Dirty Rotten Magic

It was before dawn in the quiet village nestled deep within the woodlands. I lay still in my tiny room upstairs at the inn, the soft pre-dawn light barely seeping through a grimy window. The walls were fashioned from rough-hewn paneling, their large notches and swirls of wooden grain telling tales of countless winters past. My humble mattress, made of cloth and stuffed with straw, surprisingly offered a comfort that far surpassed the hard, unforgiving bedding I had known back in Detroit—where nights were often spent on cold floors or in crowded shelters.

The sheets and blankets, all homemade from thick cotton and woven wool, boasted intricate patterns that spoke of care and artistry. Each stitch and motif was unique, a far cry from the mass-produced, impersonal fabrics of the city. As I shifted in bed, my bleary eyes caught sight of a peculiar pot lying on the creaking wooden floor. Its purpose was not immediately clear—until I remembered with a grimace that I had not seen a proper toilet in the inn. I resolved then that I would not dare touch the pot unless in absolute emergency. In one shadowed corner, a ceramic bowl and a jug of water sat quietly; I had used these last night to wash away the grime of my travels. Now, feeling cleaner and with a modest sum jingling in my pocket, hope seemed to gently unfurl.

My thoughts drifted to the conversation with Heshe from the previous night. Pulling out my life book, I turned to my Character tab and studied the neatly printed details:

  Name:  Chisx   Top Skill: Blunt weapon use

  Character Total Level:  1

  Major – Strength: 11  Fortitude: 11  Agility: 11

  Major – Intelligence: 15  Charisma: 16  Knowledge: 10

  Minor – Shield: N/A  Magical Power: 85  Stamina: 65  Carry Limit: 32

  Regen Sec – N/A     4       2.1    N/A

I marveled at how this system had seamlessly woven itself into my life in this magical realm, as integral now as the looming monsters and mysterious medieval villages. Heshe had explained that the major attributes influenced every aspect of your existence—practicing skills would only make you stronger over time. I then flipped to the skill table, where a few more skills had been added:

  Skill Table

  Name   Major   Level  XP to the next level  XP   Comment

  Unarmed combat  Strength/Agility  0   100   11  Any fighting without weapons

  Blunt weapon use  Strength/Agility  1   200   120  Use of a blunt weapon in combat

  Trading      Charisma    0   100   16  Buying and selling items

  Romance      Charisma    0   100   32  –

  Gambling      Charisma    1   200   28

Studying the list, I mentally calculated: I had traded twice already, and with my charisma at 16, each successful deal would grant me 32 experience points—nearly a third of what was needed for the next level. Each level up would bring with it five major points to allocate, a tantalizing prospect in this system that promised growth through practice. Though I had only grasped the basics last night, Heshe had mentioned guild trainers in the town who could help build one's life. Determined, I planned to journey to a significant town a day's walk north of the village by day's end.

Yet one inconsistency nagged at me: my Character tab showed "Shield: N/A." Heshe had explained that everyone had a shield stat—an invisible barrier that absorbed damage until it was depleted. Most people invested heavily in fortitude to bolster their shield, a crucial safeguard in a dangerous land. Why mine was absent remained an unresolved mystery, adding yet another enigma to my ever-growing list.

Then, as the first triumphant calls of birds heralded the new day outside my window, my heart leapt with excitement. Their melodious chirping, fresh and crystalline, signaled that it was time to venture out and—most exciting of all—shop for magic. Yes! My heart shouted, for here in this world, real magic existed beyond the mere tricks I had learned in the past. I recalled Heshe's animated descriptions from last night, especially when her smile had lit up her face as she spoke of magical systems. The magic store, even, was adjacent to her general store, a stroke of luck in a place where few villages boasted such wonders.

Eagerly, I jumped out of bed, donning my scruffy clothes with haste. With little to pack and a mind set on quick movement, I swung open the door; it creaked slightly in the early morning silence, a sound mingling with the gentle rustle of awakening nature. In the common room, many still slumbered on the floor, bundled in their coats as if accustomed to such rustic sleep. A few larger men snored like chainsaws in a distant factory, yet none seemed perturbed by the cacophony of dreams. Outside, the innkeeper diligently repaired a creaking sign or mend a loose shutter, nodding as I passed by on my way to the magical shop.

The village center, bathed in the soft glow of early sunlight, revealed sheep still dozing in quiet corners while the sun's rays flooded the cobblestones with a pale, white brilliance. I made my way past the central green toward the magic store—a quaint establishment encircled by a white picket fence and a painted white door left slightly ajar. My heart raced with anticipation until I noticed an older man standing in the doorway, his eyes twinkling with knowing humor.

