Black Magus

My father joined in on the fun just as it was dying down. Even a blind man could look at him and see the pain he was feeling. The slouched shoulders, indifferent gaze, and monotonous mumbles were all things I’ve seen and experienced many times over. What was worse, I somewhat sympathized with him.

“I’m sure you’ve been told,” he calmly said to me. “We’re to depart in the morning. Our grandfather should be here by then. When we arrive, we’ll have court with the royal family. And make sure you take everything with you.” He added with a pointed finger. “You won’t be returning for a few years at least.”

“Yes, Sir.” I solemnly bowed. Then watched him return to his somber state of solitude without another word.

I waited a few moments before I corralled my vassals into the courtyard I used to frequent. With little words on my part, they arranged themselves in a semi-circle around me to either sit or stand idly atop the igneous platform while I mentally prepared myself. “Before we begin,” I finally said. “I’d like to ask you all a question. Do you know the density and size of your mana wells?”

“They told us when we arrived at the Tower.” Toril quickly nodded. “I have a twelfth-grade Ice Well.”

“Mine is twelfth grade too!” Letta beamed, then regressed in both posture and vocal intensity as she murmured. “But, it’s a Slush Well.”

“Slush. Eleventh grade.” Jonet calmly stated just after.

Followed by Jaimess. “Eighth grade. Also Slush.”

“Ninth grade.” Giorno nonchalantly stated from the far end. “Slush.”

“U- uh…” Came the last, neurotic voice. “I have a sixth-grade Slush Well.”

“Very well.” With a sigh, I squatted to dip my hand into the web of darkness between my feet. From it, I pulled the six wells I purchased from Manilia and divvied them out to the awaiting hands. " Years and years ago, realized that no matter how powerful I become, I cannot protect everyone. Thus I won't protect anyone. Instead, I decided to grant my followers knowledge and power so they could protect themselves. To that end, I developed a theory I dubbed Forced Expansion based on the things I've noticed in my studies. A method to increase the size and density of one's mana well. My great-grandfather more or less confirmed my hypothesis during my tenure at the Tower. I purchased these Wells for you all around five years ago, shortly after your competition began." I said to the tinkerers, then paused to withdraw the accompanying potions. "They are ninth-grade Ice wells acquired from demons. They cost me quite a bit of gold, but the payoff is more than worth the cost, of that I am certain. Despite that, I didn't have one for myself. Until now.

“My mother has returned to Youtera.” I declared, then retrieved the vibrant crystal and large flask she’d just given me. “Before she departed, however, she gifted me with these and the knowledge of how to use them. In short, this potion will force your mana pores open for a short time. Your mana then flows into this external well, mixing your energy with the contents. Due to the potion's effect, your mana wells will recharge before the energy returns to you. Thus compacting and expanding your wells. Forcefully. I assume it will be extremely painful. But pain leads to growth."

Following a soft gasp, Ed lifted the well up to eye level “So, it’s like jamming a slush well and an ice well on top of each other.” He then turned his wide eyes to me. “Does that mean we’ll have diamond wells?”

“I’m unsure, but I doubt it.” I shrugged out a snort, then nodded towards my knight. “Toril will probably have a diamond well. Seeing as he's already at the brink.”

“In that case.” Toril turned to me in kind. “What kind of well do you have? What will yours become?”

“As a half-elf, my well is able to grow much larger than the rest of yours. Right now, I don't know what I have. The scale used shortly after I was born was said to measure a twelfth-grade diamond well. Though it appears much larger. After this," I held out the cylinder before me, “my mana will be purified and concentrated into something called arcane energy.”

“I’ve heard tales of elves being absurdly powerful,” Giorno commented to himself as he tapped at his chin. “I wonder if that’s the reason why. Arcane energy?”

“How powerful are they?” Letta leaned over to meet his gaze.

“As powerful as dragons and demons,” Giorno said, slowly turning his eyes to me.

