[ Multiplication: An arithmetic operation that involves repeatedly adding a number, called the multiplid, for a number of times equal to the value of another number, called the multiplier. The o be multiplied are called factors, and the result is called the product. Therefore, if ? and ? are two numbers, multiplication is represented as ? ? ? = ?, where ? is the product of ? and ? ]

  From this cept, and after learning how to perform multiplications, Mirac had acquired, months earlier, a magical ability:

  [ Multiplicative Touch: After toug an object, you multiply it by the desired number, creating identical copies ]

  However, the frustration of having to rely on this ability now—of bending to the world and depending on its greatest enemy, Math!—made his blood boil in his veins!

  ‘I-I have no other choice though! If I want more magical gauze, I must use my powers!’

  So, with the st of his remaining strength, Mirac ched the gauze in his hand and whispered words that, once, he would never have ceived of saying, or even dared to think:

  “Multiply by ten...”

  As soon as those words vibrated through the autumn air, Mirac’s mind was uedly seized by the dreamlike vision of the starry sky.

  But this time, it was different.

  For the very first time, in front of his eyes, he saw numbers and symbols written in bright white, floating mid-air.

  At the same time, though, Mirac could still perceive the real world: the whisper of the wild forest, the rustling of leaves that seemed to be alive with i, the sharp sense of dahat made him nervously watch every shadow, imagining it beloo Vi.

  It was as if Mirac’s braiuo two different visual frequencies, but perfectly distinguishable.

  ‘What the hell is this?!’ he wondered, bewildered, as a shiver ran down his spine.

  Mirac’s curiosity, mixed with ay, pushed him to focus on the alphanumeric sequence dang among the stars.

  The letters and numbers formed aion:

  [ 150 / 50 = ? ]

  Mirac was stunned. His eyes widened in astonishment.

  ‘A division? W-Why?!’ he wondered, incredulously. ‘Are y to make fun of me, Math?!’

  Before his blood could start boiling with rage again, a fsh of rationality halted his impulsive emotions and forced Mirac to think more calmly about the situation:

  ‘No, wait a minute! Maybe to use “Multiplicative Touch,” I first o solve this calcution?’

  There was no time to hesitate or reflect further.

  Overlooking his doubts, Mirac thought for a couple of seds about the result of the division.

  ‘Well, I’d say this is pretty simple!’

  After easily solving the calcution in his head, all that was left was to input the ahough he wasly sure how.

  Instinctively, almost without thinking, Mirac simply tried to whisper it:

  “Three...”

  The question mark began to dissolve, slowly transf into a small cloud of white mist. In the middle of the transformation, the mist thied, and from it emerged the number 3, which took its final p the equation.

  [ 150 / 50 = 3 ]

  Little by little, the entire sequence vanished, dissolving like smoke carried away by an invisible breeze. With it, the starry sky also disappeared, retreating into nothingness.

  Mirac blinked, fused, trying to piece together what had just happened.

  ‘Is that it?! Seriously?!’

  The urge to curse and insult Math filled his head with furious thoughts.

  But before he could voice his frustration, Mirac suddenly felt a light weight on his right hand. It wasn't much weight, which is why he hadn’t noticed it right away.

  Slowly, with his eyes growing heavier from exhaustion, Mirac lowered his gaze to his hand.

  There, on his right palm, there was no longer just a strip of magical gauze: instead, there were now 10 of them!

  ‘I-I 't believe it...!’ he thought, his heart suddenly beginning to race.

  His Multipliagic had worked!

  At this point, Mirac immediately got to work.

  With trembling hand, he grabbed the newly multiplied strips of gauze and began ing the stump with as much care as he could.

  He gritted his teeth as the tact with the air made the exposed flesh burn as if it had been touched by live fire.

  But fortunately, relief came almost immediately.

  As soon as the gauze touched the wound, the pain gradually eased, as if a wave of calming ahesia had spread along his arm.

  As he tinued bandaging himself, Mirac couldn’t help but refle what he had just experienced: "Multiplicative Touch".

  That day had been the first time Mirac had used his powers.

  So, he had been pletely unprepared when that calcution appeared in front of him.

  However, as soon as Mirac gave the ahe gauze strip had actually multiplied by the number he requested.

  It seemed, therefore, that solving the calcution had been a necessary dition to activate his “Multiplicative Touch.” Without that answer—or with an incorree—the ability probably wouldn't have had any effe the magical gauze.

  Refleg on this discovery, Mirac realized that perhaps the other three abilities he possessed also required a simir dition: solving a mathematical calcution to use them!

