Sitting at my desk, I watched as Twilight paced back and forth across the classroom. Her voice was clear, firm, and just as passionate as always, but for some reason, today she seemed particularly determined to turn statistics into weapons.
"...and that's why mental exhaustion reduces magical retention efficiency by 43.58%," she continued, pointing with her stick to a massive pie chart that Spike was struggling to hold up, mounted on a long scroll and stick. "And that's not even counting the loss of effectiveness when casting complex spells! This, Wizbell, affects both of us. But especially you."
Spike, dragging the chart like a heavy banner, rolled his eyes discreetly as he passed behind her. Stella, from her usual spot near the window, simply watched us in silence, wrapped in that feline calm she used as a shield.
I nodded, of course. I had to. The last thing I wanted was another chart filled with percentages. Or worse: a comparative table.
My body remained still, attentive… but my thoughts were elsewhere. Exactly, a few hallways away.
Have they brought what I asked for yet?
I'd been counting the minutes since I submitted my emergency request: a Super Brownie overloaded with sugar, a mug of thick hot chocolate with the same philosophy, or—if everything went just right—the special dish known among the maids as "death by sugar." A carefully designed variation meant to appease Twilight. The original version, made with vanilla cupcakes and alarmingly high sugar levels, was what Celestia usually ordered when she reached critical stress levels. A gesture of preventive peace… or a sweet distraction.
Twilight kept talking.
Spike displayed a second chart.
And me? I was just trying to maintain composure while imagining the glorious moment when the door would open and a tray bathed in heavenly light would cross the threshold.
I just had to hang on. A little longer.
For magic. For knowledge. For sugar.
—
Just as Twilight was about to start a comparative chart listing five pros and cons of why proper rest is important for magical studies and a successful future, the door creaked open.
"Pardon the interruption, but… is young Wizbell Star present?"
I thought I had misheard. But no. The maid repeated my name, and something in the air changed. Twilight fell silent for a second. Her expression—up until now focused and passionate mid-sermon—flickered briefly. There was a flash… a subtle hint of displeasure when the maid said my name.
I had to look at her twice to be sure. But no. Her face was already back to normal: calm, academic, professional. Maybe I imagined it. Better not dwell on it. My escape key had finally arrived.
I walked calmly to the door and thanked the maid in a low voice. She responded with a radiant smile… a bit odd, I'd say. I wasn't sure exactly why. But the moment she glanced over my shoulder back into the room, her expression changed instantly. The smile vanished, replaced by the flawless neutrality of a maid on duty.
...weird, I thought.
But this wasn't the time to overthink it. I took the tray and turned it slightly to hide it behind my body as I turned around.
Twilight was watching me. Her face remained impassive, but her eyes were analyzing the tray's angle with surgical precision. She stepped forward slightly… even rose a bit on her hooves to try and see what I was hiding.
The instant she noticed me tilting the tray further out of view, the interrogation began.
"What did she say? What did she give you? What are you hiding? Do you know her?"
Her tone was rapid, inquisitive, almost mechanical.
And then, her nose twitched slightly… she sniffed.
"...Chocolate?"
"Well," I replied, doing my best to keep a neutral face, "since the lecture was running a bit long… I thought a snack might help."
An obvious lie. There was only enough food for one pony. But Twilight wasn't listening anymore. Her eyes were already locked on the glossy frosting of the cupcakes and the steaming cup of hot chocolate, topped with an entire bar of chocolate slowly melting on top.
The sweet scent had her. It was obvious. That exact moment when her brain stopped processing percentages and redirected all focus toward what truly mattered: sugar. And the idea—mistaken, but welcome—that I had ordered it for her, knowing how much she loved chocolate… it made her happy.
In the background, Spike collapsed to his knees, letting go of the heavy scroll he'd been holding all class. He winked at me gratefully when he saw my signal: mission accomplished. I gave him a smile in return, and he, arms limp, gave me a trembling thumbs up.
From the balcony, Stella let out a soft meow. Amused. As if she understood more than she should… or was just enjoying the show.
Much more relaxed now, with an expression she rarely showed during class—a mix of satisfaction and quiet energy—Twilight finally settled onto her cushion, folding her front legs.
"Wizbell… why were you so tired today?" she asked casually, taking a sip of her chocolate before continuing. "I mean… what exactly did you do to end up like that? Flash has never managed to push you to your physical limits, and he's quite persistent."
The question didn't catch me off guard, but it did make me think about how to answer.
I blinked… and one of the muffins disappeared without a trace. Not a crumb. Nothing. Just poof.