"Good morning," he greeted warmly, his voice carrying the gentle lilt of years well-lived. "You'll be the young man wanting some beginner's magic books."

"How did you know?" I asked, genuinely surprised. I usually guarded my emotions, but the excitement over acquiring real magic rendered me delightfully unguarded.

Pulling myself together, I replied, "Heshe must have mentioned my interest in magical learning."

"This is a village, boy," he chuckled. "It didn't come directly from her. You've managed to cause quite a stir among the young ladies with your good looks and towering height. Once you get some decent clothes, you'll be a real catch."

I laughed, the sound mingling with the crisp morning air, and said, "Thanks for telling me, but for now, I'm really just interested in your magical books."

"That's a subject of great interest to the girls here as well," the man continued, his voice conspiratorial. "There's some talk that you might be a strange elf. Are you?"

"No, just very tall and keen to learn," I replied, though I couldn't help a slight blush.

The old man grinned and stepped aside to let me in. "Young man, you're in the right place. Come in and spend some of the money you won last night."

Inside, the store was a veritable wonderland of curiosities: crystals glowed softly on cluttered shelves, bundles of dried herbs filled the air with earthy scents, and a jumble of stones and disturbingly preserved animal parts lent an eerie, otherworldly aura. The overall effect was part new-age stall, part medieval apothecary—a perfect setting for magical wares. Behind a counter that occupied one side of the shop, the old man, dressed in robes that looked as if he'd slept in them, slowly opened a wooden gate. A spark of light danced from his hand, illuminating a wall of leather-bound books secured by iron chains.

Placing his hands on the counter, he inquired, "What type of magic are you interested in?"

Before I could think, I blurted, "All types." The words rushed out, and my face flushed red with embarrassment. Regaining my composure, I added, "I'm really just after a general introduction to magic—maybe some beginner spells."

He smiled kindly and observed, "That's rather a lot. Even with my limited library, I have volumes covering different areas: battle, farming and craft, flora and fauna, and magic of the mind—my own specialty. What do you plan to do with it? Are you an adventurer, or do you plan to trade or farm?"

I hesitated, contemplating that magic might bring not just wealth but the power to do extraordinary things. "I'd like a general introduction to magic with some starting spells," I said, my voice tinged with both ambition and longing.

He leaned forward, eyes glimmering as he replied, "For the complete set, it's four hundred copper coins for all four books." I bristled at the idea of bartering in my current state of ignorance and desperation, but the allure of knowledge outweighed my hesitation.

"Are you a gambling man?" I asked with a tentative smile.

The old man's smile deepened with amusement. "Not with someone as lucky as you. The cost is still four hundred copper coins, and no, I'm not going to gamble over it."

I eyed the neatly stacked coins, feeling the weight of my dreams in my pocket, and nodded, accepting the price. With a practiced hand, I handed over a large pile of coins. The magician then carefully inspected the spines of his hefty tomes before removing four leather-bound books chained to the shelf. I stared at them, wondering how I would ever transport such weighty volumes, both physical and magical.

Seeing my confusion, he said, "You really must come from an out-of-the-way place. You've never used a magic book, have you?"

Great, I thought—clearly I was marked as a tourist. I may have been overcharged, but I was too eager to care. "Just place your hand on the book, and the information will transfer into your own magical pages," he instructed.

I followed his instructions, placing my hand on the first book as he waved his hands in a complex pattern and muttered incantations. Waves of magical energy shimmered over the tome, bathing it in a soft white glow as the knowledge transferred into my life book. He repeated the process for the remaining volumes, then returned the books to their place on the shelf. Quickly, I opened my life book and navigated to the magical tab. There, proudly displayed, were the four titles of the books. I began to thumb through hundreds of pages of newfound wisdom.

"Ahem," the magical storekeeper said in a drowsy tone. "You can read them on your own time—I'm heading back to bed. I was only awake to serve you. This was one of my biggest deals in weeks."

I nodded politely and closed my life book. "Thank you," I said, my voice echoing in the quiet magic of the room.

--

I headed toward the village gate, my simple cotton shirt and trousers billowing slightly in the early breeze, making me look every bit the poor farm boy on his way to the big town with a satchel of beans—and at least that's how I felt in the outfit. The fabric, though plain, carried the humble dignity of rural life, contrasting sharply with the harsher textures of my past in Detroit.

