Understanding Spirit Magic

Understanding Spirit Magic...

During this critical juncture, Elina and Raaz (father) were making their way back home, the symphony of Lith's anguished cries piercing the air. Their hurried steps retraced their path to investigate the turmoil.

Landing upon the scene of Orpal writhing on the floor, retching, the truth struck them like a lightning bolt. Suspicions had loitered in their minds, teased by Orpal's voracious hunger after feeding Lith.

The undeniable evidence lay pooled in vomit—unmistakably the undigested remnants of creamy soup.

Raaz's visage flamed crimson with fury, but his fury danced with restraint, for their other children were within earshot. "You despicable...!" His voice faltered, his ire too potent to articulate. Elina stepped in, her disappointment evident in her gaze. Raaz's emotions simmered too hot for words.

"From now on," she declared sternly, "I will be the one tending to Lith's meals. Orpal, your time will be better spent tending to the stable. After all, I doubt even you could stomach hay."

"But Mom…" Orpal's voice trembled in defense. The prospect of tending to the foul-smelling cows was repugnant to him.

"No excuses, young man!" Raaz's voice thundered. "And that's not nearly enough punishment! Elina, prepare an extra bowl for Lith, and deduct it from Orpal's share. He needs to learn that actions have consequences!"

The words flew too fast for Lith to catch, and a cascade of unfamiliar terms flooded his ears. Yet, Orpal's pallor betrayed the news—whatever was being said couldn't be good for him.

Orpal's eyes welled up, a chorus of apologies escaping his lips. Jet made sure his own sobs drowned out Orpal's words, ensuring that Raaz and Elina remained unmoved as they sent him off to tend to the animals.

Post a hearty meal of soup and milk, Lith's mind cleared, allowing him to dissect the recent events. Weeks of trial and error had unveiled the rudiments of his newfound power, peeling back layers of magic's intricacies.

Jet had deduced that casting an elemental spell involved three steps. First, mana was emitted, then it entwined with the world's energy to manipulate the desired element. Lastly, came the intricate task of controlling the spell and its effects.

Spirit magic, however, sidestepped the middle step, relying solely on his own power without tapping into elemental energies. The twist rendered it more intricate and more voracious in terms of mana consumption. It demanded heightened focus, lacking the visual cues his eyes provided in manipulating physical elements.

It hinged entirely on his willpower and imagination, the clarity of his mental image dictating the spell's outcome. Regrettably, its reach was restricted to a mere meter radius.

Despite these stringent constraints, Jet embarked on relentless practice, his dedication fueling leaps and bounds in his skill. The epiphany that each advance in spirit magic rippled across all magical forms eliminated the need to juggle his training, accelerating his progress.

Occasionally, he'd revert to elemental magic, a gauge to assess his growth, each spell deepening his comprehension of that element's complexities.

This headway seeped into the refinement of his breathing techniques. Under Accumulation's guidance, not only could he observe the ebb and flow of his mana core's size with practice, but he could also approximate the mana contained within his being.

Utilizing Accumulation, he'd channel world energy to his mana core, inducing its expansion from a mere pinhead to a marble's girth.

Yet, the pinnacle of growth could only be reached by a counteraction—his physical form had to compress the mana core back to its pinprick size.

In this intricate dance of energy, Jet navigated the nuances of his powers, a symphony of trial, discovery, and refinement.

Jet Enagelista remained perplexed by the enigma of his powers, caught in a dual dance of mana core development and physical maturation. The two progressed in tandem, a tandem with no shortcuts.

The pitfalls he faced were precisely tied to the synchronization of his mana core and bodily growth. Attempts at Accumulation while his mana core rested at its peak size resulted in world energy recoiling, spiraling chaotically within him, inflicting harm.

Yet, Jet persevered through a relentless cycle of expansion and compression, each repetition elevating his mana reservoir far beyond its infancy. 𝑛𝒐𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓃𝒾𝒼𝒽𝓉.𝒸𝑜𝓂

The pursuit of spirit magic was a turning point, instilling a newfound precision to his manipulation of mana, both within and outside his form. His innovative twist on the Invigoration technique allowed him to harmonize world mana with his own, momentarily surpassing his inherent boundaries.

Expanding this amalgamated energy, Jet saturated his being, saturating even his very body hair with mana. Qualitative changes rippled through him. Cold and heat were less formidable foes; sickness seemed a distant memory.

When family members succumbed to colds, Jet either vanquished the illness before it manifested or convalesced within days.

"Unless it's an uncanny coincidence," he mused, "amplifying Invigoration is my path to tempering this form. If I'm right, I can employ it as a crutch until I outgrow these infantile limitations."

His gaze sharpened with determination. "Hopefully, it'll also expedite the journey through these bottleneck phases. It's a risk, but there's not much I can do as a seven-month-old."

Meanwhile, shifts occurred within the dynamics of his family life. Following the soup incident with Orpal, a wedge cleaved the brothers apart. Vengeful by nature, they were kindred spirits in their animosity.

