"You don’t even have money, you're a kid, and you come to a place like this… and still ask me not to get mad?"

  The tavern owner grumbled while drying a filthy cup with an even filthier cloth.

  Bruno raised his hands defensively.

  "Look… I just got to this world. Hard to adapt quickly, you know?"

  The man blinked slowly.

  "What do you mean, boy? You fall from somewhere and hit your head?"

  Bruno gave him a sarcastic smile.

  "Actually, yes. I fell from the sky. About fifty, sixty meters straight into the ground."

  The tavern keeper stared at him like he had just heard the dumbest thing on the planet.

  "…I give up."

  He grabbed a cup someone had recently drunk from, filled it with water — which, in that place, was practically a miracle — and pushed it toward Bruno.

  Kearlin, floating nearby, crossed his translucent arms.

  "You shouldn’t talk like that. The guy is twice your size and weighs four times more, at least."

  Bruno ignored him.

  In a corner, an old man with a white beard — stained with booze, crumbs, and probably regret — let out a scratched laughter.

  "You're brave, kid. And stupid."

  Bruno took a sip of the water-with-cheap-beer taste and looked at the old man expressionlessly.

  "That's one of my skills. But why are you, old man, talking to me?"

  The old man inhaled sharply, offended.

  "Old man? You don’t even know my age to call me that."

  "I don’t need to. It’s written all over your face."

  The man's weak hands clenched, trembling with anger.

  "Do you know who you’re talking to?"

  Bruno shrugged.

  "A very grumpy old man."

  The old man stood up so abruptly he almost knocked over the table.

  "I am the great sage mage Revan!"

  Bruno blinked.

  "And I’m supposed to know who that is?"

  "OF COURSE! Everyone knows!"

  Bruno shot back instantly:

  "My mother always told me I’m not ‘everyone.’ But… you said sage. I don’t see any apprentices around you."

  Revan puffed his chest.

  "I don’t need apprentices! I only need my magic and my drink!"

  Bruno stood as well, staring at him face-to-face.

  "Then you’re not a sage. Just a know-it-all mage. To be wise, you need to share knowledge. Turn your mind into a book. But you’re just going to die as a sad old man."

  Revan slammed his cane on the ground.

  "I will NOT!"

  "You will," Bruno shot back instantly. "You probably don’t even know how to teach. Bet all your apprentices ran away."

  The old man turned red.

  "You want to see? I’LL SHOW YOU!"

  He stomped toward the door, tripping over chairs.

  "Stay here! I’ll get my cart!"

  The door slammed.

  Bruno sighed and finished his beer-water.

  "That was easy. Finally found someone to teach me something."

  Kearlin’s eyes widened.

  "Hold on… that was your plan!?"

  Bruno smiled slightly.

  "Yeah. Wasn’t that hard."

  Kearlin spun in the air, incredulous.

  "You provoked the old man on purpose. Bruno… sometimes I’m certain you want to die young."

  Bruno shrugged, wiping his mouth.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "An arrogant mage, alone in a rundown tavern… obviously he wanted attention. I just gave him the right push."

  "Right push!? You called the man useless, a sad old man, AND attacked his profession!"

  Kearlin floated closer, eyes wide.

  "You’re insane. In every letter."

  Bruno ignored him, tilting the cup to check the bottom.

  "So much foam for so little water."

  The door creaked.

  Revan returned, pushing a crooked cart filled with battered books, dangling vials, and… a skeleton tied by ropes, its head wobbling from side to side.

  "Get in, boy. I’ll show you what true knowledge is."

  He pointed with authority… then tripped on the step.

  The skeleton lurched and nearly fell out of the cart.

  Bruno blinked slowly, turned to Kearlin:

  "…Yeah. I may have overestimated him."

  Kearlin crossed his arms midair.

  "Congratulations. Now you’re going to be the apprentice of a drunk, possibly murderous old man who talks to bones."

  Bruno walked toward the cart.

  "If he’s all that, even better. People who teach badly always try to prove they’re right… and I can learn by seeing what not to do."

  Revan slapped the side of the cart.

  "Hurry up! Magic doesn’t wait for idiots!"

  "He’s talking to you," Kearlin said, laughing.

  "I noticed…" Bruno climbed onto the cart, sitting beside the loosely tied skeleton. "And you? What’s your name?"

  The skeleton fell forward and its head rolled across the tavern floor.

  Revan didn’t even look.

  "Don’t talk to him. He was better when he still had a tongue."

  Bruno stared at the mage, then at Kearlin.

  "…I feel like this is going to be one of the worst and best mistakes of my life."

  The cart started moving, creaking like it was alive — and suffering.

  Kearlin floated beside it.

  "Bruno… this isn’t a mistake. This is the beginning of a tragedy."

