Dusty (2): The Abyss Within
Magic in this world is broadly divided into five stages. The first is the realm of Phenomenon. It's the stage where you use mana as fuel to exert power. You merely imitate or amplify natural phenomena—you can't defy the laws of physics.
The second is the realm of Structure. Here, you go beyond simply consuming mana as fuel and artificially control its arrangement and flow to wield physical force. At this point, you can strut around saying, "I'm a wizard," with some real pride. It's where most wizards plateau, and that's when magic circles and complex incantations start appearing.
Then comes the third: the realm of Heart Image. This is where the caster begins imposing their subjective will onto the mana. Magic starts gaining individuality from here. It's the minimum requirement to enter a magic tower, and the stage where you can pull off absurd feats like "freezing flames" that shatter the common sense that fire is hot. That was exactly what Evel had been trying to show me. She wasn't just freezing water—she was overlaying her Heart Image to create "ice that would never melt." Yeah. I'd suspected it while living with Zepeto, but Evel was a genius among geniuses, reaching the magic tower's cutoff at just ten years old...! What insane talent. I'm jealous.
"Heh heh, kid. No need to feel down. You'll reach that stage without much trouble yourself."
"? Is that for real?"
"Of course it is. Children born with Destiny are all like that. They come into the world carrying that fate from birth."
Zepeto chuckled as he stood, leaning on his cane.
"Of course, the Heart Image you've got... er, rather, the one you're carrying is so contrary that it's a problem."
"You said it wrong, didn't you?"
Never mind Zepeto's words, which seemed like he was slyly trying to bait me into feeding him. Something had just slipped past that I couldn't let go unheard.
'People born with Destiny are all like that...?'
That means Evel was born with Destiny too.
"That's right. She was born with the Destiny of Extreme Cold."
Extreme Cold. Just hearing it sent chills down my spine while making me feel cool as hell. It evoked images of the ice queen from that blockbuster anime with ten million viewers in my past life, or the northern grand duke from fantasy novels—a top-tier talent name. No wonder she always tried to freeze everything first.
Compared to that, what was mine? Reverse Reason. Defies reason. Sounds grand, but strip it down and it's just a contrary streak. And without any standards, just doing whatever on a whim. Evel's Extreme Cold screamed attribute magic specialization, but mine? No clue where to even apply it.
"Alright, let's start from the basics."
Following Zepeto's guidance, I slowly worked through stage one. You gather the mana floating in the air into your heart and use it as fuel to cause physical phenomena. It's the wizard's first step, the most fundamental stage. I closed my eyes slowly and steadied my breathing. With my vision blocked, the air's flow against my skin sharpened. I expanded my awareness, groping for the alien energy hidden between those flows.
It wasn't hard. In the darkness, they twinkled like fireflies or faint dust motes. Knights circulate mana through their whole body, but wizards store it quietly in their heart. I seized those scattered specks of light and gently drew them into my body. Pure energy slipped in without resistance, coiling at my heart's center.
Storing mana in your heart was an odd sensation. Like swallowing boiling water, or a live snake wriggling inside. A foreign presence, but not unpleasant. More like all my stalled senses stretching awake—refreshing.
"Good. Excellent."
Zepeto nodded in satisfaction.
"Now, draw the mana gathered in your heart to your fingertips."
The most basic first-circle spell. Release the stored mana, rub it to generate heat, and ignite a flame.
'Fire.'
I took a deep breath and touched the pool of energy in my heart. The docile mana flowed obediently down my arm at my will.
'Ignite.'
Focusing my intent on my index finger, I released the mana. Heat bloomed in my fingertip, and a tiny red spark flickered to life.
Fwoosh—!
"Oh..."
Success. I clenched my fist inwardly. Way easier than I thought? Guess I was a genius too. I believed in it—this world's reincarnation perks.
Strike while the iron's hot. On to the next stage.
If stage one's Phenomenon burns mana as fuel, stage two's Structure controls its flow. Most wizards struggle here. To control the flow, you need to build a form as a framework, and to build that form, you must understand the essence. Everyone understands differently. Some with complex formulas and geometry. Some with sensory images. Others with blind faith, shaping the frame.
The problem? Mana is inherently free-spirited; left alone, it scatters. To hold it and maintain form, the caster must draw their own blueprint in their mind and constantly erode their mental strength to dominate it. It demands a perfectly rigid skeleton. But the goal is endlessly abstract. Like seeing right and left at once—a paradox. Like grabbing flowing water barehanded and molding it into a vessel—penance.
Maintaining such an unstable structure is daunting enough, but applying it in real combat? Most give up here. But at the end of that penance, when the 'Structure' perfects and fuses with the caster's will... The frame you made becomes firmer than the world's laws. When your "water stands still" overrides nature's "water flows." That's when Structure sublimates into Heart Image.
The goal all wizards chase, a realm some may never reach no matter their lifetime of effort, depending on talent.
But not for me.
'Those born with Destiny are born with their own unique Structure from the start.'
