The air still crackled faintly where the lightning had struck. Smoke rose in lazy threads from the massive bodies sprawled across the clearing, feathers and fur matted with soot. The smell was halfway between roasted chicken and wet dog.

  James pinched his nose. “Uff, you actually fried them.”

  Villen crouched beside one of the corpses, poking it with his staff. “Yes. If you kill them any other way, the meat tastes a little sour. Lightning purges the foul blood.”

  James blinked. “Hold on. Did you just say meat? As in… you eat these things?”

  Villen raised a brow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know,” James said, gesturing helplessly at the singed heap of feathers. “Maybe because it looks like a taxidermy accident? I’ve eaten deer, rabbit, even crocodile once, but the closest thing to this would be a bear, and I’ve never eaten one.”

  Villen’s lips curved. “Then it seems you’re in luck. A first-time experience is always special. And I happen to be getting hungry again.”

  James stared. “We just ate.”

  “True,” Villen said, straight-faced. “But all that excitement tends to stir the appetite.”

  James turned to Marty and Gerrard, who were both pretending to be very busy doing nothing. “Excitement? It took you two seconds to vaporize four of them. What part of that was exhausting?”

  Villen’s smile thinned. “Ah, well. Perhaps it was your screaming that did it. Hard to focus when someone behind you is shouting ‘No, no, I don’t want to die again!’”

  James groaned. “Okay, I get it, funny joke.”

  Villen grinned wider. “But what does that even mean? Again? You die often?”

  “Drop it,” James said quickly. “Anyway, you want me to cook them, right?”

  “That would be ideal,” Villen said. “You’re the professional.”

  James sighed and rubbed his temples. “Alright, but I’ll need help. These things are huge, and I’m not cleaning four of them by myself.”

  “What do you require?” Villen asked.

  “Two thick ropes,” James said after a moment’s thought. “We hang them upside down to drain the blood, unless your Zeus routine already cooked it all dry. Does lightning do that?”

  Villen tilted his head. “Who is Zeus?”

  “Never mind.” James waved him off. “Ropes, a good knife, and a cleaver if we have one.”

  Marty perked up. “There are ropes in the wagon, but no blades that size.”

  “I’ll handle that,” Villen said, already reaching into the shimmering pocket of his inventory.

  James watched the motion, unimpressed. “Of course you will. You’ve probably got a whole kitchen hidden in there. Maybe even a spice rack.”

  He knelt beside the nearest owlbear, the heat still radiating faintly from its fur. “Well then,” he muttered, pulling a breath through his teeth. “Let’s find out if monster meat tastes like chicken, or maybe like regret.”

  The clearing smelled of wet feathers and iron. They dragged one of the smaller owlbears toward a sturdy oak, its claws leaving deep lines in the dirt. The creature’s size made it a chore even after death.

  “Wrap the rope around its legs,” James said, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Higher, just above the ankle. It’ll hold better that way.”

  Villen nodded, looping the thick rope with quick, practiced movements. Together, they heaved. The line went taut, the body rose inch by inch, and soon the owlbear hung upside down, its head swaying lightly in the morning air.

  James stepped closer, knife in hand. “Alright, here goes.” He drew a short, clean line along the creature’s neck. A thin stream of dark blood poured down, splattering onto the leaves below. The smell hit them a second later, sharp and metallic. He crouched, watching the flow. “Good. Still liquid, not clotted. Lightning cooked the surface, but the core’s fine.” He sniffed, grimaced, and muttered, “Slight iron aftertaste. Needs to drain clean or it’ll stink when we roast it.”

  Marty winced. “Now what?”

  James shot him a look. “You keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing so far, nothing.”

  Gerrard groaned from where he sat on a fallen trunk. “I must have cracked something while running. Every bone in my body hurts.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Fine, fine,” James said, rolling his eyes. “No need to start whining yet. The blood needs time to drain anyway.”

  Villen tilted his head. “So we just wait?”

  “Not exactly.” James pointed toward a patch of open ground. “You two, dig a pit. If owlbear meat is anything like venison, it’s going to be tough and gamey. And I’m not even getting into the parasites yet. Disgusting.”

  Marty blinked. “Why are we digging a hole?”

  “Because that’s the only way to cook this properly.” He gestured at the soil. “Underground cooking keeps the heat steady and traps the moisture. Steam softens the fibers, smothers the smell, and kills everything that shouldn’t be alive.”

  Gerrard frowned. “You’re going to cook it underground?”

  “Exactly. Now less talk, more dirt. Knee-deep should do. I’ll handle the rest with Villen.”

  The two men sighed in unison and trudged back to the wagon to fetch shovels.

  Villen turned to him. “And what exactly will we be doing?”

  James glanced at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re going to teach me how to use magic.”

  Villen’s brows rose, amused. “In that case, I want something in return.”

  “I’m literally cooking for you,” James said flatly.

  “That’s different.”

  James crossed his arms. “Fine. What do you want?”

  “That drink you mentioned this morning,” Villen said. “The bitter one.”

  James blinked. “Coffee?”

  Villen smiled faintly. “Yes. That.”