“The only way of knowing is to learn for ourselves.” I sighed, rising to my feet. As if on cue, the rest stepped forward, grabbing their wells and chalices to take in their share of the potion.

Toril was the first to say what everyone seemed to be thinking next. “So.” He took a deep sigh and looked around. “Who wants to go first?”

‘Lead by example, Amun.’ I told myself after a few seconds. And with a deep breath, I pressed the bottle against my lips and upturned the dull-blue waters into my maw.

According to my mother, only a single cup was the dosage needed to cue the effect. In my lust and greed for power; or in my paranoia of misfortune, I sought to finish off whatever was left in the hopes that my pores would remain in their fully opened state indefinitely. Thus like a frat boy chugging from a boot, I drank and drank and drank the dull blue liquid until only a few viscous remains were dripping from the lip.

Going down, the fluid burned like ghost peppers ground into a liquid. My throat, esophagus, and stomach felt as if they’d been filled with lava. Radiating a blistering heat that rapidly spread to my skin and eventually forced its way out through my very skin. Opening the gates from the inside, in a sense, to allow the ambient slush-like fluid to cascade toward me without relenting. Acknowledging my ignorance of any time constraints, I quickly palmed the well in both hands before focusing on the crystalline energy within me. I imagined a connection, a conduit, or a line stretching from my well towards my palms; and with the slightest tug, the energy began breaking off from my well at an alarming rate.

Glacial chunks of the stuff tore away from the main body like a satellite caught inside its parent body’s Roche Limit. Within seconds, the entire thing was ripped apart from the core. Broken into a stream of subliming comets that fell up and out my arms, condensed and gushed down my arms as a tidal wave of mana. The way it slammed to a turbulent halt against the dam at the edge of my palms sent deafening cracks throughout the courtyard, leaving mana well fragile enough to crack like glass under pressure. The sound spread and quickened in intensity as a gap opened in the cylinder, draining the pool of mana gathered in my hands at a faster and faster rate until every drop flowed to the other side.

And then, I wavered.

A wave of fatigue hit me like a phantom truck. Rather than killing me on the spot, it left me feeling as if I just ran a dozen marathons in under a minute. My breath was raggedly hoarse and my muscles were cramping and knotting up so tightly it felt like my ligaments, tendons, and very bones were splitting apart; and all the while, my head throbbed with a searing migraine. That feeling: Mana Exhaustion, was then compounded by the lingering effects of the potion. Invoking a moment of pain that seemed to drag on for hours until the ambient mana began surging around me. Swarming into me. Brushing away the sudden pain and exhaustion as the energy filled my spiritual organ at a furious pace.

With my well nearly recharged, I closely studied the container in my hands. Like my mother's well. Just as large. Just as vibrant: a dense soup of a blue-green plasma violently churning inside the cracked, crystalline structure. Then, it happened. The ear-piercing cracks returned in full force, breaking the cylinder into two pieces that fell apart from each other as my hands were forced to my sides. At that moment, I felt as if my entire being had been crushed by a pair of ungodly hands, forcing me into a strained squat just to remain standing against the force. Grunting in pain as the crackling energy forced its way into my body and latched onto the energy in my well, transitioning this crushing feeling into one of internal pressure pushing against something immovable; like a star in its main sequence.

As the seconds passed, my own pained sounds and the worried noises of my vassals became more and more distant; yet, the feeling only intensified. It soon began to feel like every cell in my body, every fiber of every muscle was overcharged with energy and on the brink of an explosion. But I pressed on. One of the many benefits of my extensive training with Grandpa Lich was that I knew exactly where my limit was. I had an extremely accurate gauge of how long I could toe the line with death before falling over. So I continued. I endured long after the migraines returned. I persisted through the nosebleeds. I persevered until I coughed blood on the ground before me. But it still wasn’t enough. A sliver of energy remained. The backwash in the bottle was unfinished. The tiny amount of liquid held back by the lip of the mouth remained when I found myself tipping over the line.

And so, I pictured the result of my intent and hurriedly sought to relieve the pressure in the easiest way I could think.