9

His surroundings were a disorienting blur of panic and violence. Faces of people he had seen that day flashed before him—desperate, terrified, pleading for help.

He tried to reach out to them, but his legs felt like lead, and every step was a struggle. As he looked down, he noticed his feet sinking into the thick, clinging mud, anchoring him in place while his mind urged him to move faster.

Just ahead, a woman clutching a child screamed for mercy, surrounded by faceless figures. Art wanted to save them, but his movements were agonizingly slow. His outstretched hand grasped at nothing but air as they vanished into the void, leaving him mired in mud and helplessness.

The scene shifted, and he found himself in the midst of a crowd. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, lifeless eyes staring up at him. 

Whispers filled the air, accusing and relentless. "You could have saved us... You left us to die..."

Art's heart pounded in his chest, and he tried to shout back, to defend himself, but no sound came out. He was drowning in guilt and helplessness. The whispers grew louder, turning into a cacophony of tormenting voices. He fell to his knees, clutching his head, trying to shut out the noise.

Just when Art thought he could bear no more, he woke with a start. He sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, he couldn't tell if he was still dreaming or if he had truly escaped the nightmare. 

After taking a moment to gather himself, Art sighed and finally remembered what had happened yesterday.

It had certainly gotten to him— the helplessness he felt and the inability to do anything meaningful yesterday, was gnawing at him. 

For a few minutes, Art stared blankly at the ceiling of his room. It was still the middle of the night, but the moonlight piercing through the glass window illuminated parts of the room, casting gentle, shifting shadows across the walls.

Art let out a heavy sigh. "Screw that. I shouldn't be feeling this way. It wasn't my fight. Why am I letting it get to me? I did all I could anyways."

He tried to push the unsettling thoughts to the back of his mind, and managed to do so, albeit both fortunately and unfortunately. He had just remembered that he had passed out in front of his parents like a rag doll. There was a lot of explaining to do, unless he wanted to end up admitted to the hospital. It wasn't that he had any bad experiences with doctors; he just didn't like going there and waste his time.

Though, at this moment, Art figured it might be a good idea to go to the hospital—mostly because he wanted painkillers or some kind of medicine to help his body recover.

He felt like a walking corpse after using body enhancement magic for such a long period of time. Even lifting his arm was a struggle. Every movement was accompanied by a sensation akin to being pricked by needles, making even the simplest task feel impossible.

However, Art had no other choice to tough it out. He needed to avoid making a big deal out of his condition to prevent his parents from using it as ammunition to scold him more.

So yep, this had to be, hands down the worst weekend he had ever experienced—both in this life and his previous one.

The only good news was that it was still the weekend. With the sun yet to rise, he had plenty of time to experiment with his new magic before his parents woke up or returned from wherever they were. But, he wasn't so sure of himself. He glanced at his right hand and then his left, doubting if he could replicate the magic he had spontaneously used.

Please Goddess Janna, let this work, he thought.

Maybe, just maybe, if he could recreate the magic, the trip to the other side of the city—and all the fucked up shit he experienced—would be worth it.

Mentally preparing himself for potential disappointment, Art took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the strange sensation he felt during the near-death experience.

At that moment, he envisioned creating something to shield himself from the explosion, to protect against the harm. Then, he felt a click in his mind as mana flowed from him like turning on a faucet. It was as if his mana was molten metal and the image in his mind was a mold, shaping and solidifying before cooling and hardening instantly.

"Ball," Art said, as a fraction of his stored magic began to flow through his arms. He visualised the desired shape, willing it to manifest before him.

"Holy shit..."

Even with his eyes closed, Art could sense something in front of him. It felt as though an invisible string connected him to it, giving him complete control. When he opened his eyes, he saw a large, translucent ball floating above him. 

"...It actually worked."

But as ecstatic as he felt, he was now left with several questions. Slightly concerning ones.

"How did I manage to do this now? What changed? Very cliche, but was it really because I had near-death experience? Does this mean I have put myself in more danger to unlock different types of magic? If I get hit by lightning, will I get lightning magic?"

Art quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts. Otherwise, he might actually find himself standing outside in the next storm, trying to get struck by lightning. He brought his attention back to the transparent ball and reached out to touch it, but it began dissipating into the air like smoke. 

Desperately, he poured more magic into it, trying to maintain the shape— only to fail miserably.

"What just happened?"

He conjured another ball, but it dissipated again.

And again.

Again.

Ag...

"Fuck, that sure took a lot out of me."

It was only after the sixth attempt, Art finally realized the problem.

The magic was the fuel, and his concentration was the key to maintaining and shaping the object. Once he stopped focusing on the object he created, it would vanish within several seconds.

Art wanted to keep experimenting—anything to take his mind off yesterday's events. But the exhaustion from it all still weighed heavily on him. He couldn't fight off the overwhelming fatigue any longer and drifted back to sleep, unaware that with his mana drained and his body worn out, he was in for a much longer rest than he expected...