Julien slumped against the rough stone wall of the dimly lit cavern, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"Fuck... fuck! I am the stupidest guy in the whole world," he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice echoing faintly in the damp underground space.
His red eyes burned with frustration, staring blankly at the scarred wooden counter before him.
How could he have been so blind? Back when he had the chance to wish for anything unmatched strength, some overpowered ability that would make him a god in this new world he'd chosen infinite mana.
Just because the word "infinite" sounded so damn appealing, like it was the ultimate power. He thought it would make him unstoppable.
But no, in this cursed world, everything revolved around magic circles. Mana was just the fuel; the real power came from spells, circuits, and intricate knowledge that he lacked.
And what was so fucking hard? Finding a magic spell. Mages were already scarce resources here, treated like precious gems by nobles and guilds, but actual magic spells were even rarer, guarded jealously or sold at exorbitant prices.
For the past month, Julien had scraped by as a mercenary, taking on the dirtiest jobs cleaning out monster nests, hauling supplies through treacherous forests, anything that paid in copper or silver.
He survived solely on his infinite mana; exhaustion was a foreign concept now, his body never tiring no matter how long he pushed it. No need for sleep, no fatigue from endless labor it was a curse disguised as a blessing.
At first, he tried learning how to use a sword. With the fragmented knowledge he carried from his old life bits of movies, games, and half-remembered history he figured he could become a warrior.
But it was all wrong. He swung a borrowed blade in the dead of night, his muscles screaming in protest as he attempted those flashy moves he'd imagined: sweeping arcs, precise thrusts.
It was impossible; his lanky frame, unaccustomed to such physical demands, twisted awkwardly, and he nearly sliced his own leg open on the first try.
"This isn't for me," he concluded bitterly after a few humiliating sessions, sweat dripping from his brow despite his endless energy.
But he didn't give up entirely. He trained in secret under the moonlight, mastering basic stances and footwork, just enough to defend himself. During the days, he took on requests from the mercenary guild, grinding through quests that built his reputation.
In a whole month, he climbed to D-rank, a small achievement that felt hollow. All the while, he saved every coin, amassing a total of seven gold pieces enough to buy a basic magic book that wasn't even rated as one-star.
Fuck, it cost seven gold coins, the fruits of his day-and-night labor, but his unquenchable curiosity wouldn't let him stop at being a low-rank mercenary.
Rumors whispered through the taverns and guild halls: forbidden tomes hidden in the black market, spells that could turn a nobody into a force of nature.
Saving every scrap, Julien ventured here, to this shadowy cavern deep in the underbelly of the city, where the air reeked of stale smoke and illicit deals.
Flickering torchlight cast long shadows on the uneven walls, and muffled voices echoed from hidden alcoves. This was where he would finally get himself a magic book something real, something that could unlock his potential.
System, he thought, summoning the familiar interface in his mind. It materialized like a ghostly overlay in his vision, cold and impersonal.
Name: Julien
Class: Mage
Mana: Infinite
Skills Learned: None
(Hidden attribute: Cooldown reduced by 60% permanently on every skill learned)
He stared at the display, his heart pounding with a mix of hope and dread. Infinite mana mocked him now useless without spells to channel it.
The cavern's chill seeped into his bones, but he ignored it, his simple mage's dress the plain robe worn by apprentice learners clinging to his skin from the nervous sweat.
As Julien waited, tapping his fingers impatiently on the counter, a girl emerged from the shadows.
Her green eyes locked onto his red ones, sharp and assessing, like a predator sizing up prey.
She couldn't have been much older than him, her hair tied back in a practical braid, her clothes dark and unassuming to blend into the black market's dangers.
In her hands, she held a worn book, its cover etched with faint arcane symbols. It was a basic spell: Mana Arrow. Julien's eyes widened, fixating on the tome as if it were a lifeline, his breath catching in his throat.
"Ho ho, hold your horses," she said with a sly smile, her voice light but edged with caution. She leaned against the counter, placing the book down with a soft thud.
