A Burden Atemporal

"Remember, don't open your eyes, okay?"

With a stern voice and an awkwardly cute frown on his face, Averin glanced at Quinn, who was seated next to the desk that he currently stood on. In front of them lay a grimoire that was titled 'Modern Magical Theory - On Monsters'.

"Yeah, yeah. You've told me three times already."

Dismissively sighing, the cat boy closed his eyes and grabbed the side of the front cover, ready to enable the rooster to get a good look at the book's contents. Because it would have been extremely awkward - if not impossible - for Averin to flip the pages with just his wings, beak and legs at hand, he had convinced Quinn to help him. It was more than a fair trade, considering that the youngster had benefited from his hugging pillow depression cure services for a good while now. It was only natural for him to request some assistance with this matter, right?

"You may begin!"

Even though his boisterous words only got a small smirk out of Quinn, the cat boy still dutifully did his part. Immediately, Averin's eyes were drawn to the letters on the pages. Although Isaac had initially intended to spend some time on teaching him how to read, that hadn't even been necessary - the rooster had picked it up extremely quickly, as if he had just recalled something that he had already known before.

'Contemporary research is mainly focused on the Magics of the sentient races, and great achievements have been made in that regard over the past millennia. I, however, am convinced that ignoring the various Magics that monsters can employ innately, and without a bothersome chant, is simple foolishness. Because of this, I set out on a journey. I now proudly present to you the findings that I have made over the past 147 years.'

A glimmer of interest sparkled in Averin's eyes. He wasn't much of a reader - in fact, he hadn't read much aside from his Status sheets and the occasional street sign - so he had braced himself for the period of time before the grimoire's effects would kick in to be a boring one. 'Luckily', this subject matter just so happened to genuinely intrigue him.

'We of the sentient races are wholly dependent on chants. Even after the gods graced us with their blessings, this didn't change. But our eternal foes have never, since time immemorial, needed to rely on these crutches. Why is that? Is there a fundamental difference between the two of us? As it turns out, there is not - at least not in this regard. In short, what we use today is a system of magic that has been simultaneously over-simplified and over-complicated, in its entirety.'

This second paragraph partially went over the rooster's head. Apparently, the author of this tome had expected their readers to already possess a certain foundation of magic-related knowledge, which was why they hadn't bothered to explain the very basics. Still, Averin somehow managed to understand the gist of what he was reading.

"Next page, please."

'Both monsters and us, the people of the sentient races, rely on channeling our mind through our bodies in certain ways which then results in our respective Magics. Whether or not a Magic is activated via a chant, this foundational principle doesn't change.'

All of a sudden, the tone of the words changed, but the Jack Bird didn't notice it. His mind had already entered a peculiar condition.

'Why is this the case? To solve this mystery, an elementary question has to be answered first. As one who aims to attain a Magic of your own, dear reader, please ask yourself this: What is magic to you?'

Suddenly situated in front of a huge mirror, Averin was faced with a reflection of himself. The deep green-feathered, huge rooster was staring back at him with an inquisitive look in its eyes.

"It's the key to comprehensive control. It allows one to influence the world in more ways than anyone could ever imagine. All is in magic's grasp. Magic is the path to functional godhood."

A familiar, arrogant grin spread on the mirror self's face as it asked its second question.

'Why do you want to ascend to such heights?'

Unconcealed confusion momentarily coloured Averin's eyes as he stared at the now-different scenery reflected in the mirror. What was shown to him wasn't a memory of his, yet it still felt intimately familiar for a reason that he couldn't determine - even less so in his current state.

Right in the middle of a vast plain of lustrous green, there stood a behemoth of a city. Its walls rose many tens of meters into the sky, and patrolling soldiers could be spotted respectfully fulfilling their duties atop of them. Countless people flocked towards this metropolis, and all lined up orderly outside of the city gates, waiting for their turns to be granted entry.

Even when compared to today's Orario, this city might not necessarily lose out in scale - both housed millions of residents! But instead of Babel, the centerpiece of this megalopolis was an extravagant marble palace that exuded both elegance and opulence.

Despite what might be expected, there weren't all too many slums or shady areas in this city, and from a bird's-eye view, it was obvious that the layout of every single street and alley had been meticulously arranged. Due to the surprisingly commendable discipline of the king's soldiers, nearly nobody dared to commit crimes, and the occasional corruption would be exterminated to its roots whenever it reared its ugly head.