  To his great relief, Mirac had only o solve a fairly simple calcution to activate the “Multiplicative Touch” and multiply the magical gauze.

  However, an uling thought crossed his mind: what if that had just been a lucky exception? Perhaps the difficulty of the calcutions varied depending on the object or the situation.

  But for now, Mirac couldn’t know that.

  In the end, he reached the sad clusion that he koo little about his powers to use them to their full potential a out of this situation.

  ‘Tsk! If only I had trained in advance...’ he thought, feeling frustration scratch at his throat.

  He was almretting being so stubborn about never wanting to use his powers and familiarize himself with them all these months.

  ‘But it doesn't matter!’ he thought, more determihan ever. ‘I'll manage even without them! Or at least, I hope so...’

  After pleting the "dressing" and tying the final knot, certain it wouldn’t e undone even with spasmodients, the pain almost entirely vanished, and the blood stopped flowing food.

  ‘I made it!’ thought Mirac, as his vision cleared and the heat that had been suffog him—likely signaling his immi death—began to subside.

  But, despite having narrowly escaped death by heme, one daill remained nearby: the assassin!

  “You know, young Prince, I absolutely love pying hide and seek!” excimed Vi, suddenly breaking the silence of the forest. His voice was charged with a macabre enthusiasm. “Seeing people flee, terrified, desperately searg for a refuge, and then witnessing the realization in their faces that it was all for nothing... Yes, for me, that’s an irrepceable feeling! But...”

  Immediately afterward, the pleasure in his voice faded, repced by a visceral bitterhat seemed to saturate every word that followed.

  “heless, I have no iion ing this story out any longer!” he growled fiercely.

  Suddenly, a sharp sound split the air, a and cutting blow like distant thunder: probably, Mirac specuted, it was the sound of Vi’s sword-tie striking forcefully against a nearby tree.

  The blow was followed by the creaking of wood tearing as the tree fell. The impact with the ground finally echoed through the enviro with a chilling force.

  Mirac flinched, aware of the lethal and barbaric power of the on and how close the assassin was now.

  “I’ve been stuck here for aire year, trapped within these castle walls, surrounded by a myriad of idiots like you! This was supposed to be a quick mission, no more than five months! And instead, because of HER, I had to dey my pns every time!”

  Mirac listened carefully, trying not to let the mounting pressure distract him.

  But at that moment, he had absolutely no time to refle who Vi was talking about.

  All he knew was that he had to e up with a way to save himself!

  So, with his mind once again clear, Mirac began to sider his current circumstances:

  ‘Professor Shirkenn—if I still call him that—doesn’t know that I’ve bandaged my wound and stopped the bleeding. So he’s probably thinking that I’m too tired to keep running and am forced to stay hidden somewhere. If that’s the case, I absolutely o use this to my advantage!’

  The young Prince, with his face tense from as much tension as tration, paused for a moment before tinuing:

  ‘But I ’t act hastily! Earlier, as he spoke, his voice seemed to be getting closer. So, I’d say that there is no doubt about it: Professor Shirkenn is heading in my dire! Or rather, he’s probably following the blood trail I left in the forest while running away...’

  As Mirac reflected ouation, Vi suddenly stopped.

  An oppressive silence fell for a few seds, making the air as heavy as lead.

  Then, with the same speed with which it had started, the silence was broken.

  “Now, though,” the assassin said suddenly, “I no longer o worry about her threats! I finally ignore her words and ACT! Just like you advised me, young Prince...”

  Vi's voice vibrated through the air, followed by a warm ugh, arming Mirac that the killer was now nearby.

  'Shit!' cursed the young Prince, feeling his heart race wildly.

  Slowly—so as not to make a sound—Mirac crouched down even further, trying to minimize his profile.

  ‘Professor Shirkenn is very close, I feel it! I should run, but there's a risk he might see me. Analyzing the strike he made earlier, I'd say he's incredibly fast, faster than his physical dition would suggest! If he sees me running, I don't think I could outrun him! And the ces of him seeing or hearing me as I escape are very high!’

  Mirac forced himself to calm down, closing his eyes to slow his breathing and broaden his refle to every possibility.

  ‘But let’s assume he doesn’t see me at first. As we get closer to the path leading out of the forest, the trees thin out more and more, and the blind spots where I could hide drastically decrease. At that point, it would be impossible for him not to spot me! But even if I miraculously mao get out of the forest unscathed and he doesn't see me, I have a strong feeling he’d immediately notice my absence. In no time, he'd catch up to me and finish me off before I reach the castle to warn the guards!’

