Casual Heroing

While looking at the book, I realize I didn’t level up after completing the first lesson. However, from what the book said, I created a good version of the [Light] spell, didn’t I? So good, now the book would literally zap me to death in a month if I don’t complete my next batch of homework.

See, this is one of the reasons I don’t like being an overachiever. When you work too hard, people start realizing they could squeeze even more out of you. And I don’t like that. I like slacking off. I like working three hours instead of eight. If I can triple my productivity, I will not triple my working output, I will just reduce by three my working time.

Sadly, the book has other plans for me. And when it says that the [Thunderbolt] would veritably kill me, I have the feeling it’s not joking.

Well, let’s look at the spell matrixes once again, this time I’ll try working with two and see how it goes.

[Advanced Mana Sense]

My apartment turns, once again, into a world of energy and I visualize two spell matrixes on the other end of it after closing my eyelids. I can still see everything, since this view is the byproduct of a skill and not my real sight.

So, I examine the two changing spell matrixes and I start noticing what the book meant. If I want to do what I did with my first spell, it would probably be impossible. I get the feeling, using the metaphor the book employed, that it would be like trying to make two drawings at once, one with your left hand and the other with your right.

So, that’s probably not going to work, is it? I could maybe learn to do that with two [Light] spells, but it would fail with three, wouldn’t it?

Oh God, this is going be hard. This is going to be so damn hard.

I feel it in my bones.

This is some stupid karate-kid level of magic.

It is, trust me.

I have a gift when watching tv shows that lets me call in advance 98% of the clichés, bad tropes, stupid cheesy moves.

And right now, I’m getting major ‘oh look, this is so esoteric and cool, brother, why don’t you come with me to the comic bookstore to purchase the new DnD expansion’ vibes.

Why, Lady Luck, do I have to struggle with this? I am not wholesome enough to immerse myself in whatever meditative practice is required to pass this test. I’m lazy, a bit snarky and I love to fool around. Sure, my mother argues that being a self-conscious idiot is still not better than being a plain idiot who doesn’t know what’s going on; but I have a measure of disagreement with that.

This thing is made for someone who loves to grind videogames or something. I’m a man who loves to read books and judge people who spend their time at the gym instead of getting a coffee with some cutie right by the library.

Sadly, my whining falls to deaf ears. No one is going to get me out of this.

See, now I’m angry.

For the first time since I’ve come to Amorium, I’m angry.

I have kept out of the way of danger, conflict and whatever. The most daring thing I can do is sharing some baking recipes that people with literal level and classes could probably reproduce in half-a-second.

And I’m not angry because I got the book. No, no. I enjoy learning some magic. I’m angry because I know what the books meant. I know what I have to do. Once you read enough books and watch enough tv shows, you know exactly what’s the next move to make.

I don’t want to game the system.

I just want to bake and enjoy myself.

But now it’s too late for any rational decision.

I’m angry.

This goddamn world and this goddamn book want me to do some stupid hard magic that apparently no one can figure out.

I pull back the sleeves of the shirt I’m wearing.

I’m doing this stupid fucking magic right now, right here. Fuck the book. Fuck Amorium. Fuck Lucinda and her stupidly-tall fucking-magical boyfriend.

And I don’t care what they say, I’m having a fucking coffee after this. Even if I have to make a chimp eat the seeds and shit them in front of me right after.

…

“Ma’, listen, I said I’m going to take the fucking test!”

“Language, young man!” my mother screams at me. “You are having one of your fits! And you know very well that you will regret it! Just go calm down and if you still feel like taking the test, you can always do that at another time! They said they are reserving a spot for you even if you don’t want to go and take the exam!”

“I’m done listening to this bullshit!” I scream, “if pa’ wants me to not waste my talents so much, I’ll go be whatever the fuck he wants me to be! I’ll fucking show him what I’m supposed to be doing. I hope I’ll fucking kill myself one day and I hope that someone will regret not listening to me once in my entire fucking life!”

“Joey, honey, please, calm down. Let’s talk about it before you go and do something you don’t want to. Please.”

My mom has tears in her eyes, but I’m too angry to let go. Once this version of is out, it’s too late to get it back in.

…

I spread ten spell matrixes all around me.

Why ten? You think this is pure arrogance? Well, think twice.

The book told me the solution in plain terms: you cannot control the individual matrixes as you would do for one spell alone.

