What you had to understand about mages in Mythilia was that they despised humans and everything associated with them.
Most treated it like common sense. A natural truth.
Humans were inferior.
Human technology was inferior.
Human culture was inferior.
At least, that's what they believed.
The funny thing was that most mages had never actually met a human.
Being born to a human mother gave me a unique perspective. And after spending years tinkering with human technology, I could confidently say that in some areas, humans were light-years ahead of magicians.
That was why my mother's smartphone was one of my most prized possessions.
It allowed me to be anonymous.
Anonymity was a concept strangely unfamiliar to the upstanding citizens of this godforsaken country. I'd always been fascinated by the government's success in convincing people that wanting privacy automatically meant you had something to hide.
The Big Brother watched everything.
Recorded everything.
Judged everything.
Now, I'd be the first person to criticize Xenria, the country where I was born.
But there was one thing I had to admit.
Even slaves enjoyed a few freedoms that citizens of Mythilia didn't.
And I would know.
I had been one.
---
Fortunately, there was a way for fellow admirers of human technology to remain anonymous.
The forums.
They weren't very different from the discussion boards accessed through magical portals.
The key difference was simple.
Nobody knew who you were.
You just needed a human device to access them.
In real life, I was a loser who had quit his minimum-wage mining job earlier today and was currently somewhere between unemployed and homeless.
On the forums, however, I was something of a legend.
And today, I was waiting for information that could potentially change my life.
Information from the National Institute of Magic.
Premium-quality contraband.
---
Magic power is inherent to an individual and cannot be increased.
Every textbook said so.
Every lecturer said so.
Every stream said so.
Every expert said so.
According to the entire magical establishment, it was a proven fact.
I wasn't convinced.
If magic power couldn't be changed, why could humans be fitted with artificial magic cores?
Why were military death-squads injected with magic boosters?
Why could the body's natural magic production be suppressed and replaced?
So, this fact, in fact, was not a fact. And the information that would soon arrive from moped629 would prove it.
My screen lit up.
moped629: I have delivered the parcel.
moped629: Your turn.
My heartbeat jumped.
I quickly uploaded my end of the deal.
Kirin82: [attachment.pdf]
The payment was the schematic for my latest magic charger design.
Obtaining original chargers for human devices was a nightmare.
Everything had to be imported.
And mages hated trading with humans.
In the Nico Islands, you could still get your hands on one if you knew where to look.
On the mainland?
Good luck.
Different charging standards didn't help either.
The original magic charger had been developed by a forum user named seank. Instead of electricity, it used magic energy and could be assembled from ordinary household items.
Later, various users adapted it for specific devices.
My contribution had been versions compatible with products made by the famous fruit company, whose engineers apparently considered standard connectors a personal insult.
And judging by his purchase history, moped629 was a devoted believer in the fruit ecosystem.
I headed for the drop site.
An abandoned building.
Physical deliveries were rare these days. I probably could've picked any random location, but empty buildings felt safer.
A gray bag sat exactly where we'd agreed.
At the same moment, another message arrived.
moped629: How do I see this?
I stared at the screen.
This guy couldn't possibly be serious.
He didn't know how to open a PDF?
Wasn't he supposed to be a postgraduate student at the National Institute of Magic?
More importantly, how had he managed to obtain the information he was selling me?
I opened the package.
Inside was a chip.
A different kind of chip.
Of course it was.
Apparently humanity had decided that one standard was simply too many.
Now I had to figure out how to connect this thing to the smartphone.
Another message appeared.
moped629: ?
Kirin82: How do you use this chip?
moped629: You don't know how to use an SD card?
Please.
People who don't know how to open PDFs shouldn't be throwing stones.
moped629: How do I open this file???
Kirin82: You need a PDF reader.
Four hours later, the moment of truth finally arrived.
I extracted the files from the chip.
Videos.
Interesting.
I opened the first one.
A blurry recording of text displayed on a portal.
Not ideal, but workable.
I skipped ahead.
Then further.
Then further again.
The image barely changed.
It was the same paragraph the entire time.
I opened the second video.
Another paragraph.
The third.
A third paragraph.
That was it.
I stared at the files.
Then at the wall.
Then back at the files.
Three paragraphs.
Three.
Months of preparation.
Risking disciplinary action from the National Institute of Magic.
And this moron had spent two months recording three paragraphs.
He could've taken screenshots.
My messaging application pinged again.
moped629: How do I get that?
moped629: ??
moped629: There?
moped629: ???
Kirin82: Fuck you.
Unfortunately, I only had forty-five days remaining before the practical examination.
Teaching idiots how to use cameras wasn't in the schedule.
I could only hope my backup plan worked.
I needed a magic-radiation blocker.
The miners used them as protective equipment.
The problem was that they were heavily regulated.
Without connections, getting one was almost impossible.
Still, if I could discover exactly how they blocked magic radiation, I might uncover clues about increasing my own magic power.
So I activated Plan B.
Trolling.
---
Contrary to popular belief, trolling was an art.
A delicate balance of misinformation, selective truth, emotional manipulation, and impeccable timing.
I had spent years honing my craft.
The target this time was the ongoing rivalry between Armeda and Defentec, the two major manufacturers of magic-radiation blockers.
All I had to do was cherry-pick a few flaws from Armeda's equipment, exaggerate them beyond reason, and wait.
Ideally, someone would post internal schematics.
Even better, somebody would mail me a blocker just to prove a point.
People on the internet had done stupider things.
Coincidentally, this was peak activity time on the forums.
The bait didn't just work.
It detonated.
ProfessorSheb:
[attachment.png]
"Here, in Block 23, you can clearly see they angled the slab to thirty-seven degrees to optimize reflection efficiency. Unlike Defentec, whose engineers apparently apply glue with a blindfold and hope for divine intervention."
CoolDoode43:
"@ProfessorSheb Do you even math, bro? Defentec's slabs maximize surface area through perfect alignment. Tilting them makes absolutely no sense."
You know what, ProfessorSheb?
You're a respectable fellow.
You provide evidence.
You support your arguments.
Unlike CoolDoode43, who can't even spell.
Let's take a closer look at this Block 23 business.
The plan exceeded expectations.
Apparently, I'd stumbled onto a religious war disguised as an engineering discussion.
One week later, people were still fighting.
CoolDoode43:
[attachment.jpg]
"Open your cloudy eyes and behold the glory of Block 38. Can Armeda's concentrator even show its face after this?"
LaskaJunior:
"@CoolDoode43 PREACH, BROTHER."
...You know what?
I may have judged CoolDoode43 too harshly.
He's actually pretty cool.