Chapter 47

Nick closed his journal, a grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth as he slipped it back into his pack. Excitement buzzed in his chest, the kind that surfaced when a solution felt just within reach. Yet, he knew better than to get ahead of himself. If the last few months had taught him anything, it was that he should build himself up before trying to progress. Taking smaller steps than he might prefer allowed him to move further ahead.And this morning, those steps meant getting back to the basics.

Standing in the center of the dry fields, Nick exhaled slowly and extended his hands, palms facing outward. Again, he didn't reach for the wyvern bone; he wanted to see exactly what he could achieve with his current abilities alone.

The air around him stirred gently, and a cool breeze tousled his hair. He focused on the sensation, the subtle interaction of currents flowing through the field. Visualization, he reminded himself, was key. The clearer the image in his mind, the more control he would have over the magic. Matrices and calculations were useful, to be sure, but they only served to crystalize a spell. Without visualization and willpower, they would remain inert.

He imagined the breeze shifting direction, flowing in a tight spiral around him. The change came sluggishly at first, like coaxing an uncooperative horse, but with each adjustment, the movement grew sharper and more defined. Within minutes, he had conjured a bracing wind, strong enough to lift dust from the ground and send dry stalks of grass swaying.

Nick smiled, lowering his arms as he let the breeze fade away. It wasn't flashy, but it was a start. Freeform manipulation of air would always be prohibitively difficult—too chaotic, too likely to dissipate without proper structure. Yet, for all its impracticality, there was something exhilarating about bending the elements directly to his will without relying on incantations or rituals.

He reached into his pouch again and retrieved the wyvern bone.

The difference was immediate. Even before he began channeling, the mana in the air seemed to resonate with the piece of wing, like strings vibrating in harmony. The bone didn't just amplify his magic but subtly shaped it, sharpening his control until it felt almost instinctive.

Nick lifted it, narrowing his focus. He went through the same process as before, careful not to include any new variable, but this time, the breeze intensified to a gale, whipping through the field with enough force to scatter loose stones and send an audible howl through the air. He allowed it to build for a moment longer before cutting it off with a flick of his wrist, finding the sudden stillness almost deafening in its contrast.

He laughed, shaking his head. It wasn't as dramatic as the tests earlier, but it was much more significant in its own way. The power needed to create a sustained wind like that without a formal spell was leagues beyond anything he had managed before.

"Freeform magic," he murmured, rolling the wyvern bone between his fingers. "Not bad for a hidden ace."

Even as he said it, though, Nick knew he hadn't extracted everything he could from it. Some insight was just at the edge of his senses, waiting to be caught.

He sat cross-legged on the dry ground with the bone resting on his knees. His journal was open again, and diagrams from earlier stared back at him, but his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

Everything he knew about affinity advancement underscored the importance of understanding the core of an element—its essence, behavior, and role in the natural world. For air, that meant grasping its duality: how it could be both gentle and ferocious, invisible yet omnipresent.

The wyvern bone, he realized, was teaching him something similar. His improved results weren't solely due to channeling more power; it was also refining his perception of the element itself. Though mana couldn't naturally circulate within the bone, when he pushed some of his own it felt like distilled air, a refreshing breath atop a mountain, and that purity made his own attempts seem clumsy by comparison.

The thought sent a jolt of anticipation through him. If he could align his visualization with the bone's resonance, he might unlock a deeper connection to his affinity. That would likely be the final step he needed before it ranked up.

Nick flipped to a fresh page in his journal and began sketching again with quick, confident strokes. This time, rather than deepening his understanding of his spells, he aimed to chart the patterns within the bone, observing how it flowed and transformed his mana like a living entity.

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He worked methodically, testing small manipulations between sketches—a gust here, a pressure shift there. Each attempt taught him something new, whether about the limits of his control or the nuances of how the wyvern’s piece responded to his mana.

Hours slipped by unnoticed as the sun climbed higher and the fields around him grew warmer. By the time he finally set aside his journal, his shirt was damp with sweat, and for the first time since waking up in Floria, his head ached from the effort of sustained focus. But he didn't care. The progress he had made felt tangible, like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

The air around him felt alive, as if the world itself were holding its breath in anticipation. He crouched, sweat trickling down his brow as he focused on the open pages of his journal. The diagrams of sprawled across the parchment seemed less daunting now than when he first copied them from Ingrid's notes. He could see the flow of mana in his mind more clearly—not as rigid lines or strict commands but as a fluid interplay of intention and nature.

The wyvern bone rested lightly in his left hand, cool to the touch despite the day's heat.

And now, for the first time, he felt ready. He knew deep within that he would not fail.

was a completely different beast from the basic spells he had been using. Its spell matrix required precision and a seamless integration of his personal mana into the air. Initially, he had approached it like any other spell: pouring power into the structure and forcing the wind to obey. But he was starting to realize that such brute force was the wrong approach.

