A long, long time ago, our world thrived on magic.
It coursed through the veins of every living creature, a force as natural as the air they breathed.
Magic wove its threads through the fabric of existence, bringing life to the lifeless and wonder to the mundane.
The world brimmed with diverse species, their unique forms and abilities a testament to magic's boundless potential.
And at the top of it all stood humanity, wielding magic to shape their destiny and rule over the magic world.
But one fateful day, he returned.
The founder of magic—a mysterious figure whose name was whispered in reverence—appeared once more.
He was the one who had bestowed the knowledge of magic upon the world in its infancy, and now, as the world thrived in the embrace of his gift,
he came back.
This time, his return did not herald prosperity. It brought a truth too devastating to bear.
It wasn't war between species or the greed of the powerful that threatened existence.
It was magic itself.
The gift that had elevated life to unparalleled heights was now slowly unraveling the fabric of the world.
The land grew barren, the skies dimmed, and the earth's heartbeat faltered.
Magic, once a blessing, had become a curse—a parasite draining the life of the world itself.
One day, Massive, otherworldly frames, glowing with an unearthly light, materialized across the skies. No corner of the world was untouched by their presence.
Every eye turned upward as the frames shimmered, projecting the image of a man cloaked in shadow and bathed in an aura of blue light.
The figure's face was obscured, yet his presence was unmistakable.
It was him—the founder of magic. Statues of his likeness stood in every city, in every corner of the world, yet none had seen him in the flesh.
His voice boomed across the lands, resonating in every heart. Though his face was hidden, the weight of sadness in his tone was palpable.
"I once gave the living the knowledge of magic—a force that changed the course of existence."
"The world thrived, reaching heights beyond imagination. But..."
His voice wavered, and a profound sorrow seeped into his words.
"The world is dying. The gift I once bestowed upon you is now a curse."
"Excess use of magic is suffocating the life of this planet, squeezing it dry. If nothing is done, there will be nothing left
—not for magic, not for life."
Panic rippled through the world as his words sank in. Creatures whose very existence relied on magic trembled in fear.
Societies built on the foundation of spells and enchantments faced the looming specter of collapse.
"For the survival of the world," the founder continued, "magic must be undone. Without it, chaos will reign, and many will perish. But life will endure. It always does. And in time, new knowledge will emerge—a knowledge that will lead to prosperity once more."
He paused, as if struggling with the weight of his next words.
"The gift I once gave you, I must now take back."
The frames flickered, then began to dissolve into motes of light. Chaos erupted instantly.
Magic, the lifeblood of civilization, began to vanish. Magical creatures faded into nothingness. The glowing energy that lingered in the air was drawn into the earth, leaving a stark, barren silence in its wake.
The world, once thriving, was left in ruins. Societies collapsed, and despair gripped every heart.
Yet, as always, life found a way.
Many centuries passed.
The survivors adapted, clawing their way forward with grit and ingenuity. The remnants of magic became myths, legends told around dying fires.
In its place, another form of knowledge emerged:
science: the knowledge of nature,
Through observation and experimentation, humanity uncovered the laws of nature.
Great minds like Archimedes, Galileo, Newton, Einstein and many more rose, paving the way for a new age of understanding.
The world began to heal and rebuild, thriving not through magic but through the power of reason and discovery.
Yet, beneath the surface, something stirred.
For just as life found ways to prosper again, so too did the magic of the old world.
Hidden in the shadows of history, magic began to recover, piece by piece, flowing back into the cracks of existence.
It was subtle at first, an imperceptible hum beneath the surface, but it would not remain hidden forever.
Magic, like life, would always find a way to return.
In 21st century, present.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
Ren, a 19 year old man, average height and build, wearing simple cloths, is walking down the narrow, dimly lit street leading to his run-down apartment building.
His eyes are fixed on the cracked sidewalk beneath his feet.
It's been another long, soul-crushing day delivering packages for scraps. This job feels far beneath him, but it's the only thing keeping him off the streets for now.
This thought twists in his gut, filling him with resentment.
"Uhhh, fuck, another long and boring day. I'm sick of living like this. It has been two years... Two years since I started working there. And I still struggles to... Uhhh."
Whining, he approaches the rusted gate of his apartment complex, a two story, run down building, that looks old, but is way older.
He steps close, and spots Lina ahead, locking her bicycle to the post.
