Mystical Understanding

Walking home, I couldn't help but reflect on how backward speaking had become second nature to me. That lovely kiss with Zatanna seemed to have hardwired my brain for these two languages, even if only in spoken words. As we strolled, Nagini hissed in my mind, [Thisss female wantsss to mate with massster, she isss worthy.] I couldn't help but suppress a laugh and chose to say nothing. Instead, I summoned Nagini, allowing her to coil around my neck as we basked in the late afternoon sun.

Upon our arrival home, a ridiculous sight greeted us. Zachary, clad in full farming attire, was awkwardly shuffling between a set of laid-out tools while Dad was underneath the tractor.

"Zach, where's that wrench?" Dad asked, casting a hopeful glance at Zachary, who looked at me with panic in his eyes. In response, I retrieved a screwdriver and handed it to him. He passed it to my father with gratitude, completely oblivious to the fact that I had tricked him.

"Zach, this isn't a wrench; it's—" Dad began as he emerged from beneath the contraption, only to catch sight of my grinning face. He shook his head wryly. "That wasn't very nice, son," he chided, glancing at the red-faced Zachary.

"But it was funny. Besides, how many times do I have to remind you to leave this kind of work to Clark and me?" I retorted, and he shrugged.

"I would have, but Zach here insisted on seeing 'authentic' farm work," Dad explained. All three of us burst into laughter at Zachary's expense.

A few minutes later, after a refreshing shower and a change of clothes, I headed downstairs for dinner. Clark came into the house with a goofy grin plastered across his face.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" I asked as I joined the others at the table.

"I'm going on a date with Lana tomorrow," Clark declared with pride. He quickly added, "Well, it's not a date-date; it's more like a study date." I sighed and glanced over at Zatanna, who wore the same exasperated expression I did. I struggled to suppress an irritated smirk.

"I'm heading to the barn for some stargazing. Do you two want to join?" I asked Zachary and Zatanna.

"Yeah, sounds fun," Zatanna replied, seeing through my intent to speak with them alone.

"Nah, it sounds boring," Zachary retorted from his spot beside Clark, where they were engrossed in a PlayStation game I had bought for Clark. He seemed completely oblivious to my intentions.

"Suit yourself," I replied, heading out the door. As I left, I heard Zatanna mutter, "Idiot," under her breath.

Once we had settled into the fortress of solitude in the barn, Zatanna spoke up. "Something on your mind?"

"Yes," I admitted, and she looked at me curiously.

"Magic," I replied bluntly. I noticed a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"But you confidently copied my spell and performed one instinctively on your own. What do you need me for?" she teased, clearly trying to provoke a reaction.

"Well, that's true. I'll just…" I said, pulling out my laptop, which looked far less sleek than the ones in my world. I typed 'Giovanni Zatara, maestro of magic' into the browser and quipped, "Voila, is this your card?" while pointing at his contact information.

She regarded me with mock hostility, and I responded with a sweet smile. "Fine! What do you want to know?" she asked, dropping the attitude.

"I've always wanted to understand magic better. But, I didn't know the risks involved. Seeing you perform the invisibility spell gave me an idea of where to start, but I'd still prefer to grasp the fundamentals," I admitted, adopting a serious tone, a mindset cultivated from my previous life: no chuckles, no smirks, no emotions—just pure and unadulterated focus.

After a few hours of questions, answers, and summarizing, which felt engaging and fulfilling, I paused to organize my thoughts before saying, "Alright, Zatanna, from what I understand so far, Magic, simply put, is the art of reality manipulation utilizing magical energy with unwavering intent. It's like sculpting reality with the power of your will. This energy is harnessed from within ourselves as Homo Magi or external sources such as the atmosphere, already dense in magical power, life force, magical objects, leylines, and rituals. Intent is the linchpin; it shapes the magic's outcome. While beginners may use incantations as training wheels to guide their intent, advanced practitioners find them unnecessary unless they wish to cast spells with pinpoint accuracy and efficiency, conserving every precious iota of magical energy. Our lineage, Homo Magi, grants us a unique advantage. We're born with an innate connection to this magical energy, allowing us to absorb it from the world around us as well as produce it for our own use on a smaller scale if we were in an area devoid of magical energy. It's a boundless wellspring, as constant as our breath. While those who are not Homo Magi can only rely on external factors."

