When the Sky Brought Mana
There was a time when Earth was ordinary.
Kings argued over borders. Corporations ruled through wealth. Cities choked on smoke, and the sky wore a tired gray veil. Oceans rose quietly. Forests shrank without protest. People spoke about climate summits and carbon taxes while continuing the same routines that poisoned their own air.
And then the sky split.
It happened over the Indian Ocean.
A burning celestial mass tore through the atmosphere — not a meteor, not a satellite. It did not crumble like stone. It did not explode like metal. It descended like something… deliberate.
The impact did not destroy the world.
It rewrote it.
The collision sent no apocalyptic tidal wave, no extinction-level firestorm. Instead, the object — later named the Astronet Core — embedded itself deep beneath the ocean floor. And from that day forward, something invisible began to breathe through the planet.
The air changed first.
Within months, carbon levels dropped unnaturally fast. Skies grew clearer. The scent of rain sharpened. Forests thickened as if time itself had accelerated their growth. Crops matured in half the usual span. Rivers that had once been murky ran crystalline.
Scientists were the first to notice.
A strange radiation emanated from the Astronet Core — not harmful, not nuclear. It was structured. Patterned. Alive with rhythm.
They called it mana.
When researchers learned to measure it, they trembled.
Mana was not just energy. It responded.
Circuits infused with it carried power without loss. Engines redesigned to run on mana produced force ten times greater than fossil fuel systems. Metal strengthened. Medicine evolved. Communication networks expanded beyond satellites — into resonance arrays that pulsed through the atmosphere itself.
Within two decades, technology leaped forward a century.
Cars became magical carriages — sleek arcane vehicles powered by compressed mana crystals instead of combustion engines. They glided across roads without smoke or noise, mana cores humming softly beneath polished alloy frames.
Buses evolved into massive magical transport carriages, multi-tiered constructs reinforced with runic steel, capable of crossing continents without refueling, their mana conduits glowing faintly blue beneath protective plating.
Even simple lighting ran on ambient mana collection arrays.
But power shifted in another way.
Governments weakened.
Kings no longer ruled.
Those who controlled mana technology — trade guilds, industrial magnates, merchant tycoons — began shaping policy through economy rather than bloodline.
Nations restructured.
Continents rebranded under economic alliances. Borders blurred. Old monarchies dissolved into corporate federations.
The world did not fall into chaos.
It reorganized itself around profit and mana.
And somewhere in this new Earth, beneath clearer skies and greener hills, a boy lived.
My name is Leon.
I am seventeen years old.
I have black hair and golden eyes — eyes my grandfather used to say were "too sharp for a quiet village."
I grew up with him in a remote settlement far from the glowing cities where mana towers pierced the clouds. My life was ordinary. I chopped wood. Carried water. Studied from worn books. Listened to stories of the old world before mana.
Then one day, he passed.
No one in the village wanted the burden of raising a half-grown boy with no inheritance and no connections. So I left.
I began living alone in the city.
Independently.
Working part-time in small shops and courier stalls to survive. My grades were good — always had been — so I enrolled in Moon Academy, one of the better institutions within the Central Trade Dominion.
Three months after enrolling, I met her.
Yuna.
Shoulder-length black hair. Black eyes that curved when she smiled. About 155 centimeters tall. Slim. Not the academy's celebrated beauty — but to me, she was enough to make crowded halls feel brighter.
We dated for nine months.
But after our second year began and we were assigned to different classes, something shifted.
Her messages grew shorter.
Her laughter less frequent.
Her eyes… distracted.
This is my story.
Today is Sunday.
Her workplace at the mana textile boutique is closed.
Yesterday was my payday. I had been planning this for weeks.
Though my wages from part-time labor weren't much, I skipped proper meals often. Ate leftovers at the inn where I worked night shifts. Saved every copper mana coin I could.
All so I could take Yuna somewhere special.
I intended to invite her to a well-known mana café — a place students liked because it felt expensive.
But today…
My calls were ignored.
My messages unread.
"Where did Yuna go? Why isn't she answering?"
The clock on my communication crystal showed noon.
Fine.
I'd go out, clear my head, buy some food.
