//------------------------------// // Day One: Training // Story: My Little Pony: Friendship is Fate // by Kujo Blaze //------------------------------// And so, the day ends. Just before midnight, Storm Whooves must carry out his daily routine of using “magic”. “……” I stretch out and adjust my breathing. I try to empty my mind. I ignore everything around me and pay attention only what is inside me. “…Trace, on.” As if to hypnotize myself, I murmur the spell I’m long accustomed to. No, I really am hypnotizing myself. As I have no Magic Crest and no knowledge of magic, a spell is only a change to myself. …Normally. There are no lines in a human body to allow the passage of magical energy. To artificially change my body to create such a line, I need enough concentration to unify my whole body and every nerve within it. Magic is a battle with yourself. For instance, at this very moment, I am inserting a burning steel rod into my backbone. This metal rod is the only “Magic Circuit” I can prepare for myself. When I insert it this deep into my body and connect it to the other nerves, I can finally become a mage. This is not a metaphor. In reality, something like a burning tong which cannot be seen or felt is being inserted into my backbone. …I am a sorcerer. Doctor Whooves, the man who said so, was really a mage. A living mage who performed many marvels and had touched the very structure of the world. As a young colt, I admired him and asked him to teach me magic. But you cannot become a mage just through effort. It requires born talent and appropriate knowledge. And of course, I have no talent, and Doctor taught me nothing of magic. He said something about me having no need of such knowledge. I still don’t know what he meant by that. But still, it didn’t matter to me back then. I thought that if I could use magic, I could be like him. But I was not born with talent: no strength of Magic Circuit, no accumulated works of magic handed down for generations. The work of magic Doctor possessed, the Magic Crest passed down the Whooves family, can only be passed on to a blood relation. A Magic Crest forces a rejection on those with no blood relation. So, as an adopted son, I could not receive the Whooves family’s Magic Crest. Well, anyways. As I don’t even know what a Magic Crest is, it doesn’t matter if I have one or not. So now, all it comes down to is training what I can do. If I want to be a mage, I have to learn magic fit to my nature. To be blunt, magic is a way to release one’s magical energy. You could say that magical energy is my life force. It is divided into two forms: a large source, “mana”, floating around the world, and a small source, “odo”, created inside oneself. It goes without saying that the large source is superior to the small one. The power of “mana” is on a completely different level from “odo”. Whatever the form of magic, a spell using the large source far exceeds one using only one’s own power. That is why superior mage excel at drawing magical energy from the world. It’s like a filter. A mage turns his body into a filter, sucks up the mana from the world around him, and changes it into something he can use. This filter is what we call a Magic Circuit. This is the talent one is born with, and the number of the Magic Circuits within you is determined the moment you are born. A normal pony does not have many Magic Circuits. To begin with, there are always very few. That is why mage pile them up generation after generation, making their fillies more suitable to use magic. I hear some families go too far and increase the number of Magic Circuits by selective breeding. …Well, since I was raised in a normal family, I don’t have many Magic Circuits. So that leaves only one method open to me. According to Doctor, every pony has at least one form of magic they are fit for. He said something about drawing out magical energy appropriate to their “origin”, but I didn’t really understand. All I know for sure is that even I have some magic I can use, and if I train that magic, I may be able to become like Doctor. That is why I learned only that magic. That was eight years ago. After a lot of thought, Doctor finally accepted me as his student. “…Listen, Storm. To learn magic is to stray away from common sense. You die when you die, and kill when you must. Our essence is not in life but in death. Magic is only a way to destroy yourself…” I guess I had no fear as a colt. Doctor smiled bitterly, putting his hoof on the nodding Storm Whooves. “…What I will teach you will bring you conflicts. That is why you must not use it in front of ponies, and you must not cease your practice even though it is difficult to learn. Well, I don’t really care if you break that one. The most important is that magic is something you use not for yourself, but for others. If you do that, you may become a magic user, but you will not become a mage…” …I guess Doctor didn’t want me to become a mage. I don’t care about that. I don’t admire a mage. I admire Doctor. If I can become like Doctor and be there for somepony like on that red day, that will be… “…!” I’m thinking needlessly. I feel the iron rod in my backbone slide into place. “Uh, gah…!” If I lose control of my breathing now, it would be a fatal mistake. The artificial Magic Circuit will eat away my body and destroy it. If that