Chapter 2: Roots of Power

“It’s magical power hypertrophy.”

Ojo spoke, I barely managed to lift my swollen body, so large it was difficult to even breathe.

When I woke up, my body had ballooned to nearly four times its original size.

Unable to move, I had the nanny deliver the news to Ojo, and he arrived, laughing.

“Your body expanded to sustain the overflow because you absorbed more magical energy in one night than you’ve accumulated your whole life. It will subside with time, but returning to your previous state will be difficult.”

Wizards’ physiques rarely change, as they are fixed to an optimal form.

Adding that remark, Ojo chuckled mischievously.

‘What? Does that mean I’ll have to live with this bloated body forever?’ I cast a doubtful look at Ojo.

“Since your body isn’t fixed yet, you should start moving as soon as possible to lose the weight. Exercise, eat less. If not, you’ll be rolling around like this for the rest of your life.”

Ojo spoke while exuding a faint trace of magical energy.

Following its flow, a book emerged from his robes.

Ojo tossed it onto the bed next to me, and I used magic to catch it.

Cautiously checking the cover, I read the title: Basic Magic.

“I’ll be teaching you for the next ten years. Since this is a contractual relationship, just call me ‘senior.'”

Ojo’s words shifted to a discussion about the essence of magic.

Every person has a seed within their heart.

Only those who germinate this seed are granted the title of a wizard.

He explained that many lose their lives during this process, unable to endure the pain, and the thought sent a chill down my spine.

‘Hadn’t I nearly died myself?’

“Senior, why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

With a tinge of resentment, I asked, recalling the moment I had nearly perished.

“Hmm, is there a reason to explain such things to weeds who haven’t even become wizards?”

Ojo replied.

“Out of thousands, or even tens of thousands, only one can become a wizard and nurture their tree. There’s no need to waste energy on the countless weeds among them.”

I felt slightly offended, but greater than that was the thrill that filled my chest.

‘Weeds, huh? So I’ve finally become a wizard.’

“The stage you’ve reached—germination—is the beginning and foundation of a wizard. The book I gave you contains the mental techniques and basic magic you must master. Perfecting these basics and accumulating sufficient magical power will give you the opportunity to advance to the next stage. A sprout growing into a sapling. Many fail at this stage and try again.”

Ojo frowned as if recalling the associated struggles.

“A sapling grows into a young tree, which eventually becomes a complete tree. It extends its branches, flourishes with leaves, and forms buds. These buds bloom into flowers, bear fruit, and the wizard must fully integrate themselves into this process to mature completely. It is said that eating this fruit grants immortality to a wizard.”

Ojo explained the twelve stages of magic.

Germination, sapling, young tree, complete tree, branch extension, flourishing leaves, budding, full bloom, fruit-bearing, integration, maturation, and harvest.

‘Are these stages likened to a tree’s growth? No, I actually felt the seed split and take root this time. It must reflect a tree’s actual growth.’

I couldn’t help but wonder about Ojo’s stage but restrained myself, suspecting it might be taboo to ask a wizard such a question.

“I mentioned earlier the distinction between weeds and wizards. That ties into these stages. With each stage a wizard surpasses, their lifespan increases. Since we base magic on trees, our longevity mirrors theirs. I am at the branch extension stage and can live for another thousand years.”

‘A thousand years?’

For a moment, I thought I’d misheard.

It was an unimaginable span of time.

‘Could a person truly live that long?’

My eyes widened in shock.

“However, very few wizards actually live to enjoy such long lifespans. Wizards are caretakers of their trees, and many die struggling to advance their stages. Whether it’s rare magical creatures, mysterious herbs, or unique ley lines, wizards will fight to acquire anything that might elevate their tree.”

Ojo spoke, his expression deepening in thought, as though reminiscing about his past. Soon, he snapped out of it with a soft sigh and resumed discussing the world of magic.

***

The day passed in a whirlwind.

After Ojo’s lesson ended, I immediately opened the book to review the new mental technique, Nutrient Accumulation Technique.

As its barren title suggested, it focused on efficiently absorbing nourishment to build a stronger foundation.

