The exam was a month away.

So I started studying.

The Inteli Quantum Computer displayed an article on history, and I focused on every word.

In 1957, the American theoretical physicist Robert Oppenheimer opened a portal to another world. This connection unleashed a flood of mana, which began reshaping Earth. Newborns started manifesting Mana Cores, granting them the power to harness mana. As these children grew, they gained abilities that allowed them to manipulate elements and defy natural laws, with some even displaying the strength to lift cars.

These gifted individuals became known as mutants, but instead of being celebrated, they faced brutal discrimination. Experimentation, forced sterilization, and even genocide followed in the wake of their birth.

When mutants reached adulthood, they chose different paths. Some sought revenge, unleashing their powers against humanity, while others became protectors, advocating for peace between mutants and ordinary people. A few retreated into solitude, avoiding the conflict altogether.

After two decades of chaos, King Brien rose to power, crushing the governments of the United States, Canada, and Central America. He declared himself ruler and founded the Great Kingdom of Phoenix, a monarchy that dominated the continent with an iron fist.

By the year 2100, the world faced another threat: the Dungeon Portal. It unleashed waves of monsters, nearly driving humanity to extinction. Small nations fell, and even the largest countries were left scarred. Guns, once the dominant weapon of the era, were useless against the powerful B-Rank monsters. Only the strongest mutants and ballistic missiles could fend them off.

For centuries, the war between humanity and monsters raged on.

By 2111, mutants had become more common, and a new term emerged for those who hunted monsters and explored the dangerous dungeons: Adventurers. Teams of Adventurers began to form guilds, ushering in the Golden Age of Adventurers.

Back to the present.

“This is going to take forever,” I muttered, closing my eyes for a moment to relieve the strain. There were still 100 years of history left, covering the third and fourth World Wars and the technological revolutions.

Just then, Mom opened the door. “Wally, let's go shopping for school supplies.”

“Alright, Mom,” I replied, shutting off my computer and standing up.

----

My mom drove us to the nearest convenience store in her Hover Van.

Goldle Mart had everything—groceries, gadgets, even common Magic Items I could browse through. As soon as we arrived, I grabbed a cart and started wandering the aisles with Mom by my side.

Mom stopped, eyeing a rifle with interest. “Honey, how about we get you a rifle?”

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I frowned at the sight of it, memories flooding back.

When I was younger, I had once tried using telekinesis with a gun. I was so proud of myself for lifting it with my Bronze Bent Spoon. Then, in a flash of brilliance, I attempted to fire the gun using only my powers. The recoil and noise shattered my concentration, and the gun ended up slapping me in the face. I was lucky I didn’t shoot my own foot.

I quickly replied, “A rifle and bullets would just slow me down when I’m moving—especially flying.”

“Is that so? What about a smaller gun? It won’t weigh much.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to fire a gun while flying? I need both hands for my Bronze Bent Spoon. Am I supposed to hold the gun in my mouth?”

“Why not just put one of your magic spoons in your mouth?” she suggested.

“I could,” I admitted reluctantly, “but controlling mana through my mouth is like trying to eat with chopsticks using your feet—it’s just not practical. Besides, a gun won’t do much against B-Rank monsters.”

Mom pressed on, persuasive as ever. “But for weaker monsters, a gun would be faster, right? You could mow them down with an Uzi. Come on, honey, let’s get you an Uzi.”

I made a face. The idea of owning a gun was bad enough, but the worst part was that she wasn’t wrong.

With a heavy sigh, I caved. “Fine, Mom, let’s buy a gun.”

Her face lit up, and we headed to the section with Uzis, picking one out along with a bunch of bullets. We didn’t stop there either. We grabbed hundreds of grenades, several super-sharp daggers, road flares, and all the camping gear you could think of—tents, sleeping bags, lighters, you name it.

Mom spent the most time in the clothing section, though, picking out clothes for both of us.

By the end of the trip, we had everything I needed.

----

I stood atop a skyscraper, my Super Watch projecting a hologram of the local mana levels. The concentration wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

Stripping off my shirt, I let the sunlight soak into my skin and sat cross-legged, ready to focus. I began channeling the mana into my Mana Core, the crystal on the right side of my chest, a mirror to the heart.

The Mana Core served multiple purposes: it stored mana, regenerated it, and granted a person their unique attribute. Enhancing the Mana Core required following Mana Development Techniques, each designed to either increase capacity, speed up recovery, refine mana quality, or improve elemental affinity. There were countless techniques, but each person responded differently—just like muscle training, the results depended on individual effort and natural compatibility.

Some people preferred absorbing Monster Mana Cores for quicker gains, while others relied on potions. I knew the best method for me: train under the sun, seek out areas rich in mana, and—if possible—absorb a Unicorn Mana Core, which would accelerate my progress.

Currently, my Mana Core was E-Rank. Most commoners only reached G-Rank, holding around 10 Mana Units. To get to F-Rank meant having 100, with each rank-up multiplying that power by ten.

It had taken me five years to move from G-Rank to E-Rank, but I was determined to push further. My sights were set on D-Rank. “Hopefully, my brother will bring me a Unicorn Mana Core before school starts,” I thought.

Clearing my mind, I let the mana flow through me, training diligently beneath the midday sun. ----

Late at night, safe in my room, I stumbled across the Sundial on sale while browsing a website.

The Sundial—the very magic item that had accidentally sent me exactly one year into the future.

Without hesitation, I bought it. The site promised next-day delivery, though part of me wondered if it would have been smarter to go to New Boston and pick it up myself. I shook off the thought. I trusted the delivery drone to get it to me by tomorrow.

The Sundial was a Legendary Magic Item, capable of transporting its user one year into the past.

Other Legendary Items were tightly guarded by nobles and royalty—powerful artifacts capable of wiping out entire cities with a single strike, controlling monsters, or even resurrecting the dead. The kind of weapons that could reshape nations.

If the wrong person got hold of the Sundial, the consequences would be catastrophic.

To wield the ability to rewrite history and alter the world’s fate was a temptation too dangerous to risk.

That’s why, as soon as it arrives, I’m going to bury the Sundial in my backyard.

Hopefully, I’ll never be desperate enough to use it again.