Math Is Magic

[ Multiplication: An arithmetic operation that involves repeatedly adding a number, called the multiplicand, for a number of times equal to the value of another number, called the multiplier. The numbers to be multiplied are called factors, and the result is called the product. Therefore, if 𝑎 and 𝑏 are two numbers, multiplication is represented as 𝑎 ⋅ 𝑏 = 𝑐, where 𝑐 is the product of 𝑎 and 𝑏 ]

From this concept, and after learning how to perform multiplications, Mirac had acquired, months earlier, a magical ability:

[ Multiplicative Touch: After touching an object, you can multiply it by the desired number, creating identical copies ]

However, the frustration of having to rely on this ability now—of bending to the world and depending on its greatest enemy, Math!—made his blood boil in his veins!

'I-I have no other choice though! If I want more magical gauze, I must use my powers!'

So, with the last of his remaining strength, Mirac clenched the gauze in his hands and whispered words that, once, he would never have conceived of saying, or even dared to think:

"Multiply by ten..."

As soon as those words vibrated through the autumn air, Mirac's mind was unexpectedly seized by the dreamlike vision of the starry sky.

But this time, it was different.

For the very first time, in front of his eyes, he saw numbers and symbols written in bright white, floating mid-air.

At the same time, though, Mirac could still perceive the real world: the whisper of the wild forest, the rustling of leaves that seemed to be alive with intent, the sharp sense of danger that made him nervously watch every shadow, imagining it belonged to Vincent.

It was as if Mirac's brain were tuned to two different visual frequencies, but perfectly distinguishable.

'What the hell is this?!' he wondered, bewildered, as a shiver ran down his spine.

Mirac's curiosity, mixed with anxiety, pushed him to focus on the alphanumeric sequence dancing among the stars.

The letters and numbers formed an equation:

[ 150 / 50 = ? ]

Mirac was stunned. His eyes widened in astonishment.

'A division? W-Why?!' he wondered, incredulously. 'Are you trying to make fun of me, Math?!'

Before his blood could start boiling with rage again, a flash of rationality halted his impulsive emotions and forced Mirac to think more calmly about the situation:

'No, wait a minute! Maybe to use "Multiplicative Touch," I first need to solve this calculation?'

There was no time to hesitate or reflect further.

Overlooking his doubts, Mirac thought for a couple of seconds about the result of the division.

'Well, I'd say this is pretty simple!'

After easily solving the calculation in his head, all that was left was to input the answer, though he wasn't exactly sure how.

Instinctively, almost without thinking, Mirac simply tried to whisper it:

"Three..."

The question mark began to dissolve, slowly transforming into a small cloud of white mist. In the middle of the transformation, the mist thickened, and from it emerged the number 3, which took its final place in the equation.

[ 150 / 50 = 3 ]

Little by little, the entire sequence vanished, dissolving like smoke carried away by an invisible breeze. With it, the starry sky also disappeared, retreating into nothingness.

Mirac blinked, confused, trying to piece together what had just happened.

'Is that it?! Seriously?!'

The urge to curse and insult Math filled his head with furious thoughts.

But before he could voice his frustration, Mirac suddenly felt a light weight on his right hand. It wasn't much weight, which is why he hadn't noticed it right away.

Slowly, with his eyes growing heavier from exhaustion, Mirac lowered his gaze to his hand.

There, on his right palm, there was no longer just a strip of magical gauze: instead, there were now 10 of them!

'I-I can't believe it...!' he thought, his heart suddenly beginning to race.

His Multiplication Magic had worked!

At this point, Mirac immediately got to work.

With trembling hands, he grabbed the newly multiplied strips of gauze and began wrapping the stump with as much care as he could.

He gritted his teeth as the contact with the air made the exposed flesh burn as if it had been touched by live fire.

But fortunately, relief came almost immediately.

As soon as the gauze touched the wound, the pain gradually eased, as if a wave of calming anesthesia had spread along his arm.

As he continued bandaging himself, Mirac couldn't help but reflect on what he had just experienced: "Multiplicative Touch".

That day had been the first time Mirac had used his powers.

So, he had been completely unprepared when that calculation appeared in front of him.

However, as soon as Mirac gave the answer, the gauze strip had actually multiplied by the number he requested.

It seemed, therefore, that solving the calculation had been a necessary condition to activate his "Multiplicative Touch." Without that answer—or with an incorrect one—the ability probably wouldn't have had any effect on the magical gauze.

