— Holy shit, who the hell mentioned Teymar?
Bromeia's voice cut through the room like a whip. She was furious. Her eyes swept across the floor of the bar, now covered in slimy stains in yellowish and greenish hues. The disgust on her face made it clear: this was unacceptable.
— Who the fuck was the idiot... Aunt, don't let the culprit leave! He's going to clean up all this crap!
Malaca stared at me without hiding it. Her sharp eyes analyzed me as if she already knew the answer. Bromeia noticed.
— Miss Bromeia, I'm sorry... I was just reading the book about the continent's history and—
— Shh! — she cut off my explanation with a firm gesture. — Say no more. Grab the bucket, the broom, and the cloth. The rule is clear: whoever invokes ill omen is responsible for the purification cleanup.
Malaca tried to sneak away, looking as innocent as possible. But Bromeia wasn't naive.
— Aunt... I know you're involved. Care to explain?
— Hahahaha! — Malaca laughed, with that mocking, almost charming tone. — Ah, my dear granddaughter... Well, I gave the boy some old books, but who would've thought he'd poke his finger into that hornet's nest.
Bromeia massaged her temples, clearly struggling to resist the urge to explode. Without another word, she turned and stormed out, stomping her feet.
I kept staring at the slime-covered floor. I sighed.
— Well... since I'm cleaning all this, you might as well explain what happened.
I wasn't angry — I was used to being the uninformed one around here — but this situation only made me more curious.
— Well, kid... it's a long story — said Malaca, settling lazily into a chair.
I looked at her, then at the floor. I sighed again.
— I guess I've got time. Unless you want to help me, since you're also partly to blame.
— Hey! Don't drag me into this. You young folks talk too much... Anyway, I'll just sit here and tell you. Pay attention. I don't like repeating myself.
She started talking about the structure of the continent: culture, power, kingdoms. Nothing I hadn't already read or cataloged.
• 72 kingdoms.
• Our kingdom was agricultural and had little military power.
• The famous "Kingdom of the Three Kings."
But it wasn't the depth of information that caught my attention. It was the way she spoke. As if she had been there.
— How do you know all this? — I asked, frowning.
— Well... I was there.
Her tone was casual, almost teasing. But something about her made me believe it. It was like hearing someone describe the Civil War while mentioning what the general had for lunch the day he died — either she was lying or she was way older than she looked.
— Okay... but what does this have to do with Tey... with that kingdom?
I swallowed the name, almost as if my body already knew the risk it carried. The last thing I wanted was another downpour of slime where I had just cleaned.
— Ah, that's interesting. I mean... I was there too, well, not at the exact time but close enough. The story goes like this.
Her explanation was more than revealing — it was a punch to the gut. The hatred and disgust for Teymar came from something much deeper. The continent was divided into three major zones: High Mana, Low Mana, and No Mana.
For centuries, the territories shaped themselves not through war, but through survival. The kingdoms didn't grow by conquest, but through affinity with the magical environment. Mages, for instance, settled in regions bathed in dense mana flows — where power and influence depended solely on mastery over these ethereal clouds that permeated everything.
— Wait... — I interrupted, a chill running down my spine. — You're saying there are regions where mana... is in the air?
Malaca smiled. An old smile. A smile of someone who knows more than they should.
— Exactly that, kid. — said Malaca, crossing her legs and leaning back on the bench like she was talking about something trivial. — Those places are where the most powerful mages live. They're not limited to just one class... There, a mage can also be a cleric, a shaman, a warlock, or even a buffer. It's crazy. Classes barely exist the way we understand them.
— Well... we definitely don't live in that kind of territory, right?
— Of course not. — she laughed. — Our territory is Low Mana. That forces us to specialize, to cling to origin and function. For example, a giantess could be a mage in High Mana lands. Here? She barely passes as a berserker or a common warrior.
— But... if I'm not mistaken, you have power. You used that spell to muffle sound earlier...
— Oh, yes. But I'm an exception to the rule. And unfortunately, that trick I used, flashy as it looked, is almost useless. A four-year-old born in a High Mana region could do the same — faster and with far less energy.
— Makes sense... — I murmured, thoughtful. — But what about the places where there's no mana at all?
She went serious. The smile vanished from her lips.
— That's where the real problem lies. Those mana-less places are ruled by the most physically powerful race in this world: demons.
The word hit my thoughts like a rock. Demons? I felt a chill run down my spine.
— Don't be fooled, kid. They're not like the monsters we find in dungeons. They're sentient. Intelligent. And dangerous.
She took a deep breath.
— The dominant race in those lands is called the Molok. And they are... brutal. They don't even seem to have been born in this world. They have no compression or refinement core, which means they can't absorb or manipulate mana. But in exchange... — she paused — they're monsters in human form. A beginner among them can be two meters tall, three hundred kilos of pure muscle, and still be considered weak.
— But... none of this was in the books you gave me.
— Hmph. If you don't even know that, then I messed up not giving you a children's book.
She was right. This kind of knowledge felt basic. But growing up in a backwater where we didn't even know how to read properly until a few years ago... didn't help much. Not me. Not Helena.
— Okay... but what does all this have to do with Teymar? That so-called forbidden kingdom?
— Everything, kid. Absolutely everything. The story begins, I don't know, forty... maybe sixty years ago. — she snapped her fingers, as if trying to organize her memories. — The central territory of the continent has always had a peculiar trait that the peripheral regions don't: magical seasonality.
Malaca grabbed a piece of charcoal and sketched an improvised map on the dirty floor, pushing aside some of the slime I was still cleaning.
