Mystic

In his hands he held a strange sphere. It glowed red, and as he stared into its interior, it magically began to absorb the world around him. He concentrated once more, trying to will its color. But he couldn't. It didn't even occur to him that it would work. He became furious. And then it happened.

The sphere began to turn green. He realized it was feeding on his anger and immediately stopped thinking about it. The sphere became an ordinary sphere again, and after a moment, it vanished. The Old Mystic, who was nearby, simply smiled, cast a protective glance, and left.

A moment later, he found himself in the school building. It was a perfectly ordinary classroom. Sages and students were discussing mysticism and strange phenomena. He sat down beside them and listened with interest, though the main topic was completely incomprehensible to him.

Instead, he watched one person at the back of the room intently. It was a man with a black beard and messy hair. He poured a strange, dark blue liquid onto the ground and then tried to create a perfect circle. However, each attempt ended in failure. "

You see, young man," suddenly spoke an old Mystic with a white beard, dressed in clean but tattered cloth, "he will try like this for centuries, but he will never understand that he will not succeed with his hands. There is no place for the existence of the ordinary world here. Discover within yourself things that your eyes cannot see. Believe."

He pulled a dark blue sphere from a small pouch. "Here, this is for you," he smiled.

With a slight tremor, he touched it, then grasped it in both hands. It was different from the red one. Hard and a bit heavy, but at the same time delicate and pleasant. In the blink of an eye, it adapted to its new owner, becoming an extension of his cold hands.

This time, as he tried to change its color, he closed his eyes. He didn't focus on the sphere. His thoughts simply wandered to worlds he had never even dreamed of before. Then he felt the warmth emanating from the sphere. The greatest happiness he had ever experienced.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in his home. He longed to share his happiness with the little sick boy and his beautiful caregiver, also a little girl. Always filled with worry and fear, he watched them sleep, as they fought for each day, but he didn't know how to help them, he couldn't. Today, however, he knew he would succeed.

The boy was already asleep, exceptionally tired and devastated by his illness. His little caregiver, who had no strength left to lie down herself, had tucked him in. She lay on the floor. Looking at her closed eyelids, he sensed sadness.

He quickly prepared her bed, then, gently cradling her, he carried her to him and laid her to sleep. The exhausted girl didn't even notice the change. Only her heart, thanks to her friend's closeness, began to beat more calmly.

Suddenly, the world trembled.

A cold, irritating scent filled the air. The little boy's strength had failed him.

A moment later, strange warriors began to surround the house. One by one, they emerged from behind the tufts of tall grass and ancient trees.

The young man took the little girl in his arms. She was so weak she didn't realize what was happening. She pressed her head tightly against his heart, her hands clutching at his clothes.

He rocked his body to the rhythm of his heartbeat as he fled, each breath quickening his pace. In the distance, he saw the warriors approaching. He wasn't afraid for himself, for his life. He was willing to sacrifice himself for this little girl with a weak, kind heart. This was his destiny. He knew it now. To save goodness from a crumbling world.

And with that thought, he fled.