"I'll tell you, it's one of the better spells among the basics. But it's dangerous too it'll backfire if you're learning it half-heartedly."
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a genuine concern flickering in her green eyes as she studied his eager expression.
Julien's hands trembled as they reached for the spell book, his fingers inches away, driven by an overwhelming urge to grasp his future.
But the girl stopped him with a gentle yet firm touch on his wrist, pulling him back to reality. He looked up at her, confusion and irritation flashing across his face his red eyes narrowing in annoyance.
"I said again you didn't even hear anything, did you?" she sighed, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head.
Geez, why are all mages like this? she thought, her lips quirking into a wry smile. Impatient, single-minded, always chasing power without heeding warnings.
She cleared her throat and spoke more firmly. "Hear me out: if your mana backfires and damages you, don't come crying here. And first, the gold coins."
This time, Julien heard her clearly. His face flushed with embarrassment, but he nodded curtly, fishing out the seven gold coins from his pouch.
They clinked onto the counter, gleaming faintly in the torchlight. She counted them quickly, satisfied, then slid the spell book toward him with a casual flick of her wrist.
Without another word, she pulled her hood up, covering her face, and melted back into the shadows of the cavern, leaving him alone with his prize.
Julien snatched the book, clutching it to his chest like a treasure. Staying in the black market was extremely dangerous thieves lurked in every corner, and deals often turned bloody.
He hurried out, weaving through the twisting tunnels until he emerged into the night air. His heart raced as he made his way to his rented room, a cramped space in a rundown inn that cost him one silver a day.
The door creaked shut behind him, and he bolted it securely before collapsing onto the thin straw mattress.
He opened the book eagerly, his red eyes scanning the pages under the dim light of a single candle.
The words were in an unknown script, ancient and flowing, but somehow, he could understand them as if the knowledge seeped directly into his mind.
Flipping through, he realized much of it was filler: historical anecdotes, warnings about mana overuse, diagrams of basic theory.
Useless fluff, he thought with growing impatience. But the core was there the useful part: how to channel mana, form the arrow, and release it. It looked so easy on paper, a simple flow of energy.
But guiding mana as described in the spell book was... ugh, what was this circuit thing now? He had assumed mana was all that was needed, raw and unbridled.
The book clearly stated: to use the spell, one should have at least unlocked 13 circuits. A first-circle mage had 67 circuits open, making it effortless for them.
An apprentice mage had none open at all. Kids from noble families had teachers guiding them, helping them reach second or third circle by adolescence.
Julien had none of that no mentor, no lineage. But the book offered a sliver of hope: instructions on how to visualize and open those circuits, the very knowledge he had dismissed as useless earlier.
Following the guidance, he sat cross-legged on the cold floor, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath.
The room fell silent, save for the distant hum of the city outside. He could feel his mana immediately an endless ocean surging within him, boundless and invigorating.
Focusing deeper, he sensed his circuits: most were closed, like sealed pathways in a labyrinth.
But noticing closely, he discovered some were already open a whole seven circuits, perhaps a remnant of his innate potential or the system's hidden quirks.
Now, he needed to open six more. Fortunately, the book detailed how to open at least 13 circuits.
He concentrated, channeling his infinite mana into the blocked pathways. As he pushed, it wasn't easy no, it was agonizing. It hurt like tearing open a month-old wound, fire lancing through his veins, his body convulsing with each surge.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, his teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached. He couldn't just stop; the momentum built, mana flooding in like a relentless tide.
With a sharp gasp, he broke through the first new one, the pain spiking like a dagger to his core.
Bearing it, he pressed on, shattering four more in rapid succession each breakthrough a wave of torment that left him trembling, his breaths coming in ragged bursts.
His mind screamed for relief, visions of giving up flashing before him, but he clung to his determination, red eyes squeezed shut in fierce concentration.
At last, with a final, guttural cry, he broke the sixth. The circuits aligned, mana flowing freely for the first time.
Exhausted beyond measure despite his infinite reserves Julien collapsed onto the ground, his body limp, the spell book slipping from his numb fingers. Darkness claimed him, the room spinning into oblivion.