"Okay, Lexo, it's time for you to shine," I declare to the air, cracking my little fingers to loosen them up. It's time to use my OP protagonist power—Time Pause. I take a few deep, uneven breaths, trying to clear my mind of any stray thoughts. All that training isn't for nothing—my friend was taken by that enormous bird, and I'm going to rescue her.
"Activate Time Pause, baby!" I exclaim, and a familiar translucent icon materializes in my mind. I hear a satisfying click, and in the blink of an eye, an expansive aura surrounds me, tinting everything around in a bluish-gray hue—except for me.
TIME PAUSE ACTIVATED
Lila's scream freezes mid-air. The Shadow Bird is suspended in ascent, its massive wings motionless, its claws locked onto my friend's tiny figure. The wind falls silent, the sun stalls in the sky. The world becomes a still snapshot—and I'm the only one in motion. I can feel 1 MP draining per second from my ample reserve, but that hardly matters right now.
Calm. Breathe. Observe. I recall Lyra's lessons, Dad's steady resolve—panic won't help. I scan the area frantically, and then spot it: a rock near the edge of the cliff. It's not huge, but it's pointed and flat—perfect for an improvised spearhead.
I sprint toward the rock. I close my eyes for a moment, remembering Mom's talks about mana. She said our family, on her side, has a genetic predisposition for large MP reserves—necessary for pure Light healers, since healing is energy-intensive. In my case, with both Light and offensive affinities, I'm an anomaly; Light usually shows up as defensive or supportive power.
Mana, I remind myself, is the world's energy. It flows everywhere, but we channel it through our core—a special organ by the sternum that acts like a battery and filter. We replenish it by absorbing energy from the environment (through meditation, sleep) or converting our own vital force (via food and rest). The more refined the core, the more efficiently it stores and uses energy. My Primordial Core and my 150 MP reserve are a product of both my Awakening and my genes. A gentle breeze might cost 1–2 MP, an ice or steam arrow 3–5 MP, healing a small cut 5–10 MP—but Time Pause costs 1 MP per second. Brutal? Yes. But manageable for a short burst.
I push those thoughts aside. Time is stopped—and that means every second counts. I grip the pointed rock; it's heavy for my five-year-old hands, but adrenaline and focus lend me strength. I extend my arms, channeling mana into them not for a flashy spell, but to boost my grip and raw physical power—a basic application I learned by watching Dad and Borin.
I study the frozen Shadow Bird, mentally calculating the distance and trajectory. I remember Kael teaching me to toss rocks at cans—how the wrist's flick and a follow-through make all the difference. I focus on my affinity with Air, not to cast a spell, but to sense the (now motionless) currents that I imagine, guiding my throw.
I take a deep breath, spin my small body, and hurl the rock with every ounce of strength I can muster, imbuing it with a pulse of kinetic energy as I release it. The stone flies—a silent projectile in the still world—straight for the Shadow Bird's head.
CRACK! (Silent)
The impact is brutal. The rock smacks the bird just behind its bright red eye, and even in the paused moment, I can sense the force rippling through its unmoving form.
I don't waste a second. I dash along the bird's frozen trajectory, positioning myself where I calculate Lila will fall. I look up, concentrating hard.
TIME PAUSE DEACTIVATED
In an instant, the world bursts back to life—dry mechanical ticks merge with the ambient sounds as the gray overlay fades. The wind roars again. The Shadow Bird lets out a piercing, terrified squawk, its claws loosening their grip due to the severe blow. Lila falls!
"Wind!" I call out confidently (I definitely need better power names—this one was weak), channeling my mana. A surge of upward air rushes beneath Lila—not strong enough to stop her outright, but just enough to slow her descent into a gentle landing. I extend my arms, bracing for impact.
She lands in my arms with a startled "ouch!" She's heavier than she looks (at least compared to my own slight frame), and for a moment, we nearly both topple—but I catch her just in time. She trembles, eyes wide with terror, but is unharmed. After a moment, she glances at me and then at the bird, which is now erratically flapping away, disoriented by the hit.
"Lexo!" she cries, somewhere between scared and angry. "What happened? I was flying!" Then, pointing toward a rocky ledge at the very edge of the cliff, she asks, "What… what's that?"
Nodding to each other, we edge closer. At first glance, it appears to be a massive nest made of branches, bones, and… shiny metal? And inside, resting on a bed of dark feathers, are three smooth, absurdly heavy eggs the size of small melons—pure gold. Next to them, a fourth, slightly larger egg, carved from a diamond that refracts light into all the colors of the rainbow. The old woman's treasure! Gold Eggs and a Rainbow Diamond Egg!
The discovery makes us momentarily forget the danger. How do we carry this? They're too heavy for me, and I don't have enough MP left to use air to lighten them (maybe that's a prerequisite for gravity magic—interesting, I'll have to look into it later).
We return slowly. Unable to carry the eggs, we decide to come back for them with help. But as dusk falls and the stars emerge, we find ourselves greeted by a sea of torches and worried faces when we reach town.
The entire town is searching for us! The mayor (extremely worried about his daughter), Dad (with an expression mixing relief and restrained fury), Mom (pale, but with eyes promising a long talk), Borin, Lyra, Kael—in short, everyone I love.
"Lila!"
"Lexo!" We're swamped with affectionate hugs, an avalanche of questions, and plenty of scolding. We explain what happened with the bird (omitting the part about time magic and superhuman rock throwing) and how we found the nest (keeping the precious eggs a secret for now). The story is terrifying enough that the complaints are laced with relief.
But the escape and the ensuing panic have consequences. Dad fixes me with his stern, Captain's eyes. "Lexo. I understand adventure, but you ran off. You put Lila in danger. You worried the entire town. That, my son, has consequences."
With that, he issues his paternal edict: I'm grounded for a week—no leaving the property, staying within the backyard's radius, no visits to Lila (since she's grounded too), and extra chores helping Mom and Borin (which usually means moving rocks or cleaning stables).
I sigh. It was worth it to save my friend and find what I was searching for—and we made it back in one piece. And I know exactly where the treasure is…
I can almost hear it calling: "I'll be back for you, oh magical goddess of fortune!" I think, striking a playful pirate pose as tears well in my eyes from the punishment.