It’s simple and hard at the same time.

When you write a story, you cannot see how everything will play out. Not even if you are the writer. You build on a concept, hoping that the sum of the components will be greater than the individual parts. The fact that they are ten makes it impossible to think of them individually and helps me focus on the greater picture.

So, instead of wasting my time trying to concentrate on any of those matrixes, I just relax, I let go.

I start weaving magic out of thin air without a structure, with just a thought. The first ten spell matrixes collapse, an expected failure. But this is the first building step.

When they fail, I get a sensation of what failed in each one of them. The number still too high for me to focus on only one, but I get a myriad of sensations of what’s going wrong and I can pool them, I can feel where the mana dispersed, where it’s denser and where it’s still lingering in the shape it should have taken.

When you explain to an athlete the rationale behind how his shooting hops or hitting the ball should work, he might become worse than before. Knowing the logic will throw off all the sensations he built over time. It’s not that rare.

And what I’m doing right now is stupidly simple.

Build on the sensations of how it should work, look at the mana and where it should have gone, but do not look too closely.

I even get the feeling that I’m wasting too much mana on this and that I could make the [Lights] smaller.

Where do I get that impression?

On my skin.

I recreate the ten spell matrixes and I start weaving the mana into each one without even looking, just feeling. Once again, it dissolves halfway through. But this time, I went from failing in an instant to failing with half of the problem solved.

Now, I take a second to catch my breath and analyze the problem at hand.

A book cannot be read at once.

The words play in my head and mock me with how stupid they are.

My third attempt is filled with anger and despise, but it’s the sharpest so far.

I weave the magic on a broad level, not paying attention at first to the single spells. Then, as soon as I reach the same point I reached before, I start looking where my sensations bring me. I look extremely close to whatever spell I feel needs my attention and make small adjustments in how the squiggly lines are formed, feeling that they need that shape. I don’t think about the big picture anymore, I’m just focusing on where my magic needs me.

I am the conductor of this orchestra.

I’m the master of magic, the performer capable of electrifying his crowd with a simple glance.

I spin the threads of mana, rearrange them with ease, soften some parts, make some harder, make them smaller and bigger based on my intimate understanding of the matrixes. Something seems to go a little astray in one part, but I allow it, knowing that it will self-correct, knowing that not everything is perfect in this world.

Imperfection is part of the game.

And I move my hands and arms spasmodically back and forth, whip my neck toward different lights and my field of magical vision seems to gradually expand, almost reaching a full 360 degrees. I didn’t even notice, but I’m now back on the full stage, looking from a distance to the ten lights. I’m not reading sentence by sentence anymore, and the book is done. I’m just looking at its cover.

I deactivate the skill and almost faint for the mana exhaustion.

But in front of me there are ten medium-sized [Lights] that…

That make me sad.

They don’t make me angry. No, the anger has disappeared inside the process. I just feel… sad.

And empty.

I remember my mother crying because I was so damn angry. She just wanted me to ignore what others used to say and told me I should just enjoy my life. She told me so many times that she would love me no matter what.

‘You only have one life to live, Joey. If you waste it living as someone else says you should, you are going to regret it once you meet Him up there.’

I raise my head toward the ceiling and close my eyes, welcoming the dark this time, not the world of magic. Air goes in and out of my body; there’s a rhythm to it that should be comforting. Instead, every breath seems ready to be my last one.

I open my eyes and look at the ten spells born out of pure anger.

I dispel them with a thought and I’m left alone in my apartment, with only the insufficient natural light from the windows being my companion.

There’s a lot of incoherence in me right now. A part of me came out, the part that disproves a large chunk of who I am, of who I feel I am. And that part is angry, bitter, resentful. It’s the darkness that taints even the most beautiful story. But I’m not that. I’ve never been that and I don’t want to be.

Instead, I look at the book.

I get up again and do what I should have done when the tome asked me to simul-cast.

Without even my skill active, I simply recollect the sensations from before. It’s easier and harder because now I only need three lights. But one of them is not a globe; it’s a different shape.

This time, however, my heart is free. It’s light: it’s not heavy.

And magic comes easier than ever because of that.

An obscenely long form appears between two large globes of light.

I start laughing like an idiot after composing the most common shape ever drawn by humankind and I shrug off the anger from before.