Upon reading it, I realized it was closely related to the previous Rooting Technique.

‘So the techniques connect into a unified practice.’

As I grasped the contents, my breathing naturally adjusted, and I felt my foundation grow heavier.

Before germination, the seed would have been crushed under such weight.

The basics of magic, such as igniting fire and generating water, were not what I imagined.

I thought it would simply work by imagining it, but there were definite rules involved.

The book explained this as circuits, stating that magic fundamentally involved drawing magic circles through circuits and transforming magical energy into a specific form.

I couldn’t comprehend it at all.

‘Magic is ridiculously complicated.’

I resolved to practice again.

***

One year passed.

As I devoted myself to magic training, strange memories began to surface faintly.

I saw myself on an unknown battlefield, controlling an insect-like drone to kill a person visible through a screen.

The moment this memory surfaced, my understanding of magic advanced significantly.

Circuits, magic circles—these concepts suddenly made sense as I gleaned bits of knowledge from the remnants of that memory.

When I told Ojo about these strange memories, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Hmm, memories? What kind of scenes are they?”

I delved into my memories and described a few.

Myself in the midst of a battlefield, drones like flying insects, massive explosions erupting all around.

“That’s probably your past life, Evron. From now on, don’t tell anyone about this.”

“May I ask why?”

“There aren’t many who recall their past lives, and most wizards covet such uniqueness.”

Ojo swallowed hard, then spoke with his eyes closed.

“To recall a past life means that life was extraordinary. While the soul may have decayed and lost its power, immense potential still resides within. Many wizards are willing to risk death to obtain that potential.”

After hesitating, Ojo added, “Even I am no exception.”

Ojo shared several examples.

One wizard supposedly fused a reincarnated person’s body and soul into an elixir.

This elixir was said to have elevated their magical stage, a claim widely acknowledged.

Another wizard, having reached their limits, discarded their body and transplanted their tree into the body and soul of a reincarnated person, stealing their talents through this layering.

There were even more stories.

In all of them, the reincarnated individuals perished, reduced to materials for stage advancement.

Wizards, by their very nature, are a form of resource and are constantly coveting one another.

Ojo kept his eyes shut as he spoke.

I was utterly terrified, barely able to breathe.

Ojo admitted that he, too, was such a wizard.

I could die at any moment.

After a long silence, Ojo finally opened his eyes.

He gave a bitter smile and shook his head.

“If I weren’t bound by a contract, I would have devoured you already. Advancing to the next stage often hinges on even the slightest possibility.”

His words confirmed that he viewed me as prey.

Seeing my face turn pale from sheer terror, Ojo burst into laughter.

He even stroked his chin and smacked his lips as though savoring the idea, causing me to stumble backward in panic.

“Alright, I suppose it’s time to explain the contract to you.”

Ojo showed me his wrist.

Hidden by his coat until now, his wrist bore markings inscribed with concentrated magical energy, connected to his tree.

[To repay the debt of a saved life, I shall serve the family for 200 years and never cause harm unless attacked first.]

“This happened a hundred years ago. Your father, the island’s master, saved me when I was dying, and we forged this contract. Because of it, I cannot lie to or harm your family.”

Ojo concealed his wrist again and let out a resigned sigh.

“If my life hadn’t been at stake, I would never have agreed to such a contract.”

Ojo spoke at length about the dangers of such contracts, venting his pent-up frustration.

As I listened, my fear gradually gave way to clarity.

‘So, there’s barely any reason to be afraid?’

Relief washed over me, and I slumped down.

‘Did he bring up the contract because I looked like I was about to die of fear? Since his greed scared me, wouldn’t that count as harm under the contract?’

Ojo explained that once a wizard is bound by a contract, they must fulfill it even in death.

Failure to do so would result in their tree rotting away.

It sounded plausible enough.

But I couldn’t completely believe him.

From then on, every time I attended Ojo’s lessons, I occasionally caught him gazing at me with regretful eyes.

‘How could I possibly feel at ease when he looked at me like that?’

***

Five years passed.

I was now eighteen, the perfect age for doubting everything.