  James paused, thinking. Then a grin crept across his face. “No promises, but if you teach me how to cast, I’ll do everything I can.”

  “That’s enough for me,” Villen said, eyes glinting faintly in the light.

  They walked a little way from the clearing, far enough that the smell of blood and burned fur faded into the breeze. Villen stopped beneath a crooked pine and looked back at James. “Here will do.”

  James folded his arms. “Alright, teacher. What now?”

  “Magic,” Villen said simply, “is like breathing if you have mana. You do not force it. You allow it. Just think of the magic you want to cast.”

  “Just think about it?” James frowned. “That’s it?”

  “Not only think.” Villen’s eyes gleamed. “You must picture it. See it clearly in your mind.”

  James exhaled, then planted his feet and bent his knees like someone about to lift weights. He stretched both arms forward and closed his eyes. “Alright, easy. Picture it. Big ball of fire. Hot, glowing, majestic…”

  He clenched his fists. “Fireball… fireball… FIREBALL!”

  Silence. Birds scattered from the nearby trees.

  Villen blinked. “What are you doing?”

  “Casting a fireball,” James said, panting. “Obviously.”

  “I understood that,” Villen replied dryly. “What I’m asking is why you’re shouting.”

  “I thought maybe it’s voice-activated. You know, say the name, make it real.”

  Villen tilted his head. “When I used lightning earlier, did you hear me yell ‘Lightning, now!’?”

  James opened his mouth, closed it again. “…no.”

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  James sighed. “Fine, master of silence. So what do I do instead?”

  “You move your mana,” Villen said.

  “My what?”

  Villen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, that one’s on me. You said you had mana, so I assumed you could control it. My mistake. Totally fine. Not angry. Absolutely not angry.”

  “Great,” James said. “Then tell me how.”

  Villen stepped behind him. “Something tells me that if I explain it, you’ll never get it. So we’ll take a shortcut.”

  James glanced over his shoulder. “Oh good. I love shortcuts.”

  Before he could finish, Villen pressed both palms against his back. The moment his hands touched, something alive surged into James, heat and pressure rolling through him like liquid fire.

  Every muscle seized. His breath hitched. A sound half-scream, half-groan broke from his throat. His skin flushed red, every vein humming with wild energy.

  “Ah, don’t be such a child,” Villen said. “It was only a little mana.”

  “A little?” James wheezed, still trembling. “You… you absolute maniac! You just violated my metaphysical personal space! No breakfast for you. Ever.”

  Villen looked amused. “I prefer to call it instruction.”

  James glared. “Instruction? I feel like I just lost my magical virginity!”

  A thin curl of smoke rose from his sleeves. He slapped at it weakly. “You see that? That’s trauma leaving my body.”

  “Come now—”

  “No. Breakfast ban.”

  Villen sighed. “Fine. My apologies. Now stand up. We’ll try again. It will hurt less this time.”

  James eyed him suspiciously. “Less… how much less?”

  “Enough to live through it.”

  “That’s… comforting.”

  This time Villen’s touch was gentler. Mana seeped through his hands, warm and heavy, crawling into James’s veins. It was too intimate: like someone tracing fire through his veins with their fingers. It stung, but not enough to drop him. His teeth clenched, breath sharp.

  “Can you feel it?” Villen asked quietly.

  “Yes,” James grunted. “And it feels disgusting. Like… like I need a shower and therapy.”

  Villen ignored him. “Good. Now I’ll pull mine back. You must keep yours moving the same way.”

  When Villen withdrew his hands, James gasped but held on. The flow of mana rippled through him like a second pulse.

  “Now,” Villen said, “picture the fire again. Push your mana from within, through your arms, out of your palms.”

  James raised his hands and exhaled. The energy gathered, thick and hot, until twin sparks flared to life. “Alright, focus… focus… don’t think of Villen touching you again…” Then, all at once, a ball of fire formed between them, glowing bright against the green.

  “Okay… okay… oh that’s hot,” James muttered, panicking as the flame grew.

  “If you are not planning to burn the forest down,” Villen said calmly, “stop feeding it.”

  James did, and the fireball steadied, still hovering. He stared, awestruck. “Now what?”

  “Throw it,” Villen said. “Preferably upward.”

  James flung it into the sky. The fireball shot up, blazing, then faded into nothing with a soft pop. For a moment he just stood there, heart racing, the smell of ozone on his skin.

  Then he laughed. “Yes! I did it! I actually did it!”

  Villen smirked. “Excellent. Now it’s my turn. I want coffee.”

  James groaned. “Yes, yes, the legendary coffee. Give me a second.”

  He called up his system panel, still grinning, still breathless. The golden text shimmered in front of him.

  “Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s see how this skill works. Come on, Seed Maker, don’t fail me now.”

  He tapped the icon, focusing on the image of roasted beans and bitter steam.

  [Mana: 90 / 120]

  With current mana reserves, you can generate 90 coffee seeds.

  Please specify amount to produce.

  James stared, eyes wide, grin spreading. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

  The screen glowed brighter, waiting.

  And the forest around him went still.