"I started learning magic from Aber. What I am doing now is the basic technology of 'conversion.' Conversion is a technique that turns magic into flames and water—a way to interfere with the real world by transforming magic into substances and phenomena such as fireballs and water bullets.
Magical power is not inherently of this world. It does not belong to people or nature but rather to another realm, like gods, spirits, or ghosts. To manifest something that does not originate from this world, it must first be converted into an element of this world. Fire and water, being fundamental, are relatively easy to convert. On the other hand, converting magic into artificial objects far removed from natural origins is extremely difficult.
Emitting raw magic without converting it is incredibly wasteful. Magic that is foreign to this world will eventually dissipate. Raw magic lacks significant impact and offers minimal interference in the real world. Thus, proper conversion is the basic requirement of any practical magic usage. However, there is one exception—when the magic itself is immense. Large-scale magic does not disappear immediately; it can interfere with the world before vanishing. Even then, the energy efficiency of such magic is incredibly poor.
(It's like sweating just by moving wings.)
Heavy luggage can be moved with strength, but attempting to move it with a mere sigh is futile. Conversion is akin to strength. If raw magic is like a sigh, its inefficiency becomes clear. But what I was doing seemed akin to that kind of impossibility.
"... The basic training of magic is the same as always. It is incredible, but Al has an aptitude for handling the 'root of magic' itself. So it's something you shouldn't do. However, if it is already part of you, training in this area will help increase your magical power. Think of it as muscle training with weights."
Abel's guidance was precise, and even with no other magical teacher to compare, I could see she was an exceptional mentor. Thanks to her, my magical repertoire expanded significantly. I could finally manipulate fire, water, and light—the elements I had long desired to control. Naturally, my ability to exercise magic improved as well.
Training took place in the garden, away from the watchful eyes of the servants. Even so, I couldn't entirely hide my progress. It was only a matter of time before the Bayle Felt family became aware of my newfound magical abilities. This exposure was unavoidable; studying magic was absolutely necessary for me.
Still, this revelation brought additional concerns. I was already overestimated as a 'genius' or 'prodigy' for my literacy and arithmetic skills. Adding magical proficiency to the mix only inflated their expectations further. To outsiders, I must have appeared as some incredible prodigy. I couldn't help but feel uneasy—good looks or not, being a child of such prominence often invites envy and strife.
I worried about the possibility of being compared to future siblings when they were born into the Bayle Felt family. My very existence seemed destined to create complications. (I hope no one resents me for it...)
Speaking of siblings, not only was Mother expecting, but Lucca, too, was currently pregnant. Their pregnancies were celebrated and created a bustling atmosphere in the family. There were already numerous tutors lined up for Lucca's child, expected to be an even greater prodigy than myself. Though I pitied the child for the weight of such expectations, I selfishly hoped this might divert attention from me.
Meanwhile, my mother's pregnancy was far from ordinary. Her belly swelled steadily, but she occasionally complained of severe pain. The sight of her distorted face as she rubbed her stomach alarmed everyone. My father, pale with worry, started searching for doctors. Even Abel, usually expressionless, furrowed her brow with concern.
"... It may be unpleasant," Abel muttered.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Abel often omitted subjects from her sentences, making her difficult to understand.
"... Lucca's stomach. It's probably due to the baby inside."
When I pressed her further, Abel explained there had been similar cases in the past.
"... The baby's magic is too strong. It unconsciously emits high-concentration magic from the womb. As the baby grows, the magical emissions increase in intensity, causing severe harm."
"What happens then?"
"In such cases, both the mother and child die. I have never seen a saved case."
"...!" My heart sank.
Abel elaborated grimly. "Initially, it's only pain. But internal bleeding begins, and eventually, the internal organs start breaking down. The mother's body cannot endure the magical expansion and ruptures from the inside."
This shocking revelation left me reeling. My mother, blissfully unaware of her predicament, sat reading a book and smiled warmly at me.
"Ka-san, your body! Are you really okay?"
"Don't worry about me, dear. I'm fine now," she reassured me. Her calm demeanor, given the circumstances, felt surreal.
"Are you worried about the baby? How kind of you. I hope the child is born healthy," she said with a gentle smile.
(How can she be so cheerful when it's like having a time bomb inside her?)
Out of desperation, I closed my eyes and tried to sense the magic within her.
"—No!?"
I gasped. The dense, swirling magic within her was immense and terrifying. It expanded relentlessly, threatening to destroy her from the inside. (How is she even alive with such a force inside her!?)
I tried to figure out if there was any way to suppress the overwhelming magic. But I knew it was impossible to stop.
"... It's no use," Abel said solemnly. "Even if you suppress it, the magic will continue to grow. As long as the source remains inside, it will eventually break free."
I was overwhelmed by the impossibility of the situation. My mother's cheerful oblivion only made it worse.
Out of desperation, I focused on the epicenter of the vortex—the fetus's consciousness. I instinctively felt it reach out to me. As our consciousness connected, I was bombarded with a torrent of emotions. Fear. Loneliness. Desperation.
This child—my unborn sibling—was terrified. It was crying out for help. For the first time, I truly felt affection for this child. This wasn't just a magical anomaly; it was my family.
(If this child's magic is connected to mine, maybe I can help.)
I attempted something unthinkable—channeling the excess magic out of my mother's body through my own. It was terrifying, but I felt I had no choice. Slowly, I managed to create a passage for the overflowing magic. Abel assisted by breaking apart the dangerous magical emissions once they left my body.
Together, we repeated this rescue work for months. It was exhausting, but we managed to keep both my mother and the child safe. Eventually, my sister was born—a girl two years younger than me.
Her name is Filia Klay Cappt, and she is my beloved sister, my family, and a magical prodigy like no other.