"Well…" I said, lowering my voice a bit as I slowly rubbed my shoulder, "this time, there was no Flash pushing me. I just… decided to do it. Went out for a run, pushed my body a little."
Twilight looked at me with curiosity. Not judgment, just that analytical attention she couldn't turn off—even when she was happy and had a mouth full of pastry.
"And why's that?"
"I noticed something." I paused briefly, searching for the right words. "It's small—almost insignificant… but it's real. If there's even a slight margin for physical improvement, with consistency, you can feel it."
I hadn't paid much attention to it before. It didn't seem like much. But if repeated… if maintained, I think the result can be rewarding.
It didn't sound like a big deal when I said it out loud, but Twilight received it with more seriousness than I expected. Maybe because it wasn't just about physical training… it was about initiative. About change.
Twilight nodded… and, as expected, asked for data.
Without a word, I pulled out one of my journals, opened it quickly, and flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for. Once located, I projected the formula and my observational data onto a magical display at our side.
Twilight tilted her head slightly, her eyes scanning the information in silence. She picked up a cupcake without looking away and, only after taking a small bite, fully focused on analyzing the data projected.
She quickly verified that what I'd said was accurate and nodded to herself while she began tracing her own magical formulas in the air—glowing lines flickering in sync with her thoughts.
Twilight remained silent a moment longer, watching as one of her equations dissolved into the air with a soft shimmer. Then, with a hint of curiosity, she turned her head slightly toward me.
"Is there any particular method that's more effective for proper physical strengthening?" she asked, maintaining that tone of academic yet genuine curiosity.
I took a few seconds before answering. Not because I didn't know, but because the answer was a little broader than it seemed.
"There's no single method," I began, "but… what I've noticed is that physical conditioning has two major effects. First, improving the circulatory system indirectly helps with the flow and control of magic. Blood carries nutrients, sure, but it also responds to magical impulses—even if we don't always notice it."
Twilight nodded, clearly taking mental notes.
"And second…" I continued, "muscles themselves have a very slight capacity to store magical energy. Nothing extraordinary, of course. Pony magic is distributed throughout the entire body, though it usually channels primarily through the horn in unicorns. But that small muscular reserve can make a difference during extended exertion."
Twilight nodded again, thoughtful.
"In your case…" she murmured, glancing at the still-floating projection, "the magical flow behaves differently, doesn't it? Because of the ring around your heart."
"Yes," I replied calmly. "My heart acts as a passive magical core. It's not a common trait, but the magical circle I have turns it into a stable resonance point. Still, the principle remains the same for everyone: the stronger the body, the better the magical flow."
The conversation gradually shifted toward more mundane topics. We started tossing around absurd theories—like whether a pony made almost entirely of muscle, like a walking tank, would have ridiculous mana reserves, and how that would vary depending on their race.
Twilight, between bites of her cupcake, theorized enthusiastically:
An earth pony, overly muscular to the point of absurdity—would they have an even finer connection to the earth? Or would they be so strong they could plow entire fields in a single step… yet still have the delicacy to tend to flowers and care for animals?
A pegasus in that state… would they be faster or slower? Could they generate gusts of wind just by flapping their wings? Would their takeoff cause small tornadoes?
And a unicorn… well, that issue was obvious.
"The horn would look ridiculously small in proportion," Twilight said, chuckling under her breath. "No matter how much magic they had, no one would take them seriously."
I just laughed, picturing the scene.
A pile of magical muscle… with a ridiculous little horn like a toothpick.
I laughed again, imagining that impossible pony.
His muscle flexes, his dexterity, his flexibility… all so exaggerated that it crossed the line between physical and magical. The physical feats he'd pull off with sheer strength would be so impressive that, to others, they'd look like spells.
But to him… they'd just be casual movements.
Just part of his routine.
And for some reason, that idea felt almost… inspiring.
Twilight burst into laughter when she imagined me as a muscle-bound block with glowing eyes casting wild spells.
"Promise me you'll never become a fitness addict," she said, pretending to sound grave. "And that you won't get excessively muscular. That mental image was… disturbing."
I laughed with her, shaking my head.
"I promise," I replied through my chuckles. "Believe me, I know perfectly well how hard it is to actually build muscle. Even with magic, it's not easy."
After a bit more light conversation, Twilight—now fully restored in mood—got up with a sigh and mentioned that her schedule was starting to fall behind. She had postponed a few things just to give me her lecture and stay to chat. I gave her a calm farewell gesture as she trotted off, back into her meticulously organized routine.
I was alone in the room… or so I thought.
