All was silent.
The pencils lay on the ground. Flames encircled the trapped woman, crackling and twisting in the air.
"Hah! You were still planning to kill me?" the familiar woman said, voice calm but sharp.
"Both an F, huh? Well, okay… bye-bye for now, eh?" the trapped woman replied. She pulled a tiny glowing glass cylinder, no bigger than a finger, from her pocket. With a quick snap, she broke it—and vanished.
"Clanar recall, huh? I wonder who she's working for," the familiar woman muttered.
John stood frozen, mind spinning. Everything happening around him was surreal.
The woman approached the bleeding child. "Hey, John, can you help me?"
"Uhh… oh, yes," John stammered.
"I'll explain later. For now, just lend a hand and pick up those pencils," she instructed.
John remembered the stab—yet felt no pain. The wound was gone.
He grabbed the pencils from the ground and handed them to her. The child's gaze never left John, still dripping with blood.
"Let him use one of the runes… on his grimoire. Then make him heal me," the child said calmly.
Runes? The pencils must be the runes.
"Give me your grimoire," the woman commanded.
"You mean… the tiny book?" John asked.
"Tiny?" She paused briefly. "No worries. Just give it here."
John retrieved the centimeter-long book from his pocket. She studied it, then paused, her brow furrowing.
Wait, why is it in my pocket? I put it in my bag, John thought.
"Seems we're out of luck, boss. Nevermind, John. I'll just write it on mine," she said, pulling a slightly larger book from her bag. It had a natural leather design and radiated a faint reddish glow.
She took one pencil, opened her book, and glanced at the child. Letters glowed bright red as she wrote, forming metaphoric symbols John could barely comprehend. The pencil vanished midair.
"Where does it hurt, boss?" she asked the child.
"Here," the child pointed to his shoulder. "I'd rather you don't touch it directly."
"Alright, Mr. Boss." The woman positioned her palms over the spot. Her hands glowed red, her eyes following the script. After a few moments, she stopped.
"Done?"
"Yes, thanks. Spatial reversal spell? Nice," the child said. The bleeding had stopped. His shirt looked untouched, pristine.
"Shall we enter the cafe, John?" the child asked.
"Yes," John said, still processing everything.
Inside, everyone moved normally again. Frozen moments ago, now fluid, unaware of the chaos outside.
"Good spot. Let's occupy it," Jaz said.
"Okay, Jaz," the child replied. So her name is Jaz, and the child… boss? Perhaps.
"May I see your grimoire?" the child asked.
"Yeah, sure," John said, hesitating. "But is this really my grimoire?"
He handed over the tiny book. Jaz inspected it carefully. The child peeked, and after a pause, both burst into laughter.
"What is it?" John asked.
"You'll never survive the academy with this," Jaz said, laughing until she gasped for breath.
"I can't breathe! What kind of suffocation spell is this?!" the child joked, trying to moderate his laughter.
I hate this child, John thought.
"I'm not here to be mocked. I want answers," John said, frowning.
"Okay, okay," Jaz said, still chuckling. "So, there's an academy where all magicians go after discovering their magic."
"Academy?" John asked. "I have magic?"
"Yes. The overwhelming but calming aura around us… that's Mana. Those with Mana can manipulate magical abilities. Their abilities are recorded in grimoires," she explained.
"I haven't seen a grimoire this small," the child added, chuckling. "Grimoires vary—big, small, thick, thin… but this one… it's… unique. Hahaha!"
I hate this child, John thought again.
"So I have Mana," he said, confirming.
"Uh… yes," Jaz admitted. "Your pool is slightly smaller than mine, but you can cast spells. Nobody writes them for you—you need to create them yourself."
"So the rune pencils… they're for writing spells?" John asked.
"Yes, partly. But each grimoire should contain at least one default spell," Jaz explained.
"May I see it?" the child asked.
John hesitated but handed it over. The child examined it and, stifling his laughter, said: "Two spells… two pages… haha, metaphors. Only by understanding yourself can you master a spell."
"Ah… so understanding myself lets me cast efficiently?" John asked.
"Yes," Jaz confirmed. "Your grimoire marks you as an S—rare among mages."
"How do you know?" John asked.
"Bloodline," Jaz said. "Me and Boss are F mages. You're an S, indicated by the cover."
"What does being S mean?" John asked.
"You'll learn at the academy," the child replied. "For now, we'll guide you there."
"The academy… where?" John pressed.
"One condition," Jaz said. Ah… that's why this all connects, John thought. They want a favor.
"What's the favor?" John asked.
"To join our squad. Mana is visible to other mages. It's safer together," Jaz explained.
"Is there a way to hide Mana?" John asked.
"There is, but only P mages can. We're Fs," the child said.
"Deal," John agreed. "Better odds for survival."
"Tomorrow's full moon, right?" the child said. "Let its light reflect on your book. It will open a portal to the academy."
"Understood. How long will I be gone?"
"Three days," Jaz said. "The academy teaches spellcraft and control. Metaphorical, personal learning."
"How do I meet you afterward?"
Jaz and the child stood. The child returned John's tiny grimoire.
"I'll see you at school. Focus on entering the academy. You only gain magical privileges after passing it. Don't use magic yet—some mages could kill you," Jaz warned.
"Promise?" the child asked, voice stern.
"I keep my promises," John said.
This child could probably kill me, John thought. His aura… just now. Intimidating.
Jaz and the child exited. John checked his table and chair. Everything seemed normal. No signs of magic, no lingering chaos.
But one thing was clear. To understand the world now, he had to do one thing—enter the academy and find the answers for himself.