Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst-Chapter 51: Magic for Dummies

I stood in front of the mirror, rolling my shoulders, flexing my fingers, testing every little movement. The body moved well enough, but it wasn’t mine anymore. I supposed that the other body wasn’t mine either, it once belonged to a young man struggling to get by, a kid with some skill at the bow, someone who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was also different back then, I was hungry to grow stronger, I wanted to return to a human form, and I didn’t even consider that he was an actual person. If I hadn’t hardened myself since I arrived at the capital, I would likely be overcome with guilt. The lessons I learned typically revolved around having to kill to survive, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to change my way of life just yet–not when I just took another for my own selfish purposes.

As I broke free from my thousand-yard stare, I returned to focus on myself in the mirror. The young man who stared back at me was lean, toned, and even handsome in a way that would probably turn heads. I certainly could have done worse, and god knows I would have even grabbed a grubby little stout magical accountant with vision problems if it would allow me to protect Mara. That would have sucked, spending my days crunching numbers during the day, while my flabby form jumped from shadow to shadow at night. My trusty abacus of annihilation always by my side, ready to deduct life points–sorry, no tax credits this time, you have to die!

Absurd...

I activated various muscle groups throughout my body. There was strength, sure, but nothing compared to what I had before... My old body was an instrument, sharpened to perfection. This one? It lacked refinement. No real calluses on the hands, no hardened muscle built from years of training, no ingrained instinct in the way it carried itself. I fully planned to pour my accumulated instincts into it, but that would take time. Whatever fitness this guy used to be in, it was likely for no other reason than to have the freedom of taking his shirt off at the beach during summer vacation–if any of those things were a thing here. Still, it was a good baseline, and if anything I would have time to spare. The daylight would be for honing my mind, while the moonlight would be for honing my body. Sleep would have to take the backseat for a while.

I clicked my tongue and stepped back. It would take time to break this body in. But did I truly need to? I could just flood the area with parasites and grab a strong warrior to return to where I was. However, that would require me to be able to defeat the warrior and sacrifice countless lives, all for my convenience. Morgana would likely revel in this course of action, but I had a lot on my plate right now. Besides, I did say that a magical affinity was something I would look for in my next host, back when I still thought I had a week left to find that host.

The shadows still pulsed beneath my skin. I could still move unseen, still strike from the dark. Still, this vessel was built for magic, and I was a mage now–or a wizard? A sorcerer? Maybe not practically, but I likely had the potential to do what Mara did, on some level.

The thought lingered. I had spent so long honing my skills as an assassin, perfecting my craft. I now had magic, real magic, and I needed to learn how to use it. A magical assassin did sound kind of cool, and I wouldn’t have to contract people for enchantments if everything went well.

"Where could I learn magic though?" I voiced aloud, amusing myself with an overly clueless tone. "If only there were some kind of school to teach me, and more ideally a place I was already enlisted at, that would be perfect!" Okay, this was lame and I really needed someone to talk to. Clearly, I was far more lonely than I had known. The Academy would solve my loneliness though, and I guess it could be helpful for training magic. To get into the Academy, one would have to at least be on a similar level to Mara, which I was not. This guy might be, but I didn’t know what he knew. I would have to get some training before I went to class and made a fool of myself.

I didn’t head back right away. That would have been stupid. If I walked in, found my room, and started classes outright, I would be fucked. I had no idea how to do magic, no idea how to form a spell, or what components it took, or even if they took components to begin with. Questions would be asked—questions I wouldn’t be able to answer. I needed to look the part and have an excuse for my absence. A little bruising, some exhaustion, maybe a few well-placed cuts. Nothing too dramatic, just enough to sell the story. This would all give me time to prepare.

I recalled how I had snuck through those halls like a ghost, watching from the shadows, even taking down students without so much as a, "Hey, stop punching those kids". Now, I could walk in the front door. Besides, if I didn’t like it, I’d just leave, it’s not like anyone could stop me. Literally, nothing to lose.

With a smirk, I cracked my knuckles. "Alright. Let’s give this a shot."

I found a tutor the same way I found most things—by throwing money at the problem until the right person showed up.

The old man who arrived wasn’t much to look at. Wrinkled, half-blind in one eye, hunched like he’d been carrying the weight of a hundred books every day of his life. But when he spoke, it was clear he knew his stuff. That was all that mattered.

"I don’t ask questions," he said as he set down a stack of tomes, adjusting the thick lenses on his nose. "I don’t care who you are, where you came from, or why you need this information. You pay, I teach. That’s our arrangement."

I tossed a heavy pouch onto the table. "Then start teaching."

The old man wasted no time. The moment I sat down, he placed a thick tome in front of me with a dull thud. The cover was cracked leather, the pages yellowed with age.

"Before we begin," he said, adjusting his lenses, "tell me what you know about magic."

I glanced at the book, then back at him. "It’s... magic?"

He sighed through his nose like I had already given him a headache. "Alright. From the beginning, then."

I didn’t argue. It was better to let him ramble while I picked out the useful pieces.

"Magic," he started, "is an energy pulled from the surrounding world and converted into a desired effect. However, it doesn’t just happen. It requires control, precision, and a method to channel it." He tapped the book with a bony finger. "Without structure, raw magic will burn through you like wildfire."

That caught my interest. "So I can cast without all the extra steps?"

