บท 3: stubborn uncle
Travis jolted slightly at the sudden voice resonating in his head.
It wasn't the cold, mechanical tone of the system he'd grown accustomed to.
This voice was different—vivid and lifelike, almost too realistic.
[Wonderful! You have succeeded in adding light to your mana core.]
'Who's talking now?' Travis wondered, his body instinctively tensing.
He scanned his surroundings as if expecting the source of the voice to materialize in front of him.
[Don't stress, kid. This is just a portion of my will. Yeah, it's me—the God of Mages.]
The voice carried an air of self-assuredness, as though expecting reverence or awe.
"So?" Travis replied flatly.
[Huh? Did you not hear me? I just said I'm the God of Mages—Orion! The only mage to transcend the realm of average mages!]
Travis blinked, unimpressed. "Never heard of you."
The silence that followed was almost comical. It was clear the voice had not anticipated such a blunt response.
[Unbelievable...] the voice muttered, sounding almost wounded.
[Well, whether you've heard of me or not, get ready to become the best of the best. This is merely a fragment of my will, but I'm confident it will guide you well enough.]
The voice sounded suspiciously young—more like an overconfident teenager than an all-powerful mage deity.
'So this is what happens when you unlock a legacy, huh? You get a cocky, disembodied voice stuck in your head,' Travis thought with a wry smile.
[Hey! I'm not cocky. I didn't become the God of Mages by being stupid, you know. Now, listen up—you've passed the first stage.]
"First stage?" Travis echoed.
[Unlike most mages who stop after adding light to their mana core, I went beyond. The secret to true power lies in strengthening your core. Fill it, reinforce it, and transform it. That way, you'll harness far more power when you need it most.]
As the voice spoke, it felt like an unseen hand was organizing the knowledge passed to Travis, presenting it in clear, vivid visuals.
Closing his eyes in concentration, Travis could see his mana core once again—a faint, pulsating glow nestled deep within him.
[The mana core changes as you grow stronger, eventually specializing in a specific element. Right now, yours is white—a sign of its infancy.]
'It was dull and clear when I first saw it,' Travis thought, observing the core.
'Adding mana made it shine white. I guess that's the first step.'
[Exactly. Now strengthen it!] the voice commanded.
Travis inhaled deeply, focusing all his energy on the fragile mana core.
Waves of mana surged from his surroundings, rushing into the core like torrents.
The small, glowing sphere swelled under the pressure, its light intensifying.
Then, disaster struck.
A sharp popping sound echoed within him as the core imploded, shattering like fragile glass.
Pain erupted in his lower body, sharp and unrelenting, nearly pulling him out of his trance.
[Focus! Don't lose concentration, or you'll lose your ability to use magic entirely!]
The voice was stern now, devoid of its earlier levity. Travis clenched his teeth, sweat pouring down his face.
'This... this is nothing,' he thought, forcing himself to endure.
'It's not as bad as the heartaches I used to have back on Earth. And besides, dying a virgin was a worse fate anyway.'
Determined, Travis continued to channel mana into the shattered core.
He could feel the remnants of the core stirring, pulling themselves together. It was like watching fragments of glass meld into a whole new structure.
[This method is risky, but it will make your core far sturdier and more explosive in power!]
Travis marveled at the transformation. The reformed core glowed brighter, its white light pure and radiant.
The pain subsided, replaced by a deep, satisfying warmth.
He opened his eyes, a faint sheen of golden light reflecting in his irises.
[Congratulations! Your mana core is now stabilized. You've taken your first real step toward becoming a mage. Until next time I guess!]
Before Travis could revel in his progress, a loud commotion echoed from downstairs. The noises were sharp and chaotic—angry voices mixed with the sound of something heavy crashing.
Travis stood and made his way out of the study. As he descended the worn, creaking staircase, he took in the desolate state of the house.
In Lysil's memories, it had been a lively, grand estate, teeming with servants and wealth. Now, it was a husk—empty and decrepit, with cobwebs adorning the corners.
The last of the servants had abandoned the household days ago, stealing what little gold they could carry.
Only Henry, the loyal old butler, had remained.
As Travis reached the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted by the sight of a corpulent man with greasy auburn hair.
His body seemed to strain against the limits of his clothes, his neck nearly swallowed by his own bulk. He was flanked by three men—burly, scarred, and exuding menace.
Henry was on the ground, struggling to rise after being shoved by one of the men he had brought along.... Travis had witnessed this upon coming down.
"Fario, how could you think of doing this? This is your nephew we're talking about!"
Henry's voice was hoarse but resolute.
"Shut your mouth, you useless butler!" Fario barked. His gaze shifted, landing on Travis. A smirk curled his lips.
"Ah, there you are. I've come to collect the eight thousand gold coins your father promised me. Since you don't have it, I'll be generous—hand over this house, and we'll call it even."
Travis's eyes narrowed. He had already sifted through Lysil's memories.
His father's promise to Fario wasn't a debt but a gesture of goodwill—a pledge to help a failing business.
Yet here was Fario, twisting the narrative for his own gain.
"Fario, have you no shame?" Henry protested.
"You're leaving your nephew homeless over a promise that wasn't even binding!"
"How does that concern me?" Fario snapped, his voice brimming with disdain.
He turned back to Travis, his gaze condescending.
"Make your choice, boy. Either pay up or hand over the house."
Travis didn't flinch under Fario's gaze. Instead, he smiled—a small, unsettling curve of his lips.
"You brought bandits with you," Travis said, his tone calm. His golden eyes flicked to the tallest of the men—a scarred brute with a menacing presence.
"What's the plan, Fario? Intimidate me into submission?"
Fario stiffened, momentarily caught off guard by Travis's demeanor.
"Now tell me," Travis continued, his voice sharper. "It was the right hand? Am I wrong?"
The room fell silent. Fario's confusion deepened, his brow furrowing as he tried to decipher Travis's cryptic question.
The scarred man shifted uncomfortably, his instincts warning him that this wasn't going as planned.
For the first time, Fario realized something was off. This wasn't the defeated, pitiful nephew he had expected.
This was someone else entirely—a presence that radiated quiet, simmering power.
And in the depths of Travis's glowing eyes, there was a promise: this wasn't going to end well for them.
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The_Broken_Author
The_Broken_Author Creation is hard, cheer me up!
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