"Alright. Let's go over the types," she said, taking a seat as if they were in some strange, impromptu classroom. "Every hundred or so people, one is born with a special kind of body—a 'type.' It doesn't make them powerful by itself, but it affects how their magic behaves."
She raised a finger. "RE types—they can negate other magic. If their mana's stronger, more refined, or better controlled, they just cancel out what's thrown at them."
Another finger. "DE type. They get more out of their magic. Stronger spells, less mana used."
A third. "OV. They're born seeing mana—like seeing color. Makes it way easier to understand and control, especially early on."
"Then KOV types regenerate mana insanely fast, but it takes longer for them to grow their mana reserves."
"And lastly... SIF. Strong bodies. More resistance to magic, more durability. Simple, but effective."
Adrian blinked. "So... which one am I?"
Melissa's lips curled into a grin. She leaned forward and placed her palm against his chest.
Mana surged. A pulse of energy shot through his body and sent him flying back—the chair knocked out from under him as he tumbled across the dirt.
"RE type," she said, laughing. "You negate magic. No wonder you're such a pain in the ass to teach."
Adrian groaned, rubbing his back. "Jesus... is knocking me down part of the lesson plan? I've hit the ground more since meeting you than I have in my whole damn life."
He stood, muttering under his breath, and picked the chair up again before flopping back down into it.
Melissa just smiled. "That's because you didn't have a teacher before. Now you do."
"Those are the body types," Melissa said, crossing one leg over the other as she looked at Adrian, her tone taking on a thoughtful rhythm. "But there's also types of minds... and types of souls."
Adrian blinked slowly, still rubbing the dirt off his sleeve. "There's more?"
"For minds, it's one in a hundred thousand. Extremely rare. And soul types…" She paused, her smile still lingering but her gaze sharpening. "Only gods have those."
That made Adrian look up.
"We don't know what they do, not really," she continued. "Just that they're powerful. If a mortal is ever born with a soul type, they're either killed—or taken as an apostle of a god."
Her words hung heavy for a moment. Despite her calm tone, there was a cold edge underneath, like she knew more than she let on.
Adrian narrowed his eyes slightly. "And the mind ones? What do those do?"
"We know of two," she said, raising two fingers. "The first is called PGM. Basically, perfect memory. If someone sees it, reads it, hears it—it's locked in. Forever."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds kinda broken."
"It is," Melissa said with a chuckle. "And then there's the second one—SYS."
There was a flicker of distaste in her expression. She scrunched her nose. "That one's just... gross. And evil. Lets the user absorb someone else's mana and their understanding of magic... by eating their brains."
Adrian stared.
She grinned wide. "I call it the living zombie type. You know—because zombies eat braaains. Hahaha." She laughed at her own joke, clearly more amused than she should've been.
Adrian didn't crack so much as a smile. "Your humor's worse than your teaching."
Melissa clutched her chest like he'd stabbed her. "Oof. Rude and ungrateful."
He just leaned back in his chair, deadpan. "Maybe if I eat your brain, I'll finally understand your dumb jokes."
She snorted. "You try that and I'm kicking your soul straight into next week."
"You know the soul magic too?" Adrian asked, eyeing her with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.
Melissa tilted her head, her smile widening with that teasing glint. "No, but for a soul as dirty as yours, it shouldn't be much of a problem," she said, giggling like she hadn't just casually insulted his very essence.
Adrian rolled his eyes. "Wait, so what do the types have to do with the people who can learn matter manipulation without even studying it?"
Melissa blinked. "Ah, right! I forgot about that."
He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
She waved a hand dismissively, still smiling. "I just wanted to tell you your type first. What you asked reminded me, is all."
Adrian gave her a look that said you're impossible, but didn't argue.
Melissa leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. "But yeah... people like that, who learn instinctively? Some say they have strange kinds of minds or even fragments of soul types that aren't strong enough to register. It's all theory. But magic like that—deep, instinctive, almost like the world whispers to you how to use it—that's not normal." Her smile dimmed slightly. "That kind of talent scares people."
"Hmm, maybe I'm that talented," Adrian muttered, placing his hand on the table with a smug flicker in his eyes. He focused, channeling mana into the wooden surface. It didn't glow or tremble like he expected—just slowly, silently, shrank. The table compressed neatly, shrinking down to nearly half its original size.
Melissa blinked.
Then she stared.
"What the hell did you do to my table?" she snapped, standing up and leaning over it. Her voice was caught somewhere between outrage and awe. "Did you just compress my table?"
Adrian leaned back in the chair, arms folded, clearly proud of himself. "Guess I did."
Melissa didn't hear him. She was circling the table now, hands running across the dense, shrunken wood. "I mean—that is matter manipulation, sure, but—what the hell, kid? Even I can't do this. It's not just hard, it's damn near impossible. Compressing matter like this without causing an implosion takes more than control—it takes instinct."
She looked up at him again, the disbelief still heavy in her voice. "This is the kind of manipulation that backfires. It almost always explodes. And you just… did it. Casually. Like it's nothing."
Adrian tried not to grin too wide, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward. "Maybe I really am that talented."
Melissa squinted at him. "Or maybe you're about to explode my damn table."
"Try it again and fix my damn table," Melissa said, glaring at him with a mix of irritation and disbelief.
Adrian placed his hand on the already shrunken table, focusing once more. Mana pulsed from his palm—dense, focused.
The table compressed further.
Wood creaked as its structure tightened unnaturally, legs warping slightly under the pressure of their new density.
"You dumbass," Melissa snapped, her voice sharp but touched with exasperated disbelief. "Can you only compress things?!"
She stared down at the miniature table, something like genuine sadness in her eyes. "That was my favorite table…"
Adrian blinked.
Suddenly, the scent of chocolate hit his nose. The battlefield faded.
He looked down.
A fork in his hand. A slice of cake in front of him—rich, dark, with a glossy layer of ganache catching the light. The hum of quiet conversation surrounded him. Ceramic clinked. Someone laughed in the background.
He blinked again, the taste of cocoa hitting his tongue. Moist and bittersweet.
When did I…?