  Bruno looked up at the sky, indifferent.

  "Then it’s just a normal Tuesday for me."

  The house — if it could still be called that — looked like it had been built before wood existed.

  The walls groaned, the ceiling had a hole so big you could see the stars… or the cloudy sky… or maybe another hole in the floor above.

  Bruno stepped inside, feeling the floor squish.

  "Is there… living mold here?"

  "It’s not mold, it’s an arcane companion," Revan said, kicking a pile of books aside to make space.

  One of the books opened by itself and coughed dust.

  Kearlin flew around in horror.

  "Bruno. If you sleep here, you’ll wake up with three curses and a disease that doesn’t even exist."

  Bruno ignored him.

  "Comfortable," he said, accepting his fate.

  Revan rummaged through boxes until he found something resembling… cloth.

  He threw the garment at Bruno’s face with the delicacy of a bricklayer tossing cement.

  "Put this on. It’ll help your mana flow."

  Bruno lowered the fabric and held the piece. It was a shredded outfit with holes in places that made no sense — like a goblin with scissors had suffered an artistic breakdown.

  "This has more holes than insects," Bruno said, lifting the outfit.

  Revan crossed his arms.

  "It’s traditional."

  "Traditional in what? Target practice?"

  "Traditional in not annoying me, boy. Wear it."

  Bruno sighed and studied the outfit.

  Kearlin covered his face.

  "That’s clearly apprentice clothing. From apprentices he probably hated."

  "Or that turned to ashes," Bruno said casually, taking off his shirt.

  "And he wants to humiliate me. That’s obvious."

  Revan sniffed.

  "Not humiliate. Just… remind you of your place."

  "Lower than the floor, then."

  "Exactly!" Revan grinned proudly.

  Bruno stared, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

  When he finally put on the outfit, it hung crooked, one sleeve shorter than the other, and the hood had a hole right at the top.

  Kearlin circled him twice.

  "You look like a magical hobo who lost a fight with a possessed squirrel."

  Bruno, deadpan:

  "Great. I’m ready."

  Revan clapped loudly — surprisingly loud for an old man barely able to stand.

  "Then let’s begin our lessons! First one’s simple:

  If you survive until tomorrow… you’re already better than my last three apprentices."

  Bruno laughed.

  "Excellent. I also love stupid challenges."

  Revan smiled like someone about to blow something up.

  The kind of smile that ages your heart by five years.

  He pointed outside, to a patch of ground marked with circles… or maybe just dents made by someone who had fallen repeatedly.

  And threw a book at Bruno.

  A book… with a light-blue cover.

  With a drawing of a little bunny.

  And a huge title:

  "MAGIC FOR BABIES — Understanding the Basics!"

  Bruno blinked.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  "…It’ll be useful for you," Revan said, adjusting his grimy beard with academic pride.

  "Useful for keeping me from shitting my pants?"

  Bruno lifted the book, almost offended, almost laughing.

  "That too," Revan replied, completely serious.

  "But don’t worry. There are lots of useful spells in there."

  "So you’re not going to teach me anything else?"

  Bruno asked, flipping pages with drawings of babies conjuring light balls while an adult clapped nearby.

  Revan raised a finger.

  "Teach? Of course I will. I’m a wise master."

  Another finger.

  "I just won’t waste time with the basics."

  His whole hand.

  "So YOU will learn the basics for me."

  Bruno closed the book slowly, like closing a coffin.

  "Perfect," he sighed.

  "I survived falling from the sky. I can survive humiliation too."

  Revan patted his back — too hard for an old man.

  "That’s the spirit! Now go. Try casting the first spell in the book:

  ‘Happy Little Light — Level 0.’"

  Kearlin appeared beside him, laughing to tears.

  "Bruno… you’re going to make a happy little light. I’m saving this forever."

  Bruno inhaled deeply, adjusted the torn hood, opened the baby book…

  And began.

  "Boy, magic is serious business. You’ll probably lose a hand trying this."

  Bruno shrugged.

  "Fine. Sit."

  They sat on the ground. Kearlin spun around them, curious.

  Revan breathed deeply and began:

  "Magic is words. Intention. Image.

  But above all… it’s limitation.

  And you, unfortunately, seem to have none."

  Bruno frowned.

  "Is that good?"

  "For me? NO. For you? Maybe."

  Revan tapped the ground with his staff.

  "We start with the basics. Light."

  Bruno smiled lightly.

  "I’ve seen light before."

  "Shut up and repeat: Lux Oriatur. Think of the light. Believe in it. Command it."

  Bruno took a breath, extended his hand.

  "Lux Oriat—"

  BOOOOOOM.

  A burst of light blinded them. Revan fell from his chair, his beard catching fire.

