Day 65
Ruby and I prepared ourselves for our training session. Silvia was doing guild quests, so it seemed like an excellent opportunity to work on my magic—what little I knew of it, at least. I bought a book on the basics of magic; hopefully, that would be enough to get me through this process. Ruby, being always inquisitive, sat beside me and fixed his crimson eyes on the pages that I was reading aloud from.
The book described mana as something generated directly from the heart—literally. It explained that a person's mana pool is determined at birth, and no amount of effort or training can expand or shrink it. Aristocrats typically possess a decent amount of mana, enough to perform basic or intermediate spells.
Commoners, however, usually have little to no mana at all. Then, of course, there were exceptions—those rare individuals born with mana reserves far surpassing even the most gifted nobles. This condition, the book called Merlin Syndrome, was named after the legendary Great Mage Merlin, the founder of magic and the only human whose mana reserves rivaled that of a Mythical Beast.
The history was fascinating enough. Though, my Death Reap ability was... unusual. The fact that my stealing and stockpiling of power from my victims meant that I could grow nearly limitless mana reserves, so I couldn't apply the idea of a 'fixed mana pool.' This book reminded me just how different I was in this world. Then, I was at it, practicing mana control with Ruby's assistance.
According to the book, you need to learn how to feel and circulate mana inside of you. Despite Ruby's straightforward instructions, I only needed a little help. Thanks to my talent stockpiling ability, I picked up the concept almost immediately. Within minutes, I could feel the mana flowing through me, like a soft river flowing under my skin, and I perceived mana from my surroundings. That is when I hit a wall.
The following was the finding of my magic attribute. What the book said was straightforward: all I had to do was channel my mana into one of the four essential elements: Water, Fire, Earth, or Wind, and then see if there were any fluctuations. If the element reacted, that would mean my alignment to that attribute. I tried with water first, holding a small bowl of it in my hands and focusing my mana on it.
Nothing. The water did not even move. Fire? I lit a small candle and channeled my energy. No flicker, no spark. Earth? The handful of soil I scooped up remained the same. Wind? The air around me did not even swirl. Nothing. Not a single reaction. I didn't have any magic attributes. None at all. Looking back at the book, it made sense. Attributes are passed down from one's parents along the bloodlines, and I was not of this world.
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My origins—my entire existence—were outside the natural order of this place. Others were born with the potential for magic, while I was a blank slate, an outsider. I sighed and closed the book. "Well, that's a problem," I said, scratching at the back of my head. Ruby tilted his head, sensing my frustration. "No… magic?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. "Not yet," I said. "But don't worry. I'll figure it out."
The solution was clear enough. If attributes were tied to an individual's essence, then all I needed was to kill someone—or something—that had magic attributes. So far, the people I had killed didn't use magic, meaning I had gained none of their attributes. But monsters capable of using magic? Of course, they exist! I just needed to find them. How hard could it be to track down some magic-wielding monster?
Day 67
Unbearable heat and ash filled the air, and in a far-off distance, a roar was created by lava flows. Here I was, clinging to the back of an enraged Adult Red Dragon like on a joyride from above the volcanic landscape at my fingertips, each powerful spread of its giant wings putting my grip at its finest limits. I was sipping sweat through my pores as my heart kept pounding from the very pit of my chest.
Like I always asked myself, why do I end up at such things? But you're probably asking yourself: How the hell did this happen? Well, the answer is quite simple, really—I wanted its power. Specifically, I wanted to steal its Fire Magic. A few hours before, I happened to overhear a clique of adventurers at the guild whispering about an Adult Red Dragon that had built its lair near an active volcano a few kilometers east of the capital.
In hushed tones, they spoke of its terrible strength, impenetrable scales, and the countless lives it claimed. To them, it was an impossible foe, something only fools would challenge. Of course, I just went head-on. Everything just hazed over for me, coming to the volcano. Whatever remained of reasoning became blurred in the thrill of taking its Fire Magic.
Late by the time I went to the lair, with orange paint bleeding off molten lava into the sky and sulfur drenching everything, I barged into the cave shouting, "Hello there!" so loudly that the creature certainly woke up. That was error number one. The ground trembled as the Red Dragon stirred, its glowing amber eyes snapping open.
Its sheer size was staggering—each scale gleamed like molten metal, its wings casting massive shadows that made me feel like an insect in its presence. But I didn't back down. Gripping my sword tightly, I charged forward and slashed at its leg. The blade shattered on impact. That was mistake number two. Left with no choice, I resorted to the only weapon I could trust at that moment: my fists.
The dragon reared back, unleashing a roar that shook the cavern walls. I lunged at the dragon, landed on its scales, and quickly grabbed onto it, sensing that it would take off to the sky.