Instead, he closed his eyes and focused on the sensation of the breeze swirling around him. He reached out with his mana—not to command the air, but to merge with it, becoming part of the currents. The wyvern bone in his hand amplified the connection, and the mana he pushed through it resonated with the wind like a tuning fork.

For a moment, there was nothing but stillness. Then, instinctively, he traced the spell's shape in his mind.

The structure was elegant. A series of interlocking flows mirrored the wind's natural patterns, spiraling, swirling, and converging. He could feel how each segment of the matrix was not designed to force the air into motion but to guide it, like shaping clay on a spinning wheel.

Nick opened his eyes, keeping his breathing steady. Slowly, he raised the wyvern bone, holding it like a conductor's baton. The gesture was ceremonial, but it helped him focus and channel his intent. His mana flowed outward, effortlessly suffusing the air around him.

The first step was to create a low-pressure zone. Nick visualized it clearly, and the air responded, thinning and pulling inward just a few feet before him. The breeze that had been brushing his face reversed direction, tugging at his clothes as if drawn by an invisible hand.

A column of air began to take shape, swirling faster and faster as the pressure differential increased. Dust and small debris were drawn into the vortex, creating a ghostly spiral that shimmered in the sunlight. Witnessing the raw power of the elements bending to his will was equally mesmerizing and terrifying.

But the spell wasn't stable. He could feel it trying to unravel, the natural laws of the world rebelling against his actions. Nick tightened his grip on the wyvern bone, pouring more of his will into the matrix to stabilize it. His free hand moved instinctively, carving precise gestures in the air as if smoothing out the jagged edges of the spell.

Rather than expending more mana as was his instinct, Nick followed the natural shape that the bone provided for the magic, almost feeling like it was casting through him.

And then he felt it click.

The column of air solidified, waiting for his command. The power was intoxicating, and the heady rush made his heart pound. At that moment, he wasn't controlling the wind; he was part of it, and his mana flowed through the vortex as naturally as a river flows through its banks.

Nick's grip on the wyvern bone shifted, and, with a deliberate downward swish, he released the final surge of power into the spell matrix. The air column collapsed with a deafening bang, crashing into the already broken ground with enough force to send up a plume of dust and debris. The sheer pressure of the release sent Nick flying backward, and he hit the ground with a jarring thud.

For a moment, the world was nothing but sound and motion: the roar of the crashing wind, the sharp crack of debris striking the ground, and the feeling of weightlessness before the impact knocked the breath from his lungs.

When the noise finally faded, Nick lay sprawled on his back, staring up at the sky. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, his heart pounding against his ribs. His limbs felt heavy, and every muscle ached from the effort of sustaining the spell.

And yet, he couldn't stop smiling.

The spell had worked. —a technique he had once dismissed as impossible—had been successfully cast. Yes, he had to rely on an external aid to do so, but wasn’t that the essence of the Occultist class? Just as he had in his previous life, Nick would embrace any and all methods, reaching into the darkest depths of magic while also grasping the brightest of lights.

A faint chiming sound filled his ears as several system messages flashed in his peripheral vision. He ignored them for now, too drained to focus on anything but the lingering exhilaration of his success.

"You know," a familiar voice cut through the haze, tinged with amusement, "if you wanted to show off, you could've waited until I got here."

Nick tilted his head to see Elia standing a few feet away, arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips. Her ears twitched in what he assumed was mock disapproval, but her tail swayed behind her, betraying her curiosity.

"How long have you been there?" he rasped, hoarse from the exertion.

"Long enough to almost be blown away," she replied, stepping closer. "That was impressive. Reckless, but impressive."

Nick sat up with a groan, wincing as he stretched his sore limbs. "It wasn't reckless. I knew exactly what I was doing."

"Sure you did," Elia said, her grin widening. "That's why you're covered in dirt and look like you just got thrown off a cliff."

Nick couldn't help but laugh; the sound was light and genuine despite his exhaustion. "Fine. Maybe just a little reckless."

Elia crouched beside him, her expression softening as she glanced at the scoured patch of earth where the spell had landed. "So, what was that? Some new spell you made up?"

"Something like that," Nick said, pulling the wyvern bone from his pouch and holding it up for her to see. She would have learned about it anyway once they asked Rhea to help turn it into a focus. Nick wouldn’t deny that his curiosity was still burning—if she had a more reliable way to make a fetish than submerging it in the blood of his enemies for a moon’s cycle, he’d take it.

Her eyes widened slightly as she examined the artifact, her tail flicking with interest. "Is that—?"

"A wyvern wing bone," he confirmed. "It's… let's just say it's been a very educational morning."

Elia shook her head, her smile equal parts exasperation and admiration. "You're insane, you know that?”

"Probably," Nick admitted, leaning back on his hands as he looked out over the fields.