White Magus

From that point forward, Terem's life became routine. First thing in the morning, he would wake up and eat a light breakfast. Then, he would wander through the town until he reached the adventurer's guild and meet with Tom. Some days, Terem would feel a little adventurous and take a new route through some side alleys, but he soon discovered that they all appeared the same anyways.

Once he met with Tom, Tom would amass a sizable amount of raw mana and directly insert it into Terem's black core, gradually shifting the core's color into an indescribably dark shade of red. The pain never left though so magic lessons, as Tom called them, remained as Terem's least favorite part of his daily rounds.

Next, he would venture to the edge of town and enter Farith's home where he was acknowledged by a cordial nod before immediately butchering a hog or hare or whatever was not hanging from the rafters quite yet. The contrast between Farith's two actions sometimes put Terem off, but he knew what the butcher's intentions were, so he set that aside. The butchering would last the rest of the day, from noon until night, where Terem would be paid two Frase and eight Meltos for his labor at the end of each workday.

From then on, Terem had free time. Although this was only around two hours per day, he could use it to eat dinner, make up for his lost lunch, and familiarize himself with the local economy or whatnot.

After some trial and error along with many references to the innkeeper's lecture, Terem finally figured out the most common exchange rates within this world.

Essentially, as the innkeeper said, there were six different types of currency, although they were split into eleven denominations based on size and material. What coins Terem currently possessed were Meltos, copper coins; Frase, iron coins; and Yuran, silver coins, along with their various denominations of small or large. Although Terem did know that there were higher divisions of currency, he couldn't even be considered part of the bourgeoisie so he never delt in Telums and up.

Terem wasn't able to figure out much more due to his pitiful lack of wealth other than a large copper was worth five Meltos, a small copper was worth one, and a small iron was worth one Frase or ten Meltos. So when Terem received his pay each day, he was receiving 28 Meltos, enough for one night at the inn, plus meal service, and a little extra pocket change.

During his stay in town, Terem also decided to buy a few extra sets of spare clothes along with ragged tunics and vests. He also managed to buy some halfway decent pants that were more suited for combat than the woolen pants he received from Ron. Other purchases included a sling sack, a proper hunting knife, and basic nonperishables such as barley bread and, the all-time classic, jerky.

With these, Terem felt ready to depart town at a moment's notice.

The months passed into autumn then fall, and Terem's lifestyle stagnated. Eventually, he lost his job at the slaughterhouse as the first of the winter snow arrived. Farmers began to send fewer animals so business fell marginally, at least enough for Farith to handle it alone. However, Terem wasn't bothered in the slightest. Thanks to his thrifty tendencies, he had amassed the equivalent of three small silvers. If he retained his minimalist lifestyle, Terem would have enough saved up to live comfortably for about a year before he needed to find another job.

But, this was unnecessary because right as spring began, Terem's black core altered drastically. Due to the daily influx of mana, Terem estimated that he had accumulated a small city's worth of energy within his small body; this also brought his core closer to the color of vintage wine.

One day, Terem walked into Tom's office, preparing his soul for another hour or two of incessant torture, which he had strangely grown accustomed to. Secretly, he worried that he had awoken a new disturbing fetish.

Before he could degrade himself further, though, Tom pulled him aside and began to speak.

"You're ready, kid."

Naturally, Terem was confused. Questions flit through his mind; his dazed expression conveyed his confusion.

"Ready for what?" he asked. Honestly, Terem had no clue why Tom had been injecting his core with mana daily. He just bore with it because Tom told him to. However, now that the daily phrase of 'Are you ready' changed to 'You're ready,' Terem jumped to conclusions. Would he finally be able to learn magic? Would the day he dreamt of for nearly half a year finally come to pass? Was he ready to become what all young boys wanted to become... a powerful mage?

Tom smiled, enjoying the anticipation evident within Terem's childish eyes.

"You're ready to advance your core, kid. So, let me explain how." Tom leaned back in his chair and propped his feet upon his uncharacteristically tidy desk. "Now, now... Where to begin. Ah, I know." And he launched himself into another monologue about magic.

"Last time we had a chat about magic, I believed we stopped after I explained the importance of the mana core, correct?"

Terem only nodded in response, preparing for the intellectual information dump to come.

"Good, my memory's been improving lately. Must be the new busty secretary's charm... or maybe the tea she makes. Wonderful stuff, you should try some."

Unsure if Tom was talking about his new secretary or the tea, Terem wobbled his head up and down, wishing for Tom to get to the main topic of today instead of describing his ogling habits. Noticing Terem's rapidly tapping foot, and tense arms, Tom clears his throat and starts again.

"You see kid, there are many types of cores in the world and they remain completely unseen by the human eye. Not even my mana sense can detect them very efficiently; well, I'm at least better than those non-white-haired kids. Now I know what you're gonna ask me, how can I tell you have a black core when I can't detect it properly? That's easy, your core is static. Static as a dead rock." Tom chuckled at his own attempt at comedic greatness. "You see, most cores move around quite a bit: pumpin' around mana, fuelin' your circuit, providin' for spells and all; you get the point. Now, what you need to understand is that all mages, excluding the bad ones, can sense the power of your mana core based on how much mana it produces, but we white hairs can follow the flow of mana from their core to predict other mages' spells. Pretty crazy advantage, right?"

As Tom predicted, Terem immediately understood the benefits of visibly seeing mana. The simple power to track the mana flow in the environment led to nearly insurmountable advantages in combat. Terem would be able to predict spells. He could detect magical traps within his vicinity, and with enough practice, he just might be able to directly interfere with other mages' spells before they were even cast.

His eyes grew to the size of saucer plates as his jaw slowly sank to the ground. Tom smirked after observing Terem's reaction.

"I know," he said. "No ordinary mage can hope to match white-haired mages."

And truly, they couldn't. No ordinary mage of the same skill level could possibly hope to outmatch a white-haired mage. Terem, henceforth, decided to call these dangerous individuals the White Magus, an insurmountable wall of pure magic; they couldn't be outsmarted by regular people, nor could they be trapped.

They were truly invincible.