Desperate as he may, Kahowzki is not in despair yet. Repeating his routine that is blasting the warded box he is in and studying how the wards worked— he was able to keep himself busy allowing his state of mind a respite.

Of course, it is necessary to dedicate time to rest between his activities.

Months later, his psychological need for someone-to-talk-to arose. A byproduct of his tense nerves and isolation. Later on, he found himself talking to the statue, sharing his grievances and happy thoughts alike.

The food stored with him can last him for about six months. It was done so, to extend the lives of their agents until rescue arrives.

For Kahowzki, he is certain that such rescue is almost implausible considering the threat Trimystery is currently facing. He can only rely on himself.

Escaping this box is difficult. Still, Kahowzki won't be accepting defeat anytime soon. He only has 6 months to crack down on this ward until his inevitable starvation.

Kahowzki is confident that the wards won't be breaking anytime soon— he has to admit, the ward is a freak of nature.

So he decided to search for a way to extend his time. Using his foundations as a newborn archmage, he immediately threw himself to research. He needs magic that will further preserve his food. Kahowzki thinks that if he eats his food sparingly, he will be able to extend his time for at least a year.

He read the books from the shelves over and over again to find inspiration. He ate only twice a day and drank the least amount of water enough to avoid dehydration.

The stored food is mostly composed either of compressed crackers or energy bars. They are kept in a crate enchanted with increased space. The insides of the fridge have long been empty, the more tasty food all consumed. Thankfully, there is enough water to sustain himself in the long term of fasting.

The insides of the trailer are spacious enough to carry dozen of cars. The sofa's half is charred, and some of the paintings are either shredded to pieces or turned to ash— the consequences of his mindless magic barrage since the attack.

It has been almost a month already since the shipment, and Kahowzki can't afford a bath.

Kahowzki thought that talking to the statue is unhealthy and unproductive, so he searched for a notebook inside the trailer. Heavens haven't forsaken him yet, for he found one. There, he wrote his journal tracking the dates with precise clarity.

He persistently continued his research on how to improve a food's shelf life.

It is hard to keep track of the results of his research, and his annotations in the books are getting confusing over time, so he also wrote his findings in his notebook.

The deadline is closely approaching with none to show for it. He was able to devise how to erase ink from the books he found worthless, increasing his storage of data. He was able to turn the furniture, paintings, and some books into safe and edible food. However, he still doesn't have a way to extend the expiry date of his stored food. Compared to the furniture, paintings, and books— his stored food is above in terms of maintaining his health.

The seventh month is already approaching, and some of Kahowzki's ration is already showing signs of mold.

His death is imminent. Kahowzki hardly slept as he push himself to find a way. His energy dwindled to nothingness and continues to weaken in his every failed attempt. He is losing time.

On the brink of his total exhaustion just before the last of what is left of his strength, inspiration gave him newfound vigor.

Finally, he found a way. Creating a magic spell worth 6 techniques is quite the task.

Using suppress, focus, telekinesis, stabilize, and stasis— preservation is cast.

Kahowzki squeezed the life out of him, trading injuries for success to his mana's every drop.

Commercialized food has about 2 months of life expectancy. The food Trimystery gives to their people has a life expectancy of 6 months, such as the innovation magic is capable of.

Kahowzki sighed gratified that his efforts have pulled through. He now has another 2 years to live. Against the odds, Kahowzki once again dived into research.

Months gone by... He was finally met with despair. What in the world is a miracle doing in the wards?

Right, miracles... Magic that is unfathomable to mere mortals, such are miracles. Legends of old tell stories of their existence. Even in the modern age, they exist as proven by the numerous miracle hunters the church employ.

Kahowzki is not a miracle hunter, but he knows— the ward is under the influence of a miracle. He doesn't know their true nature. What he can gather is that miracles are illogically powerful in the sense that they can't be broken and are as hard to subvert. It is no longer a freak of nature by then, but divine intervention.

Kahowzki is in despair, and he doesn't like it. He needs to extend his time once more. To break these wards, understanding how miracles function will be a good start.

Remembering the Bible about the story of duplicating a piece of bread to be shared among the masses, Kahowzki felt that this will be a good direction for his research.

"I shall multiply my food..." He softly whispered.

