Malek stood outside the heavy oak door of Grandpa Hendrick's workshop. Different from the one Grandpa had in his house. In this one, Grandpa Hendrick's... Malek didn't know what exactly Grandpa did here. But it was surely important and dangerous, which was why this shop was in such a discreet location. His hand hovered over the iron handle.

  The workshop sat at the edge of their family property, far enough from the main house that explosions wouldn't wake anyone. Malek had spent countless hours here learning to identify herbs and grind powders, but today was different. Today they would force open his mana channels.

  He'd been standing here for three minutes now, trying to force himself to go inside.

  Then, making up his mind, he pushed the door open.

  The workshop was exactly as cluttered as always. Shelves lined every wall from floor to ceiling, packed with glass jars and ceramic containers. Each one had a label written in Grandpa Hendrick's precise script. Dried Spirit Petals. Mana Crystal Dust. Volcanic Ash - Grade 3. Moonbell Root. The ingredients represented decades of collection and trade.

  Two workbenches dominated the center of the room. The left one was for preparation, scarred with burns and stains from thousands of failed experiments. The right one held an array of tools - mortars, pestles, scales, and measuring instruments made from brass and glass. A forge sat in the corner, its heat mixing with the cool air from the open window.

  Hendrick looked up from a book. His white hair was tied back, and he wore his work apron - leather, stained with substances that would never wash out.

  "You're late," he said.

  "I was thinking."

  "About backing out?"

  Malek closed the door behind him. "About what happens if it doesn't work."

  Hendrick set the book down. "Then we try again. Or we don't. You can live without magic."

  "Elara awakened Magic at very early age. Every kid in the village awakened by eleven at the latest. I'm twelve."

  "I know how old you are."Hendrick said "And little Elara is genius unlike you."

  "So what's wrong with me?"Malek asked.

  Hendrick stood and moved to the shelves. He pulled down several jars and set them on the preparation bench. "Nothing is wrong with you. Some people's channels are naturally blocked. The pathways exist but they're sealed with dense tissue. Your body built walls where doors should be."

  "Why?"

  "Different reasons for different people. Trauma during birth. Illness as a child. Sometimes no reason at all. In your case, I don't know." Hendrick selected a jar of blue powder. "But we can fix it."

  Malek approached the bench. "You said this method is dangerous."

  "It is. The potion we're using is rare. I had to trade five years' worth of healing salves to acquire the base ingredients. I've seen it used three times. Twice it worked. Once it didn't."

  "What happened the third time?"

  "The boy's channels opened but the tissue scarred. His mana flow was restricted. He could cast simple spells but nothing complex. For an alchemist, that would mean basic potions only - no advanced formulas."

  "I'm sorry Grandpa for causing all this trouble for you," Malek said, his head down.

  Hendrick stopped and looked at him for a long moment before speaking. "It's good that you understand. Nothing comes easy in this world, child. Especially anything even slightly related to power. But don't think what I'm doing is for you. I'm doing this because you are Mira son."

  Malek nodded, still looking at the floor.

  "Look at me."

  He raised his head.

  "I helped raise you since you were born. Your mother work the shop while I handle the workshop. I've taught you everything you know about ingredients and preparation. You think I did all that just to watch you stay stuck without magic?" Hendrick shook his head. "I'm investing in you because I believe you have potential. Don't repay me. Just don't waste what I'm giving you."

  Malek nodded again, this time meeting his grandfather's eyes. "I won't waste it."

  "Good. That's all I ask."

  A moment of silence passed between them. Malek's hands tightened into fists at his sides.

  "What are the odds?" Malek asked.

  "For success? Forty percent, maybe Fifty-five."

  "And if we don't try?"

  Hendrick's expression grew serious. "I've only known two people who awakened their magic naturally after age twelve. Both were exceptional cases with unique circumstances. Without external intervention, your chances are nearly zero." He paused. "You'll never brew anything that requires mana infusion. You'll never be a true alchemist."

  Malek felt the seriousness of those words.

  "I want to try," he said.

  Hendrick studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Sit on the floor. Cross-legged, back straight."

