The Bug's Death Throes
Mana was bloodline, and magic was god. In this dogshit world, anyone who couldn't wield magic was nothing more than a slab of meat barely superior to a beast. Born not knowing my parents, scraping by like a gutter rat in the back alleys of the slums, I'd long since carved that cruel truth deep into my bones.
The miracle reserved only for those with noble blood. It was a realm forever forbidden to bottom-feeding trash like me. So every dawn, I pushed through the darkness before even the fog could lift, heading to the Training Forest. A brutal land where gravity raged constantly due to mana imbalance. Mages strolled through leisurely to hone their control, but for my empty, mana-less husk, every step was torture—like my bones and guts were being crushed.
"Huff... huff... Fuck this shitty world..."
My lungs felt ready to burst. My legs trembled like aspen leaves, heavy as if shackled with iron. But I bit my lip until blood welled, refusing to stop, driving my fist into the thick tree trunk.
Thud! Thud!
While noble-born mages elegantly flicked a finger to hurl fireballs and lord over the world, I punched the tree like a beast until my knuckles bled raw and bone showed. If magic was off-limits, I'd hone my stamina and this pathetic body beyond its limits. Only then could I breathe like a human in this hellish world—and stay by the side of Cecilia, the sole salvation in my life.
"...Not yet. Harder, harder!!"
Sneers and contempt were as familiar as breathing. People called me not a "martial artist," but a "writhing bug." In a world where one spell scattered all my sweat and blood like a joke, building raw strength with my bare body was just the folly of a low-IQ idiot—nothing more, nothing less.
And it wasn't like I had some freakishly tough physique or stumbled into a legendary master for secret arts. It was just vicious survival instincts beaten into me in back alleys. A desperate flailing from a beast with nowhere to lean—but one that would crawl at mages' feet if it meant protecting her.
That was when it happened.
"Doing this again? Look at your hands—they're wrecked."
A clear voice from behind me. I didn't need to turn; I knew. The sole light of my life, the reason I kept up this mindless grind. My childhood friend, Cecilia.
She approached and wrapped my battered hands in her soft ones. No arrogant mage glow—just warm human heat. Dressed in a loose linen dress cinched with a leather corset, every time she leaned forward, the thin fabric strained over her full breasts, their curves teasingly visible. Sweat trickled down her pale nape, vanishing into the deep valley between—tormentingly sensual.
"Idiot. You already forgot the salve I put on last time?"
She fiddled with my hands, upset but smiling. With each movement, her skirt hem rippled smoothly over her plump, enticing hips. When everyone else saw me as trash, Cecilia alone recognized my efforts. Without her cheers, I might've hanged myself from one of these forest trees long ago.
"Cecilia... I think I'm finally getting the hang of it."
"Huh?"
I took a deep breath, focusing on the scrap of cloth on the ground. Mana circulation. Breathing for others, a lifelong homework assignment for me. I twisted every muscle, squeezing my focus until veins threatened to burst.
Tremble.
The worn cloth quivered faintly. For a split second, it lifted about a centimeter off the dirt.
"Whoa! It floated! Kain! You did it!"
Cecilia grabbed my arm, thrilled like it was her win. Her excited breasts brushed and pressed softly against my forearm, but even that sensation dulled against the overwhelming joy paralyzing my brain. I couldn't contain the boiling emotion, bellowing loud enough to shake the forest.
"I finally did it...!!!! Look, I finally did it!!!!"
My throat burned raw with the roar. Twenty years of defeat and inferiority seemed to wash away in that one cry. Cecilia looked up, equally moved. But in that instant, her eyes flickered ever so slightly.
The color of the mana around the cloth. Not the usual blue or transparent. A faint... pinkish hue. Unusual mana.
"The color's kinda weird...?"
Cecilia smiled brightly, as if hiding something. "...Congrats! Your mana circulation's finally starting!" Her voice was an octave higher than usual, her congratulatory touch laced with subtle urgency. But drunk on my first triumph, I missed the oddity. All that mattered was the mana pulsing in my body at last—the thing I'd craved my whole life.
"Thanks for always cheering me on... I never thought I'd actually make it."
As overwhelming emotion welled and I reached for her hand—
"Hey, bug. What're you doing here?"
A nasty cackle echoed, and a man emerged from the forest shadows. Kyle. Slum trash like me, but lucky enough to have a scrap of magic talent—and he'd tormented me over it endlessly.
Kyle snapped his fingers lightly. An invisible, violent wind slapped my cheek mercilessly.
Smack!
"Urk!"
Before pain registered, I hit the dirt. Kyle's heavy boot stomped down on my head like grinding filth. Sneering at my gasping form, his greedy, slimy eyes raked over Cecilia beside me.
"Thought playing mage would lift your lowly ass up a bit? You're a bug meant to crawl the gutters forever. Right, Cecilia?"
Pinned under his boot, I clenched my fists until nails drew blood. The bitter helplessness gnawed me black. Futile against magic.
"Get off Kain right now!"
Cecilia screamed, pale-faced, shoving at Kyle. But her frail strength did nothing. He just grinned viciously, yanking her slender wrist roughly.
"Eek!"
Her body lurched; the loose dress shoulder slipped, baring smooth skin and deep cleavage. Kyle's murky eyes lingered openly on that pale, soft flesh.
"Damn, what's so good about a sewer rat like him? Come under me, and I'll carve the real meaning of 'magic' into your body every night."
"L-Let go, you pervert!"
I watched the humiliation helpless under his foot. Muscles forged in bone-grinding pain meant nothing against magic's overwhelming might—just meat. Gritty dirt ground in my mouth; my bloodshot eyes burned with Cecilia's terrified face. As his filthy hand reached for her pale nape, the weight on my head slackened—just a moment. Arrogant mage's carelessness. I seized it.
