You know that feeling when something you once created turns around and ruins your life?Yeah. Welcome to my morning.
It started small — a flicker in the air, a shimmer at the edge of my vision.At first, I thought I was hallucinating (which, as a god, would've been quite the cosmic irony).
But no. It was real.
Mana.
My creation. My pride. My masterpiece.
And right now, my worst enemy.
The air glowed faintly, rivers of color twisting and curling in invisible patterns. I could see it — the pulse of the world, the heartbeat of existence. Every thread hummed with energy I once commanded with a flick of thought.
I smiled.
Finally. Something familiar.
"All right," I muttered internally. "Let's see if the old god still has it."
I focused. I imagined pulling on the mana stream, drawing it into my core. The air rippled faintly. A faint warmth brushed my skin.
Yes. There it was.
"Ha! Still got—"
And then it hit me.
A wave of agony like a thousand molten needles stabbed through my veins. My muscles seized. My tiny baby body convulsed like a startled fish.
"Wh–what the—?!"
The mana surged wildly, like it was mocking me. I tried to release it, but it clung to me, burning hotter. My entire body felt like it was vibrating at the speed of light.
I opened my mouth to scream, but what came out was—
"BwAAAAHHH!"
Yes. That. A high-pitched wail only an infant could produce.
And then—
Squish.
The universe went still.
…Oh no.
No no no no.
Warmth spread across my lower half. A smell followed — the kind that could exorcise demons.
I froze.
I had just pooped myself trying to use magic.
A god.The architect of reality.The eternal sovereign of mana.
Now reduced to a sweating, smelly infant who just soiled himself mid-spell.
Divine dignity: 0. Diaper: 1.
Footsteps echoed outside the room.
"Oh, stars above," came Elara's voice. "Not again…"
The door swung open, sunlight spilling in like divine judgment.
My mother stood there — calm, radiant, and absolutely done with my nonsense.
"Oh, sweet one," she sighed, walking over. "You look so serious, and yet…"
Her eyes watered from the smell. "Oh dear heavens, what did you eat?"
Behind her, Gelen's voice called, "Did he do the thing again?"
"Yes," Elara said grimly. "The thing."
"The explosive thing?"
She shot him a look. "Don't call it that."
Gelen chuckled anyway. "My boy's got spirit! That's what I like to see!"
Spirit?No, Father. What you're smelling is the death of my pride.
Elara went through the cleanup routine with the grace of a saint.She hummed softly as if divine betrayal wasn't currently steaming in her hands.
"There we go," she murmured, wiping me clean. "You really are full of surprises, aren't you?"
I stared up at her helplessly. "Waa…"
She smiled. "Oh, you're trying to talk already?"
Yes, Mother. I was trying to curse the laws of mana. But sure, let's call it talking.
She wrapped me in a clean blanket and set me down in the crib, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead. Her mana pulsed softly — warm, steady, calm. I could feel it brushing against me, so natural and gentle.
How was it that she could handle it so easily while I, its creator, almost exploded my colon?
Unfair. Utterly unfair.
When she left to wash the cloth, I glared at the ceiling. The faint trails of mana swirled lazily above me, glowing softly in mockery.
"I made you," I whispered under my breath. "You obeyed me once."
The mana pulsed faintly — like it was snickering.
"Don't you laugh at me," I hissed. "I wrote the rules!"
And that's when I remembered.
I had written the rules.
Long ago, I'd decided that mana shouldn't be easy for mortals. I'd grown tired of arrogant mages tearing apart reality like toddlers with scissors, so I made a decree:
"Let power be earned through discipline, understanding, and harmony of body and soul."
At the time, it had sounded noble. Wise.
Now, lying in my own diaper, I realized something crucial.
Past Me was a smug idiot.
The next few days were… rough.
Every nap, every feeding, I tried again.Each attempt ended in disaster.
Sometimes I fainted.Once, I caused a faint spark that startled the family dog so badly it refused to enter my room for two days.And, yes — the infamous "diaper incident" repeated itself. Twice.
Elara began worrying that I had digestive issues.Gelen proudly told everyone his son was "so strong, even his guts are training."
I was living in a comedy written by a cruel universe.
One afternoon, while Elara hummed in the kitchen and Gelen chopped wood outside, I lay on my back, glaring at a floating speck of dust.
The mana in it glowed faintly. It was everywhere — in the air, the wood, even the sound of my heartbeat.
If I couldn't command it, maybe I could feel it instead.
So I stopped forcing.I just… breathed.
In.Out.
The mana trembled.A faint warmth brushed my fingers.
No pain. No pressure. Just flow.
For a moment, it worked. The air around me shimmered faintly, soft and blue.
Then I got excited.
"Ha! I did it!"
Mana surged.Blue light flared.
My blanket caught fire.
"ELARA!" Gelen's voice roared from outside. "THE BABY'S GLOWING!"
By the time they rushed in, the light had faded — leaving me sitting wide-eyed in a slightly singed blanket, smelling faintly of smoke and baby powder.
Elara stared. Gelen blinked.
"I told you he was strong," Gelen said proudly. "Our boy's a prodigy!"
Elara looked at him like he'd grown two heads. "He just burst into flames!"
"See? That's talent!"
I sneezed, and a puff of blue sparkles floated out.
Elara sighed. "Or a health hazard."
I smiled weakly. At least this time, I hadn't pooped. Progress.
That night, as they argued softly downstairs about "magic surges" and "consulting the local priest," I lay in my crib, exhausted but oddly satisfied.
It was working. Slowly. Painfully.But working.
I could feel mana now — faintly, imperfectly — like an echo of a song I'd once composed.
Maybe one day I'd master it again.Maybe one day I'd reclaim the power I'd lost.
But for now…
My greatest victory was that I could use magic without soiling myself.
A humble beginning.