When I entered the store, I hoped to catch a final glimpse of Heshe's radiant smile, but she was nowhere to be seen. The absence of her familiar warmth was a bitter disappointment, as I longed to say goodbye. Instead, an older man waited for me, his features set in a permanent scowl that gave nothing away. I suspected he might be her father, though our conversation was sparse and heavy with unspoken disapproval. Even my most charming smile failed to soften his stern expression—in fact, it seemed only to unsettle him further, so I wisely ceased my attempts at cheer. As I perused the modest wares, I noticed the prices were exorbitant, as if he begrudged my business while still willing to pocket my coin. I decided then to purchase only the bare essentials and leave as quickly as possible, feeling unwelcomed as if I were once again living on the cold, hard streets.

With my few belongings—my shirt, trousers, and the sneakers still on my feet—I made my way back to the gate. There, the same man who had greeted me the day before stood sentinel by the open door. His eyes twinkled with familiar amusement as he remarked, "You seem to have created quite a name for yourself in one night."

I smiled conspiratorially and replied, "It was quite a night, but I must be heading out."

The guard's tone softened as he added, "I wish you luck and be careful on your travels. It's always dangerous to travel alone." With those parting words, I passed through the gate into the forest beyond.

Stepping outside, I nearly collided with Daisy—the guard cow—who ambled over and affectionately rubbed her head against my shirt, as if offering her own farewell in the language of bovine warmth. As I backed away from the overly affectionate creature, the man at the gate chuckled, "Somebody must like you here, as Daisy's not normally that affectionate with a stranger." His words, though puzzling, were a reminder that some customs in this strange new world would take time to understand. I shook my head in bemusement as I followed the path to the town that Heshe had directed me to the previous night—the path now illuminated on my life book map, a glowing beacon guiding me forward. I hoped that in my new destination, I wouldn't unwittingly make any fathers angry by simply chatting with their beautiful daughters.

The cart path to the town wound its way through thick, green woodland. The forest was shrouded in a gentle fog that lent an ethereal quality to the towering canopy formed by chestnut, linden, and oak trees. Shafts of light broke through the canopy in sporadic bursts, illuminating a chaotic mosaic of mushrooms and damp, fallen leaves. The air was alive with the melodies of birds and the distant, thunderous rush of river currents crashing against boulders, while curling creepers clung to ancient trunks and clusters of brightly blossoming flowers lent vibrant color to the otherwise uniform forest floor.

Eager to begin my magical studies, I attempted the impossible task of reading my life book while walking. I had been engrossed in the section on magical pathways through the body when I clumsily struck a tree. The collision sent a jolt of pain through me, forcing me to set my book aside and focus on one thing at a time.

As the day warmed and sunlight finally broke through the leafy canopy, I continued along the dirt path—now soft and trodden down by the passage of old carts. Exotic plants with curious, otherworldly shapes flanked the track, and I wondered if they might hold some magical properties. I relished the gentle beauty of this woodland, so far removed from the brutal urban landscape of Detroit, when suddenly, from the depths of the forest, a hand-sized, flaming yellow fireball shot straight toward my face. With reflexes honed by years of survival, I ducked, narrowly missing the searing orb. But before I could recover, another fireball burst into existence behind the first; this time, it struck me squarely in the chest. Waves of scorching heat flared across my upper body, and I felt the agony of burning flesh as the searing pain radiated through my nerves. I clutched at my chest, trying futilely to smother the flames, but it only seemed to spread the fiery torment to my hand.

The stench of burning skin mixed with the acrid smell of smoke filled my nostrils as I dove to the ground, rolling frantically in an effort to smother the flames. Just as I began to feel a semblance of relief, another fireball crashed into my back, intensifying the inferno that had taken hold of me. Amid my screams of agony, I caught sight of a man advancing from the shadows—the gambler who had used magic against me the previous night. His hands moved in intricate patterns, muttering arcane words as a swirling wave of energy coalesced into a fireball that he hurled at me with deliberate malice.

"You thought you could get away with taking my money, you idiot!" he shouted, his voice dripping with venom. "A low level with no shield—you make it all too easy to burn you to death and then reclaim my money from your inventory when it drops!"

Before I could muster a response, another fireball struck my legs, and the searing pain escalated, overwhelming me until my vision darkened and I fell unconscious.

––

I awoke screaming in the oppressive darkness, every fiber of my body ablaze as though thousands of red-hot needles were piercing my flesh. The burning torment was relentless, each wave of agony crashing over me like a merciless tide. I screamed until my voice was hoarse, then lay paralyzed, too immobilized to move lest I provoke further pain.