If there was one significant source of worry in this near-perfect kingdom, then it was its crown prince, a young adult that was around twenty years old. Due to long-lasting peace, the dashing man had mostly ignored making advancements in his martial prowess, although it nonetheless had to be admitted that he still stood head and shoulders above most others. But even the majority of his court-related duties and lessons had often been skipped, in favour of roaming about the capital and indulging in the various delicacies that it had to offer - not only food, but also more hedonistic pleasures. In other words, he was a silkpants, the worst kind of descendant that a long-lasting dynasty could hope for.

The king and queen had often criticized him for his actions, but whenever it was necessary, the crown prince managed to produce exceptional results. All his teachers begrudgingly gave him excellent marks on his numerous tests, and when his court etiquette was required, he glittered like a beacon of noble virtue. But still, he was a slacker. He only put the minimum amount of effort into everything he did, and still shone brightly. It was a shame - how much more dazzling would he have been if he had bothered to give his best?

On one of his usual adventures in the metropolis, while he was dragging his entourage of friends and servants along merrily, the crown prince stumbled and came to a sudden halt. The earth underneath his feet had started to rumble and tremble all of a sudden, which had taken him by surprise. He grew cautious and observed his surroundings, trying to assess the situation.

A mere moment later, amidst the fearful shrieks of his country's people, he realized that something terrible had just begun. Buildings were crumbling like sandcastles, and huge fissures appeared all over the city. Families were crushed under the rubble, and passersby were swallowed by the depths.

With a heavy expression on his face, he rushed to the aid of whoever he could, and ordered his people to do the same. But despite the outstanding relief efforts, the situation only got worse. The earthquakes didn't stop and only grew in intensity. Soon, the whole megalopolis had been shattered into tiny pieces of land, which got drawn to the south.

It wasn't only the city that was affected, however - as far as the eye could see, everything was fragmenting and drifting in the same direction, as if attracted by a great force.

Desperate, the most powerful individuals around, the crown prince included, carried away as many of the children as they could, escaping from the disaster. If they could make it out and protect this next generation, maybe there was still hope. But no matter how fast or far they ran, the land underneath their feet only continued to break apart and slip away at an ever-increasing speed. Soon, the weakest of the group collapsed, only to be overwhelmed by the earth, silently breathing their last.

For more than a month, the crown prince ran, carrying a carriage sheltering tens of children above his head. His feat had long since surpassed the realm of what people would consider superhuman, and he had more than exceeded even his extraordinary limits. And yet, he hadn't managed to move out of this disaster's zone of influence yet. What was even worse was that overall, he had lost far more ground than he had gained. If anyone had observed his situation from far above, then they would have noticed that he was now hundreds of kilometers closer to the source of the engulfment than when he had started. This wasn't for a lack of trying, though.

Step by step, he set foot on the precarious footholds that had progressively gotten smaller over time. The children atop the carriage had grown silent long ago, and even the last of them had run out of tears days ago. Two of them had plainly died out of fear, while the rest were close to meeting their maker as well - they hadn't eaten in so long, and even the barrel of water that had been stored on the carriage had been emptied already.

The crown prince… he was the last one still resisting the destruction. Everyone else, all of those powerhouses… they had long since disappeared into the south and met their untimely ends. But the desperate man couldn't spare any thoughts on this, his whole focus was on forging a path out of this mess, and on saving those that he still could.

Yet, it ultimately proved to be futile. Although he ended up running for another half a month, the children had all died… and he had arrived at the origin of the disaster - a giant hole that had been devouring everything around it indiscriminately. When his strength finally ran out and he was rapidly pulled underground, his body getting mangled and compressed by the extremely heavy rocks and earth around him, the expression on his face was not one of excruciating pain, but one of deep regret.

As if giving voice to the dead prince's sorrows, the hazy-eyed Averin responded to his mirror self's question.

"If I had been stronger, then I would have been able to escape. And if I had been in control of a Magic, then I possibly could have stopped it."

Next to the regular mirror self, the figure of the near-death crown prince appeared for a split second, shooting him an approving glance. A moment later, it had faded into darkness, replaced by the indulgent silkpants self from earlier in the prince's life.