"Now, about spells—they're the manifestation of our intent guided by incantations. Clear, focused intent yields precise results. The power of our spells is determined by how much intent, control, and mana we put into the spell. Misaligned intent can lead to unpredictable and potentially dangerous outcomes during the transition between spoken spellcasting and chantless casting. So, we tread carefully, honing our abilities and increasing our magical reserves over time. In summary, Zatanna, our magic system is a profound dance of intent and energy, and with dedication, we can sculpt the world around us, limited only by our imagination. Did I get that right?" I asked, snapping back to reality, finally noticing the stunned expression on her face.

"I didn't think you'd achieve such a degree of understanding in a few short hours, but that's the extent of what my father has taught me so far," she admitted with a genuine smile that illuminated the dark barn.

The following morning, as I passed by, I overheard Chloe discussing the cheating incident involving most of the football team. She was taking photos of the team gathering around Coach Walt for the school newspaper, The Torch. One of the team members noticed her taking the photo and retaliated by hurling a football at her with all the speed and accuracy he could muster, thinking it was impressive. Clark was about to catch it, but I intercepted the ball instead. Without the same restraint as my brother, I threw the ball back with more force and lower than necessary.

The impact of the ball caused everyone present to cringe as if it had popped the troublemaker's family jewels like soap bubbles. "Um, thanks," Chloe said, letting out a relieved sigh.

"No trouble, just helping the local press," I replied with a smile. As I turned to walk away, I was approached by none other than Coach Walt himself.

"Nice throwing arm, kid. You thinking of trying out for the team?" he inquired, completely ignoring the fact that one of his students had just attempted to give Chloe a concussion. He seemed pleased, interpreting my retaliation as a sign of my potential on the field.

Still not wanting to be outright hostile with the man, I responded calmly, "I've got too much going on to worry about football, Coach. I can't join your team." Even this mild response caused him to grimace, and I could empathically sense his simmering rage at the mere thought that I might not be interested in joining his team.

"You don't understand, kid. I coached your dad; it's in your genes," he insisted. I replied nonchalantly, "Actually, Coach, I'm adopted."

His grimace of disdain was evident as he spat, "So what? You afraid to go out on the field with men?" His words irked me, and I responded, "Dude, you coach football to high school students; you're not some battalion commander talking to recruits. So chill the fuck out because I. Am. Not. Joining. Your. Team."

Coach Walt turned red, attempting to say something, but I simply walked away. As I left, I could see students struggling to suppress their laughter. Coach Walt noticed it too but instead of letting the embarrassment end there, he decided to grab my arm. I swiftly swerved, leaving him grasping at thin air. A thought crossed my mind, and I couldn't help but fight back a grin as I muttered a very faint incantation, "rethgual suoedih." It was a simple hideous laughter spell, designed to create an illusion of everyone around him laughing at and mocking him. Its effects were enhanced as most of the students appeared ready to do just that.

Was it necessary to drive the man into such a rage that he fainted? Not even slightly. Did I find it funny? Hell, yes. I strolled to my first class, leaving the abusive coach lying on the ground as teachers rushed to his aid. Chloe and Pete, along with a sullen-looking Clark, fell into step with me. Chloe regarded me as if I'd just hung the sun in the sky. She put away her voice recording gadget and camera before producing a pen and pad, jotting down her comments on the event.

Pete remained quiet. We'd never really interacted before, not even during his visits to the farm when we were kids. Clark, on the other hand, began to lecture me, "You shouldn't have made a fool out of Coach like that, Percy. He's just—"

I usually listened to his lectures calmly and then explained why his logic didn't make sense. But this time, I was genuinely pissed off by the envy I felt radiating from him. "Not in the mood for a sanctimonious lecture, Clark. If you want to join the team, nut up and attend tryouts. Playing football to impress Lana is the extent of your aspirations, not mine. Now get out of my way." I left, feeling truly insulted that he had the audacity to lecture me, ME!

