Shin flipped to the second page of the book with a frantic energy. His heart was still racing from the sight of the water spell outside. He expected a list of incantations or maybe a map of how to move his hands. Instead, his excitement died the moment his eyes landed on the paper.
"What the fuck is this?" he muttered.
The page was a mess. It looked less like a textbook and more like the frantic diary of someone losing their mind. The handwriting was cramped and erratic, with some words scratched out so heavily they had torn the parchment. There were sketches in the margins that looked like they were drawn by a child. One drawing appeared to be a stick figure surrounded by a scribbled cloud of ink. Another was a series of jagged lines that looked like a ball of tangled yarn.
He leaned in closer, squinting in the dim light of the room. The text didn't get any easier to understand. It spoke of 'Aetheric pathways' and 'the resonance of the marrow.' One paragraph described a process of 'unfolding the internal lung' to allow the air of the world to touch the center of the spirit.
It was incredibly dense and frustratingly vague. Every time he thought he understood a sentence, the next one would contradict it. The book used terms he had never heard of, like 'mana-wells' and 'systolic pressure of the soul.'
'This is a puzzle!' Shin thought, rubbing his temples.
He turned another page, hoping for something simpler. He found a section titled The First Connection. This part was at least legible. It explained that before a wizard could cast a single spark, they had to cultivate the mana around them.
The instructions were specific about the physical requirements. He had to sit with his back perfectly straight, his legs crossed in a specific lock, and his hands resting face-up on his knees. He had to close his eyes and visualize the air as a thick, golden mist.
Shin took a deep breath and slid off the cot onto the cold, dirt-packed floor. He winced as a small pebble poked into his knee, but he ignored it. He straightened his spine and closed his eyes.
'Okay. Golden mist. Just breathe it in,' he told himself.
He focused on his breath. He inhaled slowly through his nose, trying to feel the "weight" of the air. He held it for three seconds and then exhaled. He did it again. And again.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
He didn't feel a golden mist. He didn't feel a hum of energy or a warmth in his chest. All he felt was the uncomfortable draft from the window and the way his left leg was starting to fall asleep. His nose began to itch, a sharp sensation that demanded his attention. He tried to stay still, but the silence of the room was becoming deafening.
He could hear the distant sounds of the town outside. A horse whinnied in the distance. Someone shouted about a shipment of grain. A dog barked rhythmically three streets over.
Every sound was a distraction. He tried to push them away and find that "inner spark" the book mentioned. He searched his mind for any feeling of power. He looked for a light in the darkness of his closed eyes.
There was nothing. Just the blackness of his eyelids and the faint smell of the old tunic in the closet.
'Maybe I'm doing it wrong,' he thought, his frustration growing. 'Maybe I need to be more intense.'
He tried to force the feeling. He squeezed his eyes shut until he saw spots. He gripped his knees so hard his knuckles turned white. He tried to "pull" the air into his body with sheer willpower.
Another hour went by. The light in the room shifted as the sun moved across the sky. Shin's back was aching, and his legs were completely numb. He finally slumped over, his head hanging low.
There was no mana. There was no magical awakening. He felt exactly the same as he did in his old world: like a normal guy sitting on a dirty floor.
"Is it even possible?" he asked the empty room. "Can I even do this?"
He stood up, his legs tingling with pins and needles as the blood rushed back into them. He grabbed the wand from the bed, his grip tightening around the wood. He wasn't ready to give up yet. Maybe the meditation was just one way.
He started striking poses again. He stood with one leg back and pointed the wand toward the ceramic bowl.
"Fireball!" he yelled.
Nothing.
"Ignis! Flare! Burn!"
He tried a sweeping motion, flicking the wand with his wrist the way the man outside had done. "Aguamenti! Water! Splash!"
He spent the next few hours pacing the small room like a caged animal. He tried every word he could think of. He tried shouting them. He tried whispering them. He tried holding the wand with both hands. He even tried closing his eyes and spinning around before pointing it at the wall.
"Lumos! Give me some fucking light!"
The room remained dim. The only thing that happened was his voice grew hoarse and his arm grew tired. As he felt ridiculous.
By the time he stopped, the sliver of light from the window had turned a deep, bruised purple. Night had fallen. The room was cast in heavy shadows, making the wooden walls look even more oppressive.
Shin threw the wand onto the cot and walked to the window. He looked out at the dark silhouettes of the medieval buildings. A few lanterns flickered in the distance, but the world was mostly black.
"This is a big fucking joke," he said out loud. His voice was cracked and tired. "Why is being a wizard so fucking hard?"
He looked at his hands in the moonlight. "In the novels, the main character just gets it. They wake up and they're geniuses. They have a system that tells them what to do."
He felt a wave of bitterness. "How can that guy in the street use magic so easily? He looked like a regular person. Why can he do it and I can't? This world is so unfair."
He missed his life. He missed the roar of his sports car's engine. He missed the way his phone felt in his hand. He missed the air conditioning and the clean smell of his penthouse. Most of all, he missed the feeling of being in control.
He crawled back onto the cot and pulled the thin, scratchy blanket up to his chin. He closed his eyes tight, focusing on the image of his bedroom back home. He pictured his charger plugged into the wall and the soft blue light of his alarm clock.
'Please,' he whispered in his mind. 'Let me just wake up back there. Let this be a fever dream.'
He drifted off into a restless sleep, his mind filled with the image of that spinning ball of water.
The next morning, the sound of birds chirping outside the window woke him. The light was bright and unforgiving. Shin blinked, his head feeling heavy and dull. He didn't move for a long time. He just stared at the ceiling.
He slowly rolled onto his side and curled into a ball. The reality of his situation finally settled into his bones like lead. There was no quest log. There was no voice in his head giving him directions. There were no "level up" notifications.
'I don't have anything,' he realized. 'I'm just a normal guy.'
He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could just disappear. For the first time in his life, Shin felt truly helpless. Being a wizard wasn't a grand adventure.