'You know as well as I do that nobody could have put an end to that disaster.'

The hedonistic self hadn't expected a retort, so it was taken aback when Averin opened his beak.

"No, master could have."

Unconcealed doubt showed itself on the faces of both selves in the mirror, then the silkpants self shook its head dismissively and continued the conversation. Entertaining such seemingly absurd claims wasn't even worth its time.

'In any case, you know that you couldn't have done it. And while you truly wanted to protect those people when the end arrived, in all honesty, that is not your greatest driving force now, is it?'

Saddened, Averin nodded.

"I want to be able to forgive myself, for having been you."

A self-indulgent grin spread on the hedonistic self's lips, then it playfully saluted the cloudy-eyed Jack Bird, before disappearing from view. Yet again, it was the regular mirror self's turn to speak.

'You already have fast legs with which to escape, and wings with which to take flight. What, then, do you wish for?'

Averin didn't have to think for long, because the depths of his heart had long since known the answer.

"The power to carry the world upon my shoulders, so I can bring it along with me, to safety."

He knew very clearly that his body's physical weakness was his most fatal of flaws, and he had been doing his very best to make up for it. As the reflection in the mirror stated, running away was already his specialty, so he didn't need to further emphasize it. Succeeding in making a break for it was all well and good, but what use was it if he would be the only one left?

'To compensate for one's shortcomings is a valid approach. You've chosen well, me.'

An appreciative nod and a gentle smile later, the mirror self disappeared. Almost like a puppet with its strings cut, Averin crumpled to the floor in front of the mirror, his mind quickly fading into darkness.

When he finally awoke, completely disoriented, what greeted him was a familiar face that was staring at him with furrowed brows. It was Quinn, who had been responsible for turning the pages.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

In response to the rooster's disgruntled tone, the cat boy smirked and relaxed. It was plain to see that he had been on edge for a considerable amount of time, and had finally been bestowed with the luxury to loosen up.

"You've been sleeping for about an hour now, and before then… you were trapped in a weird state, to say the least."

It took a few moments for Averin to recall that he had just started to read a grimoire… but what had happened after that? Why did he doze off? As the only witness of the proceedings, gathering information from Quinn was vital if he wanted to find out more.

"What do you mean with 'weird state'?"

Leaning back in his chair, well and truly at ease, the young man explained what he had seen.

"About five minutes after you told me to turn to the next page, I grew worried because you hadn't given me any further instructions. My patience was also about to run dry. At that point, I assumed that the grimoire had already started to do… well, whatever it was supposed to do, so it would be fine to open my eyes. And that I did, only to notice something… off. Your eyes were clouded over and glowing ghastly white, while the grimoire's pages were exuding the exact same radiance. Not going to lie, that was a bit creepy. It lasted for more than thirty minutes in total."

A cold shiver ran down the rooster's spine when he imagined being confronted with such an event himself, as an observer. While he usually wasn't easily scared, the threat of death and the 'unexplainable' both did genuinely terrify him… at least a little.

"Oh, in case you were wondering, while you were out cold, I checked on the others who had received a grimoire as well, and they all had entered the same state. I wanted to make sure that what I was witnessing was a result of the Magic Item working as intended."

Getting told that he wasn't the only one did help the rooster regain his calm. Only a minute or two later, he was back to his old self, back to being the great Lord Bird that all manner of horrors would have to do their very best to avoid!

"If everything went well, then I should have acquired a new Magic. So… should I ask master for his help now, or wait until tomorrow?"

Before his cat-eared companion could weigh in, a golden drop of Ichor suddenly appeared in the room, seemingly out of nowhere. It quickly arrived at Averin's back and unlocked his Falna, leaving him wide-eyed. Because he knew that this was his master's handiwork, he obediently stayed still, but even Quinn was a little taken aback by the situation, to say the least. There was just one question on his mind: How? But when he recalled that the enigmatic young man had created a private world recently… his surprise vanished. This small trick wasn't even worth mentioning in comparison.

Half a minute later, Averin released a pleased sigh. He could feel that 'something' was different about him, yet he had no idea what it was. Right as he was about to open his mouth and voice those concerns, a sheet of paper settled down on the desk, right next to him.

"I wonder what I got."

