It was night. The moon had already risen to glance at the world, overlooking the owls that crept out of their holes and the nocturnal primates that jumped from one branch to another, hunting the crickets that played their high-pitched tunes. The leaves glistened under the moonlight as dews dripped down their leafy veins—it was a peaceful night. Fueguard walked through this scenery with eyes looking forward, never back—the determination of a true veteran adventurer. In his hand was a bag of bread, ready to eat for his wounded patient.

He entered through the creaky doors of the abandoned barn and greeted Arthur. Arthur was tuning a white pistol that contrasted the black one he had placed at the side—it was Calibre. A pistol that could do what every circuit engineer coveted for—something we’ll be seeing later.

“In all my years of experience,” spoke Fueguard, slumping his butt on the scattered hay opposite Arthur, then glancing at the various parts of Arthur’s pistol placed before him. “I still can’t fathom Gaian weapons. They’re still too complex!”

“And I still can’t understand the deep realities of magic,” began Arthur, grabbing a bread from the bag; “To me, magic is still a mystery, although a beautiful one.”

“Touché young man.” Fueguard took a piece of bread too, “I still can’t believe that young lady survived that blast. Who is she anyway?”

“I don’t know. I met her not too long ago. All I know is that she helped me and that she can be trusted. Although, I’m not quite surprised by the fact that she was able to retrieve what I had asked for and has lived to tell the tale of that onslaught.”

“Oh?” Fueguard raised an eyebrow. “How so? That unbelievable catastrophe was something, not even I, in all my experience as an adventurer, have seen, and she survived that unscathed!”

Arthur chuckled softly.

“And you think the captain of the Shadow Elites would be so frail? In the past, I knew someone who could do even more!”

They were talking about Maya who had a little earlier dropped by to give Arthur the box he had asked her to excavate from Wisp’s grave. Fueguard was present during that time and was so surprised to know that Maya was at the mountain during Pendragon and Aisha’s fight. What amazed him even more was how quickly she was able to find their location. She said to him it was because of some tracking bug she secretly placed on Arthur. When it came to sneaking, Gaian’s probably outdid the Aetherean’s by a lot.

“Anyhow,” Fueguard said, munching on his bread. “Can we go back to the topic?”

“Yes, of course, I was about to begin anyway.”

“Now then, we ended where?” asked Fueguard in haste.

“The part where the three of us were rescuing the kids.”

“Oh right!” spluttered Fueguard. “I still don’t understand how that Mark person could use magic.”

“It wasn’t magic,” responded Arthur with a melancholic tone, remembering his bitter past while looking at the half-bitten bread on his hand. “Pop’s power was something else. It was—”

***

Mark drew his short-sword near his lips and whispered. “Help me, Wisp.”

The sword glowed in a bluish light, which slowly crept over Mark’s body, swathing him in its comforting warmth. Arthur who was observing from the tree branch could tell—although he knew next to nothing about magic—that the power surging through Mark was none other than mana. He knew this because whenever Fiora casted her healing spell to heal him of injuries he got from practice, he could feel the very simple difference between mana and aether: the former was denser than the latter. It was as though aether were like the vapour in the air while mana were like ice or water. He noticed the stronger the spell was, the heavier it felt. This description was merely based on his layman’s knowledge yet still, he knew for sure Mark was using mana.

“How is this possible!” shouted Arthur in surprise.

The mages looked at Mark with gaping mouths and widening eyes—this was heresy! An infidel had corrupted the beauty of their magic! The urge to burn him at the stakes welled up inside the five mages, they wanted nothing more than to kill Mark.

“FOR BACH!” screamed one mage. “Destroy this heretic!”

“LONG LIVE BACH!” replied the four others. Together, they began casting their most powerful spell.

They brought their magic tools together and began casting a terrible-terrible spell.

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

Magic had two types: basic and advanced. Basic magic relied on the creation of temporary objects willed by a caster using fundamental mana; while advanced magic could affect the formal mana of the surroundings to cause certain desired effects, hence the name ‘magic effect’. Belonging to this type of magic were illusions, magic enchantments, teleportation and the like. Teleportation as an example of this type, used a mage’s fundamental mana to affect the structure of a person or object’s formal mana, thereby demolecularizing it and sending it someplace else before it got remolecularized.

In this sense, magic effects were a much trickier form of magic compared to basic magic; hence, only those that trained arduously in magic control could perform them. The magic the mages were about to cast was a horrible kind of an advanced magic.

“Devour, devour before us!” sung the five mages in rage. “Devour, devour before us! O wither that withers away. O death that decays the world. Devour, devour before us this infidel!”

A black sphere began to appear and grow before the mages.

“Encroach your deathly glows, your deathly breath encroach. Devour, devour, devour! We command you to devour! Embrace of death; O scythe of death consume our enemies!”

The sphere had already turned into a raging ball of destruction.

“Black hole of death!”

