The classroom wasn’t anything special.
It was the sa four walls, smooth floor, soft hum of mana buried beneath the surface, and for so reason, no chairs or desks, only open space.
Logan stood alone for a few minutes before Mr. Joe walked in.
The man didn’t greet him. He closed the door and looked around like he was checking for traps.
Logan crossed his arms. "We’re still not using chairs?"
"You think you’ll be sitting a lot during body enchantnt?" Mr. Joe asked, walking past him.
"...Guess not."
’What happened? He seems too cold and distant.’ Logan pondered for an instant.
Taking a pause, Logan didn’t know where to start.
His legs had been acting strangely for a while now.
It wasn’t painful, but the fact that his legs seed to have a greater sense of danger than the rest of his body was odd.
Then there was the bird incident.
"I think there’s a problem," Logan finally said. "With the enchantnt."
Mr. Joe didn’t react; instead, he knelt near the wall and started tracing sothing onto the floor.
"My legs," Logan continued. "They keep reacting to things on their own. I don’t control it. I just moved. Like they see danger before I do."
Mr. Joe grunted. "That’s called instinct."
"It is very strange and dehumanizing."
"You’ll get used to it."
"I almost kicked soone. Unintentionally."
Mr. Joe turned to face him.
Logan shrugged. "The person ca too close."
For a mont, Mr. Joe looked like he might actually laugh, but didn’t; rather, he just went back to drawing.
"Instinctive reactions are normal," he said still drawing.
"Especially when you fuse with beast essence. It’s part of the tradeoff. You gain power, but you also inherit patterns. Reflexes. Movent mory. You didn’t just take the beast’s strength, you took pieces of its behavior."
"So I’m part panther now?"
"No. But your legs might be."
Logan stared at him.
Mr. Joe dropped the chalk and stood up.
"It’s better than the alternative. You could’ve co out of the ritual with nothing but pain and twitching. You’re lucky you synced properly." He spoke looking at the chalk circle he had drawn.
"I didn’t feel lucky," Logan muttered.
"You were alive. That’s lucky enough."
There was a mont of silence.
Logan let his muscles relax a bit.
"Sothing else happened." He barely whispered but it was heard.
Mr. Joe gave him a look.
"...The cores shattered."
Silence.
"The world cores," Logan said, clarifying.
"In my legs. They shattered after a battle."
Mr. Joe didn’t say anything.
"They reford later," Logan added, quickly.
"Like hours later. I didn’t do anything. They just... put themselves back together."
Mr. Joe blinked once. His jaw clenched, then loosened again. Still silent.
Logan scratched the back of his neck. "Didn’t know it was a big deal. I thought you should know."
Mr. Joe looked at the wall for a second. Then at Logan.
"...You should’ve told earlier."
"I wasn’t able to."
"You weren’t sure if your world cores shattered?"
"I didn’t feel it until afterward."
Mr. Joe took a step closer, and Logan instinctively stepped back.
"You shouldn’t be walking," he said, voice low.
"If your world cores shattered post-battle, you should either be paralyzed or dead. Do you understand how serious that is?"
Logan frowned. "But they reford."
"That’s not normal."
"I didn’t try to make them reform. It just happened."
"That’s worse."
Mr. Joe ran both hands over his face, then paced the room twice before stopping in front of Logan again.
"There are only three outcos when a world core breaks inside a body," he said, clearly trying to stay calm.
"One—you die. Your body collapses under the pressure. Two, you survive, but the enchantnt becos unstable, useless, and dangerous, or three, the enchantnt ejects itself, leaving you back where you started."
Logan said nothing.
"There’s no fourth option. No reforming. That doesn’t happen. Unless you’re lying."
"I’m not," Logan snapped.
Mr. Joe narrowed his eyes. "Then you’re either a walking paradox... or sothing changed in you after the ritual that neither of us understands."
He didn’t sound pleased or amazed, just tired.
"Look," Logan said, tone softer, "I didn’t plan for it. It just broke. And then it ca back. I didn’t even notice at first."
Mr. Joe stared at him. "Did it hurt?"
"...Yeah."
"More than the ritual?"
"No."
Mr. Joe went quiet again. He was clearly thinking.
"Did you use magic during the break?"
"Yes. I was trying to practice my old spells."
"Did you try to channel mana into the world cores?"
"No."
"Interesting."
"..."
Mr. Joe shook his head and sat down against the wall. He didn’t speak for a long ti.
Logan stayed standing, unsure if he was supposed to leave or apologize. Neither felt right.
"You shouldn’t be alive," Mr. Joe finally muttered.
"Not like this. Not with functioning enchantnts. And definitely not with reford world cores."
Logan frowned. "You said the beast I synced with was weird. Light affinity, shadow control. What if the enchantnt itself is mutating?"
"It’s possible," Mr. Joe said. "Or it’s adapting to your body. Which is still dangerous, by the way. You’re not following the rules anymore. You’re winging it."
"Then teach the rules."
Mr. Joe looked up.
"I’m not trying to break anything else," Logan added. "I just want to understand how this works. Properly."
There was a pause.
"...Alright. I was ant to teach you anyway."
Mr. Joe stood up again and dusted his hands off.
"You’re about to learn how to make body enchantnts. That ans understanding runic anchors, mana flow, and essence syncing. No improvising. No solo experints. From now on, you don’t touch anything without ."
"Fine."
"And if your legs twitch oddly, tell imdiately." His tone was serious.
"I’ll rember that."
Mr. Joe moved to the center of the room.
"The first lesson of this year is about foundation anchors. Everybody’s enchantnt has at least one. In your case, it’s the legs. We carved runes into the muscle directly. That’s your anchor point."
Logan nodded.
"If you want to create a new enchantnt, you need three things. One, physical access to the body part. Two, a compatible magical circuit. And three, world energy."
Logan frowned. "You an I have to cut into myself again?"
"No," Mr. Joe said flatly. "Not yet. But when you’re ready, yes. Surface-level at first. Ink or burn. Carving cos later."
"Lovely." Logan’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Mr. Joe stepped back and tapped his chest. "Let’s say you want to enchant your arms next. What would you need?"
"...a beast that uses its arms a lot?"
"Exactly. Martial essence. Feral strength. Climbing instinct. Then you create a rune path that guides that essence and channels it through your muscles. Too much, and you snap tendons. Too little, and the enchantnt doesn’t activate."
"What about failure?"
"You lose use of that limb for days. Sotis forever."
"Okay."
Mr. Joe gave him a look. "This isn’t flashy spellwork, Logan. This is body engineering. Every failure costs you sothing."
"I get it."
"No. You don’t. Not yet."
He turned around and opened a wooden crate near the wall. Inside were dozens of thin tal plates etched with runes. Most looked unfinished or broken.
"These are failed circuits. From forr students. So who graduated. So who didn’t."
"Did they die?"
"So."
Logan’s eyes flicked to the crate again.
Mr. Joe pulled one of the plates out and placed it on the floor.
"This is a baseline enchantnt pattern for reflex enhancent. Sa branch you already have, just lower grade. Study it."
Logan knelt beside it and looked closely. The lines were thin, sharp, almost organic. Like veins made of light etched in steel. He couldn’t read all the runes, but a few looked familiar.
"This feels... wrong," Logan said.
"It is. That one failed. The pattern was too tight. Mana flow reverses under stress."
"Is mine like this?"
"No," Mr. Joe said. "Yours is worse. Yours is alive."
"...That’s comforting."
Mr. Joe stood. "Next week, we’ll break down your rune structure and see what’s mutating. If it’s stable, we’ll proceed. If not..."
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Logan didn’t ask him to, he understood. It ant removal or death.
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