Learning, growing and fighting.

A month has passed since the events of the wolf.

I have been taught minimally just like the past 4 years yet I feel as though I have learnt more than in my combined 20 years.

The strange energy that I grasped has no name according to my Guardian. Therefore I can name it what I want.

I named it World Energy. I decided on this due to the fact that it is everywhere and indecisive. From what I can tell, this strange energy is somewhat of a hidden power in the mage world. My teacher claims that I can be counted as a genius. Does that mean normal people cannot grasp this energy?

For the past month I have been mastering and refining my control of World energy. I've learnt to put it on my feet and let it linger. This allowed me to implode it at a moment's notice. I've also been attempting to master the startup time. I can try to signal it with my mind however it only budges slightly. This is quite irritating in fact and my Guardian has been all but helpful.

I haven't even learnt real magic unfortunately. I have, however, been granted limited access to the study. There I learnt of the Recognized Stages of achievement.

Beginner

Intermediate

Advanced

Lord

High-Lord

King

Emperor

God

I can be classified as off the list. Or in other words, below the lowest rank in the lowest rank. Each rank also has a half-step rank.

Upon learning that I had made small progress in my one month of peace, my guardian asked me bluntly and firmly.

"Would you like to learn magic."

I nodded slowly unsure if this was a trick question or not.

"As a genius."

I began to nod slowly when a chilling cold sent a rush of ice down my veins.

"Or a magician."

I could almost taste the poison at the tip of his tongue when he ushered the word.

"A genius."

I met his golden-red eyes. A small hole of black in the middle.

He nodded with shut eyes.

The cold winter wind, brushed past our pale cheeks as the pale grass stood still. The permafrost on the ground remained wintery as our leather boots besmirched its surface.

We suddenly came to a stop in the silver-grass field by a broken tree. Its branches had fallen and its trunk had been scarred.

I wondered if we were going to wait in this unending silence forever before he began speaking.

"The genius are chosen by god and the magicians make choices against god."

I was left confused so I waited for his next statement.

"When a magician enacts a spell, he must complete it step by step, building the foundation before it is firm and safe to fire."

He slowly builds up a fireball in front of me, I see multiple elements mixing before a blazing ball of blinding flames lightens our surroundings. It roars quietly.

"When a genius enacts a spell, God builds it for him and he shoots off the shoulders of giants."

Almost instantly, as if the previous process was speeded up a hundredfold a blazing bomb of apocolypse is infront of me. It roars so loud that the trees shake and the silver sky is almost intimidated by this force of nature.

Pop.

The firing behemoth before me disappears, a falling parade of embers lands around us.

"So what should I do?" I mutter.

He hears my voice through the now distant crackling and looks at me coldly.

"The only thing you can do."

He points at my fingertips.

I can now see a small dancing thread of red lightning. Prancing about.

I rub my finger across my palm as the small strand dissapitates.

I see. He wants me to do something with this special constitution of mine.

I hold my hand out.

An empty silence ensues.

I close my eyes in deep thought, in an attempt to build something with this constitution of mine but his stark voice stops me.

"Stop."

"Geniuses only need to witness their power, the magician builds it."

I keep my hand held out, so I have to wait for a miracle now.

I spot a small strand of red emerging from my right hand. And then my left. Knowing they will disappear in a few seconds I sigh in disappointment.

Zz.

A small cracking sound emerges by the corner of my ears.

I looked down, as if an act of God, the two little strands had joined, becoming a rope that swung wildly. Soon two more small strands joined. Two soon became four then 8 and then after what seemed to be extremely long minutes.

A maddened ball that held a limpid white surrounded by insane red strands dancing wildly was in between my hands.

I didn't know what to do.

But it didn't matter.

I was a genius.

Before I knew it, world energy had appeared behind my apparatus. I now only had one task to do.

Witness the power of my genius.

"Witness the power of your genius!" He shouted riddled with insanity. His head leaned over his old staff as his eyes gleamed with power.

Boom.

My ball of crazed madness crashed into a tree. Leaving behind a nasty mark and a scar that would stay.

A visible trail of air remained slowly wavering into nothingness.

I was left panting, looking at my hands that were burning and stinging slightly.

Had I done that?

My teacher had gone back to his wise and ignoring-me state.

We stood in the snow.

In silence and victory.

Extra Act

The Guardian's Profound Eating Habits

I hadn't actually noticed due to my astoundingly underwhelming height and myself and my Guardian's far from kind meal interactions.

But he was quite the... terrible... eater?

The Table had been set, a strong oak lay before our plates.

A weak set of potatoes had been thrown into a flame.

Following that, some sort of strange meat. Clearly far from Earth.

And so we got, the house special.

Black Potatoes and Orange Meat.

Picking with my hands, my eyes squinted and my face squeezed definitively as a sight of wonders filled my eye line.

A swarm of food escaped the writhing clutches of the Guardian's refined cutlery as he struggled to eat properly.

No kidding.

His bowl shook and rolled so much that the food simply rolled off the table.

An odd force sent it right back up, but his eating habits could not be missed.

I wanted to point something out, so I attempted to express my actual reliable source of eating to him.

Ignored.

This Guardian truly got on one's nerves.

Not even a proud well-done for my splendid lightning-charge whatever-it-was yesterday.

Well. It was whatever.

Genius is genius.

Extra Act

Wonders of a New body.

Why am I covered in scratches and concerningly red marks, do you ask?

Because the art of a new body, is awfully complex.

Stubbing my toes on things that I hadn't even comprehended in my previous lifetime.

Hitting my head on existences that I would've trampled and stomped out years ago.

It felt like I was an ant, and inanimate objects were beating me down ruthlessly.

I couldn't fight back.

Or I would fight something far, far worse than any oak-wood chair and I would receive a punishment far worse than a little red mark.

The most the Guardian would give me was a grave if I destroyed his home, and I certainly wasn't feeling particularly gravy as of now.

I often held myself back from cursing or even making any peeps or pops during dining time.

Embarrassingly, I would scoop molten potatoes back into the bowl. Earth portions had affected my stay and I found myself taking portions fitting of a man far above my current caliber.

Not like anyone was watching.

Besides, if I talked some perfect language as of now. I highly doubt that it would be anything but suspicious.

Right now, the schedule was merely training, working, and training. And a bit of food.

What? Working was the same as training?

Well, excuse me for trying to add some variety.

Extra Act

The Book.

Turning my head intrinsically, I found an open page by the floor.

The Guardian was sternly reading in his office.

In other words, it was for the taking.

Like a rabid dog, I pounced.

Never had I thought that I would pounce rabidly for a book.

But here I was.

Scanning through the pages I found...

Nothing of interest.

My tiny body was contested in size by this heavy book that I had resorted to pushing across the floor.

It was merely explaining geographical functions of certain things.

Throwing away the book-.

Calmly placing the book where it had first came from, I looked for new things to bore myself with.

Why?

Because I had reached a level of boredom that had surpassed the limitations of a puny 8 letter word.

I named it, dissatisfaction.

Myself and the poor man who I had just stolen credit from.

Well.

New World, New words.

It can't be helped if I 'invent' a word here or there.

Right?

{Note: Do not support Plagiarism of any kind, unless you are truly, in another world.}