren't perfect. I just need to know where problems are. You can zoom in the normal way if you need to. And for colors, you can draw a quick circle with the back of the pen and it'll pull up a color wheel. Pick the color from there – it doesn't have to be exact – and it'll change the pen's color. To change the brush, tap three times with the back of the pen."

That sounds complicated, but at least I know Greyson is okay with explaining things to me over and over again. I'll probably have to ask him what to do for those… several times.

For the next hour, I walk around the computer and examine different parts of it with my mage-sight, though I have to rest a few times because it gives me a headache to use it for so long. There are several areas with things that aren't in the projection that Greyson made and while I'm not really sure if they're real or hallucinations, Greyson seems to accept them.

"But how does that happen?" He asks as I adjust the color for one set of lines and add in another line. "It doesn't even-oh! You weren't done yet!"

I change the brush and color and make some sweeping motions, connecting some more of the lines with that. This is how I'm representing what looks like particles moving between areas.

"That's what's causing the heat-up!" Greyson exclaims. "There's interference coming from another set of magic flows and it's creating another magic flow when the two mix! If I'm right, then that additional one's sending heat through the pathways! My mana-reader must not have picked up on it because it's too faint. At least, if that's why you made the line so see-through? Or it could also be a different mana state than what my analyzer can read."

What are mana states? He's mentioned them several times since I started doing this and I have zero idea what it's supposed to me. I'm also a bit nervous to ask.

"It's really faint," I tell him. "B-but what if I'm just hallucinating?"

"Nah," he says. "That's got to be it. The conclusion I've come to is based on the way you colored those particles and the coloration of that line. Based on the way you perceive magic and my own knowledge of magic, those colors in that combination, linking into the other pathways, makes it a heat-generating enchantment. It looks like this pathway here is leaking energy for some reason, so I'll need to fix that, and once I do that, I'll have to run some tests, but I'd be willing to bet a box of my favorite cookies that as soon as I get rid of that unintended flow, the heat will stop."

"Greyson?" It's better to interrupt before he gets lost into his own flow.

"Hm?"

"I sometimes have that start to happen when I work," I tell him. "The magics saying hi to each other, I mean. I didn't know they make a baby that makes heat fields, though. Um. I just separate them and put a connector between. I just thought I was doing something wrong."

"Oh!" His face lights up. "That's a good idea! It might work! Thanks! Are you done, or is there more? I had to turn the mega computer on so that you could get the best view."

Him mentioning that the computer is on just reminded me of something.

"I'm done," I tell him. "Um… but I had a question."

"Sure."

"If you can make mana crystals, can't you make power cores?"

"Yeah."

"How come you teleport into Gatewood Energy and swap money for them?" I ask. "You're not even properly buying them. You told me you were, but you aren't."

And I've also learn that he stole the bomb… there's no way they would have let a ten-year-old just buy one. So he had to have stolen the bomb from wherever he acquired it.

"I'm exchanging money for them," he says. "That's how you buy things."

"But you're not doing it right," I say. "And it's upsetting them."

"Buying them the proper way would require involving our great-grandfather," he says. "And if Adrian King is involved, then there will be oversight on me. Oversight on me means the inability to complete my mega computer. The mega computer is going to change the world. There can be zero oversight until after it is completed."

"But it's really upsetting them and causing them headaches," I say. "And can't you make your own? You're smart enough to, right?"

"I kept getting shocked when I tried, so I gave up," he says. "Making them is bothersome. Robbing mobs and using their cash to acquire the cores is simpler, faster, and doesn't result in me getting nasty shocks."

He's… robbing mobs?

"Oh!" He suddenly exclaims. "I completely forgot, but want to play with the laser cars? We can do that for a bit before I try and fix the problem with the computer! I need to mentally review the schematics and enchantments and run some simulations, anyway."

"Sure," I answer. "Wait! Oh, no!"

"What?"

"It's after six and it takes more than an hour to get the Wolf's Dragon!" I say. "And that's where I was going to ask Mr. Trey to pick me up from! And that has to be before seven!"

"I can teleport you there if you want," Greyson looks back at the projection, then nods and teleports the laser cars into his hands. "Let's do laser cars!"

"But it's also dinnertime…" I say. "And if you don't eat now, you're going to forget. And can you really teleport us? I know you can teleport yourself and small objects, but… other people?"

"Sure," he shrugs. "It's how I got your last foster family to the griffins. That was three people all at once, and three years ago. I'm even better at it now. You're right. Let's play with the laser cars after dinner."