  Malek sat while his grandfather gathered ingredients. The old man worked with practiced efficiency, selecting jars and measuring amounts with precision.

  "The blue powder comes from deep-mine crystals," Hendrick explained as he worked. "These crystals form in areas of concentrated ambient mana. They absorb and store magical energy over centuries. When ground into powder, they act as a catalyst."

  He poured the powder into a large mortar. The blue was so deep it looked almost black in certain light.

  "Next is Thornroot. It grows in the Blackwood Forest where earth mana is strong. The root fibers break down barriers in living tissue." He added crushed pieces of pale root to the mortar. "The combination of crystal powder and Thornroot creates a reaction that specifically targets the dense tissue blocking your channels."

  "What else?"

  "Distilled essence of Flame Lily. This adds heat to the mixture. Your channels need to be not just opened but need to be tempered. Without tempering, they will collapse after the potion wears off." He added drops of clear liquid from a small vial. The mixture began to steam immediately.

  Hendrick ground the ingredients together with slow, circular motions. The paste changed color as substances combined. Blue to purple. Purple to deep violet. Violet to black with red streaks running through it.

  "Why do alchemists need seven brain channels?" Malek asked. The question had bothered him since he'd first learned about channel systems.

  Hendrick didn't stop grinding. " Normally Combat mages need raw power and basic control of there mana to make a fireball, which requires one type of mana shaped one way. But Alchemist work is different."

  "How?"

  "They calculate ratios in their minds. Stabilize reactions that want to explode. They hold multiple formulas active simultaneously while adjusting variables in real-time. One mistake - one wrong measurement held in your thoughts - and the potion explodes in your hands." He scraped the black paste into a metal cup. "Seven channels give them the mental capacity to handle that complexity. Three channels would mean three simultaneous calculations maximum. With seven, an experienced alchemist can manage nine or ten."

  He added hot water from a kettle that sat perpetually warm on the forge. The liquid steamed and bubbled. Red foam formed on the surface.

  "This will hurt more than anything you've experienced," Hendrick said. "The potion dissolves the tissue blocking your channels. That tissue has nerve endings. You'll feel every bit of it breaking down."

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "I understand."

  "Do you? I've seen grown men scream and pass out. You're twelve."

  Malek gulped.

  Hendrick's expression softened slightly. "I know you won't. You're stubborn like your mother was."

  "Can I ask you a question Grandpa?."

  He stirred the potion three times clockwise, then three times counter-clockwise. The foam settled. The liquid turned from red to dark brown.

  "Sure."

  "How did you know all of this. I mean aren't you a blacksmith then how come you have so much knowledge about Alchamy, potion, and other stuff."

  Malek was genuinely curious at this point. Grandpa seem to know almost everything everytime.

  Hanrdick moved closer to Malek. "I never said I'm a blacksmith." He smirk arrogantly." I'm a Runesmith."

  Hendrick handed Malek a small Cup.

  "Drink half now. Keep the rest in your mouth but don't swallow."

  Malek took the cup. Heat radiated through the metal. He brought it to his lips and drank half in three gulps. The liquid burned going down. It tasted like iron and dirt mixed with something bitter that made his tongue curl. He held the second half in his mouth as instructed. His cheeks bulged slightly.

  "Sit straight. Hands on your knees, palms up."

  Malek adjusted his position. The liquid in his mouth was already making his tongue feel thick and numb. He couldn't produce saliva. His jaw started to ache from holding the position.

  "The liquid you're holding will be absorbed through the tissue in your mouth. It enters your bloodstream faster that way - reaches your channels before your stomach could dilute it." Hendrick moved behind him.

  "When I tell you, swallow the rest."

  Malek felt his grandfather's hand press against his upper back, right between his shoulder blades.

  "I'm going to push my mana into your body. It will follow your spine to your brain, then down through your chest to your core. My mana will force your channels to accept the potion's effects. The combination of external pressure and internal dissolution is what breaks through the blockages."

  Malek's jaw trembled from holding position. His eyes watered.

  "Swallow now."

  He swallowed. The liquid burned worse than the first half. It felt like drinking hot coals.

  Hendrick's mana entered his body.