  "BOY!!! I SAID LIGHT, NOT THE BIRTH OF A SUN!"

  Bruno rubbed his eyes, dizzy.

  "I… I just said the words."

  Revan ran around in circles trying to extinguish his beard.

  "When you ‘just say’ it, you tear a hole in the magical structure! You have ZERO magical sensitivity! Teaching you is like teaching a rhinoceros to paint porcelain!"

  Kearlin screamed laughing.

  "I warned him! Bruno is impossible!"

  Revan steadied himself, trembling with rage.

  "Let’s try something… less bright."

  He raised his hand:

  "Ventus Spira."

  A gentle breeze blew.

  Bruno repeated:

  "Ventus Spira."

  A cyclone formed and launched Revan onto his own roof.

  THUD.

  Bruno looked up.

  "You alive?"

  "UNFORTUNATELY!" Revan shouted from the gutter.

  Kearlin was crying from laughing.

  Revan climbed down, dusting himself off.

  "Boy… what is WRONG with you?"

  Bruno scratched his neck.

  "I just do what you tell me."

  Revan stared at him like a newly-discovered dangerous species.

  "You can’t feel mana. That’s the issue. Everyone here feels it flow. You don’t. You just grab mana… by the throat."

  Bruno blinked.

  "That how it works?"

  "NO, YOU IDIOT! No rational being does that!"

  Revan exhaled through his teeth.

  "Fine. Water magic. It's calm. Peaceful. Maybe you won’t try to kill us this time."

  He stretched a hand:

  "Aqua Vitae."

  A gentle water sphere formed.

  Bruno repeated:

  "Aqua Vitae."

  The entire yard turned into water for three seconds, creating a mini-tsunami that swept Revan into a barrel.

  SPLASH.

  Only his head poked out, dripping.

  "…I hate you."

  Bruno raised his hands.

  "My bad. First time."

  Revan climbed out of the barrel, shaking like a wet cat.

  "No more elements! Defense spell. Simple. Scutum Umbrae."

  A thin shadow barrier formed.

  Bruno repeated:

  "Scutum Umbrae."

  A twelve-meter shadow wall ERUPTED from the ground, cracking the earth.

  Half of Revan’s house collapsed.

  Kearlin floated back, horrified:

  "BRUNO!!! YOU JUST CREATED A SHADOW FORTRESS!!!"

  Revan dropped his staff and held his face.

  "…You’re not a mage. You’re a natural disaster."

  Bruno scratched his head.

  "So… am I doing good?"

  Revan pointed at him, hand trembling.

  "Boy… you’re a genius. But a dangerous one. With enough training… you’ll surpass everything. Maybe even the rules of this world."

  Bruno shrugged.

  "Good news?"

  "The best and the worst," Revan sighed. A pause. "But since you’re here… let’s continue."

  Bruno grinned.

  "Nice. What’s the next spell?"

  Revan smiled… the dangerous kind.

  "The one that’ll probably kill us."

  Eight months later…

  The forest was silent, except for the leaves swaying under a heavy wind filled with mana.

  Bruno sat on a dry trunk, staring at his hands.

  "Magic sensitivity is like poison…"

  He repeated Revan’s phrase softly.

  "Everyone in this world felt it before. That’s why their bodies understand it. I don’t. I’m the only idiot who never had contact. So mana attacks me. It makes me dizzy, sick, burned from the inside. I’m weak to it."

  He breathed out slowly.

  Kearlin floated lazily around him like lying on an invisible mattress.

  "Hey, idiot. When you're done philosophizing, get back to the cabin. The old man wants to eat hamburger again."

  Bruno rolled his eyes.

  "He’s not that bad when you get to know him. He’s grumpy… but he’s got a good heart. Especially when it involves food."

  Kearlin chuckled.

  "Yeah. His heart runs on ground beef and bread."

  Bruno stood up. Cracked his neck. Rolled his shoulders.

  His pose wasn’t that of a mage. No delicate hand signs, no elegant stance.

  He stood like a fighter — feet grounded, fists closed, body leaning forward.

  "Where was I…?"

  He inhaled deeply, the air vibrating with wild mana.

  "Took me eight months… Not to learn magic. But to understand how i use magic."

  "I don’t cast. I channel. I force it. I punch it out like anyone else — just more violently."

  Mana coiled around his arm like living sparks.

  Bruno lowered his stance. Focused.

  "Flammae Celeres."

  His fist shot forward— And with it, flames erupted not like a spell, but like fists of fire, striking the air, ripping through vegetation, scorching the ground.

  FOOM

  FOOM

  FOOM—BOOOOM

  Each punch was a short explosion.

  Cruel.

  Focused.

  Brutal.

  Bruno shook off the smoke from his hand.

  "This is good.

  Good enough."