At some point during this unending torment, rational thought began to seep back into my mind. "OK," I thought, "let's see what the book of my life has to say." I mentally summoned it, and it appeared before me like a beacon of order in the chaos. I navigated to the Character tab and examined the diagram of my battered body—it was awash in flashing red, resembling a warning light at a busy pedestrian crossing. A prominent notice read: 'Time to heal: ten hours.' I could only hope that I wouldn't be trapped in this agony for that long, but the slow countdown provided a grim measure of my recovery. After about an hour, when the pain receded just enough for clear thought, I dared to move—but every attempt caused fresh bursts of agony.

Desperate for distraction, I flicked through the magical section of my life book. I began reading the introduction, and its arcane prose diverted my attention from my traumatized body. As the minutes slipped by, I absorbed the fundamentals of magic: that the energies of the world could be harnessed, either drawn from external sources or stored magically within one's own body, and then channeled along mystical pathways to the release point—often the hands, but potentially anywhere. These spells, I learned, were shortcuts for molding raw energy into something tangible. It was basic, yet the true complexity of magic would reveal itself only with deeper study—a fact that both humbled and excited me.

For the next few hours, I practiced guiding magical energy through the channels in my body, following the lessons outlined in the book. I could feel the system awakening within me, a latent force beginning to flow, carrying a taste of power that was at once exhilarating and daunting. When an hour remained on my healing timer, I found I could at least sit up. Eager to bolster my defenses after the fiery attack, I selected a basic body shield spell from the book. According to the text, at this level a single mace strike or a magical fireball could break the shield, but it was better than nothing. I gathered the energies of air and fire, channeling them with deliberate hand movements until a small, flickering matrix of energy formed between my palms. I then directed the spell outward with a measured gesture—a mild, shimmering glow enveloped me briefly before fading into nothingness.

I tested the shield by picking up a large rock and dropping it onto my leg. I waited, bracing for a fresh surge of pain, but instead the rock merely rolled off as the magical shield flickered in response. "Voila!" I thought, a surge of triumph mingling with relief. I repeated the spell until I was lightheaded from exertion—what the book described as magical power exhaustion—then allowed myself a pause. After an hour of rigorous practice and healing, I checked my skill table in the life book:

  Skill Table

  Name   Major   Level  XP to the next level  XP   Comment

  Unarmed combat  Strength/Agility  0  100  11  Any fighting without weapons

  Blunt weapon use  Strength/Agility  1  200  120  Use of a blunt weapon in combat

  Trading      Charisma    0  100  16  Buying and selling items

  Romance      Charisma    0  100  32  –

  Running      Strength/Agility  0  10  33  –

  Gambling      Charisma    1  200  28

  Shield Magic   Intelligence  0  100  90  Any type of shield magic

I wondered how much battering this shield could truly withstand, but the book noted it was cumulative—albeit temporary, lasting only a few hours at this level. It was better than nothing.

As dawn broke, I finally managed to stand, though my body was still sore and marked with the evidence of the attack. I had been laid in a small ditch, as if my assailant had deliberately rolled me off the main path, ensuring I wouldn't be easily found by predators or scavengers. The notion of a justice system in this wild, magical land crossed my mind, but I knew I had more pressing matters.

I looked down at myself—my wounds had healed, though I was covered in grime. I realized, with a sinking feeling, that my clothes had been burnt away entirely, and even my sneakers were gone. Fortunately, I retrieved my old clothes from my inventory and dressed once more. Now I resembled the person I had been at the start of my adventure—albeit with four hundred copper coins and the wondrous promise of magic in my grasp.

The forest teemed with the chirps of birds heralding a new day, and I sat for an hour to learn one more spell—a fire spell called Flicker. Gathering fire energy from the vibrant morning air, I cupped my hands and coaxed slender threads of flame into existence. A half-inch-wide flame danced in my palms before I thrust my hand forward, sending the flicker shooting ahead a couple of meters before it faded. It wasn't yet a full-fledged fireball, but it was a promising start—one that could scorch an exposed limb if needed. I even had someone in mind to test its efficacy on—if fate should allow our paths to cross again.

Determined to reach the town at the end of the trail, I set off once more in my patched rags. I resolved not to return to the village for more clothes; who knew what might transpire if that certain father ever saw me again? The only drawback was that I was barefoot, but the soft, yielding ground and the resilience I had cultivated made it bearable.

And so, with the forest's symphony of birdsong and rustling leaves guiding my steps, I walked steadily toward the distant town, my mind abuzz with magic, mystery, and the promise of new adventures waiting just beyond the treeline.