  The sensation was unlike anything Malek had experienced. It was a hot spike being driven directly into his spine. He gasped. His back arched involuntarily but Hendrick's hand pressed him forward, keeping him in position.

  The foreign mana traveled up his spine vertebra by vertebra. Malek could feel each bone as the energy passed through it. When the mana reached the base of his skull, pain exploded behind his eyes. White light flashed in his vision. He tried to move but Hendrick's other hand gripped his shoulder with surprising strength.

  "Stay still. Don't lose consciousness no matter what." Hendrick warn.

  The mana entered his brain and spread through his head like burning oil. Malek's vision swam. The mana reversed direction and plunged down through his chest.

  Malek felt the energy probe for something in his center, just below his ribs. His core. The knot of dense tissue where a mage's power originated. When Hendrick's mana found it, the pain tripled. Malek soiled his pants.

  His core was locked tight, a fist that refused to open.

  "Your core is very tight. More than I expected. This will take longer." Hendrick increased the pressure. His own mana reserves were substantial from decades of cultivation, but forcing open someone else's channels was exhausting work. "Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Use the technique I taught you."

  Malek forced himself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Each inhale brought fresh pain as his chest expanded. His core felt like it was being pried apart with metal tools. The potion was working inside him, dissolving tissue, but the process was agonizingly slow.

  He tried to detach from the pain. His grandfather had taught him a meditation technique years ago - observe the sensation without attaching to it. Pain is just a signal. It exists but you don't have to let it control you. Malek had used the technique when he'd broken his leg at age seven. It had worked then.

  It wasn't working now.

  The pain was too intense, too all-consuming. He couldn't find the mental distance needed to observe it objectively. His whole world had narrowed to the sensation of tissue being torn apart inside his chest.

  "I feel something," he managed to say through clenched teeth.

  "Where?"

  "Center of my chest. Like a thread trying to push up."

  "Good. That's your primary channel beginning to form. The potion has dissolved enough tissue to create a pathway. Don't force it. Let the process happen naturally."

  The thread sensation grew stronger. It pushed upward through his chest, slow and insistent. Malek felt it move through muscle and past bone. It reached his throat and he choked, unable to breathe for three seconds. Then the thread pushed higher into his head.

  When it reached his brain, something popped. The sound was audible - a wet snap like breaking a green branch. The relief was immediate and overwhelming. The pressure in his chest eased.

  Malek sucked in air.

  "First channel is open," Hendrick said. His voice was strained. "The primary pathway from your core to your brain. That's the foundation. Now we establish the secondary pathways. These run from your core to your limbs."

  The mana in Malek's back split into four streams. Each one traveled toward a different limb. When the first stream reached his right arm, his entire arm erupted in fire. New channels carved themselves through blocked tissue. The pain was different from the primary channel - instead of focused pressure, this was spreading devastation. It felt like someone was running a burning wire from his shoulder to his fingertips.

  His left arm followed. Then his right leg. His left leg last.

  "Secondary channels take longer. There are four of them and each one branches multiple times as it reaches your extremities." Hendrick's hand trembled slightly against Malek's back. "Your fingers and toes need individual pathways. That's twenty more small channels."

  Malek's right hand went numb. The sensation spread to each finger individually. His thumb first, then index finger, middle finger, ring finger, pinky. Each one tingled like he'd slept on it wrong. The tingling became pinpricks. Then the feeling returned to normal.

  The process repeated for his left hand. Then both feet.

  "How much longer?" Malek asked. His voice was hoarse.

  "Until it's done. Could be an hour. Could be three. Your channels are more blocked than most."

  Malek closed his eyes. He tried the detachment technique again. This time it worked slightly better. The pain was still there but he could create a small space between himself and the sensation. He floated in that space, observing his body from a distance.

  The secondary channels opened one by one.

  Left arm. Pop.

  Right arm. Pop.

  Right leg. Pop.

  Left leg. Pop.

  But then his right arm channel - the dominant one, the one he used for precise work - hit resistance. The channel had opened partially but something was blocking the final connection to his hand.

  Hendrick swore under his breath. "Your primary arm channel is stuck."

  "What does that mean?"