After leaving my boarding inn, I walked toward the trade district plaza. The air smelled fresh — mana always carried a faint metallic sweetness.
I stepped toward a street food stall.
"Uncle, one fried ggoreng noodles and one soda tonic."
As I waited, a low hum cut through the air.
Romm—
Heads turned.
A sleek black magical carriage glided down the avenue, mana core glowing faintly beneath its chassis. The model alone probably cost hundreds of thousands of mana credits. Its polished exterior reflected the sun like dark glass.
It pulled to the side.
The door opened.
And the person who stepped out made my breath stall.
Yuna.
She emerged gracefully, dressed far more elegantly than usual.
Then the driver stepped out.
A handsome man. Fashionable robes tailored with mana-thread embroidery. Hair styled perfectly. Confident posture.
Yuna slipped her arm around his.
Intimately.
Anyone with eyes could understand.
Heat surged through my chest.
I stood up.
Walked toward them.
"Yuna!"
She turned sharply. Her expression froze.
"Leon? Why are you here?" Her voice trembled.
"Shouldn't I be the one asking that?" I said quietly. "Who is he?"
"I… I…" She hesitated, eyes flickering.
The man beside her frowned slightly. "Who is Yuna?"
She swallowed.
"He… he's my ex-boyfriend."
The word hit harder than a slap.
Ex.
"Oh," the man chuckled lightly. "So this is the poor guy you mentioned."
His eyes swept over my simple clothes with open disdain.
My hand rose instinctively.
Yuna flinched, eyes closing.
I wanted to strike her.
But my hand stopped midair.
Lowered.
"Why?" I asked. My voice cracked despite myself. "Why are you doing this? Why choose him over me?"
"You really want to know?" she snapped suddenly. "I'm tired of living poor with you. You can't buy me expensive clothes, jewelry, the newest communication crystals." She gestured toward the man. "He can give me what you never could."
"I love you," I said.
She laughed — sharp and bitter. "Can love be eaten? Can love buy anything?"
Each word drove deep.
Yes, I was poor.
But I worked.
I tried.
I believed it would get better.
"Good," I said finally. My voice steadier than I felt. "Maybe I was blind to love someone like you. Starting today, we're done. Don't look for me again."
I turned before she could answer.
Walked away.
Five minutes later, the adrenaline faded.
"Cruuuuk…"
My stomach growled violently.
"I forgot I didn't eat this morning…"
There were still ten minutes before the village-bound magical transport carriage departed.
I bought a few steamed buns and a bottle of mineral water for the trip.
I also sent a message to my homeroom instructor at Moon Academy requesting leave for the next few days.
An hour later, the massive magical transport carriage departed the city.
It was enormous — reinforced runic steel framework, layered seating tiers, glowing mana conduits running beneath protective crystal panels. Unlike magical carriages meant for luxury, this one prioritized endurance and capacity. It could travel six to seven hours without mana replenishment.
It would pass several villages before reaching mine.
The cabin was crowded.
People returning home.
Merchants.
Farmers.
I played on my communication crystal to pass the time.
Eventually, passengers disembarked one by one.
By the final stretch, I was the only one left.
Only a few kilometers remained.
Suddenly, the carriage jolted.
The driver cursed softly and forced it to the roadside.
"What's wrong, uncle?"
"Not sure," he muttered, stepping down.
Moments later he sighed. "Mana conduit rupture. Can't repair it tonight."
"So?"
"You can sleep inside if you want. We'll fix it in the morning."
"It's fine," I replied. "My village isn't far. I'll walk."
It was near midnight.
The road was dark. Mana lamps here were sparse.
Luckily, I carried no luggage.
After walking several minutes, a chill brushed my skin.
Then—
I froze.
Above the road, suspended in midair, floated the figure of an old man.
White robes.
White hair flowing like mist.
Leon, you live in a world of mana and technology, I told myself. Not ghosts.
But the man was floating.
Silently.
Then he moved.
Toward me.
Slowly descending.
My heart slammed violently in my chest.
The distance shrank.
Closer.
Closer.
"Ghost!" I shouted instinctively.
And I ran.