She stands out even in the dull gray of their surroundings—beautiful, with long white hair that almost glows under the flickering streetlight. She's fit, a bit older than Ren, with sharp eyes that hold more depth than she lets on.
She lives in the same apartment with Ren, but they barely know about each other.
She's wasting her potential working part-time at a local coffee shop, and Ren can't help but admire her intelligence and looks, even if she's too self-righteous to use her beauty to get ahead.
"Rent's going up again," Lina says casually as he passes by. Her voice is calm, as if she's resigned to the struggles of their shared reality.
Ren barely glances at her, offering a dismissive grunt. He isn't interested in small talk, at least not tonight.
He has always been attracted to her. But why he finds her attractive, he isn't sure of. Maybe it's because she stands out in a place where everything else blends into the misery. Or maybe it's something darker.
Ren just opens the apartment's gate and heads inside his room. His room is cramped, dimly lit with a bulb on the ceiling.
Ren throws his jacket on the floor and collapses on his creaky bed. The flickering lightbulb above casts an eerie, uneven glow around the room, amplifying the bleakness of his surroundings.
The wallpaper is peeling, the furniture is worn and secondhand, and the whole place feels like a prison.
His jaw tightens as he stares at the ceiling, the same thought cycling through his head—
how powerless he is, living this miserable life, repeating the same, hard day.
I hate it, everything about this place, this life... And me... I hate myself. Why am I like this... Just why...
As he murmurs, hating himself. An ache starts to settle deep inside his skull. At first, it's dull and barely noticeable, but as the minutes tick by, it grows sharper, more intense.
He presses his palms to his forehead, wincing as the pain becomes unbearable, like something is clawing at his mind, trying to break free inside him.
As minutes ticks, his vision begins to blur, and suddenly, everything in his apartment seems to shift.
He sits up, eyes wide with confusion, as he looks at the cup on his table rattling. And then—without warning—lifts into the air.
Ren blinks, his breath catching in his throat. The cup hovers for a moment before dropping with a soft clink back onto the table.
"What the...?" he mutters, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
But then, the headache surges again, sharper this time.
"Aaaaaaaa" he shouts, and instinctively, reaches out to the cup. It lifts into the air once more, floating above the table like it's weightless, responding to nothing but his will.
His pulse quickens, and instantly, the pain disappears as if it never happened.
A single word echoes in his mind, as if he has known it all along.
Telekinesis.
He drops his hands from the forehead, and stares at them, his heart racing, trying to process what's happening.
"What's... Happening. The cup just now... Floated..." He talks to himself.
"Telekenisis? why do I feel like I know... It. Like I've known it all along."
He looks at the chair, a bit away from his bed,and extend his hand towards it, confused and excited. And then, slowly, it starts.
The chair begins to tremble, and then slides to him, scraping along the floor.
As he looks at the chair, a grin spreads across his face. His mind races with the possibilities.
"Telekinesis," he whispers to himself, testing the word on his tongue.
"It's real. It feels - real. Telekenisis, hehehe hehehehe hahahaha. I have... Powers. Like in movies. My life is gonna change. I'm gonna change."
A grin spreads across his face as he thinks of the possibilities. But this isn't wonder he's feeling—it's something far more sinister.
This power, this control... it feels good. It feels right.
For the first time in his life, he has something real, something that makes him more than just another nameless face struggling to get by.
And the best part? It's his, and no one else knows about it.
He stands up, experimenting more, moving the chair, the empty bottle on the floor, the stack of magazines on his coffee table—all with just a gesture of his hands.
His smile widens as the objects respond to his will, bending to his control. The power courses through him, sending an exhilarating rush of adrenaline to his veins.
It doesn't take long for his mind to shift from the novelty of it all to the darker questions lurking underneath.
What could he do with this? How far could he take it? He's always felt like the world was against him—everyone else had some edge, some way to get ahead, while he's been stuck at the bottom. But now...
Now, he has an edge.
He points towards a bottle, pens, lamp, books. Excitedly, He pushes himself, lifting heavier objects, moving them, testing how much he can control at once. He's barely scratched the surface, and already, it's intoxicating.
But just then, a knock on his door breaks his concentration. The chair he was levitating crashes to the floor with a loud thud.
It's probably his nosy neighbor again, complaining about the noise, but Ren doesn't care. He doesn't answer. Instead, he smirks, his thoughts swirling with dark possibilities.
He's no hero. He doesn't want to be one. And now, he doesn't have to be the victim anymore, either.
"Magic, like life, found its way to living, again."