I twisted like a beast, grabbing his ankle.
"Gah!"
Kyle toppled; I pounced like a starving wolf, not giving him time to channel mana. Callused fists, hardened daily on trees till bones ached and bled, hammered his face mercilessly.
Thud! Crack! Crunch!
"Y-You bastard...!!!! This is my magic...!!!"
His nose collapsed, lips split, blood spraying. The fist mocked as fit only for crawling pulped the noble mage's smug face. Nothing in my vision but instinct: smash this trash dead. But honed flesh was paper-thin against miracles.
"Sh-Shut up, you filth!!"
Blue light exploded from Kyle's bloodied eyes. A short, guttural chant—and an invisible shockwave blasted me like a cannonball.
"Guh!"
I flew into a thick trunk, tumbling across rough dirt. Ribs cracked like it. Staggering up, but heavy wind magic from his fingertips slammed me down, pinning me immobile. Couldn't twitch a finger, barely breathe.
"Hah... hah... I'll kill you. Daring to touch my face..."
As murderous Kyle approached, torchlight and murmurs rose from the forest entrance.
"What's going on...!"
"I-Isn't that Kyle? He's bleeding!"
Villagers rushed in, horrified gazes flicking between bloodied "talented mage" Kyle and mana-less trash me who'd attacked him. Context twisted cruelly obvious.
"That bug finally snapped!"
"Daring to punch a mage? Worse than a beast!"
"Kick that scum out of the village now!"
No one cared Kyle harassed Cecilia first. Mages were law, truth; I was a beast fair game for stones.
"No! Kyle started—!"
Rough boots pummeled my side. Dull thuds echoed; ribs crumbled silently. Mouth flooded with metallic blood from torn flesh. All I could do was spit bloody mud. Cecilia wailed, blocking, but their kicks raged on—her tears fueling them. Vision reddened under brutal blows; blood from split brow sealed my eyes heavy. Cold dirt pressed my cheek. Ears rang with cracking bones and their grunts treating me like vermin. Not mere beating—a trampling denying my existence.
"Kyle, stop! This'll cause real trouble!"
Cecilia blocked him, screaming. Her white dress filthy with mud, but she spread her arms protectively. Her terrified, trembling eyes teary—fragile, pure, evoking anyone's urge to shield her.
"Keep your filthy hands off, Cecilia."
Kyle grimaced through blood, shoving her roughly. But basking in villagers' awe and pity, he schooled an arrogant mask.
"I'll show mercy today. But I'll report this insolence to the Village Chief—prepare yourself, trash."
He snorted, limping out on their solicitous arms. Villagers spat contempt at my prone form before ebbing away like tide.
Dark forest left just us two.
"Kain... sob, Kain..."
As footsteps faded, Cecilia burst into sobs, rushing to me. Wind magic lifted, I gasped dirt; she gently cradled my torso. Her slender arms wrapped my back; hot tears soaked my filthy face.
"Sorry... because of me. Seems like you always end up like this 'cause I'm around..."
Her self-blaming voice quivered. Her warmth and sweet scent pierced the agony, sharpening my senses. I weakly patted her back with throbbing arm.
"Don't cry."
Lips split, voice rusty, but I forced a smile. "Not your fault."
Leaning on her, limping out. Her shoulder strained under my weight, but she never winced. Her soft, full breasts pressed plush against my arm—I swallowed rough breaths secretly.
Finally in my cramped, rundown shack. That night, Cecilia stayed late, tending wounds with herbs. In flickering lamplight, her careful hands on my bare, scar-riddled back sparked breathless tension.
"Cecilia."
I broke the silence, voice low and gravelly. "Why bother with trash like me?"
Her soft hands paused on my back. Lamplight crackled softly. Then her small, warm hand gently gripped my shoulder.
"Everyone just resigns to their birth limits, lives as the world dictates. Gives up early if no mana. But you were different. Never quitting, sweating every day in struggle... I really liked that."
Even her kind words drew a self-mocking scoff. "And look—mana-less beast, barely better than an animal. Even when you're insulted right in front of me, I just flop on the ground bleeding, useless."
Deep self-loathing dripped from my voice. Cecilia didn't deny. Instead, she hugged my wounded back firmly from behind. Her soft cheek pressed tenderly to my rough skin.
"Don't say stupid things."
Her voice trembled faintly from behind, but firmer than ever. "Whenever I was in danger or hurting, you never ran. Stood guard no matter fireballs or your body breaking. Today too."
Her warmth and tears slowly melted my hardened heart. "Mana doesn't matter. I like your honest sweat, the straightforward courage unafraid to hurt for me. To me, you're... more precious and amazing than any hotshot mage."
Her sincere confession warmed the dim room. Feeling her fully, I slowly released my clenched fist. Her warmth and tears thawed my frozen heart.
Enraptured, I turned slowly to face her.
Our gazes collided in the air. Her face, resolute in embrace moments ago, flushed crimson as eyes met. Heat rushed to my face too. Heart pounded wildly. Under swaying lamplight, shy Cecilia was tormentingly erotic. Tear-reddened eyes, wet lashes quivering. Each tense breath heaved her full breasts steeply over the loose dress, dizzying curves. Smooth white thighs bared haphazardly from helping me, sweat-tousled hair. Everything about my childhood friend felt alien, stimulating. Air heated instantly; suffocating silence fell.
"Cecilia..."
My cracked voice echoed in the narrow room. No reply—she swallowed dryly, holding my gaze. Her hot breath tickled my nose. Distance narrowed to a whisper. Her red, moist lips drew inexorably toward mine, like inescapable gravity. Long lashes shadowed her pale cheek as eyes slowly closed. Motionless, I prepared to welcome her sweet, hot warmth with my whole body.