Chapter 32:

After being forced to listen to his brother's innumerable attempts at learning the advanced paladin skill, the quiet of the secluded grove felt heavenly. Nick had chosen this spot carefully as it was far enough from the house that he wouldn't be disturbed, yet close enough that he could still hear if someone called for him. It was perfect for studying the adventurer's spellbook in peace.He sat cross-legged on a patch of soft grass, with the new spellbook balanced on his knees. The leather cover was cracked and worn, and the edges of the pages were frayed, but there was a sense of care in how the book had been maintained. The name "Ingrid" was scrawled in an elegant hand inside the front cover, followed by a note that read: For those seeking the skies.

As Nick delved into the text, he quickly realized that Ingrid had been no ordinary adventurer. The introduction painted a picture of a young woman who had risen to C-rank almost effortlessly. Her talent for wind magic was apparently enough to earn her an apprenticeship from a famous master, though from what little she wrote, there had been some trouble that forced her away from the academic lifestyle.

Still, she had an Advanced Wind Affinity, which allowed her to bend the air to her will with an ease that Nick could only dream of.

She wrote with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, describing her spells and techniques as though they were second nature. Nick's Minor Wind Affinity felt like a flickering candle compared to the roaring bonfire of her talent.

Despite that, there was much to learn. Her insights into mana flow and spell construction were invaluable, even if they were steeped in the assumption that her readers shared her innate gifts.

Of the few intact spell-forms left, one caught Nick's eye: . According to Ingrid's notes, it was designed to summon a concentrated cone of wind from above, powerful enough to flatten trees and scatter any enemy below fifty CON. The description was fascinating beyond her casual insights. It finally gave some data points that had been severely lacking in Nick's instruction.

Apparently, fifty points in an attribute were considered the first threshold that allowed the use of more advanced abilities and resistance to weaker spells. For example, the thunderhoofs Nick had faced had, on average, about forty to fifty points in CON, meaning that could have sent them flying. On the other hand, a herd leader—a powerful variant known to occasionally appear in the grassland—had up to double that amount, and it would barely feel the effects of such a spell.

Only an idiot would use a blunt wind spell against such a massive beast, especially when there were many more lethal options at the same tier. However, the example made him wonder what his fifty-eight points in WIS would allow him to resist. Vicar Alexander hadn’t gone over the matter yet, though that might be because he was teaching a group of children. Technically, they wouldn’t need to know about combat interactions for a few years.

Nick studied the diagram accompanying the spell, tracing the lines with his finger. It was elegant, almost simple in its design, but he could already see where his limitations would trip him up.

It depicted a way for the caster to manipulate a column of air to increase its pressure rapidly, thus causing a concentrated gust towards the ground. It used different language than what Nick was used to—as Roberta only ever spoke of magical phenomena in her own terms, and Earth’s magic was developed according to the specific culture of its casters—calling the exertion of control over the element by the mage a “melding.” However, it was standardized enough, thanks to her past instructions, that Nick was able to grasp its meaning.

The spell was pretty rudimentary, as it only described the specific phenomenon and had few control vectors included. It was so different from what the System provided with that it momentarily made Nick wonder if it was developed independently from it; though a more thorough search revealed some similarities. The main difference, it seemed, was that human-developed spells had no room to waste on safety and control, delegating that to the caster.

Ingrid’s Advanced Affinity meant she could brute-force her way through imprecise mana control if that ever was a problem. Nick, with his Minor Affinity, had no such luxury.

Still, he was eager to try.

Standing up, he moved to the center of the grove, holding the book open. He focused on his breathing—though he promised he'd be free of that crutch soon enough—settling into the Stalking Gait to stabilize his mana. Then, following Ingrid's instructions, he began to channel wind mana above him, shaping it into the cone described in the text.

At first, it seemed to be working. A faint distortion appeared in the air, but as Nick tried to compress it further, the mana faltered. The distortion collapsed in on itself with a loud whoosh, sending a harmless gust of air rippling outward.

Nick let out a frustrated sigh, brushing a stray lock from his face. "Not even close."

Instead of being discouraged, Nick felt a spark of excitement. The spell hadn't worked, true, but the attempt had taught him a great deal. He could feel where his control had faltered and now knew his mana lacked the density needed to sustain the cone. These were problems he could solve.

Sitting back down, he flipped through the book again, focusing on Ingrid's notes about mana flow. They were clear but relied heavily on her innate ability to harmonize with wind mana. She did not need control when she could instinctively work through any spell.

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Nick didn't have that instinct, but he had something else: .

Closing the book, he replayed the failed spell in his mind, analyzing every step with meticulous detail. The ability to condense mana without overloading the matrix was key, but he would also need to shape it more efficiently. Ingrid's method likely relied on changing everything on the fly, but he could approach it with precision instead and get similar results.

Nick stood again, focusing just on the initial condensation. He visualized the cone not as a complete spell, but as a series of steps.

Breathing deeply, he extended his awareness. The air responded eagerly, and as he guided it, it began to gather. This time, he kept the flow tighter, manually ensuring the structure wouldn’t collapse.

The distortion appeared again, smaller and more stable. It shimmered faintly, and the edges of the cone were outlined in a soft green glow. It didn't have enough power to flatten a tree, but it was progress.

Nick grinned, letting the mana dissipate harmlessly. "Better. Still not there, but better."

Sitting down again, he began to jot down a few notes. Ingrid's spellbook was a treasure trove of ideas, but he shouldn't take it as gospel. That was something his grandfather had made sure to teach him early on: most mages were full of shit, and just because they claimed something worked for them, it didn't mean they were right. And even if they were right, they often lied about the process.