A morbid magic that could decay anything it touched, forever returning them into aether (once formal mana, like a tree for example, decayed, it would return back whence it came; namely, aether). The black sphere flew towards Mark, devouring the plants and earth below it, leaving a long furrow on the ground. The moment it reached Mark—

*Screech*

The black sphere hit the ground where Mark stood and imploded into itself, sucking the surrounding earth and grass, leaving in its wake, a huge crater of a few meters in diameter.

The mages smirked in triumph.

“Now then,” said one of them. “Let us take care of the chil—”

He felt it, the cold edge of a sword touching his neck. The other mages readied their magic tools, about to sling their spells, but—

“Cast one magic and he dies,” Mark threatened.

The weakness of a group dependent on one man was that when the leader got captured the limbs couldn’t move. In this case, Mark took a bet: he made sure to take hostage the one mage who lead their battle-cry earlier, hoping he was their leader; and lo and behold he got it right. The four mages before him didn’t move.

“Magic is supposed to be alive,” voiced Mark. “It’s supposed to be founded upon creativity; it’s supposed to be a work of art and yet you—” Mark scowled at them.

“Created such lifeless magic. I have to admit, it was a strong spell; that is, if the target was not moving. Did you think I would stay still while you chanted that long incantation?”

“Who are you to tell us what magic is, you magicless bastard!” cried the mage Mark reined with his sword.

With those words, the glow on Mark’s sword flickered as though speaking a language only he could understand.

“Yes, dear friend,” he said to the sword. “I will tell them for you.”

Mark heaved a sigh.

“My friend wants me to tell you this: true magic is a masterful display of creation—it is, so to speak, living, alive, a beautiful proof of the world’s existence.”

In the span of Mark’s explanation, the mage slowly tilted the wand he was holding at his right side towards Mark. He murmured a spell and a sudden spark appeared on the tip of his wand, which grew to a lightning bolt that struck Mark’s body, shocking him to the bones. Mark dropped on all fours as he writhed in pain because of the shock.

The mages each began casting their magic when suddenly, they couldn’t cast their spells.

‘Could this be—!?’ thought the leader, shocked. ‘How is he able to interfere with our magic?’

Mark kept coughing and coughing loudly as he had yet to recover from the electric shock. Moments passed by and the effects of the electrocution caused on him by the spell finally waned. Mark smiled calmly.

“Thank you, friend,” he whispered, “For the support.”

Mark rapidly stood up and attacked the mages with his sword. The mages tried to evade him but could only barely escape his relentless attacks; hence suffering small cuts on their cheeks, forearms and other body parts. Moments later, something peculiar happened: mana started appearing before Mark in what looked like a flickering blue fire, which out of a sudden, dispersed into aether. The aether then entered into Mark’s body through the pores of his skin, thereby increasing his activation power to level 5. Mark’s speed and strength increased by a lot, which he used to limit the mages’ movements. While growth in activation power wasn’t impossible, a rapid change was!

This was inexplicable! What sort of ability was this? The mages couldn’t understand what they were seeing, most especially how Mark could use mana to increase his strength. Minutes later in their battle, as the magic interference had disappeared, they brandished their magic tools once again to cast their magic. However, it was too late.

Mark, as though he were dancing in the battlefield, pummelled all of them, one by one, unconscious. The mages all sprawled on the ground, sleeping soundly and tranquilly. Such sight—had Mark not known who they really were he might have easily believed they were innocent victims.

After he defeated all the mages, he flicked his sword from side to side and the glow disappeared, as well as the mana that surrounded him; after which, Mark’s bodily enhancement returned to a level 3 power.

“Ho~” Mark huffed, sheathing his sword. “Thankfully, I didn’t get to use that.”

***

Back at the cave Fiora had her hands full, fighting a mage that could phase through matter! Such powerful ‘magic effect’ abilities. At her side was the scared Lily who held her clothes with a strong grip. She wanted to end this with one strike but that would mean risking Lily’s life, so she had no choice but to dial down her power.

The dark mage appeared before her, phasing from the ground.

“Ke, ke, ke!” laughed the mage with an eerie voice. “How do you suppose you’ll beat me? No matter what spell you use you’ll never hit me.”

“Gather,” commanded Fiora, visualizing air gathering around her hand. Hence, from her mana, came temporary air that bunched up into a violent spherical storm. She threw it towards the dark mage; the moment it hit, the dark mage merely phased through. However, the violent sphere of air exploded behind him the moment it passed through, sending him flying towards Fiora.

‘I was right!’ Fiora said, ‘After he phases he has to return to solid form.’

“Strengthen!”

Mana rapidly surrounded Fiora’s right fist as they slowly thickened into a rocky glove. Fiora then sent a punch to greet the dark mage barrelling towards her.

And—

“Flimsy magic,” said the dark mage.

The next second, an anomaly blanketed the whole cave.