There was something inside me that hadn't existed before.
Not instinct. Not raw strength. Not hunger or rage. This was something else. Something deeper. It pulsed softly in my chest, steady and quiet, like a second heartbeat. A current of warmth flowed through my limbs and spine, gentle but undeniable.
I sat alone at the edge of the cave, still and silent, breathing slowly. The silence amplified everything. My senses were sharper since the evolution, but now there was something new, something awake beneath the surface. The strange warmth I had felt earlier it wasn't some trick of adrenaline. It was real.
Magicules.
I didn't need anyone to tell me. I just knew.
It wasn't like anything I had felt in my previous life or even in the early days of this one. This was different. The energy wasn't external, not borrowed or drawn from the world around me. It was mine. Latent, formless, but ready to obey.
I stood, raised my hand, and focused. The warmth responded, crawling up my arm like smoke rising through the air. It reached my palm and coiled there, waiting.
"Fireball."
The moment the word left my lips, the magic obeyed.
A small orb of fire burst into life above my palm. Flickering and unstable, like a flame caught in a breeze. It hovered for a heartbeat, then zipped forward and crashed into a stone. There was a hiss of steam, and then silence.
I blinked.
It had worked.
A wave of cold excitement washed through me. I had just cast magic. Real, undeniable magic.
Then came the drain. It wasn't painful, but I felt something pull from inside. A hollowing sensation deep in my core. I checked my stats.
MP: 3/5
So that small fireball had cost about 2 MP. Not much, but it proved something critical. The spell hadn't failed. I hadn't needed exactly 5 MP. I had simply used what I could manage. Which meant magic didn't have fixed costs. It scaled. I stared down at my hand. My fingers were still warm.
This changed everything.
Magic in this world wasn't about reciting incantations or managing a rigid spellbook. It wasn't locked behind strict thresholds. It flowed based on intent. On how much power you could force into a spell. The fireball I had cast was small because I'd only used a small amount of magicules. If I had pushed harder, it would've burned brighter, travelled faster, exploded harder.
The spell didn't determine the power. The caster did.
Suddenly, the stories about beings like Milim Nava and Veldora made perfect sense. They weren't terrifying because of their spells. They were terrifying because of the raw amount of magicules they could pour into even the simplest attack. Their strength wasn't technique, it was scale.
I was barely a spark.
But a spark could still ignite something far greater.
I walked deeper into the cave, careful not to slip on the half-melted remains of slimes I had left behind. A few more squirmed in the shadows, too weak or too cautious to join the earlier fight. They wouldn't escape me now.
I raised my hand again, this time feeling the energy gather more quickly. The connection between thought and power felt smoother, more natural. I focused, poured in slightly more than last time.
"Fireball."
The spell burst forward, brighter than before. It slammed into the first slime and cooked it where it lay. Another jumped, and I responded on instinct. I grabbed a stone from the ground and hurled it with trained force. It struck true, crushing the slime's core with a satisfying crack.
I moved between them, weaving, attacking, responding. Some I burned. Others I crushed. Each time, I felt that pulse return the flicker of progress, the sensation of something within me growing.
And then the screen appeared.
Level Up!
You have reached Level 3.
Intelligence +2
New Skill Acquired: Magic Manipulation
I froze for a moment, reading the words twice to make sure I wasn't imagining them.
A new skill.
Magic Manipulation.
This wasn't just about having energy anymore. It was about using it. Guiding it. Shaping it.
I raised my hand once more, and this time, the fire came to me faster. It formed more cleanly. The orb was stable, its edges crisp. I could feel how it responded, how it held together longer, how it adjusted ever so slightly as I moved.
This wasn't just raw power. This was control.
A smile tugged at the edge of my mouth. I was getting better. Slowly, yes but surely.
But as I sat back down and let the warmth fade from my palm, one thought hit me like a rock to the chest.
Magic wasn't enough.
I still needed to move. To dodge. To throw. To kill. Magic helped, but it hadn't saved me when the slimes got close. It didn't protect me from exhaustion, or stop my body from aching after every movement.
My body was still that of a goblin, even if it had evolved.
If I wanted to survive in this world, I needed more than flame. I needed strength. Real, physical power. Muscles that didn't tear when I swung a weapon. Reflexes sharp enough to dodge a blade. Endurance that could carry me through battle after battle.
Magic was a tool. A powerful one. But a tool alone couldn't win a war.
I would train my body just as hard as I honed my spellcasting. I would become stronger in every way.
That was the only path forward.
As I rose to my feet, the last traces of fire flickering off my fingertips, I felt the second heartbeat within me still thumping in quiet rhythm. It was a reminder that magic lived inside me now. But it was only part of what I would become.