I woke up feeling like a used rag. My head pounded, my throat was dry, and worst of all, my chest felt like it was on fire. I gently prodded my mana; that was a mistake. That gentle brush was agony; it was as if thousands of red hot knives drove themselves into my core.

I passed out.

When I woke, I felt better. Better being the operative word. Instead of feeling like someone was taking a jackhammer to it, my head just felt like someone was taking a hammer to it. Instead of feeling like the Atacama, my throat felt like the Sahara. My chest hadn't gotten any better either. I wasn’t going to repeat my mistake and touch my core again.

I needed to go to the hospital.

I tried to get up and, predictably, failed. The pain was overwhelming; I just barely managed to hold onto consciousness. I couldn’t pass out again. There was no telling when help would come. I lived alone, and even if school wasn’t canceled, they would hardly send someone to my house for missing one day.

I just needed to get to the phone, then I could call an ambulance.

Just I thought grimly. I only had one landline, and it was downstairs. I was more likely to fall down the stairs than to walk down them. I have to do it. The realization struck me like lightning. I had no friends; I had alienated them after The Accident and had never gotten around to reconciling with them after I had recovered mentally. I had no guardians or roommates; I lived alone.

If I didn’t get to that phone, I would die. I had never felt so alone as I did at that moment. But I was desperate, and desperate men can do fantastic things. In my case, I got out of bed without passing out. The pain was like countless knives stabbing into my chest, my head thundered, and my knees almost gave out. But I soldiered through. Drawing on reserves of willpower I never knew I had, I took a step. And another. And another.

I staggered until I reached the top of the stairs. What was I thinking? I thought bitterly. Why did I walk upstairs? I knew the answer though, I wasn’t thinking. The stairs loomed menacingly below. They had never looked so steep. I began to gulp, but I had to stop because of the pain.

I took the leap of faith, I descended a step. Stars burst behind my eyes, knives forged of agony embedded themselves within me, but I dug deep into that well of inhuman willpower, and I persevered.

I descended another stair, but this time I was prepared and could take another shortly.

For persevering in the face of agony, you have earned the skill pain tolerance.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Not now! I disregarded the screen with a snarl - noting somewhere in the back of my mind that I had not been able to gulp earlier, much less snarl. I took the next step, and the step after that. Soon I was taking a step each second.

I had been so focused, I was almost confused when I reached the bottom. But I quickly adapted, and walked to the landline. Walking on flat land was almost easy after the stairs, and I quickly reached the phone. I dialed 911 and waited for a half-second.

“Hello, this is 911. What is your emergency?” The female operator asked.

“Am--” I was cut off by a cough. Even if I could power through the pain, it wasn’t like I was miraculously healed. “Ambulance.”

“What is your address, sir?” She asked, admirably calm.

“348 Byrant Street.” I managed to delay the coughing fit until I finished speaking. I grimaced; I could make out some specks of blood on my lip.

“What is your phone number, sir?” I almost balked at the thought of speaking that much.

I started to give it to her but coughed, and this time it wasn’t just a speck of blood, but a glob of it. It got on the phone, and the entire thing sparked violently. I reflexively dropped it, and it broke into pieces when it hit the hardwood floor of my kitchen.

I stared incomprehensibly at it for a while. I was broken from my reverie by a knock on the door. I gathered my will for one last hurrah and shouted, “Come,” it was barely loud enough to be heard, but it was enough.

Two male paramedics opened the door. I gave a faint smile before passing out.

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This time when I awoke, it was to the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. I opened my eyes to a featureless ceiling. I felt much better, the pain was replaced by fuzziness, and when I poked my magic core, I didn’t explode.

I collapsed with relief and went back to sleep.

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A doctor was in the room with me when I awakened. He noticed me looking at him; and said, “Awake, are you? Don’t give me that look; you’ve been comatose for a while now.” I started to speak but was cut off, “Don’t speak, have some water first.”

“How long was I out?” I asked once I had finished.

“Just two days. You were lucky; if we hadn’t thought to use magic, we would have no clue what was ailing you. How did you manage to rupture your core?”

“I was experimenting with magic. I was trying to infuse my magic with a concept. It turns out that you can explode if you do it wrong.”

He nodded, “That sounds about right; another young man came in here with a similar injury - a ruptured spleen - caused by trying to strengthen himself with magic.” I could hear him say that today’s youth was too reckless under his breath - I probably wasn’t meant to catch that.

“Just get some rest; you should be fine by tomorrow.” With that parting remark, he made to leave, but I stopped him.

"Can I borrow your phone for a second? It's important." He gave me a questioning look, but he seemed to like what he saw and handed over an iPhone after unlocking it.

I opened safari and logged into my youtube account, careful to decline the offer to save my password. I didn’t want to share my account. I then posted the following community message:

I am in the hospital right now. I was experimenting with magic and managed to blow myself up. Telling you all not to experiment would be hypocritical and shortsighted; instead, I’ll tell you to have a healer or two nearby. If I hadn’t managed to heal myself, I would have died. Even then, it only bought me a few hours.

I signed out of youtube and closed the tab. I handed the man’s phone back to him and thanked him. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.