  The options seemed to crumble uhe weight of reality, as the feeling of being a rabbit in a cage overwhelmed him.

  ‘Damn it! I 't just run away! No, I've uood it now: it's too risky! But if I stay here, the result will be the same: Professor Shirkenn will find me and kill me! I could try ging hiding spots, moving around until nightfall. But as much as the dark might bee an advantage for him in findi would be the same for me trying to escape. Damn it! What I do then?!’

  Mirac ched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, while his breathing became irregur.

  ‘If I want to survive, there seems to be only one solution: face him! But how?! Without any ons, I don’t stand a ce of winning!’

  After that bitter reality hit him like a boulder, Mirac slowly rose to his feet, every movement measured, careful not to make a sound. His eyes, ever vigint, slid past the dense bush, cautiously sing Vi's position.

  And just as he feared, the traitor was heading straight towards him!

  His steps were heavy, his clothes still obviously stained with blood, and in his hand, he gripped his strange sword-tie.

  ‘Damn it!’ Mirac muttered to himself, a panic tightening in his chest. He tried to calm the frantic beating of his heart, but his thoughts kept crowding his mind. ‘What I do? Should I use my powers? But... how could they really help me?!’

  His options seemed to vanish into nothing, like shadows in the light of dawn.

  Mirac's panicked mind desperately searched for an escape route. For a moment, he even sidered begging Vi for mercy.

  Upon refleg, Mirac thought that perhaps he could persuade the aggressor with a rge sum of money: a reward that the Strongold royal family could certainly offer the assassin in exge for sparing the young Prince.

  But just as this idea seemed to bee the only desperate solution to the problem, a soft and sudden sound paralyzed Mirac for an instant.

  It was a dry noise, almost imperceptible: the rustling of leaves... crushed under a stealthy step behind him!

  ‘Shit!!!’ Mirac thought.

  The tension exploded in every fiber of his body. His heart skipped a beat.

  Breathless, but with no other choice, Mirac quickly turned around, ready to face whatever danger roag.

  Just moments before, Mirac had briefly g Vi, him as he moved slowly through the trees.

  In that short span of time, therefore, it couldn't have been him who sneaked up behind Mirac.

  But then, who could it be? Perhaps an aplice of the assassin?

  With ay still crawling across his body, Mirapleted the small turn of his torso necessary to face behind him pletely.

  But when he looked back, there was no ohere.

  ‘Did I imagi?’

  The question echoed in his mind, just like the rapid beat of his heart in his chest.

  Then, as he tried to gather his thoughts, something caught Mirac's gaze downwards.

  A glittering object y at his feet, standing out vividly against the dull forest ground.

  For a moment, Mirac remaiill, breathless, uo process what he was seeing.

  ‘What the hell...?!’

  In front of him stood something long, partially embedded in the earth.

  The metallic surface reflected the golden rays of the sun with an almost supernatural gleam, while the top was adorned with intricate wires. The object pulsed with a faint energy, almost as if it tained a tent force.

  ‘I-I 't believe it!’ he stammered, his eyes widening in disbelief. ‘A-A sword?! B-But how did it get here?!’

  Instinctively, Mirac looked around: first to the right, then to the left.

  He even looked up, but aside from the thick leaves filtering the little light of dusk, Mirac saw nothing else.

  Apart from the assassin, there was no one else around.

  “Heh! You shouldn’t have moved, young Prince...” Vi said, his voice remi of a grim butcher.

  Mirac turned his gaze back to the sword embedded in the ground.

  ‘Damn it!’

  With growing nervousness, Mirac realized that the sound of the crushed leaves had probably drawn Vi’s attention, and that the assassin had likely quied his pace towards his hiding spot.

  So, Mirao longer had any other choice.

  ‘I have to face him!’ he thought, reag for the hilt.

  The fact that a sword had magically appeared at his feet, just when he , was extremely suspicious.

  But once again, the time to refle how it happened was a luxury Mirac couldn’t afford in that moment.

  When his fingers closed around the hilt, the grip felt surprisingly familiar, as if the on had been made specifically for him.

  With a decisive, slow motion, Mirac pulled the bde from the ground, feeling the metal slide effortlessly.

  'Seems pretty sharp... Heh, better this way!'

  A grin twisted his lips, a mixture of excited determination and defiance.

  ‘I'll think ter about who lent it to me... For now, let's just focus on kig that bastard's ass!’