  "There's dense scar tissue I didn't detect earlier. The potion is working on it but slowly." He increased the mana pressure. "If this channel doesn't open fully, you'll lose fine motor control in that hand."

  Fear cut through Malek's pain-induced detachment. His right hand was everything.

  "Push harder," Malek said.

  "I'm at my limit. More pressure could damage the channel permanently."

  "Then what do we do?"

  "We wait. The potion needs time to work."

  Sweat poured down Hendrick's face. His breathing was labored. Maintaining this level of mana output for an extended period was draining him rapidly. But he didn't reduce the pressure. He held steady while the potion dissolved tissue grain by grain.

  Minutes crawled past. Malek's hand remained numb. He couldn't feel his fingers anymore. Panic rose in his throat.

  Then something gave way. The blockage dissolved all at once. The channel snapped open from his shoulder to his fingertips. Sensation flooded back into his hand - pins and needles so intense he cried out.

  "Got it," Hendrick gasped. "The channel is open. Full pathway."

  When all four secondary channels finished, exhaustion hit Malek like a truck. His muscles went slack. Only Hendrick's hand on his back kept him upright.

  "Don't relax yet," Hendrick warned. "The tertiary channels are next. These connect your major organs to your core."

  "Why?" Malek voice intoxicated.

  "Magic affects your whole body, not just your limbs. Your organs need pathways to handle mana flow or they'll fail under stress. A mage who only opens primary and secondary channels might cast a powerful spell and have their heart give out from the sudden energy surge."

  The mana in Malek's back changed direction. It moved to his right side and pressed against his liver. The organ resisted, trying to reject the foreign energy. Hendrick pushed harder. The pressure increased until something finally gave way. A thin channel opened from Malek's liver to his core.

  They repeated the process for his stomach. The channel opened after moderate resistance.

  His lungs were next. Both required pathways. The left lung channel opened easily. The right one fought back, and Malek's breathing became ragged until the channel finally established itself.

  Then came his kidneys. Two more channels carved through tissue.

  "Last organ," Hendrick said. "Your heart."

  The mana moved to the left side of Malek's chest. It pressed against his heart.

  His heart resisted immediately. The organ was vital, protected by layers of tissue and instinctive magical barriers that even blocked channels possessed. Hendrick's mana pushed against those barriers. The pressure increased.

  Malek's heartbeat became irregular. It skipped a beat. Then another. Then it started racing - too fast, way too fast. He couldn't catch his breath. His chest constricted.

  "Grandpa—"

  "I know. Stay calm."

  But Malek couldn't stay calm. His heart was failing. He could feel it struggling against the foreign mana, trying to maintain rhythm, losing the battle. His vision darkened at the edges.

  Hendrick made a sound of effort and pushed harder. The heart channel finally opened.

  Malek's heart stuttered, stopped for a fraction of a second, then resumed beating normally. The irregular rhythm stabilized. Air filled his lungs again.

  "That was close," Hendrick said quietly.

  Malek couldn't respond. His whole body was shaking.

  "Done," Hendrick said. He removed his hand from Malek's back and immediately collapsed into a chair. His face was gray with exhaustion.

  Malek fell forward onto his hands. Sweat soaked through his shirt. His whole body shook uncontrollably. Every muscle ached. But beneath the pain, he felt something warm in his center.

  "How do you feel?" Hendrick asked between heavy breaths.

  Malek lost consciousness before he could reply.

  Hanrdick looked at Malek’s now-unconscious body, lying face-first on the floor.

  Then he coughed. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

  “You’ve pushed yourself too far this time, you ungrateful kid,” a sudden voice resounded through the air.

  Hanrdick wiped the blood away and snorted.

  “Well, what did you expect? I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life. There is something wrong with this kid’s body, as if something is blocking my mana from going any deeper. If not for that, I would’ve finished it in half the time.”

  The voice resounded again, this time gentler, more like concern than scolding.

  “Stop pushing yourself too far. You still haven’t healed from the injuries you suffered in the last war.”

  Suddenly, a silhouette began to form behind Hanrdick’s body.

  Malek, however, lay unconscious—completely unaware of whose presence he was truly in.