That was the cheat part. I could skip the process countless wizards slaved over their whole lives. While others started with a blank slate, I began with a finished blueprint.
Evel showed the cheat's power. She was so young she could barely read haltingly. Yet she conjured miracles like "unmelting ice" effortlessly. Born with a completed Structure, sublimating it to Heart Image was easy. Skipping process for direct results—that was the privilege of those born with Destiny.
Some called it a blessing, a talent.
Others, a curse, a shackle.
For the record, I think it's the former.
"Well then, let's see just how contrary your Heart Image is. Close your eyes and imagine. How your Destiny of 'Reverse Reason' should manifest in the world."
"Mm..."
But there was a problem. I had no feel for what my Heart Image was.
If Destiny draws the blueprint to complete the Structure—that's the 'talent'—then Heart Image is the 'philosophy' of how to interpret its content.
Even those with the same fire Destiny might interpret it as 'destruction' for explosive power, or 'purification' to guide like a shepherd. Evel's Extreme Cold was intuitive. Freeze, halt, preserve. Unmelting ice, ceaselessly craving warmth. In words: eternity. And deprivation.
But Reverse Reason? No feel. It's less a standard, more an attitude. Go right? Go left. Stand? Sit. Pure contrariness.
I stared at the tiny flame flickering on my finger. Reverse Reason. Defies and reverses logic. Simply, turn this fire into cold fire. Fire's supposed to be hot, so flipping it defies reason.
However.
A small doubt crept in. The tower's Prophet and Elders called my Destiny 'blasphemous.' Zepeto wouldn't say it, but his "contrary" remarks suggested the same. But was making cold fire really blasphemous? Grab anyone in the tower and ask, "Can you make cold fire?" You'd get truckloads scoffing yes.
What even was defying reason? Wizards themselves defy the world's laws by nature. Why were they fine, but me blasphemous? What set me apart that the pinnacle Elders deemed my Destiny dangerous?
"Mm..."
Really no clue. No feel. Needed to grope deeper, more fundamentally.
"If you can't grasp it, just pour out as much mana as you can—one method. Your Structure's already complete, so even unconsciously, its rough outline should emerge."
"That works?"
"Yes. Imagine any form and pour it out. You grasp the feel slowly at first."
Following Zepeto, I just pictured cold fire maxed out. I felt Dusty twitch and freak inside, but it was just dustbin trash. Ignore and slam mana out.
The flame on my fingertip seemed to grow... then
Pfft. Snuffed out.
"...?"
I tilted my head briefly. Then realized: Dusty's doing.
'You little shit.'
I dove into my inner world, grabbed its dustbin, and shook it like a cocktail shaker.
'Don't interfere.'
Shaka-shaka. I felt it scream and flail. Shook till it passed out, then back to reality.
Gathered focus, drew mana again...
Fwoom.
A flame utterly unlike what I'd imagined floated on my fingertip.
"...?"
Jet black. Was it even a flame? Neither its nature nor form matched.
Plip, plop.
It didn't burn. It dripped downward. Thick like sticky liquid, splatting to the floor. The black mass stuck gooily.
'...Heavy.'
That was my first impression. Heavy. Just a nail-sized drop, but the mass felt immense. I'd burned mana for fire, but this was ink sludge.
Flames expand, spread light and heat. But this didn't burn. It contracted, crushing everything to a point.
Woooong—.
A strange vibration hummed. My fingertip buzzed; surrounding light sucked toward it. Room lights, afternoon sun through windows—all devoured. The space around seemed carved out, dyeing black.
"What the—?"
As I opened my mouth in panic,
Whoosh. Vision plunged to total black.
'Huh...?'
Nothing visible, no sound. Endless void, utter emptiness. I'd cut mana supply long ago. No fuel, spell should end. But darkness greedily swallowed all—light, sound, senses.
I flailed my hand desperately. Nothing. Senses gone. No, the space to receive them erased.
I instinctively sought Zepeto. Invisible. Spine chilled. Would I be fully devoured next?
Thud—!
Cane struck floor; world snapped back. From the impact, writhing black dispersed instantly. Like a midsummer night's dream. The devouring dark vanished traceless.
"Hah, hah..."
I gasped, propping on the floor. Soaked in cold sweat.
"Hmm..."
Zepeto stroked his beard, face stern unlike his usual kindness.
"Child, was that what you intended and imagined?"
"N-No... I didn't know what it was, tried to dispel it... but it went rogue..."
Panic broke my dumb speech habit.
"Heh. The magic I had on you vanished."
Wait, the magic on me just... gone?
"I expected it, but... your Heart Image is already half-eaten by it."
"It...?"
"Dusty."
Dusty? All Dusty's fault? That dust clump could do this impossible shit?
Memories flashed: whacking it with a broom, vacuuming it, shaking its bin...
"Gasp."
Now even I felt it.
"That's why I said not to suppress it so harshly."
Oh shit... I'm fucked!