The old hero adjusted the strap of his worn out armor, making sure it would sit properly. As well as an armor made for an energetic 20 year old boy would fit a 40 year old man. News from the capital city had reached him, those stupid young fellas had failed. They didn't listen to the few things he told them. 

The young girl wearing delicate armor followed by a typical troupe of warriors reached the forest the old hero resided in. His own entourage got killed by the demon king as he sent him to hell (at least for hopefully 20 years), leaving him alone and new heros to fight. Flipping her overly long hair over her shoulder, she pushed open the crusty door that hid the hero behind itself. As it flung open, their eyes fell on the hero. The old man sat there, white paper and tobacco spilt on his kitchen table.  "Hero." she proclaimed. "Teach us your ways." 

The old man looked her up and down, visage grim. "Get rid of that hair, a monster will hold it and chop your head off. Seen it happen. Narcissism doesn't save lives"  The girl loudly coughed, as if ringing for air. "Additionally:  That armor won't do shit. You think having your stomach hang out will  protect you against stray arrows? Or the guy in the back just wearing a shirt? What even is that? Did your Mommy sew it?"  The old hero had rolled the tobacco into a cigarette which he pushed between his lips. A small spark appeared from the tip of his left index finger, lighting the cigarette. He took a deep breath, inhaling the hot smoke just before he blew it back into the girl's face. "See this? True Magic. The stuff you're learning… Magi-" "Magika" The Hero closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Magika. That's useless when faced with true enemies. How many enchanted crystals can you carry around with you? How many people will you drag into dark dungeons just to be your mule?" Your stances are weak as well. You shudder in anger at what I am saying. How will you face mental torture at the hands of the demons?" 

The young heros threw the door shut, rushing away. What an annoying old Fart. Magika was much greater, not requiring casting or Mana. Easy Access Mana. Didn't matter that no one knew what made it work, it did work.

That was their great mistake. With real magic everything magician could change something or add, they instinctively understood how it worked. Heros being Magic Swordsmen were included in that, of course. But with Magika no one knew what was going to happen, and that was a bane. It turned out that the creator of Magika was the demon king himself, effectively shutting down the country as nothing worked without it anymore. The heros couldn't even fight off the monsters as those fiends were using magical, their lieges creation, as well. 

Just as the young female hero was about to have her head chopped off, she felt a lighter tug at the back of her head, accompanied by a whooshing noise. She looked back and saw her hair chopped off on the ground, together with a halved troll. The old hero stood close, a disgusting grin on his face. He threw her a properly magically enchanted sword and rushed into battle, body's flying left and right with magic circles carrying him forward. 

As he jumped into the air and threw his sword in the middle of the demon king's head, all monsters dropped down and wild Magika stopped working. The female hero crashed on the ground, dead tired. The old hero helped her up, face looking proud now. 

"Wanna learn real magic Kiddo?" 

Her brain took a second to work out what happened, but she had already agreed before she came to that conclusion. 

The hero patted her shoulder. "I'm Xander."  she got up, dusting her clothes off and letting the useless armor clash on the ground. "Nice to meet you Xander. I'm Christine." 

Xander rummaged through his pocket, pulling out a cigarette which he quickly lit. "Want one?" "Sure"

He handed another to Christine as she clumsily placed it between her own lips. Xander saw this as a great teaching opportunity:"Just think of Fire on your Finger. Fire that doesn't hurt you preferably" 

Christine concentrated strongly and with a puff of smoke, a little flame appeared on her finger. Christine started laughing loudly, face like a ray of sunshine, causing her cigarette to fall to the mud. Xander sighed, throwing his own down while killing the flame with his boot. 

"Smoking isn't good at my old age. And for a youngin like you definitely not."

Note: tried formatting this for ages but it just refuses so I'm giving up.