His deadline slowly came as the days or nights ticked by, his research showing results worthy of his hard work. The magic is not miraculous but it allowed him the same feat.

Clueless of the light outside his small cage, Kahowzki tirelessly worked.

"It's not a miracle. I can consider it the discounted version then... Let's see. Hmmm... Stabilize the food with mana to prevent the microbes from multiplying. Analyze its molecular structure. Focus your thoughts on the food's image. Cast solidification to ensure the food's molecular integrity. Release a chunk of my mana. Then cast stimulate for the matter on hand to replicate itself..." Kahowzki waited with bated breath as his monologue slowly fade in the wind...

"It's a success... I shall call you Matter replication..." He softly whispered staring at the last piece of his crackers. He was tempted to eat his last meal so many times. In the end, his persistence paid its dividends in full.

He made his crackers multiply only to realize the heavy load of mana the magic is demanding. The mental barrier he always cast in reflex because of the statue's presence has long unveiled itself.

Two years have passed already, and the statue still gives that weird vibe. His paranoia aside, he was thankful he gets to live another day again. He stared at the mana-fueled TV. Not a single show appeared again since that fateful day. Even now, he still held hope that the TV one day starts to broadcast something again. He feared for the worse that any form of media outlet, or broadcasting station has been heavily affected by whatever war Trimystery is fighting.

The magic, Matter replication, works wonders. Food, water, books, ballpen... You name it, as long as his mana allows it. He can even afford a bath now with his water. How about drowning?

The water he used in his bath, he just flushes in his magical cubicle. He only realized that his cubicle is enchanted after he dismantled it. A strong fire enchantment is used to burn his waste, it's smell warded to a tank. Dismantling them gave quite the surprise when the smell erupted on Kahowzki's face. Remembering the awkward event made him roil.

Wait, if he is inside the trailer box for so long, how is he still alive with the lack of oxygen?

It's also enchanted. The reason Kahowzki started dismantling stuff is that maybe he can find some hole somewhere here. Like say, maybe the cubicle has an exit waiting to be opened? The same logic that ushered him to search where the oxygen he is breathing is coming from. He found it, almost causing him an earlier death. Remembering how he almost destroyed the wards allowing the passage of oxygen, Kahowzki felt how lucky he is...

Considering the situation he is in... His optimism is admirable. Years passed, and he reached his 66th birthday. An auspicious number he says, the Chinese held the number 6 profoundly. He remembered that he was 34 years old when he entered this trailer box.

His skills have developed so much, that he was no longer the newborn archmage he was... Alas, the walls that confined him remained immovable.

"I should just die then... My life has no meaning anymore. I am this old already and am still a freaking virgin. I guess it's also my luck I have no one left behind who is waiting for me..." Kahowzki said staring at the statue one last time. He gathered mana in his right hand casting the most basic magic spell he knows. FORCE BOLT, a combination of telekinesis and telepathy, is a true classic.

As he was about to smash the lump of energy into his head, he suddenly felt a tugging force from his wrist abruptly stopping his magic.

"I must be getting old, to think that numbing muscles can cause my casting to fail at this age... I am only 66! My mind is still clear and healthy." He thought to himself.

*Pak!

He grabbed for his head. Ouch. Someone threw something at him. It was a ballpen. He scrutinized it, realizing that he left it tucked inside his notebook.

He scanned for his notebook around the vicinity and he found it exactly at the statue's feet... He stared at the statue, nay. He stared at Matt with fervor so intense, that his eyes almost tore a hole in Matt's stony visage.

"You are alive!" Kahowzki proclaimed. Not as a question but as a matter of fact.

Kahowzki once again threw himself at research unaware of the curious soul of the statue.

'What is he going at?' Matt silently thought to himself.

Kahowzki rummaged through his books and notebooks either scribbling or reading over a certain page again and again.

It's as if Kahowzki found himself a new purpose.

4 years silently passed. Until Kahowzki found his voice again.

"Finally! I understand it now! Hahahaha..." He stared at the statue reminiscent of the day he met it...

"Matt Mathews. I know that you are aware of me. To what extent, I am not sure... But I know since it has trapped me for decades already. I know the nature of the very confines that have bound you... Because it's the same for me too!" Kahowzki's eyes have become dull for the short notice but immediately regained their clarity. His spirit was renewed, more confident.

