Drug-Eating Genius Mage (Fanfic)

For a moment, Asmon wondered—had they really been building a crusher here? Having been cooped up in the parts room all day, he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be assembling. "Anyway, at least magic exists in this world. That's a relief."

In a realm so alien to him, the absence of magic would render his talents useless. With a small sigh of relief, Asmon shifted his focus back to the supervisors' conversation. In response to one man's absurd remark, another answered in a low voice.

"If a black wizard buys a crusher, it's obvious—they'd use it on corpses, wouldn't they?"

"Damn it… I'm feeling sick all of a sudden. I need another smoke."

"Here, take it. I'll light it for you."

Through the crack in the door, Asmon caught sight of a thick hand holding a lighter.

 "Nice lighter—how much did you pay for that?"

"I got it recently from Calvin & Co. It runs on magic, no less." As the man spoke, he flicked his thumb and a blue flame burst from the lighter's tip. 

Watching the entire process, a powerful surge erupted within Asmon—as if a trigger had been pulled in his mind. A sensation completely new and electrifying coursed through his body and spirit. It was like a sixth sense, beyond the ordinary five—a hidden vision, a second self. In that instant, Asmon realized that this was the fundamental force of the world, the driving power behind all existence. It had always flowed through every part of the universe—he had simply been unaware of it until now.

The old Asmon had never imagined possessing such a talent; the long, grueling hours in the factory had smothered any spark of possibility. But now, he was a completely different man—fully aware of the magical power and mental strength hidden within his fragile body. All it took was a tiny trigger, much like the flame from that lighter.

Overwhelmed by the shock of awakening to magic, Asmon fell silent, savoring the moment of revelation in a daze. The energy surging through his weakened body was now his greatest asset—his weapon and his hope. Pressing his thumb and forefinger together, he whispered softly, "Light."

Fwaat—!

In that instant, the incantation-charged magical energy in his mind merged with the vision he had conjured, shattering the boundaries of thought and form to bring magic into reality. 

Whoosh!

Asmon trembled as a blue flame danced on his fingertip—the very same flame that had flickered through the gap in the door. Everything around him had changed, yet the magic of the world he once knew remained constant. That realization brought him a small measure of comfort.

Later, Asmon kept his ears open to the supervisors' chatter while he slipped back into the parts room before anyone noticed his absence. The parts room foreman soon discovered he was missing and rampaged briefly, though his fury ended with only a few rough blows. 

From the murmurs of his fellow workers, ominous rumors were circulating that Asmon was actively seeking a way out—even searching for a place to die. After downing his meager bowl of gruel in one gulp, he lay back and pondered. "There are three days left until the union comes to collect the products," he noted quietly. Even as the supervisors lit their cigarettes and continued their coarse banter, Asmon managed to glean useful tidbits.

 "When the union arrives, the bosses' grip will loosen… that's our only chance," he overheard. 

Any further delay would push his frail body past its limits. In this harsh environment, the only thing keeping his mind intact was the mental strength he'd invested in himself. Yet no one could be sure whether that sharp judgment and cool head would survive once his body was utterly broken. Time might be running out—but that didn't mean a breakthrough was impossible. 

Carefully, Asmon flipped his threadbare blanket over his head, turned to face the wall, and curled into a ball. Just as before, when he pressed two fingers together, a small blue flame appeared, softly lighting the inside of his makeshift shelter. He fell silent. Having used his ability once, he no longer needed lengthy incantations to summon his magic.

Staring at the gentle glow, Asmon focused on narrowing the gap between the magical knowledge he possessed and the reality before him. In truth, he knew very little about the art of manipulating magical energy or the proper techniques to wield it. His previous character—a magical gunslinger—had recited incantations on a screen, made pacts with familiars, and fired weapons to designate targets. 

The magic that Asmon now produced purely by willpower—without incantations or companions—was an entirely new experience. There was only one explanation: it was the result of the magical stats he had maxed out when he created his character. If his theory was right, then Asmon was tapping into a raw, innate talent that let him wield magic even without traditional rituals. The realization was as absurd as it was incredible. If he could combine this newfound talent with the gaming knowledge he still carried, rapid progress might not be out of the question.

Yet one problem remained. Even if the magical system of this world resembled that of the game WORLD, the magical knowledge Asmon possessed was only half-formed. In version 2.0, his character—the magical gunslinger—had been limited to the common system known as "Dexter," due to inherent class restrictions. As for the unique system, "Sinister," used by true mages, he had heard only half-truths like every other player. Still, that was enough for now; plenty of useful spells existed within the common system "Dexter."

"The true value of magic isn't in its flash or sheer destructive power," he reminded himself. Had he not awakened his magic, he would have hesitated. But now, having managed even the tiniest spark of true power, the difference was stark. All that remained was to steadily prepare and set his plan in motion starting tomorrow.

Clenching his fist to snuff out the flame, Asmon straightened his weary body and closed his eyes. The relentless insomnia still tormented him—it had been four days of drifting between fitful sleep and wakefulness. He had long abandoned the hope of a proper night's rest in a room filled with low snores and a putrid stench. Nearly keeping his eyes open all night, Asmon continued practicing his magic, manipulating his newfound power until the other workers eventually stirred. If he couldn't master this ability, there would be no future for him. His only path forward was the one he carved out on his own—and it was entirely his own doing that had brought him to this moment.