I’m not much of an avid reader; I’m someone who prefers to wander aimlessly, letting the wind guide me. Being confined in a single spot, reading a single thing, just doesn’t sound very pleasing; but my older brother’s the contrary. It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that my older brother is in love with books as much as he loves his family. Of course he doesn’t speak to me much about books, but any second he’s not occupied with me or my father or mother, or anything for that matter, he’s reading.

There was one book, a book filled with poetry that I understood but thought nothing much of. This was the first and last book my older brother shared with me, and it was only a few lines, taking not even a page.

“Once born exists an individual, color anew, dripping a lovely woman’s dew,
momentary fragments, blurred from ones later view,
but remembrance of it like a jewel, something held onto, shiny and new,
but time passes for all, rust and grime taking its toll with utmost sublime, 

but don’t stay fraught, for there exists the individual!

Born from white, all snuggly and tight,
comfortable as a fawn embraced by its mothers delight,
even time poses no threat in the face of the bright!”
          

I believe I’ve begun to understand why my older brother shared it with me. The reason why was right in front of me.

Kneeling on both knees, head visibly touching the wooden ash-colored floor beneath our feet, was my father getting reprimanded by his own son. Tadashi’s eyes of disappointment had increased the cracks within my father’s nigh-shattered pride. “Honestly, father, I had expected you to do something stupid, but you’ve exceeded my expectations.” Said Tadashi, kneading his temples.

“I, um-”

“What were you going to do if Tadashi hadn’t blocked that last attack?” My mother interjected, sitting on the couch, petting my head as I sat on her lap. “Albus could’ve gotten hit by it, or, even worse, gotten injured!”

Speaking not with his mouth, my father spoke with his consternate-filled eyes. Even with the pleads for help my father practically yelled directly at me, I amicably smiled at the ironic switch of events. My father seemed to have ostensibly understood my gesture as his face entered a naïve relaxation.

Ostensibly, indeed…

A face so cute, so adorable, but prone to pity; like an adorable toddler tripping over their leg, began to take form upon my face. Some may call, by its adorable bemusement, a puppy face. With my own puppy face and puppy eyes, I turned my head to my mother, whose gaze immediately shifted to me.

Out of the corner of my eye, while getting hugged intensively by my mother, I visibly saw my father’s rising emotions plummet with immense speed. Tadashi also seemed to have noticed as he stepped back, out of shock from my father’s seemingly bipolar reaction.

“Well, it’s not like he actually would’ve died.” My father said, gathering what remains of his pride as a man. “I was going to cancel the spell before it hit him. I-I was just trying to scare him.”

I got off my mother’s lap and proceeded towards where my father was. However, I walked limply, feigning pain at the shallow cuts on my legs.

Although the wounds he gave me didn’t hurt, as what I’m assuming was mana relieved the pain quickly, I felt the need to get back at my father for the sake of my own pride.

I also wasn’t mad at my father; I was grateful to him, in fact. He taught me how to use mana in an avant-garde kind of way. However, I did want to see my father get scolded a little longer.

I’m not sadistic, by the way.

“Father, not only did you nearly kill me, you also didn’t tell me how to infuse the blade with mana. If I had not thought up a way to do so on my own, I would have died by your sword.” To add dramatic effect, I shed a single tear whilst acting like I was hurt from one of the wounds on my arm.

“Samuel Alistair!” My mother lashed out, now standing over my father. “Is this true?”

Whether or not my father lives are up to his next choice of words. Staring at my father, intrigued at what his response would be, his face went up to face my mother. I stared in awe; not once have I seen my father speak up to my mother, let alone win an actual argument.

Is this going to be the first time?

My father’s lips quivered, opening slightly. His tongue licked his lips, moistening them for a momentous speak of words. His tongue then extended out of his mouth, closing his right eye as he spoke. “Teehee.”

“…”

Silence…

I had seen this particular technique used by the children in the village when they get in trouble by their parents. It’s main purpose serves to guilt their parents out of scolding them by their cuteness, but this was a grown man with a beard and kids doing it…

It’s more creepy than cute; more pathetic than pleasing.

Tadashi stared in shock at what my father had just said, thinking on what he had just witnessed. Even I stared, flabbergasted by my father’s choice of words, or word, is “teehee” even a word? Isn’t that just an onomatopoeia?

‘Did he just voice a sound effect as a response to my mother? He’s so dead. It was good knowing you – not. May you rest in peace, regardless.’

My mother’s face grew distasteful, like she had just experienced a mouthful of bitterness, embodying itself on her face. “You’re sleeping outside.”