"You, Matt Mathews is under the influence of a miracle... A miracle weaved in a curse. Yes! That's it! The wards must also be weaved on a curse, that's why I can't subvert it." He was enlightened. He started sticking memo pads in the wall adjacent to the statue, one where the statue's eyes can reach— at least according to Kahowzki's assumption.

"I wanted to establish a telepathic link with you, but the miracle is interfering with my magic. Telepathy isn't my style. Even so, I studied it just for a chance to talk to you. Sadly, my variations and spell developments were proven ineffective. But I must say, I am impressed that you were able to cast telekinesis in that state. I can only assume that you are not restricted as much as I do." Kahowzki talked no longer in a monologue but in a conversational manner.

"Hmmm... I have decided. I will teach you magic. The sticky notes I am putting in here are my life's work— a discounted archmage yes, but still an archmage. The day I die is the day I won't be able to guide you anymore, so these notes will be your teacher by then. I have at least a decade or two to teach you, and that is enough to pump you with all of the basic and some of the intermediate knowledge." Kahowzki said, convinced of his new calling. Still, no reply came from the statue. Kahowzki is not discouraged somehow aware that Matt is eagerly listening.

He will teach a statue how to do magic. Not just his magic, but every trick in his sleeves.

And he did. Kahowzki is not willing to become a meaningless existence so he chose to impart his knowledge to someone who will be able to use it.

Time flowed like water. Back then for the sake of survival, Kahowzki rowed his boat against it. Now, he is going with the flow having the most fun in it.

He didn't stop at magic lessons, he also taught the statue the intricacies of Trimystery, the organization that fostered Kahowzki into the mage he is today.

"Looks like the miracle is finally interfering with your progress. You were able to master the two magic techniques I taught you, but what in the world is stopping you to cast a fully functional spell? Fine. I guess, you just have to learn every magic technique I know from the book... Let's just pray someday when you can walk again, you will be able to take advantage of these techniques."

Matt made a series of pens float and alternate among them. It's an exercise Kahowzki devised for Matt to train magic control. Kahowzki further instructed Matt from the smallest spellcasting intricacies to the most scandalous spellcraft.

"Hahahaha... Excellent! You finished them all. I still have a lot of fire in me. It's time to teach you about ancient magic. Let's also put magic artifacts in them. Oh, and some legends and history. This will do you so much good."

Kahowzki has become a jovial old man. He promised to teach for a decade or two. But it has been 3 decades since then.

"You know Matt. Despite the situation I am in now, I am still quite thankful. I am a freaking 100-year-old now hahaha. People in my line of work tend to die early. But look at me now. Aside from outliving them, I have outgrown them— I am a freaking archmage! Though honestly, the wards of horror contributed about 99% of the pressure..." He grew silent feeling awkward about the way he spoke— he's no longer taciturn and has become more carefree.

"I was an orphan in my youth. Not just an orphan, but a beggar. Trimystery took me in. They said that I have the aptitude. I have discussed the subject about that right? Yeah, I did. I am going senile. As the piss poor rat, I was, I always find my life to be meaningless. I don't need something as grand as hope, I only wanted to have a purpose. And magic gave me purpose. I grew to become the Detective mage that fought against terrorists, cultists, and supernatural phenomena. I made a name for myself, one that has many meanings— bravery, valor, discipline, skill, and the list goes on..." He exhaled in deflation as if defeated by an overwhelming loss.

"You know what is it that is my only regret?" It's a rhetorical question, but Kahowzki seems afraid to answer. A brief silence lasted, echoing invisible dreams in the ripple of imagination.

He continued... "The meanings didn't involve love. It sounds whimsical and something a senile old man like me might say, but it is the truth. I have always visioned myself someday becoming a loyal husband and a loving father. I always thought that in my death, I will have not an ounce of regret in my life. Alas, here I am... Hmmm, a virgin's death is truly a scary thing... I just wish in the afterlife, god is not a man..." He inhaled the air in satisfaction, his chest raised, and his back is straight. He sat on the sofa in a relaxed manner. Slowly, he closed his eyes and his breathing halted.

He never tired of life, but he has to go, for eternity doesn't exist in the flesh.

Derekram Kahowzki has departed to the afterlife.