Kalagar S. Sully remained collapsed in his chair for a long, long time. The only sound was his own breathing, which was far too fast and shallow for a reclusive scholar.
He was, he concluded, the most powerful and most pathetic man on the planet. He was a Level 0 mortal who had, through a combination of obscure Earth-based science and a dangerously literal System, just armed a star-struck teenager with a conceptual nuclear weapon.
"Right," he whispered to the empty room, his voice still shaky. "Okay. Rules. We need rules."
He stood, walked to his desk on unsteady legs, and grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and a quill.
He wrote:
RULES FOR TEACHING THE APOCALYPSE-CHILD:
NO. MORE. THEORETICAL. PHYSICS. (No relativity, no quantum mechanics, no string theory. Nothing that involves the words 'infinite,' 'void,' 'conversion,' or 'energy.')No advanced mathematics. (Who knows what 'Calculus' would comprehend as? The 'Art of Inevitable Change'? No thank you.)No abstract philosophy. (He'd planned to teach her "I think, therefore I am." He now had a horrifying vision of her thinking a new God into existence. That was out.)
He stared at the list. It eliminated roughly ninety percent of his entire education. What was left?
"Biology," he muttered. "Literature. Simple... simple stuff. Harmless stuff."
He looked at the stone slate on the wall. The one he had written 'E=mc²' on. It was ruined. A spiderweb of deep cracks radiated from the center, a physical scar left by the pressure of the Forbidden-Rank spell's near-birth. His only "blackboard" was destroyed.
This was a problem.
No. This was an opportunity.
His disciple was destructive. He had taught her defense ([Aegis]), offense ([Fracture Step]), and utter annihilation ([Forbidden-Conversion]). If this continued, she would level the entire mountain range by accident. He needed to balance the scales. He needed... construction. Creation.
"Harmless," he said to himself, the word becoming a mantra. "I'll teach her something harmless. And useful."
He unbolted the door and stepped out onto the porch. The new chasm was a jarring, permanent fixture, a constant reminder of his "sloppy" teaching. Lila was standing twenty yards away, dutifully breathing like a "snoring mountain." A faint, spectral image of a peak shimmered around her. She was practicing, just as he'd ordered.
"Disciple," he called out, his voice now back to its serene, professorial calm.
Lila's head snapped up. She dropped the [Aegis] instantly and sprinted to him, bowing low. "Master! This one has been practicing! I am ready for my next lesson!"
"Your diligence is... acceptable," Kalagar said. "But your last lesson left my teaching tools in disrepair." He pointed a finger at the cracked stone slate, which was visible through the cabin door.
Lila's face flushed with shame. "Master! I am... I am so sorry! My foolishness-"
"Silence." Kalagar cut her off. "Regret is useless. Action is truth. You broke. You will fix."
"But... Master," she whispered, "that is a six-inch-thick slab of granite. The [Continental Fracture Step]... I don't know how to... to... stick it back together."
"And that," Kalagar said, pivoting perfectly, "is your next lesson. You have learned to unmake. Now, you will learn to make."
He led her not to the cabin, but to the small, sad patch of dirt on the side of the house. It was his predecessor's "garden." A few withered, brown stalks of... something... poked from the dry, cracked earth. It was a picture of decay.
"You failed with the stone," Kalagar said, crouching and picking up a dead, dry leaf. "So you will start with something simpler. Life."
Lila looked at the dead garden, then at her Master, her expression one of profound confusion.
Kalagar, meanwhile, was falling back on his other area of academic expertise: his undergraduate minor in botany. "Harmless," he chanted internally.
"You see this plant," he said, crumbling the dead leaf in his hand. "Is it dead?" "Yes, Master?" "Wrong. It is merely... hungry. And thirsty. And tired."
He pointed up at the sun. "It eats this. The sunlight. It is food." He took a deep breath. "It breathes, Lila. But it breathes what we exhale. The 'bad air.' And in return, it breathes out the 'good air' that we need. It is a... a tiny, perfect, green machine."
He was rather proud of that metaphor. Simple. Elegant.
Lila, however, was staring at the dead plant with an intensity that was beginning to feel familiar, and deeply unsettling.
Master's words... she thought, her mind racing. He is teaching me the root of all life magic! It is not a 'spell.' It is a 'machine.' A 'process!' It does not ask for life, it builds it! It consumes the 'concept of light' and the 'concept of waste' (bad air) and manufactures the 'concept of life' (good air)!
"Your lesson is this," Kalagar said, standing up and brushing the dust from his hands. "This garden is a mess. I am... displeased. Fix it. Teach this... 'green machine' how to 'eat' again. Use your comprehension. Show me you are worthy of more than just... breaking things."
He turned and walked back to his porch chair, picked up his book, and pointedly began to read, projecting an aura of complete, academic disinterest.
Lila stared at the dead garden patch. Her Master's test was clear. He had shown her the unmaking of Mass ([Conversion]), and now, to prove she had learned from her arrogant mistake, she had to prove she understood the making of it.
She placed her small, dirty hands on the cracked earth. She closed her eyes.