“WHYYY?” My father yelled, genuinely puzzled. “Please, I beg you my beautiful wife! Not again! I miss the softness of the sheets!” He turned to me, crawling on his knees. “Son, come on, help your father here! The way you explained vilifies me. At least you learned how to use mana, right?”

“Go repent, dog.”

“WHY?!! Tadashi, help me please!!!”

Tadashi crossed his arms, closing his eyes as if an attempt to shut out our fathers unsightly begging. “You’ve been a good father, but I could never defy our mother. Her words are absolute.”

As my father walked out the door, he turned once more to me with puppy eyes.

I stuck out my tongue, eyeing him as my mother shooed him away.

‘Samuel, my father, it was your fault for choosing to challenge me like this. Take your punishment like a man.’

I knew, nonetheless, that from now on my training was going to be even more hellish than what I could possibly imagine, but I prepared myself, and my will, before even choosing to further provoke my father.

I don’t see myself as a sadistic person, in all honesty. The surface of my humor and what amuses me might seem “sadistic” but isn’t that just superficial to assume? It’s no different from scaring someone and laughing at their genuine reaction. They make a face so different from what’s usually seen, almost like you catch a glimpse on someone from the inside; the truth emerging like an apple thrown in the lake, seemingly drowned, further traveling underwater, but popping up suddenly, floating for all to see. The only sensible reaction would be to laugh at this new thing, right?

Yes.

They’re the same!

It’s not equivocal at all!

I feel like the term “sadist” is a really crude way of describing me, as well. Taking drastic measures for amusement, regardless of one’s own future, well, that isn’t sadism, is it?

I’m more of a hedonist with morals; aren’t all children hedonists, though?

*****

Beating after beating after beating, under the guise of training was what I endured.

Fatigue itself doesn’t exist. Skin is only a cover. Blood is only a liquid. Bad thoughts are thoughts only. Reality is cruel. Cruel is reality. Darkness isn’t real. Light isn’t real. Reality is real. What’s before is before. What’s next is next. Look to the next; look to the blank; nothing is nothing.

You create the next. You create the next. You create the next.

Endure it.

The only thing that matters is the hearts rhythmic beating, beating, beating.

As long as my heart didn’t stop; I’m ok.

So I continuously endured, some may see such training and think it cruel. But, in truth, I endured it willingly. My father’s malice towards my provocations had worn off the very first day. He’s too nice a man to see his son so worn down. My father, multiple times a day, offered me breaks or even days off, but I took none.

Not because of mana. Not because the feel of mana. I wasn’t overtaken by the desire of strength. It wasn’t something so superficial.

It was for another, foolish reason.

*****

After hellish days of training under my father’s tutelage, I realized that my control over mana was very good, excellent even. My father mainly taught me how to augment my body and other inanimate objects, not touching on “infusions” or “spells” yet; though, he explained augmentations extremely vague, like he left out so many parts and let me figure most of the essence behind augmentations on my own.

What I’ve learned, though, is that augmentation serves to increase the strength and durability of an object or person: A branch can become as hard as a rock, a rock as hard as steel, and steel as hard as diamond, etcetera.

Whilst learning to augment my body and objects, I also learned to restrain my mana usage so as to use mana efficiently in sparse amounts. Indeed my mana pool is not as large as my father’s massive mana pool yet, but it is still growing the more I use mana and refine my mana passages; the more one refines their mana passages/channels, the more mana they are able to hold within their mana pool, and the more mana they can pass through their channels for stronger spells.

For instance, when I first used mana it felt like a blade was cutting through the insides of my body since I hadn’t used mana before that. That pain was the mana carving mana channels within me, opening them slightly.

The more mana I put through the mana channels, the wider and more refined those channels become; like water eroding rock. It happens slowly and with time the more mana passes through. Eventually, through austere mana usage training, I could reach a level where I can use and manipulate mana at will.

But that’s a while off.

Since I don’t have an affinity towards an element, and pure mana tends to be wasted easier than elements, I need to manage how much I enhance my body to not waste it so easily. I still don’t know why pure mana is wasted so easier compared to those who wield elements. That’s something my father has yet to touch on as well.

“Stamina and mana efficiency go hand in hand. The more stamina, the more efficient the mana usage; the more efficient the mana usage, the less stamina used.” As my father put it.

I increased my stamina and mana usage by sparring with Tadashi and my father for hours on end. The hours I trained increased drastically each day. Within the span of a week, my body had become accustomed to drawn out fights, and I could manipulate the mana around my body thoroughly.

‘I guess I am a genius.’ I thought, ingloriously complimenting myself.

Though I was never able to get an actual hit on either of them, my mana pool and passages have both increased and refined significantly.