Amidst Orpal's moments of anger, the name "Leech" sometimes slipped from his lips, a moniker Jet bore during their clashes. Yet, each inadvertent utterance earned him a stern rebuke, and in heated arguments with their parents, sometimes even a well-deserved spanking.

Orpal vented his frustrations on Jet, blaming him for every misfortune he encountered. To Orpal's chagrin, Jet often couldn't suppress his amusement when witnessing his struggles.

In contrast, Jet's bond with his parents deepened over time. He had begun to utter simple words, offering "Mama" when Elina embraced him and "Dada" in Raaz's presence.

"If this world resembles Earth's Middle Ages even remotely, it's wise to remain in Raaz's good graces until I'm self-sufficient," Jet mused, aware of the importance of familial relationships.

Though he remained wary of father figures, Jet sensed that Raaz's heart held a wellspring of affection. Their relationship might be strained, but Raaz's responsibilities occupied him, leaving his wife and eldest daughter to shoulder the nurturing of the baby.

In truth, Raaz adored Jet, a sentiment reciprocated through Jet's ceaseless fascination. Jet had yet to cry without reason, even during teething. If a jarring noise or accidental bump disturbed his slumber, he'd merely glance around before resuming his rest.

Spirit magic remained his primary focus, a conduit for discovering his latent abilities. This discipline illuminated the essence of casting elemental spells—a trio of steps involving mana emission, energy infusion, and precise control.

Spirit magic, however, bypassed the middle stage, relying solely on his own mana without invoking elemental forces. This nuance demanded even sharper focus and escalated mana expenditure, yet Jet reveled in the newfound mastery, a feat of imagination and will.

Moreover, this breakthrough rippled across his magical repertoire, amplifying his proficiency in all forms of magic, an asset he exploited fervently.

In his quest to refine his potential, Jet's understanding of his breathing techniques deepened. Accumulation now unveiled not only the fluctuations in his mana core but also provided insight into the quantity of mana contained within.

Drawing from Accumulation, Jet channeled world energy into his mana core, driving it to expand from a pinhead's dimensions to a marble's proportions.

Yet, advancement hinged on the rebound—a forceful compression of the mana core, reverting it to its initial size.

And thus, Jet's journey unfurled, a tapestry of growth woven through the threads of trial, discovery, and meticulous refinement.

The true challenge lay in feigning attentiveness to every word Raaz, Eliza, and Elina uttered while maintaining an outward appearance of complete obliviousness. Yet, a more vexing issue arose when, given some semblance of freedom, they equipped him with small wooden playthings, anticipating his exploration of the environment.

Jet was already well-acquainted with the dining room's every nook and cranny, the space holding little intrigue. However, he had to simulate curiosity, his acting debut as a baby, and it sent shivers down his spine. The paranoia of inadvertently exposing his façade filled him with unease.

Observing their anticipatory gazes, he initiated his "exploration" with the nearest object—the dormant fireplace. Logs lay cold and enshrouded in ashes, the hearth devoid of flames.

But his approach was abruptly halted as Raaz intervened. "This is the fireplace. Safe now, but fire is danger. Fire hurts. No touch, never."

Jet returned a feigned look of confusion before attempting to dip his hand into the ash. Raaz swiftly intervened, grasping his hand in prevention.

"Fire is perilous. No touching. Never," Raaz reiterated firmly.

Jet studied Raaz as if mulling over the information before inquiring, "Fire… bad?"

Raaz nodded solemnly. "Indeed, very bad."

"Okay," Jet relented, veering away from the fireplace toward the dining table. His attempts to ascend a chair ended in near catastrophe, prompting Elina to dash to his rescue.

"Gods above, this little one is a magnet for danger," she quipped. Faced with their growing apprehension, Jet believed he had stumbled upon a stratagem to escape his predicament.

He embarked on a campaign of minor peril, pretending to scale the table and delving into the kitchen to investigate pots and knives. Alarmed, they concluded that adventure time needed to cease. Seating him upon a spread-out cloth on the wooden floor, they provided toys for his amusement, seeking solace from the distressing spectacle.

Among the playthings, he discovered a miniature wooden horse, a cart, and a peculiarly shaped wooden dog. Playtime proved an easier ruse to maintain. He could manipulate the toys through spirit magic without manual contact, fostering the illusion of an enraptured child lost within his fantastical realm.

These moments of play afforded him genuine pleasure. Jet reveled in the luxury of genuine rejoicing, the thrill of every new discovery or advancement spilling out in exuberant laughter and jubilant cries. What his parents perceived was merely a cheerful child lost in imaginative whims.

"Who would've thought," Raaz marveled, a proud grin illuminating his face, "that such a quiet little one could harbor such a vivid imagination? Look at him, surrounded by nothing but these old toys, yet he seems to hold the entire world in his palm."