By lunchtime, Nick had read through the entirety of Ingrid's book. Her arrogance grated on him sometimes, but it was the greatest insight into this world’s organized magic he had found yet. He had a clear plan now: refine his control, experiment with smaller-scale versions of her spells, and use to bridge the gap between their abilities.

But most importantly, he needed to keep developing his wind affinity. The stronger his connection to the element, the easier it would be to replicate her feats.

The week passed in a blur of ink-stained fingers, sleepless nights, and scattered papers. Nick's world narrowed to two focal points: Ingrid's journal and Roberta's diary. The two tomes sat side by side on his desk, embodying vastly different approaches to magic. Ingrid's brimmed with practicality and raw talent, with the occasional insight, while Roberta's was a labyrinth of intricate personal theories and cryptic notes.

Nick suspected a thread tied the two together—a unifying theory of magic that bridged Ingrid's instinctive mastery and Roberta's methodical genius. However, finding that thread was proving to be annoyingly elusive.

The first breakthrough came on the third day. Nick had been poring over Roberta's diagrams, comparing them to Ingrid's spell sketches. Both women used the same terms to discuss mana flow, showing that even though Roberta had developed her own language, she had received a formal education at one point, but their approaches were wildly different. Ingrid saw it as an extension of her body, something to be shaped and directed instinctively. On the other hand, Roberta treated mana like a part of a complex machine, requiring precise calibration to maintain harmony.

It was pretty maddening.

Nick realized his own approach lay somewhere in between. He lacked Ingrid's innate talent, but Roberta's rigid structure didn't suit him either. What he needed was a framework that allowed for both precision and adaptability. With that in mind, he went back to experimenting with , testing its limits to see if his greater understanding would allow him to perfect the spell.

Initially, it had been slow and unreliable, requiring intense concentration and time to find a flaw in a material. But with practice, Nick discovered ways to guide the spell more intuitively.

During one of his attempts, he tried to incorporate more of the original spell into the matrix, and the result was a wooden chair breaking apart, splitting where the seams between the original tree’s rings had been. That proved that his decision to incorporate the part of what he called — the magic laid upon her diary—that he believed to be connecting it to the natural mana was a success. If he was honest with himself, Nick didn’t fully understand how he had done what he had done, but the attempt allowed him to expand his understanding of her magic.

By the end of the week, had advanced to Intermediate proficiency. Nick could disassemble wooden objects in seconds and even break down rocks within minutes. The spell had become a precision tool, useful for sabotage or battlefield control.

But the experiment that lingered in his mind was one he wished he could forget. On the fifth day, curious about its potential effects on living beings, he cast on a field mouse. The results were immediate—and horrifying. The small creature convulsed, its body breaking apart grotesquely. Nick had barely managed to stop himself from retching.

"Never again," he muttered, burying the remains and swearing to himself that the spell would only be used on inanimate objects. It wasn't so much that he was skittish about killing animals, as he had demonstrated in the forest, but the incredible amount of pain the little mouse had been in was wholly unnecessary and made him remember things best left untouched. It cemented his resolve to be more careful with his experiments, as he had no intention of ever becoming someone who drew power from other's pain. That way laid a quick descent into madness, and the rewards were never worth it.

Ingrid's journal yielded its own insights, though not in the way Nick had initially hoped. Her descriptions of her experiences with were tantalizing, but they leaned too heavily on her Advanced Wind Affinity. Still, her notes on the properties of wind mana—its speed, its natural ability to scatter and cut, despite their obvious incompatibility—sparked an idea.

Going back to , Nick began experimenting with concentrated blasts of air. It started small: a simple gust strong enough to ruffle papers or extinguish a candle. But as he began removing the parts about other elements from the matrix and substituting them with what he knew he could use of , the spell grew in power and complexity. He was able to refine the flow of mana, shaping it into a narrow, focused blast that could knock over a target from several meters away.

By the seventh day, he abandoned and began casting freeform until he was notified that he had learned . Though still at beginner proficiency, it quickly proved to be a versatile tool. It lacked the destructive force of Ingrid's , but it could disarm an opponent, knock them off balance, or scatter loose objects in an instant. An attempt to meld it with his favorite way of dealing with monsters—stoning—proved to be too much for the moment, but he was hopeful.

Despite his progress, Nick couldn't shake the feeling that he was only scratching the surface of a much larger puzzle. Ingrid's and Roberta's approaches seemed to contradict each other, yet both clearly worked.

Sitting at his desk late one night, with the flickering candlelight casting shadows across his notes, Nick's thoughts drifted to the System's role in shaping magic. How much of it was determined by the individual? How much by the world itself?

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. The answers wouldn't come, but even if he couldn't solve the grand puzzle yet, he could still take pride in his progress. and proved he was growing.

A knock broke him out of his contemplations, and he blinked in surprise, not having noticed anyone get that close. The door opened, revealing his father.

"I think that's about enough of that, Nick. You've been very quiet this past week. I understand you found something interesting to study, but you should spend time with your brother before he leaves. You won't see him for a while.”

A bit ashamed of himself, Nick didn't even try to defend his actions. "You are right, Dad. I'm sorry."

Eugene chuckled, closing the distance and patting Nick's shoulder. "It's alright. Your mother used to do the same on the training field. The moment she thought she was about to learn a new skill, she'd drop everything for weeks until she finally got it."

Nick let out a small huff of laughter, easily imagining his mother being so dedicated.

"Alright, I didn't come here to scold you," his father said, drawing a questioning noise from him. "The caravan's due to come next week, and I promised Devon I'd spend some time training him, but I don’t want to leave you here on your own. Too much studying rots the brain, I say. How about you two come to the wall for a change? You can train with the recruits. I've seen enough to know you should hold your ground.”