Chapter 18: Liam

Back in Steamware Village, Liam, the boy who had the null-magic stone around his neck, could be seen standing across from a dummy, a wand in hand. The wand was rudimentary, the best he could afford. He held the wand in front of him, pointing at the dummy. Around him, multiple kids did the same thing, only they seemed to be much younger than him.

"The first step to magic is to visualize," an instructor said, walking behind the group of kids, staying a bit longer behind Liam.

"Clear your mind, now imagine a spark. Imagine its heat, its color," he continued narrating.

"Now expound that, ignite that spark, imagine it's a raging fire. Can you feel its heat?" he asked the students.

"Yes," they replied in unison.

"Now contain that fire, give it shape, control it, give it form. Condense it into a fireball," the teacher said with enthusiasm.

"Now onto the second step, mana. Feel the latent mana in your souls, draw it out, guide it to your wand. The sensation will be like peeing in your pants, but don't stop it. Let it flow, let it power your visualization," the teacher said, pacing to and fro.

Many of the students began to piss their pants. The teacher only chuckled at this sight. He had seen this scene too many times, and it was still always funny.

"Now the third and final step. Cast the spell," the teacher said.

"With umph, command your spell into being, with mana proclaim it. FIREBALL!" the teacher shouted with reverie to the students.

"FIREBALL!" the students shouted in unison, following after the teacher.

From the students' wands, a ball of scorching fire appeared, some bigger than others. With power, the fireballs rushed forward, impacting the dummies in front. Multiple little explosions occurred. The students opened their eyes awestruck. They had finally cast their first spell. After months of learning, they had finally done it.

"Good job, students," their teacher said, his arms outspread.

The students, with tears in their eyes, rushed to their teacher, embracing him in a hug, all but one. Still at the lane, trying to cast a spell, was Liam. Veins popped on his head, his face turning pink.

"FIREBALL, FIREBALL, FIREBALL," he repeatedly shouted.

The students stared at Liam in pity. Everyone here knew his situation. Although being almost double the students' age here, he was still stuck at first class, unable to cast even the most common spell.

The professor stared at Liam, pity clouding his eyes. Liam was the most hardworking pupil he had ever had the pleasure of teaching, but time and time again, he had seen him fail at this step. Mana was in everything, and so anyone could use magic, although some could use it better than others.

He turned to the rest of his students.

"Hey, you all go back to class. There's a surprise waiting for you all," he said.

The children's eyes opened wide with joy. They rushed out, heading to class to claim their gift. The professor turned to Liam once again.

"FIREBALL, FIREBALL, FIREBALL," Liam uttered, still trying to cast the spell.

The professor approached the boy, holding his shoulder. Liam stopped trying to cast the spell. His arms slowly dropped down, followed by his head. His blonde hair fell, covering his eyes as he began to sob. The teacher embraced him.

"Why can't I cast the damn spell?" he asked the professor.

"Liam… You have a null-body. Mana doesn't respond to you as it would to others," the professor said, aiming to console the boy.

"But I need to learn magic. That's the only way I can avenge my mother," Liam said.

"Listen, Liam. You may not be able to master magic, but there are other ways to gain strength. You're a smart kid, and you have a talent with the sword. You should focus on that," the professor said to him.

Liam stood still. He appreciated the professor for trying to make him feel better, but he knew the truth. The sword path was finite, limited in strength. The only way for someone to gain strength through a sword was by becoming a spell sword, and that path was removed from him, as he couldn't use mana at all.

"Here, Liam. This is a letter of recommendation. In Suray City, there's a certain friend of mine. He's a spell sword. He agreed to teach you the way of the sword. Go home and think about this," he said, handing the letter to Liam.

Liam took the letter, stuffing it in his pocket. He turned and headed home. He had really hoped that today would be the day that he finally cast his first spell, but it seemed that luck truly wasn't by his side. He walked along the village roads. Night was approaching, so the villagers were closing.

Liam made it back to his home at the edge of the village. It was a small cottage, gifted to him by one of the village chiefs. He went straight to his bed, sitting on top of it, caressing the letter with one hand. He placed it on the bedside table, grabbing a picture from it.

The picture was of his mother carrying him when he was a baby, with his dad behind them. A memory flashed: fire and screams, his dad fighting off hordes of enemies, his mother telling him to run. A tear fell from his eyes. He placed the picture back on the tabletop and lay back on his bed, wanting to sleep.