The room was filled with warmth, both from the crackling fire in the hearth and the laughter of Morgath's family. His father, Thomas, had just finished telling a story from Morgath's childhood that made everyone chuckle. His mother, Angela, smiled as she handed out slices of birthday cake. The three of them sat around the table, savoring the last moments of peace before Earth would plunge into chaos.
Morgath was celebrating his nineteenth birthday, but it felt like more than just a simple family gathering. There was a heaviness in the air, a shared understanding that the world they knew was about to change forever. Between the moments of laughter and lighthearted conversation, they all understood what was coming.
After a pause in the conversation, Morgath cleared his throat and decided to reveal something he had recently learned. "Mom, Dad, there's something else you should know. When mana fully awakens, people will absorb their first spirit stone, and after that, they'll get their own status panels. Everyone will be able to see their strengths." Though they won't get the extra information I've received from the universe." He paused, feeling a twinge of guilt for not sharing the full truth. It was somewhat fine, when he said that there are a few other people who recived this knowledge, but if he said he is the only one it would get a completely different meaning. "This means people will start seeing the world differently, and they'll know where they stand."
Angela nodded, her expression contemplative. "I guess it's better that they know what they're capable of. Though I can't imagine how people will react to that kind of change."
They continued talking late into the evening, the tension easing as they shared stories and dreams for the future. Morgath's mind drifted to the chaos that awaited, but for now, he cherished the quiet moments with his parents. After the party, Morgath decided to stay the night. He had business in town the next morning, and it was closer from here than his usual place.
Morning arrived with a soft light filtering through the windows, and Morgath prepared to leave. After a quick breakfast and farewell to his parents, he headed toward the blacksmith's forge. He had a purpose in mind: to observe the blacksmith at work, especially during repairs. Morgath had decided to learn the repair spell, a way to maintain his new blades in peak condition, but also for something greater in the future—perhaps even forging swords with magic to enhance their sharpness.
The forge was warm when he entered, the familiar smell of metal and fire filling the air. The blacksmith, a lean man who defied the usual stereotype of burly craftsmen, was immediately aware of Morgath's arrival.
"Ah, it's you again," the blacksmith said, wiping his hands on a rag. "What brings you here? I hope you haven't damaged those blades already."
Morgath shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "The swords are in perfect condition. Actually, I came to ask if I could observe you at work today. Preferably while you're repairing something."
The blacksmith raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. "Why? You want to steal my trade secrets?" He crossed his arms. "I don't need more competition. And besides, you just got those swords. Don't tell me you've already moved on to something else. I hate it when people toss aside good craftsmanship."
Morgath knew there was no avoiding it. He would have to tell the truth. "It's not like that. I want to learn, but for a different reason." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Mana has awakened on Earth. I need to get some inspiration to learn a repair spell so I can keep the blades you made in perfect condition."
The blacksmith stared at him, skeptical. "Mana? You're telling me magic's real now?" He snorted. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I can prove it if you like," Morgath offered, rolling up his sleeve. "I can heal either myself or you, right here and now."
The blacksmith waved him off. "No need for that. I've noticed things that haven't made sense lately. Strange things, like stuff that's been happening to people around town." He rubbed his chin, thinking. "If what you're saying is true, then I guess magic could explain it. But I'm still running a business. What do I get out of this?"
Morgath thought for a moment, then spoke. "There are things coming soon, things that will change the world. When spiritual stones appear, I'll make sure you get a few. It'll make you stronger and help you live longer."
The blacksmith mulled this over, then gave a nod. "Alright, I'll take you at your word. But don't get in my way."
For the next few days, Morgath spent time at the forge, watching and contemplating the repair process. He observed every detail, trying to understand the craftsmanship and how it could be applied to magic. Slowly, he began to gain insight, not only into repairs but also into the potential of enhancing weapons with magic—though he knew that would have to wait until he was ready. For now, his focus remained on mastering the basics, all while preparing for the chaos soon to come.
After spending several days at the forge, Morgath decided it was time to return to his place. Although he had not yet fully comprehended the repair spell, he had observed enough of the blacksmith's work to understand the principles. Now, it was a matter of meditating and consolidating his gains. As he packed up and left the forge, he felt a quiet confidence growing within him.
Back at his camp, he settled into a familiar routine. Inside the quiet of his tent, Morgath sat cross-legged, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to focus solely on the concept of repair. For days, he meditated on the essence of repairing broken objects, picturing the way metal came together under the blacksmith's skilled hands. The world around him faded as he immersed himself in the mystery of the spell, blocking out all distractions—including hunger.
Like during his time contemplating the healing spell, Morgath lost track of time, only breaking his meditation when the hunger became unbearable. But this time, he noticed something different. The gaps between his meals were longer, and the pangs of hunger less urgent than they had been before. His increased constitution was becoming more apparent.
During one of his breaks, Morgath pondered a question that had been in the back of his mind. Would there ever come a time when eating would no longer be a necessity, but just an indulgence? He wondered if he would ever reach a point where physical needs like food and water became irrelevant.
As if on cue, the system's familiar voice echoed in his mind. [Once your constitution reaches 100, you will no longer need to eat. After reaching 200, you won't need to drink either. Of course, if you acquire a treasure that enhances your growth formula, this process could accelerate. But let's be honest, Morgath—you're more likely to surpass those stats long before you find such a rare treasure.]
Morgath smirked at the system's dry remark. It was clear that while treasures could aid his growth, he would rely primarily on his own abilities to push through his limits.
The days passed in a blur as he meditated, his mind swirling around the idea of repair, feeling closer and closer to a breakthrough. And then, just a few hours before midnight, as the final day of the year slipped away and the promise of a new year approached, it finally happened.
A surge of clarity washed over him, and the elusive spell snapped into place. Though it was still at a low proficiency, Morgath could feel the potential coursing through him. He had done it—he had learned the repair spell. And with that first step, the hardest part was behind him. Now, it was a matter of refining the skill.
As he sat in his tent, the quiet night stretching on around him, Morgath felt a deep sense of satisfaction. The new year—and the world it would bring—was almost here. And he was ready, first he would repair the gaps that appeared on his swords during the sparring sessions with the sword instructor. The spell incantation, which he came up with meant:
"By the forge of stars and timeless craft,
Let broken edges now be cast.
Through thread and stone, through wood and steel,
Mend the form, the strength, the zeal.
I summon light, I call the past,
To bind the cracks, make whole, make fast.
From dust to gleam, from rust to pride,
Return to peak where flaws now hide.
With power true and ancient art,
Let this be whole, its finest part."
Taking the swords out of the scabbards he remembered to set his intent this way, in which he could stop it at any time and started the incantation:
"Per forjam Astra et artem aeternam,
Fiat quae fracta nunc formam erigant.
Per Ligatus et lapidem, per lignum et ferrum,
Restovitae corpus, Vim, fervorem.
Ita Accende lux, et voco praeteritum,
Ad texeree fissuras, redintegrare velox.
Ab pulvere ad fulgorem, ab rubigo ad superbiam,
Redintegra ad apicem, ubi vitia iam lateant.
Cum veraces Vim et antiquum opus,
Fiat hoc integrum, apicem optimum."
Soon he noticed, as those small gaps were closing, the additional metal was appearing out of nowhere, or more precisely, it was the mana that transformed into the attoms of carbon and ferrum.
[New spell added -Redintegrare {Tier 1}-7%]