CHAPTER 72: IMAGE(1)

It had been a week since the academy had resumed and he was once again on his way to his Body Enchantment class.

Logan walked in, shutting the door behind him without thinking too hard about it. The space looked the same as the last time. No desks, no chalkboard, nothing too complicated — just a wide-open room and that old table pushed off to the side.

The floor was smooth, and the walls had patches where they had been repainted.

Mr. Joe was already inside, crouched down near one of the room’s corners, digging through a battered metal box. He didn’t look up at first.

"You’re late," he said casually. "By, like, a minute. Terrible start."

Logan blinked. "The bell just rang."

"Exactly," Joe stood up with a short grunt, holding something that looked suspiciously like a chisel. "I expected enthusiasm."

"I showed up," Logan muttered, walking closer.

"That counts."

’And it’s not like you have other students.’ Logan scoffed in his mind.

Mr. Joe spun the chisel once in his hand and pointed it lazily at him.

"Today, we’re starting with theory. No stabbing anything, no fusing beasts into your kidneys. Just basic mental control and intent transference. Don’t fall asleep."

"I wasn’t planning to," Logan said, though the back of his mind already felt heavy.

"Did you bring the knife?" He asked Logan, referring to the knife he had asked him to bring.

"Yes."

Mr. Joe gestured toward a spot on the floor. "Sit."

Logan sat cross-legged. He was used to it by now. The floor was cold, but he didn’t flinch.

"I’m guessing," Mr. Joe said as he knelt down opposite him, "that you haven’t tried channeling intent into anything ever."

Logan hesitated. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"No."

Mr. Joe let out a short laugh.

"Thought so." He said in between breaths.

Logan gave him a look.

"Anyway," Mr. Joe continued, now more serious, "today we’re starting with a base enchantment model. Nothing fancy. No fusion. Just channeling your intent into a dead object. Think of it like... whispering instructions into a rock and praying it listens."

He reached into his jacket, grabbed a small slab of wood, and placed it between them.

Then he tossed a tooth onto it. It landed with a dry thud.

"That thing came from a beast that could bend sound," he said. "It’s dead now. Which means we get to make use of it."

Logan leaned forward slightly, watching.

Mr. Joe held up two fingers. "There are three basic things you need to know. First, your intent. Second, your control. Third, your pain tolerance. You mess up one, and you’re getting carried home in pieces. Questions?"

Logan shook his head.

"Good. Then shut up and watch."

He took the beast’s tooth and angled it toward the light. Faint veins ran through it, almost pulsing if you stared long enough.

Mr. Joe picked up Logan’s knife and without warning, pressed the flat edge to his forearm and dragged.

A shallow line opened up and he didn’t wince or flinch as blood poured out.

Logan blinked. "What?"

"Enchantment’s not always done with ink or chalk," Mr. Joe said. "Sometimes, the body is the circle. The blood is the medium."

He dipped a finger in the cut and smeared a quick, messy arc onto the tooth’s flat edge. Then, with the tip of the blade, he etched a line through it.

It didn’t glow or hum. The room didn’t even shift. It just... cracked slightly, like old stone under pressure.

"This," he muttered, "is what enchantment feels like when you’ve done it right. No fire. No fanfare. Just... permanence."

He handed the tooth to Logan.

"Your turn."

Logan looked at it. Then at the knife.

Then back at the tooth.

"Where?"

"Doesn’t matter," Mr. Joe said, leaning back against the crate. "Pick a spot. Your leg if you’re too precious about your arms."

Logan looked down.

He took a breath, pulled up his trouser leg, and held the knife above his thigh.

"Think of what you want the enchantment to do," Mr. Joe said quietly. "One sentence. One clear instruction. That’s your intent."

Logan thought. Suppress. Control. Anchor.

He exhaled and pressed the knife down.

The sting was immediate but clean. He didn’t drag, he did just enough to open the skin. Blood welled up slowly. He dipped his finger and drew a crooked line on the tooth.

Then he paused.

The tooth was warm.

Logan hesitated, then raised the knife again, ready to etch.

Mr. Joe raised an eyebrow. "Don’t hesitate now. The world doesn’t wait for you to decide if you’re brave."

Logan gritted his teeth and carved a shallow line.

A ripple of nausea washed over him as his stomach turned, and his vision blurred for half a second.

Then the sensation vanished but the tooth remained unchanged.

Logan looked up.

Mr. Joe nodded. "Not bad. Not perfect either, but at least you didn’t pass out."

"I felt something," Logan muttered. "Just for a moment."

"You invited the world in. You should feel something."

Logan frowned. "The tooth... it didn’t respond."

Mr. Joe shrugged. "Some materials do. Some don’t. Doesn’t mean it’s failed. Give it time."

He gestured to the wood again. "Now do it again. This time, don’t let your hands shake."

"I wasn’t..."

"You were. You just don’t notice because your nerves have been fried since you were twelve."

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

He pulled his other leg up, repeating the steps. Cut. Draw. Etch.

This time, the tooth vibrated lightly. A faint resonance, like metal touched to glass.

Mr. Joe gave a short laugh. "There it is."

"What changed?"

"You committed. You didn’t hesitate."

Logan wiped the blood off with the side of his trousers, uncaring about the stain. His head still felt weird.

Mr. Joe leaned forward again. "Logan. There’s something you need to understand about enchanting."

Logan looked at him.

"It’s not just carving things into materials or branding symbols on skin. It’s you forcing meaning onto matter. Telling the world that something will happen and daring it to disagree." He paused to let his words sink in.

"It’s like enforcing one’s authority as a god." Mr. Joe completed.

"Sounds arrogant."

"It is." Mr. Joe smiled faintly. "But so is magic. So is surviving in a world like this."

Logan nodded slowly, then looked back at the tooth.

It had a faint line running through it now.

It wasn’t anything special or unique but it was a sign that he was starting to learn.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

"Alright," Mr. Joe said, standing up and cracking his back. "That’s enough blood for today. We’ll get into binding next time."

Logan remained seated, fingers still brushing over the now-marked beast tooth.

"Binding?"

Mr. Joe gave him a look. "You didn’t think this was the hard part, did you?"

Logan didn’t answer. He turned the tooth in his fingers instead, feeling the groove under his thumb. It was shallow, but it was there.

Mr. Joe was already rummaging through a wooden crate in the corner, muttering to himself.

"What’s binding?" Logan asked again, this time louder.

Mr. Joe straightened with something clenched in his fist. It was wrapped in cloth. He didn’t hand it over.

"You’ll find out soon. For now, just focus on keeping that enchantment from slipping."

"Slipping?" Logan’s eyebrows furrowed.

"It’s like a memory," Mr. Joe said, walking over. "If you don’t revisit it, reinforce it, it fades. Intent weakens. Material reclaims itself."

"So I have to redo it?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it holds. Depends on the tooth. Depends on you."

Logan furrowed his brows. "This feels... unstable."

"It is."

Mr. Joe looked like he was about to say something else, then stopped. He sniffed the air once and turned to the door.

Logan followed his gaze.

Nothing was there.

"Are you expecting someone?" Logan asked.

"No," Mr. Joe said slowly. "But someone’s here."

He moved toward the door and opened it halfway, peering out into the hall.

There was nothing there but Mr. Joe didn’t look satisfied.

"Stay here," he said, stepping out.

Logan stayed seated for maybe five seconds.

Then he stood and walked to the table.

The tooth in his hand cracked and drew his attention.

Its structure lost stability until it crumbled into fine dust. Logan was about to curse when he noticed the image that the dust formed.

A snake with three eyes wrapped around a sphere.