happens, I’ll die. I would be only an amateur, failing such an elementary step… “……” I grind my teeth and resume the connection. After a battle like walking on fire, the iron rod finally arrives deep within me and fuses with my body. …This process took me about an hour. After that much time, I’m finally able to make one artificial circuit… one circuit that produces magical energy. “…Basic structure, analyze.” After that, it becomes a process of naturally flowing magical energy. Storm Whooves is no mage. He is only a magic user, who can create a magical energy within his body and channel it into objects. So there’s only one magic possible. Which is… “…Composition, analyze.” Strengthening objects. It is a magic of “strengthening” that reinforces the objects abilities by understanding the object’s structure and channeling magical energy into it. “…Basic structure, alter.” Before me is a metal pipe. I will channel magical energy into it, perform the simplest magic, and reinforce its durability. Basically, channeling your magical energy into something other than yourself is like pouring poison into that object. It is just as the blood of Storm Whooves is not the blood of the metal pipe. Pumping different blood only accelerates its breakdown, it certainly wouldn’t strengthen it. To prevent that and to turn the poison into a tonic, one must completely understand the structure of the target and channel the magical energy into small open spaces. “…Compostion, reinforce.” …It must be easy for a skilled mage, but for me, who cannot even create sufficient magical energy, it’s as hard as hitting a target hundreds of meters away. The usual target in archery is 27 meters away. How much harder it is at many times that distance, goes without saying… “Guh…!” The heat in my body quickly escapes. The burning pillar in my backbone disappears, and the lungs stretched to the limit demand air. “Haa… haa, haa, haaaaaa…!” I arc my back to hold off the daze almost making me pass out. “Ah… dammit, I failed again…” There’s no change in the metal pipe. It seems that the magical energy I poured into it has evaporated into the air. “…It’s hard to improve something that already has form.” The thing I’m attempting is like adding something to an already complete work of art. Adding to a complete object risks making it less perfect. Adding unnecessary things will actually decrease the value. That is why the magic of “strengthening” is simple yet difficult, and only a few mages use it willingly. …It’s not like I use it willingly either, but it can’t be helped as this is the only thing I’m good at. It would be much easier if I could just form something out of clay and use it instead, but a substitute in appearance doesn’t have the internal structure to match. The junk around here is a good example. When I fail with strengthening magic, I make some substitute objects to practice and calm down, but they all end up with nothing inside. I can visualize something’s structure easily, so I can make the outside look like the original. But it’s empty inside, and of course, it doesn’t do anything. “……” I wipe the sweat off my brow. Now that I think about it, I realize my whole body is sweating like I’ve been drenched with a bucket of water. …But I’m lucky it just ended like this. That was really bad. If I’d taken a second longer to recover myself, I would probably have destroyed most of my body. “…If I improved every time I come closer to death, there might be some hope…” It’s not even that easy. But it is true that you won’t improve your magic if you’re scared of death. As long as you study magic, death is always right beside you. Even a simple magic repeated every day can go off with a simple mistake, taking the caster’s life. The first step of a mage is to accept death. …Doctor said so sadly. Maybe he meant that he didn’t want me to take such a step. “…Saving somepony means not saving somepony else. A superhero is really selfish, huh…?” Doctor said that to me when I told him I wanted to be just like him. I still don’t know what he meant. But Storm Whooves has to become a superhero who goes around saving ponies, just like Doctor Whooves. “…But I still can’t even do basic things like this. Why do I get distracted by needless things at the most important times? I’m so stupid.” It’s not enough to understand the structure of an object with mere vision. A skilled mage only detects what’s important and channels magical energy without waste. ‘…My dream is to become a superhero.’ I remember what Pinkie Pie said during dinner. I don’t think it’s embarrassing or impossible. It’s already determined. Storm Whooves will succeed Doctor Whooves. That’s why even though I’m inexperienced, I’ve done everything I can. I don’t know what kind of a pony a superhero should be. So I can only approach it by helping others within the limits of my abilities. I have aimed straight for that goal for the past five years, but when things just go wrong like this, I do have doubts. “…Geez, I don’t get it, Father. How can I become a superhero?” I look up at the sky through the window. It’s not like I can just randomly do good deeds. I think being a superhero is different from just helping others. I know that, but the question is how can I become one? The difference between the two is the thing I’ve failed to understand for the past five years.