After school ended, I decided to pay a visit to Lex. Entering his office, I caught the tail end of Lex's conversation with his father's employees, or as he preferred to call them, 'drones.'

"My father sent me to Smallville because he would rather surround himself with drones than people who challenge his archaic business practices. This meeting is adjourned. And, by the way, Dominic, tell your sister I said hi," Lex stated, completely unfazed by the three drones complaining about what his father expected him to do.

"Is she hot?" I asked as I entered the room, gaining their attention.

"Solid eight and a half," Lex replied without missing a beat. I gave him a skeptical look, gesturing toward the angry Dominic.

"Stepsister, his stepmother married his father for money," I made an exaggerated expression of 'Oh, I see' as if a lightbulb had clicked on. "Hey, Dominic?" I asked, pretending not to remember his name, "Tell her to hit me up if she needs a backstage tour. Now, ciao, leave. You heard the man. Go. Bye," I said, shooing them away.

As soon as I closed the door, Lex burst into laughter. "What was that about?" I asked as I took a pool cue and applied billiard chalk to the tip.

"My father isn't happy about my plan to hire more people for the fertilizer plant," Lex said nonchalantly.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" I asked as he prepared the pool table.

"Sure, it's on the desk," he replied, gesturing to the top file on his desk. I grabbed it and leafed through the pages for a moment, leaning on the desk.

I was done by the time Lex made his first strike. "Planning on increasing productivity and marketing by increasing your workforce by twenty percent. A great plan, though I suggest taking a look at departments 2-A and 4-B. Those areas have been losing profit not because of productivity but because of a lack of demand. You can repurpose the funding towards your new hires until the plan takes effect, nearly earning back 30% of the funding allocated to them over the last four months. And—" I was cut off by Lex exclaiming, "And resolving the need for extra funding! Percy, that's an excellent idea!" He put down the pool cue and took a second look with refreshed eyes. He then looked up at me, and I grinned.

"Am I great intern material or what?" I said jokingly.

"Hey, if you want a full-time position, it's all yours," Lex replied, realizing I was joking too.

"Don't even joke about that. I've already been propositioned enough for today," I said, still laughing as I looked through more files with Lex, providing my input and learning more than I thought I wanted to about business practices.

"Who was trying to poach you from my employ today?" Lex joked.

"The football coach made a whole scene and knocked himself out after I politely told him where to shove it," I answered. "Then my brother got his panties in a bunch because I 'humiliated' the man. Can you believe it? The guy insinuated that I wasn't a real man if I didn't throw a ball around a field. I think I'll join the basketball team or swim team just to spite him. Haha."

Lex raised an eyebrow. "You like basketball?" he asked, still flipping through the files.

"Don't test me, Lex. I can dribble circles around you."

We put the finishing touches on his plan, and I sighed. "Now that your plan is both feasible and cost-efficient, Luthor Senior has no grounds to throw a fit. And if he does, it would be an unreasonable one, purely charged by emotion."

"Thank you, Percy. This means a lot to me," Lex said as I made my way out.

"No problem, Lex. Just tell me how your dad will react after he learns of this."

I got home and met up with Zatanna and Zachary. Zatanna handed me a new-looking black leather-bound diary with a citrine gemstone in the center. I took it, looking a bit confused, but she excitedly clarified, "It's your very own Grimoire."

I smiled as she continued, "The leather is made from a mountain troll's hide, and the paper is from tree ent leaves. The hide has strong resistance to magical and physical attacks, and the paper is designed to regenerate when it's running low. To keep those enchantments going, though, you'll need to channel some of your magic through the gemstone."

It was a thoughtful gift, even though I had an excellent memory from my previous life. "Thank you, Zatanna, Zachary. This means a lot, seriously," I said.

"Tell him about the other uses!" Zachary chimed in. I looked at Zatanna, curious. She continued, "It can also save other mages energy and function as a more secure messaging system. It displays the time, date, and name of whoever contacts you and records the interaction. Simply write the message you want to send and state the name of the person in your 'contacts' before chanting 'dnes.' It's simple to use."

I grinned at the added functionalities. "This just keeps getting better. Thanks, guys."