Reflecting on this discovery, Mirac realized that perhaps the other three abilities he possessed also required a similar condition: solving a mathematical calculation to use them!

To his great relief, Mirac had only needed to solve a fairly simple calculation to activate the "Multiplicative Touch" and multiply the magical gauze.

However, an unsettling thought crossed his mind: what if that had just been a lucky exception? Perhaps the difficulty of the calculations varied depending on the object or the situation.

But for now, Mirac couldn't know that.

In the end, he reached the sad conclusion that he knew too little about his powers to use them to their full potential and get out of this situation.

'Tsk! If only I had trained in advance...' he thought, feeling frustration scratch at his throat.

He was almost regretting being so stubborn about never wanting to use his powers and familiarize himself with them all these months.

'But it doesn't matter!' he thought, more determined than ever. 'I'll manage even without them! Or at least, I hope so...'

After completing the "dressing" and tying the final knot, certain it wouldn't come undone even with spasmodic movements, the pain almost entirely vanished, and the blood stopped flowing for good.

'I made it!' thought Mirac, as his vision cleared and the heat that had been suffocating him—likely signaling his imminent death—began to subside.

But, despite having narrowly escaped death by hemorrhage, one danger still remained nearby: the assassin!

"You know, young Prince, I absolutely love playing hide and seek!" exclaimed Vincent, suddenly breaking the silence of the forest. His voice was charged with a macabre enthusiasm. "Seeing people flee, terrified, desperately searching for a refuge, and then witnessing the realization in their faces that it was all for nothing... Yes, for me, that's an irreplaceable feeling! But..."

Immediately afterward, the pleasure in his voice faded, replaced by a visceral bitterness that seemed to saturate every word that followed.

"Nevertheless, I have no intention of dragging this story out any longer!" he growled fiercely.

Suddenly, a sharp sound split the air, a clean and cutting blow like distant thunder: probably, Mirac speculated, it was the sound of Vincent's sword-tie striking forcefully against a nearby tree.

The blow was followed by the creaking of wood tearing as the tree fell. The impact with the ground finally echoed through the environment with a chilling force.

Mirac flinched, aware of the lethal and barbaric power of the weapon and how close the assassin was now.

"I've been stuck here for an entire year, trapped within these castle walls, surrounded by a myriad of idiots like you! This was supposed to be a quick mission, no more than five months! And instead, because of HER, I had to delay my plans every time!"

Mirac listened carefully, trying not to let the mounting pressure distract him.

But at that moment, he had absolutely no time to reflect on who Vincent was talking about.

All he knew was that he had to come up with a way to save himself!

So, with his mind once again clear, Mirac began to consider his current circumstances:

'Professor Shirkenn—if I can still call him that—doesn't know that I've bandaged my wound and stopped the bleeding. So he's probably thinking that I'm too tired to keep running and am forced to stay hidden somewhere. If that's the case, I absolutely need to use this to my advantage!' 

The young Prince, with his face tense from as much tension as concentration, paused for a moment before continuing:

'But I can't act hastily! Earlier, as he spoke, his voice seemed to be getting closer. So, I'd say that there is no doubt about it: Professor Shirkenn is heading in my direction! Or rather, he's probably following the blood trail I left in the forest while running away...'

As Mirac reflected on the situation, Vincent suddenly stopped.

An oppressive silence fell for a few seconds, making the air as heavy as lead.

Then, with the same speed with which it had started, the silence was broken.

"Now, though," the assassin said suddenly, "I no longer need to worry about her threats! I can finally ignore her words and ACT! Just like you advised me, young Prince..."

Vincent's voice vibrated through the air, followed by a warm laugh, alarming Mirac that the killer was now nearby.

'Shit!' cursed the young Prince, feeling his heart race wildly.

Slowly—so as not to make a sound—Mirac crouched down even further, trying to minimize his profile.

'Professor Shirkenn is very close, I can feel it! I should run, but there's a risk he might see me. Analyzing the strike he made earlier, I'd say he's incredibly fast, faster than his physical condition would suggest! If he sees me running, I don't think I could outrun him! And the chances of him seeing or hearing me as I escape are very high!'

Mirac forced himself to calm down, closing his eyes to slow his breathing and broaden his reflection to every possibility.

'But let's assume he doesn't see me at first. As we get closer to the path leading out of the forest, the trees thin out more and more, and the blind spots where I could hide drastically decrease. At that point, it would be impossible for him not to spot me! But even if I miraculously manage to get out of the forest unscathed and he doesn't see me, I have a strong feeling he'd immediately notice my absence. In no time, he'd catch up to me and finish me off before I can reach the castle to warn the guards!'