With excitement welling up in his chest, he took a look. Quinn also didn't bother to stand on ceremony, unabashedly peeking over the rooster's shoulder.

[ Város Átlas: Consumes mana or life force in order to increase the user's Strength and Endurance for ten minutes, by a maximum of 200%. The exact expenditure depends on the percentage increase chosen. Will require 50% less focus if activated via the chant.

Chant: "Enduring one, pass on your burden. Punished one, lend me your strength. Only if bolstered by your brilliance, can I support the sky in your stead." ]

Confusion was written all over his face as Averin internalized this knowledge about his newly acquired trump card. He couldn't figure out why exactly he had been bestowed with this Magic, but he had to admit that it would be quite beneficial to him. Deep inside, he had hoped for something more 'flashy', something that would make him the star of the show - a real head turner.

'Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. It's better than nothing.'

His contemplations were cut short when Quinn's voice brought him back to reality.

"How about trying it out? It doesn't sound destructive in nature, so you can probably do it here. To be safe, you'd better get on the ground first, though. It might just increase your weight."

His eyes sparkling excitedly, the rooster decided to do as his friend had recommended. Slowly but carefully, he started to chant.

"Enduring one, pass on your burden. Punished one, give--- Ouch!"

A sharp but stinging pain erupted in his consciousness when he accidentally said the word 'give' instead of 'lend'. Even though he wasn't accustomed to having mana flow through his body, he still noticed that it most definitely had taken a wrong turn somewhere and felt a little awful, causing him to grimace.

"Are you okay?!"

Taken aback by Averin's agonized reaction, Quinn kneeled down and inspected him more closely - not that there was anything that he could really help with. Fortunately, just a few deep breaths later, the rooster judged himself to be in good shape again. It turned out that the discomfort had just been temporary.

"It's fine. Let me try again! Stand back."

This time making doubly sure that he recalled each word correctly, Averin proceeded to chant for the second time.

"Enduring one, pass on your burden. Punished one, lend me your strength. Only if bolstered by your brilliance, can I support the sky in your stead. Város Átlas!"

As the last word left his lips, it felt like all the pieces of a puzzle had suddenly fit themselves together, when they had been a disorganized and incomplete mess before. An unfamiliar comfort filled his entire being, then the Magic finally took effect.

The muscles in his deceptively puny body started to swell, while the scales that were so well hidden underneath his fluffy feathers grew many times harder than steel. They gave off a metallic glint, even while they were still nigh completely hidden from view. His skeletal frame grew more sturdy and his beak sharpened. Many other changes took place as well. It felt quite similar to his evolution back when he had ranked up to Level 2 - but this one was only temporary.

While the rooster was relishing in his new-found power, he suddenly got assaulted by a mental exhaustion unlike any that he had ever experienced before. Even a regular human being who had stayed awake for more than five days wouldn't be objected to such weariness. And the worst part about it was that this feeling assaulted him all at once, seemingly out of nowhere! It felt like his brain had been hit by a fatigue truck, and well a truly been run over. He was only barely hanging on to his consciousness, and his vastly increased physical prowess was of absolutely no use.

"Tch… curses!"

Too worn out to do much more than utter a few words, the currently buffed rooster collapsed, unable to move despite his Strength and Endurance having close to doubled.

"Your mana reserves are pitifully lo---- Ahem. To put it in other words, this Magic consumes quite a lot of mana, huh? No wonder it sucked you dry."

Taking note of the Jack Bird's worsening expression, Quinn changed his tone to a more courteous one on the fly, to cheer Averin up a little and make him feel more confident in himself. For the next ten minutes, he watched over his feathery friend, who managed to struggle to his feet after around half of that time had passed.

When the effect of the Magic was about to end, Averin got a hunch that he only needed to think about expending more mana for this state to be maintained for another ten minutes, but when he tried to do so, he sensed danger enveloping his heart, causing his breathing to quicken. Without hesitation, he chose to forfeit this chance of extending his Magic. If he wanted to activate it again, then he would have to flawlessly rattle off the chant once more.

'If I'm not wrong, then Város Átlas would have consumed some of my life force if I had kept going. Scary stuff…'

At the moment, he was too weak and could barely cast his Magic once - it would even hurt him, should he make a grave mistake. One thing was for certain: He had his work cut out for him.