...Hey, isn’t anybody going to take care of Allen…?

Hasn’t it been like, two hours or something??

He’s still sleeping, but when he wakes up I’m sure he’s going to be really, really hungry…

I’ve been training, as usual, and I’ve gotten quite a lot more mana, but it seems I hit a wall when I got to 20 mana…

What really astonishes me is my size though.

Why would I be astonished about my size, you say?

Well, at first it was pretty normal. I steadily grew stronger and bigger, eventually getting so big I could even reach all the way to the door(and I got to confirm that I can, in fact, interact with larger objects, it’s just pretty hard. Hard as in “I can’t open the door send help”. Help.

I tried knocking, but nobody answered…

As for my size, well…

Now that I’m at 20 mana(I think?) I’m large enough to see myself, sorta. I can see him. Allan.

He’s a very cute child.

Bubbly and rosy and healthy. And on his chubby little chest, there is a bright blue orb, the colour of the sky, with little fluffy clouds, and a little dark-blue wisp-like thing swimming about. If the orbs of those three who were in here before were glass marbles, then this was one of those fancy glass marbles with layers of colourful glass, shaped by a master.

...It totally looks like she cheated.

This better not cause me any trouble down the road. I’d hate to see this innocent kid become, well…

Like me.

That’d be a true shame.

Ah, but enough with the doom and gloom!

If I were to almost entirely separate myself from Allan(I can’t entirely separate me for whatever reason) I can form an entire adult person! Made out of mana, that is. It’s like playing with clay. Really, quite fun.

It is in this semi-human form that I gently picked up Allan from his crib(I’m powerful enough to easily lift him now, fu-fu-fu…) and rocked him back and forth all gentle like. As long as he sleeps, he’ll be content enough.

So there I stood, rocking Allan back and forth, watching the settling rays of the summer-sun fade into the distance from the one window in the room.

That’s when it happened.

Slowly, but surely, the door behind me was opened, and a feminine face peeked in.

Startled, I almost dropped Allan, but some fatherly sense of obligation in me must have kept that horrid destiny from coming to fruition, and instead I quickly, but gently, placed him back in the crib.

Turning around, my gaze was met with the surprised, horrified and somewhat amazed face of Marlene, Allan’s mother, most likely back to feed him once more.

“You-, I…”

I didn’t do anything!!

Talk to my lawyer!!!

However, before I could defend myself with even more infallible arguments and undeniable proof, she quickly walked RIGHT THROUGH ME and to Allan, cautiously picking him up from his crib and holding him tightly in her arms.

Her horrid, distraught eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for something, anything, to flee from. But she was met with nothing. Nothing except my transparent, invisible form, staring at her in bewilderment and distress.

What am I, a ghost?

Marlene took a deep breath and sighed.

She was just about to start breastfeeding Allan once more when a thought seemed to hit her. Violently.

Startled, her eyes went wide and she swallowed audibly. Shivering, she carefully placed Allan in his crib before making that OK-sign that that old man… Henry, right? Well, the sign that he had used. She placed the hole before her eye and closed the other. I could see how the little mana she had(very little, less than even me) moved and writhed, trying desperately to form into a stalactite like the one Henry had made. Eventually, it formed just enough, it would seem. It was a decimetre or so long and very blunt, being more of a long cylinder than a stalactite.

But it was enough.

When she pointed the strange created at me, she gasped loudly and faltered, falling to the floor with a loud thud.

Following my natural instincts as a human, I lunged forwards, extending my hand for her to grasp so I could lift her back up.

Of course, when she had fallen, she had stopped making the OK-sign, so she couldn’t see me.

She made a terrified noise(something like “hiiii!...) and crawled backwards before turning around, going on all fours, getting up, and, finally, storming down the stairs.

The door was wide open.

My, oh my.

Hesitantly, I followed.

I didn’t bring Allan since that would just confirm her fears, even though that meant that my “main body” would gradually become smaller as I went downstairs, but…

It was worth it.

Down we go, to adventure abounds!

When I went down the stairs, I was first met with what I would call a storage room. There were a couple of old, dusty tools laying around, some of which I could not even name, others I could at least recognize.

There were two doors. One going to the right, the other to the left.

I’m sure there’s supposed to be some saying about whether to always pick right or left, but I don’t remember any of that, so I just followed my gut and went left.

Remember I said a while ago that I couldn’t open doors since I was too weak?

That has changed.

It took far more power than I had expected, but with ten seconds of constant pushing and groaning, it opened!

...then I realized that if she could pass through me undisturbed, I could probably pass through doors no problem…

God, I’m stupid.

...This must be the kitchen, right?

There was an open fire which probably served as a stove, two large wooden tables, strangely enough a double bed in a corner, and a door-frame through which you could enter another part of the house.

...this is probably not a modern house.

Medieval? Probably.

Other-worldly? Definitely.

Just as I thought that, a kid happily ran through said door-frame, laughing happily and with a gleeful gait to his step, wearing nothing but what he was born with.

Good grief.

Following closely, Arthur ran with a huge grin on his face, his arms and hands in that classic “I’m going to tickle you to death, child” posture. He was naked as well. How shameless.

Eventually, he caught the kid, tickling them savigaly before raising them into the air, proudly shouting, “TIME FOR A BATH RICHIE” to which the child had trouble whether to A, happily laugh and giggle or B, stubbornly protest. It went with A.

Arthur, still holding the child high above his head, quickly re-exited the building, walking out into the summer sun.

I followed.