Cooking

Poll stretched his legs with an exaggerated groan, the kind an old man might make after a long day of complaining about his aching joints. He wiggled his fingers theatrically, as if preparing for some grand, high-stakes duel.

"Alright, focus time."

With a dramatic flourish, he folded his legs into what he liked to think was a meditative pose.

Cross-legged equals wise and powerful, right?

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and turned his senses inward, channeling mana through his body. He pictured it flowing smoothly, like a lazy river winding through his veins, slow and controlled. Then, with careful precision, he reached out, stretching his awareness beyond himself, scanning the room with his mana like an invisible sonar.

Alright, mana, do your thing. Let's see what secrets this place is hiding.

Just as he started to grasp the threads of the environment, an unseen force slammed back against him.

Poll's focus shattered as his mana was suddenly trapped—like stepping into what he thought was shallow water, only to sink straight into quicksand.

"Ugh, what the—?"

His eyes snapped open, a scowl forming on his face.

*A *barrier.

Of course.

Because why not make his life harder?

He pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling a dull, pulsing ache creeping in. This wasn't some basic magic dampener. No, this was on another level—artifact-grade. A defense system woven into the very fabric of the castle's walls, designed to limit mana usage. Probably to prevent sneaky magic tricks like the one he was attempting.

Cheaters.

He grumbled under his breath, rubbing his temples.

How am I supposed to look COOL if I can't even flex a little mana?

Then, like a sunbeam slicing through storm clouds, an idea struck him.

His hand dove into his pocket, rummaging past lint and crumbs, until his fingers closed around something small and smooth. With a triumphant grin, he pulled it out—a faintly glowing magestone no larger than a coin.

Poll turned it over in his palm, admiring the soft shimmer.

His mother had given it to him ages ago. A simple, low-tier crystal meant for beginners to practice mana control.

"Guess this little guy is finally going to earn its keep."

Holding it up to his face like a priceless artifact, he let a smirk tug at his lips.

Alright, let's put on a light show. Nothing flashy—just enough to say, 'Hey, I'm awesome.'

He fed a slow, steady stream of mana into the crystal. At first, the magestone resisted, vibrating slightly, like a stubborn cat refusing to be picked up. But Poll was nothing if not persistent. With careful precision, he shaped the mana, imagining a spiral—something elegant, controlled, infinitely cooler than a boring blob of light.

Sweat beaded at his temple as he focused.

"Okay, just a little more… no, not too much…"

His muttering turned into a self-pep talk as the magestone responded, the glow growing stronger, delicate ribbons of light swirling above his palm. The spiral floated gently, humming with a soft, rhythmic energy. It was subtle. Controlled. And most importantly, not powerful enough to trigger alarms.

He leaned back, admiring his handiwork.

"Haaa… that should do it."

And then—

Crack.

Poll's heart stopped.

A hairline fracture appeared across the surface of the magestone.

"Oh no. Nope. Nope nope nope—"

The spiral flickered, the glow intensifying in a way that was not in the plan.

"Uh-oh."

His smirk vanished as panic set in.

The stone vibrated ominously in his palm.

"Abort mission?!"

Frantically, he waved his hand, trying to disperse the mana before the situation escalated into an explosive light show. The spiral wavered, then broke apart in tiny streaks of fading energy. A second later, the magestone fizzled out with a pathetic pop.

Poll stared at the now-dull crystal in his hand.

Silence.

Then, he let out a long, relieved sigh.

"Well… at least it didn't explode."

He discreetly pocketed the stone, glancing around to make sure no one had witnessed his near-disaster.

"Yeah, that was totally fine. Super controlled. Nothing to see here."

Despite the minor setback, he couldn't help but grin as he walked away.

Because, technically? That was still a victory.

And now, he had information.

***

If you are wandering.

"What Just Happened?"

Alright, let's break this down.

That little stunt? That was me testing the castle's mana defenses. You see, this place has a pretty sophisticated magic suppression field. It doesn't just dampen mana—it also tracks it.

Think of it like an invisible net. The moment you try to use too much mana, the artifact locks on to you.

Now, here's where things get interesting.

My magestone lasted four seconds before fizzling out. That means I managed to hit what I like to call "Level 4."

No, there's no actual level system in this world—I invented it myself.

For reference:

Level 1 = Enough mana to light a candle.

Level 2 = Enough to levitate a spoon.

Level 3 = Enough to shoot a weak wind blast.

Level 4 = Enough to cast a fireball roughly the size of a human head.

Which, if I may say so myself, is pretty damn impressive.

The bad news? That artifact isn't just a barrier—it's a tracker. The moment my magestone lit up, the system probably tried to lock onto my mana signature.

The good news?

I'm a sneaky little bastard.

Because I wasn't using my own mana.

That's the reason I used a magestone instead of casting directly. Since the stone was the source of the magic, the tracker couldn't pinpoint me.

Genius? Obviously.

Oh, and if you're wondering how I know so much about mana tracking…?

Let's just say I had an academic phase.

Lira bought a documentary about mana tracking once. I ended up reading everything about it. How it works. Why it works. Did some experiments. Built my own tracker.

No big deal.

Okay, maybe I went overboard on details.

Anyway, bottom line? I know the limits of the barrier now. More importantly, I have a new ace up my sleeve.

Because even small victories…?

They're still victories.

And this is just the beginning.

Let's see how far I can push this.

***