The options seemed to crumble under the weight of reality, as the feeling of being a rabbit in a cage overwhelmed him.

'Damn it! I can't just run away! No, I've understood it now: it's too risky! But if I stay here, the result will be the same: Professor Shirkenn will find me and kill me! I could try changing hiding spots, moving around until nightfall. But as much as the dark might become an advantage for him in finding me, it would be the same for me trying to escape. Damn it! What can I do then?!'

Mirac clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, while his breathing became irregular.

'If I want to survive, there seems to be only one solution: face him! But how?! Without any weapons, I don't stand a chance of winning!'

After that bitter reality hit him like a boulder, Mirac slowly rose to his feet, every movement measured, careful not to make a sound. His eyes, ever vigilant, slid past the dense bush, cautiously scanning Vincent's position.

And just as he feared, the traitor was heading straight towards him!

His steps were heavy, his clothes still obviously stained with blood, and in his hand, he gripped his strange sword-tie.

'Damn it!' Mirac muttered to himself, a panic tightening in his chest. He tried to calm the frantic beating of his heart, but his thoughts kept crowding his mind. 'What can I do? Should I use my powers? But... how could they really help me?!'

His options seemed to vanish into nothing, like shadows in the light of dawn.

Mirac's panicked mind desperately searched for an escape route. For a moment, he even considered begging Vincent for mercy.

Upon reflecting, Mirac thought that perhaps he could persuade the aggressor with a large sum of money: a reward that the Strongold royal family could certainly offer the assassin in exchange for sparing the young Prince.

But just as this idea seemed to become the only desperate solution to the problem, a soft and sudden sound paralyzed Mirac for an instant.

It was a dry noise, almost imperceptible: the rustling of leaves... crushed under a stealthy step behind him!

'Shit!!!' Mirac thought.

The tension exploded in every fiber of his body. His heart skipped a beat.

Breathless, but with no other choice, Mirac quickly turned around, ready to face whatever danger was approaching.

Just moments before, Mirac had briefly glanced at Vincent, observing him as he moved slowly through the trees.

In that short span of time, therefore, it couldn't have been him who sneaked up behind Mirac.

But then, who could it be? Perhaps an accomplice of the assassin?

With anxiety still crawling across his body, Mirac completed the small turn of his torso necessary to face behind him completely.

But when he looked back, there was no one there.

'Did I imagine it?'

The question echoed in his mind, just like the rapid beat of his heart in his chest.

Then, as he tried to gather his thoughts, something caught Mirac's gaze downwards.

A glittering object lay at his feet, standing out vividly against the dull forest ground.

For a moment, Mirac remained still, breathless, unable to process what he was seeing.

'What the hell...?!'

In front of him stood something long, partially embedded in the earth.

The metallic surface reflected the golden rays of the sun with an almost supernatural gleam, while the top was adorned with intricate wires. The object pulsed with a faint energy, almost as if it contained a latent force.

'I-I can't believe it!' he stammered, his eyes widening in disbelief. 'A-A sword?! B-But how did it get here?!'

Instinctively, Mirac looked around: first to the right, then to the left.

He even looked up, but aside from the thick leaves filtering the little light of dusk, Mirac saw nothing else.

Apart from the assassin, there was no one else around.

"Heh! You shouldn't have moved, young Prince..." Vincent said, his voice reminiscent of a grim butcher.

Mirac turned his gaze back to the sword embedded in the ground.

'Damn it!'

With growing nervousness, Mirac realized that the sound of the crushed leaves had probably drawn Vincent's attention, and that the assassin had likely quickened his pace towards his hiding spot.

So, Mirac no longer had any other choice.

'I have to face him!' he thought, reaching for the hilt.

The fact that a sword had magically appeared at his feet, just when he needed it, was extremely suspicious.

But once again, the time to reflect on how it happened was a luxury Mirac couldn't afford in that moment.

When his fingers closed around the hilt, the grip felt surprisingly familiar, as if the weapon had been made specifically for him.

With a decisive, slow motion, Mirac pulled the blade from the ground, feeling the metal slide effortlessly.

'Seems pretty sharp... Heh, better this way!'

A grin twisted his lips, a mixture of excited determination and defiance.

'I'll think later about who lent it to me... For now, let's just focus on kicking that bastard's ass!'