The Magic book

Two years had passed since Ash first arrived in this world. He was no longer crawling across the floor, struggling to move—he could walk on his own now. As he wandered through the house, his curiosity led him to a small wooden shelf tucked into the corner of the living room. His eyes scanned the items resting there, and his attention was immediately drawn to two particular objects: a wand and a thick, leather-bound book. The book's worn cover bore strange, intricate symbols that he didn't recognize.

Without hesitation, Ash took both the wand and the book and rushed up to his room. Sitting on his bed, he ran his fingers over the rough texture of the book's cover. He had learned how to understand the language spoken in this world, but reading was an entirely different challenge.

"I can understand their speech now," he muttered to himself, flipping the book open. "But I still can't read their writing… If I want to learn magic, I have to learn how to read this first."

Magic had fascinated him from the moment he realized it existed in this world. The idea of casting spells, bending reality to his will, and harnessing incredible power excited him. He had his entire life ahead of him—plenty of time to master the art of magic.

Determined, Ash spent the next few days learning the written language. His parents, noticing his interest in books, began reading to him every night before bed. They had a total of six books in their home—one was a simple storybook, while the other five were spellbooks filled with magical knowledge. Each night, he listened carefully as his parents read aloud, following along with the words until he could start recognizing them himself.

After days of intense study, the letters and symbols in the spellbook finally made sense. His hard work had paid off—he could now read. Excited, he eagerly flipped through the pages, absorbing every detail about how magic worked in this world.

According to the book, magic wasn't just something that appeared out of thin air. It flowed through the veins like a hidden energy source, known as mana. The book divided magic into three primary categories:

1. Endurance Magic – Magic that enhanced the body's strength and resilience.

2. Elemental Magic – Magic that controlled natural forces like fire, water, earth, and wind.

3. Arcane Magic – The strongest and most mysterious type, capable of bending the very fabric of reality itself.

Elemental magic, according to the text, was the easiest to learn. Arcane magic, while powerful, was far more complex and required a deeper understanding of mana control.

Ash's eyes lit up as he read through the first few lessons. He found a section on basic water magic and decided to give it a try. He held his hand out, focusing on the image of water forming in his palm.

"Defying the rules of reality, let my wish take form—water, manifest!"

The moment the words left his lips, a sudden rush of cool liquid surged from his palm. A small stream of water flowed into the air, shimmering in the dim light of his room. Ash's eyes widened in amazement.

"This is incredible!" he exclaimed, marveling at the magic he had just performed.

But before he could try another spell, a wave of dizziness hit him. His vision blurred, his limbs felt weak, and within seconds, he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.

Hours passed before his mother found him lying motionless in his room. The water he had summoned had long since dried, leaving no trace of his spell behind. She hurried to his side, checking him for injuries before carrying him to his bed.

When Ash finally woke up, the moonlight streamed through his window. He groaned, sitting up slowly as the events from earlier came rushing back to him.

"That… took more out of me than I expected," he muttered.

Determined not to let a little exhaustion stop him, Ash made a promise to himself—he would train every day until he mastered his magic.

For an entire year, he practiced diligently, repeating the same process daily. At first, his mana would drain too quickly, leaving him exhausted after just a few spells. But over time, he learned how to stabilize his energy, preventing himself from collapsing after every attempt. Eventually, he could summon water, cast small fire attacks, and manipulate earth to create mud. However, despite his progress, he knew he was still limited.

"I need a teacher," he thought, frustration creeping into his voice. "But there's no one out here who can teach me magic… If this keeps up, I'll never get stronger."

Just as doubt began to take hold, the door to his room creaked open. His father stepped inside, carrying two wooden swords in his hands.

"You want to learn magic?" his father asked, holding out one of the wooden swords. "Then train with me in swordsmanship. A strong mage isn't just about spells—sometimes, a sword is just as important as a spell."

Ash's eyes lit up with excitement. "You were a mage?"

His father chuckled. "A pretty good one, if I say so myself."

Without hesitation, Ash took the wooden sword and followed his father outside. The cool night air brushed against his skin as he stepped into the training area—a patch of land where a tree had been cut down for practice.

Ash gripped the sword tightly. "I wasn't the best swordsman back in Tokyo," he admitted to himself. "But I wasn't bad either. My body just wasn't trained for it back then. This time, I'll get it right."

He raised the wooden sword and swung it at the remains of the cut-down tree. The first strike landed well, making a solid impact. Encouraged, he swung again, but this time, he lost his footing and stumbled forward, falling to the ground.

Ash groaned. "That… wasn't the result I was hoping for."

His father stepped forward, offering a hand. "Need a little help?"

Ash sighed and took his father's hand, pulling himself up. "Yeah… This isn't as easy as I thought."

His father smiled. "It's fine. You're a beginner. But I will say this—you have good form." He adjusted Ash's stance, positioning his feet more firmly. "The key to swordsmanship is balance and control. Angle your blade correctly, plant your feet in a stance that won't be easily broken, and then swing."

Ash nodded. "Got it."

He raised the sword again and swung. This time, the form was perfect.

He swung again—perfect form.

A third time—perfect form.

A grin spread across his face. "This… isn't too bad."

His father nodded approvingly. "Now, let's see if you can handle learning speed techniques."

Ash tightened his grip on the sword, determination burning in his eyes. He was ready for the next step.