Arin was in awe.
The world outside the worm-train window wasn't just beautiful — it was absurdly beautiful. Like nature had cranked the saturation dial to maximum and added a generous sprinkle of magic.
Rolling fields shimmered with crystal grass, each blade catching sunlight like a rainbow. Floating islands drifted lazily above the earth, tied down by glowing chains of blue mana. Giant birds with runic wings soared between them, occasionally diving to fish from rivers that sparkled like molten sapphire. Herds of glowing deer pranced below, their antlers humming with energy.
The air itself glowed faintly with drifting flecks of light — ambient mana.
It was breath-stealing.
And yet… there was something familiar about it. Like remembering a dream you didn't live.
He pressed his forehead against the glass.
Xaneia. That was the name of this world. A world steeped in mana — the fundamental life force, saturating every atom of reality. Air, earth, water, fire, flesh — everything consumed and exhaled mana in an endless loop.
Every being had an affinity — a natural talent for manipulating certain types of mana. Some bonded with beasts. Others shaped elements. A few could even alter space or time. Magic wasn't a tool here. It was an ecosystem.
Arin's inner scientist twitched in giddy agony. He wanted to dismantle every aspect of it, write a thousand research papers, name things after himself... but he calmed down. First things first: survival. Identity. And getting to The Academy of Magica.
The best magic university in the country. Prestigious, brutal, and deeply elitist.
He'd only gotten in because of his absurdly high theoretical scores, despite having a bronze-tier affinity for metal manipulation — arguably the magical equivalent of being good at filing taxes.
As he spiraled into self-pity, a sudden wave of dread slammed into him. A heavy pressure pushed him sideways in his seat like a landslide.
He gasped.
Then a massive arm wrapped around his shoulder like a tree trunk wearing deodorant.
"You're getting weaker and weaker, man! How the hell did you not sense me coming? What are all those muscles for — decoration?"
A booming laugh followed.
It was Troy — burly, dark-skinned, muscles stacked like bricks, and grinning like an idiot. Arin's lifelong best friend.
"Hello to you too," Arin muttered, prying himself free from Troy's bear-hug of death.
Troy was a dual affinity prodigy — gold-tier in physical enhancement, silver in earth manipulation. A walking mountain who made gladiators look underfed. Arin had trained beside him since childhood, which is probably the only reason he had any muscle at all.
As they joked, Arin blinked.
And blinked again.
There was something strange about Troy.
Inside his body — Arin could see something.
Small wisps of glowing red and brown light danced within him, moving through invisible streams under the skin. The red ones pulsed brighter than the brown — active, intense.
Arin looked down at himself.
Gray wisps. Dimmer. Duller.
He looked around the train car. Each person was surrounded by different colored motes — green, blue, orange, each corresponding to different mana affinities.
And then… he saw it.
Everyone had a core — a glowing orb inside their chest or abdomen, faint or radiant depending on the person. A power source. A soul engine.
Arin's jaw dropped.
He could see mana.
That wasn't normal.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a mirror. His eyes, once black, now shimmered bright gold, like polished sunstone.
"What the hell…"
As he looked up, someone nearby casually heated their coffee with a finger. Arin watched the red wisps funnel through her core, flow down her arm, and ignite the air in a precise spiral.
I wonder…
He mimicked the motion. Nothing.
He tried again — this time replicating the exact flow the woman used.
Suddenly, one red wisp flickered toward him. It followed the same path — through his chest, into his shoulder, and down to his fingertip.
A tiny spark of flame jumped from his finger.
He gasped. Not just from the heat, but from what it meant.
He'd copied it.
Not just the spell — the pattern. The entire mana pathway.
This ability… this wasn't affinity-based magic. This was observation-based adaptation.
He looked back at Troy, who was casually flexing just by existing. Arin squinted, focusing on the way the enhancement wisps bolstered his muscles, wrapped around his tendons like glowing thread, reinforcing his bones.
It was complex. Natural. Innate. But he could still see it.
As he leaned in for a closer look, completely absorbed, Troy suddenly went stiff.
"Arin…"
"Yeah?"
Troy moved his arm away like he was dodging an arrow.
"I know you have no game. And I know you've been bitchless for 21 years, but — DO NOT try your luck with me. I am STRAIGHT. Like Earth-elemental pillar straight."
Arin blinked. "What?"
"You were staring. Real intense. Right at my thighs, man."
Arin turned beet red. "No! I was just— I mean I wasn't— nevermind"
New world. New powers. Same social disasters.
Still, as he looked down at his hand, a flicker of heat danced between his fingers.
Maybe… just maybe… he wasn't going to be miserable this time.
Maybe this world was his to master.