— In the center, the mana level fluctuates unpredictably. One year, everything might be saturated with arcane energy. The next, total drought. And that instability has always been a problem.
— So... you're saying the center of the continent can go through periods of High, Low, or No Mana, depending on the season?
— Exactly. And that's why it turned into hell. During weak periods, the Moloks take the chance to invade. During strong ones, the mages strike back. It's a cycle of chaos. — she crossed her arms. — The best thing I ever did was get the hell out of that region. It's not worth it.
— But... what about Teymar?
— Hold on, damn it. I need to give you the full picture. I'm getting there.
She reminded me of those old ladies who want to tell a story but take hours circling around before getting to the point. For me, who knew almost nothing, it was fascinating. But now I understood why Bromeia and Zomeia lost their patience with her.
— Anyway. About forty years ago, one of the biggest High Mana cycles ever recorded began. The magical regions and the low mana ones, fearing a sudden drop, made a pact. They joined forces, technology, and magic to figure out how to keep mana stable. The leader of that project? Teymar.
She looked at me with a mix of pride and bitterness.
— And they did it. — she said at last. — After nearly a decade of research, the Teymarians discovered how to maintain a high concentration of mana... even during the dry seasons.
— But that's amazing! So why does everyone hate them?
Malaca made a face.
— Because those sons of bitches didn't tell anyone.
The silence weighed heavy.
— Crazy, right? — They kept the discovery to themselves. Shut themselves off. Erected walls of mana around their territory. Left the rest of the continent at the mercy of the fluctuations, the conflicts... the misery.
— she spat on the ground, almost unconsciously.
— Hey! — I protested, wiping up yet another disgusting puddle of spit. — Damn it, stop spitting! I'm the one cleaning here!
— Sorry, sorry... force of habit. — She laughed with a strange glint in her eyes. — Anyway... everything they did ruined their reputation. And now no one trusts them. No one forgave them. Teymar became the symbol of betrayal. The forbidden kingdom.
— But what happened after...? — I asked, still trying to wrap my mind around the revelation about Teymar. — I mean, all of that happened over thirty years ago... if your timeline is right.
— After? — Malaca shrugged, like that was the saddest part. — After that came silence. A heavy silence. They shut themselves off completely. Banned any foreign entry. No soul from outside has set foot in that kingdom since.
— But... why didn't the neighboring kingdoms revolt? Why didn't anyone just invade?
— Ah, kid... — she sighed. — That's where it gets weird. All the regions around Teymar... lost their mana. Completely. Today, that whole area belongs to the Moloks.
My heart skipped a beat.
— So... they're really isolated?
— Isolated and surrounded. By creatures that have no interest in magic or politics. The Moloks don't invade lands with mana. And the magical kingdoms... well, no one's crazy enough to cross demon territory in search of answers or revenge.
Malaca paused for a moment. Her gaze seemed to wander through old memories.
— I hate to admit it, but the strongest hero I've ever seen in my life came from there. From Teymar. But just saying that in public is enough to get you flogged. Those bastards... they're a taboo.
Now everything made sense. The silence. The fear. The quiet anger.
It was strange. I lived in this world, but I never really felt like I belonged. I'd always been more of a passenger than a driver. But for the first time, I felt a strange desire: to know. To understand. Maybe even to belong.
— Hey, kid... — Malaca said, frowning. — You look kind of down.
— It's not that... I'm just processing. But in a way, it's comforting to know that regions like ours will never be High Mana... but we'll also never be without it.
— Exactly. We're stable. Mediocre, maybe, but... alive.
That night, talking to Malaca was more than informative. It was freeing. For the first time in a long while, a spark lit inside me again. A new purpose.
"I think I want to live in this world a little longer... learn more about it. I wonder if she'd let me stay?"
The next morning, I was woken by a familiar and surprisingly cheerful voice.
— Good morning, Mister Fly! Today we have coffee and eggs from a newly discovered monster. Would you like to try some?
— Good morning, Miss Bromeia... Yes, I'd love some. I was starting to think you might feel bad about making me clean up that whole mess, knowing it was your aunt's fault. But it's okay with me.
For the first time since I arrived in this world, I wasn't desperate. I wasn't lost. I was curious. Motivated. Even excited.
"Okay, I'm broke, and Helena has everything. So if she has it all, she must be safe. Now, I just need one thing: to earn some money for myself."
— Here's the coffee and the egg. Anything else?
— Actually, yes. Bromeia... is there any kind of work you think I could do, other than the adventurer life? Something to... supplement my income?
Before she could answer, like a spirit appearing out of nowhere, Malaca showed up behind me with a suspicious smile already on her face.
— GOOD MORNING, EVERYONE! — she shouted with that untrustworthy enthusiasm. — Fly, I heard you talking... Looking for something to do?
— Uh... I think so, Miss Malaca.
— Perfect! I've got something you're going to love.
Bromeia's face showed a mix of pity and silent warning. But before I could ask what that look meant, Malaca grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me out of the guild.
— Wait, wait! I haven't even had coffee yet!
— Relax, kid. You'll have time for that... I think. Hahahaha!
As she pulled me along the street, stumbling over cobblestones, something stirred high above.
Far beyond the physical world, above the clouds and the veil of the firmament, a woman watched.
Her skin was as dark as night, her curly hair danced with the celestial wind, and her eyes gleamed with wisdom that transcended ages.
A faint smile formed on her lips.
— It seems... someone has chosen to live.