"You can," he admitted. "But you won’t like the results."

I gestured for him to continue.

"There are four components to proper spellcasting," he said, holding up a crooked finger for each one. "Intent, Medium, Structure, and Output."

I leaned forward slightly. "Explain."

He did, starting with Intent. "Intent is the foundation of all magic. The mind must be focused on the exact effect desired. Vague thoughts lead to unstable casting, misfires, or outright failure. A spellcaster must see what they want before the magic will shape itself accordingly.

"Medium is the conduit through which magic flows. Most mages use incantations, gestures, or runes to stabilize their spells. Without a medium, the magic remains raw and uncontrollable. The stronger the medium, the less strain on the caster, though exceptionally talented mages or naturally gifted sorcerers can harness magic at a whim–drawing it from the air and directing it where they desire. These effects are powerful but lack the finesse of a true wizard, and though particularly effective on less civilized beasts, the untrained sorcerer will lose 9 out of 10 times to a trained wizard."

"Third we have structure, which is the form the magic takes before it is released. This could be a magic circle, an equation, or a specific sequence of words and movements. The Structure ensures a spell doesn’t fall apart before it’s cast, essentially the glue that binds it together long enough for it to produce the desired effect. Again, natural casters need to concern themselves with this, as they are merely redirecting it in the form they desire and letting the magic do the rest. Devastating to say the least, but nothing that can’t be stopped with carefully crafted countermeasures."

"Finally we have output, which is the final release of energy. This determines the force, duration, and area of effect of a spell. A poorly controlled Output leads to spells backfiring, fizzling, or exploding in the caster’s face."

I chimed in, trying to show I was listening, "Let me guess, these natural mages you mentioned can augment or funnel a bunch of energy to blow up everything, but probably aren’t so great at precise attacks?"

"Yes, that is mostly accurate, but of course there are exceptions." The old man replied, refusing to elaborate.

He continued with his lecture, brushing any further questions I had away. "Skipping steps often results in disaster," the old man warned. "Those who cast with only Intent suffer from wild, unstable magic that may not work as they expect. Without a Medium, you will bleed mana at an alarming rate. Lacking Structure leads to chaotic, dangerous effects that may not even be within the realm of what you intended. And without controlled Output, you may well kill yourself and everyone else in the process."

I absorbed the information, rolling the words around in my mind. It was all very... structured. This was going to be quite the change of pace for me.

"So how do I actually cast something?" I asked, tapping the book.

The old man flipped the tome open, revealing a simple spell labeled Ignis, a small flame.

"This is your first lesson," he said. "Let’s see how you handle it."

The spell’s components were listed in neat script:

Intent: A small, controlled flame in the palm of the hand.

Medium: A short incantation and a focused gesture.

Structure: A stable gathering of mana, shaped into a flame before release.

Output: A flame no larger than a candle’s worth of heat.

"Try it," the old man instructed.

I sighed, holding out my palm. I focused on the idea of fire. Nothing crazy, just small and steady. I could almost feel the heat already unless I was imagining it.

Then came the Medium. I curled my fingers just as the book described and whispered, Ignis.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, suddenly—way too suddenly—a burst of fire erupted in my hand, flaring outwards before vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

The old man barely blinked. "Too much Output. Control it."

I frowned and tried again. This time, I focused on keeping it small. I shaped the mana in my mind before letting it flow.

A small flame flickered to life in my palm.

I smirked. "There we go!" and as I lost focus the flame sputtered out, leaving me with a strange combination of pride and disappointment.

For the next several hours, we cycled through the basics—small manipulations of fire, water, air, and earth. Each element had different requirements and rules to follow.

Fire wanted to consume. Control was everything, and I lacked the eyebrows to prove it.

Water was fluid and adaptable. It seemed to thrive on the mana I poured into it, only giving me trouble when I used too much. Needless to say, I kept a towel nearby at all times and practiced away from the books.

Air was unpredictable, requiring sharp precision, and yet you kind of just had to go with it.

Earth was dense and heavy, needing brute force and a steely resolve to shape.

I learned fast, but I felt the strain. Magic burned through me in a way physical combat never did. My mana regenerated slowly, and overuse left me feeling drained, and sluggish. freewēbnoveℓ.com

"You need a focus," the old man said after my fifth attempt at stabilizing an air spell. "A conduit to help direct your energy."

I frowned. "Like a staff?"

"Or a ring, a pendant, even a blade," he confirmed. "Something to store excess mana, to act as an anchor."

That was something to think about.

By the time we finished for the day, my head was pounding, and my muscles felt leaden. Magic took effort—a lot of it. I started to wonder if maybe the kid didn’t exercise at all, maybe all wizards were secretly just ripped from exerting themselves.

"One more thing my boy. There exist potions that may recover your mana stores in mere seconds, but I advise you sto tay away from them while you learn. Overuse of any potion can cause significant damage to the body, but mana potions do more damage than that. Until you grow accustomed to the flow of mana in your body, the potions may put undue strain on the channels that carry this energy. To put it bluntly, it would be like rupturing blood vessels, except instead of blood it would be mana. You would begin to hemorrhage it, and if left unchecked, you could kill yourself. Until you are ready, I will not even tell you how many you can handle. It is better you stay away from them entirely for now.

Well shit... That sounded horrible.

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