Magic took both an intelligent mind and a strong body each one working in harmony with the other.
One existed clearly to control spells with ease and avoid them spiralling into a dangerous animosity. And the other existed to endure the burden, preventing the breakage of one's core and stopping magic from destroying a person from the inside out.
Technically known as Mana poisoning, Ray thought as he read off the pages of the book resting in his hands.
'These few days have really been difficult,' he pondered, turning over to the next page with a small sigh.
Ever since he had approached his father to learn magic, the two of them had been taking lessons together about mana theory.
Sometimes, Ray even managed to convince his father to teach him a thing or two about sword fighting, something that was clearly far too much for his current body to properly control.
During this time, his progress remained questionable at best. Still, there was no way for him to become a mage at the age of four without first maturing his core.
So he reminisced over this ideology during dinner, thought about it until he would eventually fall asleep, and wondered how exactly he was supposed to nurture his core into maturity.
Soon enough, he was forced to return to reading books, hoping there was a clue hidden somewhere within the pages or perhaps some strange, secret page concealed by a genius who clearly had too much free time.
No matter how much he flipped through the pages, that genius was nowhere to be found, and there was no way to cheat the system.
'Fuck!'
Ray raised his hand and pummeled it down on the book between his legs.
"If there is no such way to mature my core before five," he declared in a hushed but furious whisper, "then I'll make a way."
Soon enough, with his heinous accusations aimed at the brilliant minds that had authored the books, he managed to devise a technique that he found rather convincing—at least convincing enough to risk his own sanity.
Sitting on the floor of his room with his legs folded neatly beneath him, he dimmed his eyes, ready to cultivate his core into maturity.
Or at least try to.
The theory was simple. Mages pulled in mana from the surroundings into their cores to be used as magic.
That meant magic was derived from energy that already existed around them—natural energy.
This realization gave Ray a few more ideologies to chew on. Since the magic cores of adults continued to grow stronger the more mana they pulled in, that should also mean cores were nurtured by drawing in nature energy itself.
But this process was automatic and painfully slow in children below the age of five. Which fully explained why it was almost impossible to become a mage so early.
With this thought through, Ray took mental notes on what to do next.
'Could it be that five-year-olds are no different from us?' he wondered. 'Just like how a lion knows it eats meat, and a baby knows to suckle at its mother's breast?'
'That means the difference between us and five-year-olds is the feeling of having a complete core. And then, with that feeling, comes the instinct to pull more mana into the core to be used for magic…'
Ray smiled deep within himself.
"What I lack," he muttered confidently, "is the feeling."
With this single point firmly established in his mind, he sat there in deep meditation, searching inwardly for that sensation, the feeling of pulling mana into his incomplete core.
For one, it was not easy. He had no idea what mana felt like and absolutely no clue how to sense it in the first place.
So after a week-long stretch of tries and humiliating failures, he decided to deepen his search.
'If mana is manipulated by the mind,' Ray reasoned, 'doesn't that mean I have to convince myself that I'm actually absorbing mana? It's like how the subconscious tells the body to move…'
Ray nodded seriously to himself. Yes. Something like this could work. Probably. Hopefully.
So he went back to meditation once again, reciting deeply for his conscious mind to command his subconscious to start drawing in mana.
Apparently, he felt nothing at first. This was rather expected, but he remained patient and continued with his endeavour.
It didn't take long before the entire day was wasted and he still felt absolutely nothing.
Going downstairs for dinner, he wore a happy look to hide his disdain beneath it and ate with his family like a perfectly normal child.
His father kept giving him skeptical looks, as though trying to see through his facade.
'He's not that kind of mind,' Ray mocked internally. 'He can't even see through transparent glass even if he wanted to.'
Ray took a long sip of water from his wooden cup, feeling immensely smug for no real reason.
The maid was no different. She paid no attention to him and simply continued eating her meal in a calm, measured manner.
His mother, on the other hand, looked stressed, clearly burdened with many thoughts... Adult thoughts.
Thoughts Ray was not prepared to involve himself in.
Unless by some miracle he managed to get a girlfriend at the age before five... No.
He already had his own problems, thank you very much.
'If only I was fully an elf,' he mused bitterly. 'Maybe my closeness with nature would have brought in some luck—'
Wait.
Ray's eyes brightened in sudden realization.
Could it be? Could it be that this entire time, the reason he was unable to feel a single thing was the absence of raw but solid mana?
For now, this was just another theory he needed to confirm.
The next day, he made sure to wake up before anyone else. He immediately left his room, slipped out of the house, and headed into the fields, specifically toward one of the large oak trees standing proudly there.
He sat beneath the tree, under the shade of its looming darkness, and took his meditation posture. Drawing in a long breath, he began his routine.
To Ray, the reason he had been unable to cultivate mana or feel it wasn't because of his inability to properly calculate what was needed—but because he had been in the wrong venue the entire time.
Up in his room, the only source of nature he had was air.
Trying to grab that physically was practically impossible.
What if the same theory applied to mana? It might be difficult to draw mana from the air because of its separation into atoms.
And the wooden floor he sat on was merely dead wood. That wouldn't have much nature energy left, would it?
That meant the main factor he had been missing all along was pure, solid nature itself.
The leaves that tickled his skin from the soft wind that blew, the tree bark he rested against, these were all solid natural objects that emanated a far more easily absorbable form of mana.
At least, that was what Ray thought.
Not wasting any time, he began his routine to convince himself he was absorbing mana.
At first, there was nothing. Just emptiness.
Then, there was warmth.
A feeling he could testify was not his imagination. A warm sensation blossomed in his gut, manifesting into a shape he wasn't familiar with.
He took his time, pouring more concentration into pulling mana into his core and observing the strange shape forming within him.
Moments later, the shape became vivid in his mind. It was a sphere, or rather, a crooked one.
With this confirmed, Ray pulled himself out of his concentration, returning to the light as his eyes sprang open.
His body felt sore. His face was covered in sweat, and his breathing was ragged. This attempt had truly taken a lot out of him.
Nonetheless, a grin slowly brewed across his lips as he spoke aloud.
"Finally," he said proudly, "some progress."