Stella, who until moments ago had been quietly in pet-mode, now jumped into my field of vision. The astral glow of magic returned to her fur, and that spark of intelligence lit up her eyes again as she floated in front of me with that sly smile that only she could wear without being annoying.
"You know how to calm your beloved," she teased. "And make her believe she's in control of the relationship… or dominance, judging by the not-so-friendly look she gave the maid."
She giggled while spinning in the air, completely unbothered by gravity, as if the world's rules didn't apply to her.
I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, don't run away!" she insisted gleefully. "I saw it clearly! You didn't—but I did! That icy stare she gave the maid when she got a little too close and giggled? If looks could freeze, that mare would've turned into ice cubes right there."
She gave me no chance to reply. I ignored her as best I could, answering dryly while I walked toward the lab section:
"You're imagining things. She's not like that. She was probably just annoyed that her lecture got interrupted. The maid was a bit out of protocol—she opened the door without knocking or asking permission."
I reached the desk where a few books were stacked. There was still plenty left to review, but I felt energized enough to continue. Maybe now I'd finally finish that spell I'd been working on.
"Coward… and now blind," I heard her mutter behind me.
I saw her float dramatically, placing a paw on her forehead like she was performing a tragedy on stage.
"Ah, my other half is so blind..."
I didn't say anything. I just watched her out of the corner of my eye as I opened the book, letting her float through her existential monologue. If it made her happy to act dramatic, I wasn't going to stop her.
Stella continued, barely pausing for breath.
"At least you have options," she said, flipping mid-air. "Your situation's better. But your best friend… he's stranded in the middle of the sea, alone, with no one around… well, that's what he hints at. But I've been to his house, you know? And there are two pegasi who show up in all the photos his mom takes. A gray mare and a light blue one with a rainbow mane."
She kept gossiping like nothing.
Even if I didn't admit it—and Celestia knew I wouldn't aloud—Stella had become a kind of unofficial source of everyday gossip in my life. I didn't always ask for it, but there it was. And somehow, when my most boring or mechanical side showed up, she was always ready to fill the silence… and thrilled to have my attention.
Unfortunately, it worked.
I sat down at my usual spot, facing the still-rough books and formulas. With some effort, I tried to refocus and finally finish the spell I had left hanging… while Stella continued with her grand "discovery."
She floated back and forth, visibly excited.
"So, I dug a little deeper," she said, puffing out her chest with pride. "Being the great hunter I am, it was easy to track the trail of those two unknowns. Ditzy—or better known and nicknamed Derpy among pegasi—is the gray mare. Very close to Flash, his personal protector from the injustices of the world," she added dramatically.
She paused for a moment to turn in the air, then did a full twirl before continuing with even more excitement.
"And then there's her rival. Her goal. Rainbow Dash!" she declared with theatrical emphasis, as if announcing a legendary heroine.
I kept reading, pretending her voice wasn't getting to me. But my ears caught every word, even if my eyes pretended to be locked onto magical equations.
That's when Stella, true to her role as my personal storm, decided to stop.
Not out of mercy, of course—because she knew that stopping at the peak of the story would annoy me more.
She let out a short giggle… and then went silent.
Nothing else.
Just that.
Which, of course, annoyed me even more.
But what could I do?
With the room finally calm, filling in the missing gaps of my spell became much easier. Focus returned as if it had just been waiting around the corner. And after a few more minutes of steady work, I couldn't help but lift my voice in excitement:
"Eureka!!"
On the table, one of the scrolls now held the final structure of the spell: four clean, precise lines, woven together like a magical melody.
"Look, Stella!" I shouted, unable to contain my excitement.
I activated the spell on myself. A golden magical circle formed around me, floating with controlled elegance. As soon as it fully activated, I pushed off the ground slightly… and floated.
The floor drifted a few centimeters away. My body hovered weightlessly, held aloft in perfect balance.
"Woah! Amazing! But… not as cool as me," Stella said immediately, floating over effortlessly.
She studied me closely with her glowing eyes… and then, without warning, gave me a little push.
I lost control for a few seconds, spinning clumsily as I tried to stabilize. But before I could fall or make a complete fool of myself, I steadied my position by forming points of magical support using telekinesis.
They weren't floating hands… it was different.
It was as if magical arms extended directly from my body, anchoring me to the space around me. Solid. Efficient.
Mine.
I remained anchored to one of the walls, still floating, as I replayed the spell in my mind. This time, I made a small adjustment—barely noticeable… but enough to test something different.
Another magical circle formed around me.
And a second later, I was propelled upward.
Or rather… to the ceiling.
And I landed on it.
Literally.