She didn't try to "heal" the plants. She didn't try to "force" mana into them. She simply... spoke to them, as her Master had spoken to her.
"Eat," she whispered. "Breathe. You are a machine. That is your purpose. That is your law."
[System: Disciple 'Lila' is attempting to comprehend [Lesson: The Green Machine (Photosynthesis)]...][...Disciple Comprehension: SUCCESS!][Disciple 'Lila' has comprehended: [Anthem of Life] (Top-Tier Healing/Growth Spell).]
Nothing happened. For a full ten seconds, nothing happened.
Kalagar, peeking over the top of his book, felt a swell of relief. *Good. A harmless lesson. It did nothing. Maybe the System only works for destructive things. That's fine. At least she- * His thought was cut short by a flash of vivid, emerald-green light.
It was not a "boom." It was a bloom.
The light erupted from Lila's hands, not as a concussive force, but as a rolling, visible wave of pure, concentrated life. It washed over the dead garden patch, and the ground writhed.
The withered, brown stalks did not just "recover." They exploded.
In the span of thirty seconds, what was a patch of dirt became a dense, supernatural jungle. Tomato vines, thick as a man's arm, rocketed upwards, sprouting and ripening fruit in a visible time-lapse. Carrots burst from the ground, a vibrant orange that was so bright it almost glowed. A nearby, long-dead apple tree that had been bare for a decade suddenly burst into a full, lush, green canopy. White flowers bloomed, fell away, and were replaced by massive, ruby-red apples, all in less than a minute.
The very air thrummed with vitality. The scent of pine, ozone, and fresh, wet earth was so thick it was almost intoxicating.
Kalagar's book slid from his lap.
Lila, her hands still on the ground, stood up. She was breathing heavily, but her face was flush with victory. She turned to her Master, her eyes shining.
"Master! I did it! I... I think I fixed the garden!"
Kalagar stared. He stared at the tomato vines, which were now creeping up the side of his cabin. He stared at the apples, each the size of his head. He stared at the... sentient-looking lettuce that seemed to be politely waving at him.
"This..." he said, his voice faint. "...is not what I meant by 'harmless.'"
This was not biology. This was a miracle. A low-Level 1 healing spell might have saved one plant. Lila had just performed a divine-level act of creation on his entire backyard.
The life-force... the mana... radiating from the garden was so potent it was a physical presence. It was like standing next to a warm, pleasant, and slightly-damp sun.
"Master?" Lila asked, her confidence wavering. "Are you... displeased again? Did I... make them too big?"
Kalagar stood up. He walked over to the... jungle. He plucked one of the glowing, head-sized apples from the tree. It was heavy. He took a bite.
A flavor he couldn't describe—a mix of honey, sunlight, and pure life—exploded in his mouth. He felt the energy from it flood his body. His Level 0, scholar's constitution, usually tired and frail, was suddenly infused with warmth and strength. His old migraine? Gone. The slight ache in his new back? Vanished.
He was holding a miracle cure in his hand.
"This..." Kalagar said, looking at the apple, then at his disciple. He composed his features, forcing the "Annoyed Professor" mask back into place. "This... is... acceptable."
A brilliant smile lit up Lila's face.
"It seems you are not entirely useless, disciple," Kalagar said, taking another bite. "You have a... certain vulgarity in your application, a lack of subtlety. But the 'machine' functions. You have passed this test."
He was going to live forever on these apples. He was never going to get sick. This was definitely an improvement over the nuclear-bomb-pebble.
He was, for the first time, starting to feel... safe.
And that, of course, was when the universe decided to complicate things.
"I'm telling you, Valerius, your shortcut was idiotic!" a gruff, deep voice shouted from above them, near the new chasm's edge. "We are trapped! This cliff was not on any map!"
Kalagar and Lila both froze.
A second voice, this one dripping with an arrogant, noble drawl, replied. "Silence, Boro! This chasm... look at it. The walls are sheer. Perfectly smooth. This was not a natural event."
"Of course it wasn't!" the deep voice, Boro, retorted. "This was cut. Cut by a blade so large, or so sharp, it... it defies logic. What kind of being... cuts a mountain?"
"It matters not," the arrogant one, Valerius, said. "We must find a way across. Look! Down there! A cabin. And... by the gods... look at that garden! What is that light? Is that a Tree of Life sapling?"
"Forget the garden, you fool," Boro grumbled. "Look at the girl. And the man. They must be the ones who live here. Maybe the peasant can tell us what happened."
"Peasant?" Valerius scoffed. "A peasant with a garden like that? Don't be a fool. That must be the Master of this place. Let us go down and... inquire."
Kalagar looked at Lila. Lila looked at Kalagar.
Two more. First slavers, now this.
"Master..." Lila whispered, her hand instinctively twitching. "Are they... enemies? Shall I... tap?"
"No!" Kalagar said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Do not tap anything! They are... guests. Potentially. Just... stand there. And let me do the talking. And for the love of all that is holy, do not teach them anything."
Kalagar S. Sully sighed, took one last bite of his magic apple, and turned to face the two men who were now carefully picking their way down the side of his newly-formed cliff. His peaceful, reclusive life was well and truly over.