“You’ve got no style,” Gyda said suddenly, just as we crossed over a modest little ravine that ran through our route to the dungeon. “That’s your biggest problem.”
“Huh?” I responded dumbly in surprise, belatedly realizing she was speaking to me.
Gyda nodded to herself, her face content as if she’d figured out a problem that’d been bugging her. “That’s what’s holding you back. You’re a mess of potential right now, but you've got nowhere to direct it. You’ve got good instinct and good movement. But you don’t have a style.”
I frowned in contemplation. “I don’t understand.”
Gyda paused for a moment, trying to come up with the words. “It’s like…ah, it’s like a candle's light.” Excitement colored her face as she landed on an example. “Imagine you’re like a candle right now, and the light you give off is your strength and skill.”
I nodded, following along but unsure of where she was going with it.
“Now see, when a candle is left out on its own, with no covering or anything, then its light radiates outward in every direction. So everywhere gets some light, but nowhere is the light as strong as it could be, because it’s spread out like it is.”
I nodded again. “I see.”...kinda.
“That’s what you are at the moment. You have a good foundation, good talent and potential, but you’re kind’ve all over the place. You use bombs, streams, blades – a very impressive arsenal of things with your flame, but at the end of the day, they’s is all over the place. You don’t have a style to focus your talent into.”
My face twisted as I thought hard, halfway to understanding what she was trying to tell me.
“See, if you wanted a candle to shine brighter on something, you’d cover up most of it, but leave a little hole for the light to come through. You’d focus the light on one spot, and doing that would make it much more powerful. Because, instead of wasting effort in a buncha different directions, it focuses its entire strength on one singular direction.”
Understanding dawned on my face, the realization clicking in my mind like a puzzle piece snapping into place. Immediately afterward, my foot snagged on an unearthed root, and I went sprawling – face-first – onto the dirt, much to the amusement of everyone else.
But I hardly cared, hardly even noticed that I’d fallen; the entirety of my mind was focused on the truth behind Gyda’s words. They had cleared away the fog that had layered my mind for so long – ever since the fight with the pirates, even. There’d always been a nagging feeling in my head that I wasn't using my flames to their fullest potential. I’d tried to solve the problem by making my flames as diverse as possible, trying to figure out how I wanted to use them. But, now, it seemed that had been the wrong direction for me.
“I see,” I said finally, as the group continued to make its way through the winding path in the forest. “But how do I pick a style? How do I know what fits with me?”
Gyda smiled at me. “Well, that’s something really only you can know for yourself. Now, the most common path for fire Elementals is similar to Tara’s – basically, they stand in the backline and rain Artes and flames on their enemies. But I’d be willing to bet that doesn’t appeal to you much, now does it?”
I shook my head vigorously.
“Exactly, and it shouldn’t. You’re far too good at close combat to sideline yourself to the back. But that puts you in an interesting place. See, most of the front-line fighters are Battle Mages, but the Elemental Mages that occasionally pick the front lines are almost always Earth or Ice or metal, something like that. Basically, something that's hard and moldable. Fire Elemental Mages usually have a hard time with brawling, ‘cause even though fire can hurt up close, there aren’t a lot of fire Artes that focus on close-up fighting. And most people – since they’ve had Artes for as long as they’ve been fighting – don’t really experiment with their flames as much as you have.”
Tara spoke up then. “You wouldn’t really know,” she said to me, “but what you’ve managed to accomplish with your flames is incredibly impressive. Innovation like that is something that’s very rare to see among Elemental Mages. Because they start out their training with set styles that have been made long before them, they don’t really see the need to get creative on their own. But that’s a problem, because only by playing with your element like that can you really understand it, and understanding your element is a crucial part of getting stronger.”
“So, does that mean that there’s no way for me to fight up close with fire?” I asked.
Gyda shook her head. “Not at all. After all, your imagination is essentially the only limit on the kind of style you want to pick. If you can figure out a way to make your flames work with you in close range, it’d make you leagues more dangerous in a fight. But the way you are right now, you’re only holding yourself back by trying so many different things. And on that note, what’s your plan with that little pole tied to your back? From what I can tell, it seems that you’d like to use it, but the style just doesn’t fit you, does it?”
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I grinned sheepishly at that, inwardly astonished that she’d managed to so easily read what I’d had trouble even putting into words for myself. “You’re right. I want to use it, but using a pole just doesn’t come naturally to me. It feels forced.”
Gyda nodded. “Exactly. That’s what anything that isn’t your style will feel like. I’m not sure why you want to use that pole, but you may have to abandon it if your style needs you to.”
I was silent at that, my mind working as I turned over her words in my head. She had a point, but I really could not see a future where I didn’t use the pole. The whole point of the pole was so that I could bring it with me wherever I went, after all.
“You could try those little bombs of yours,” Tara suggested, referring to the little pearl-sized bombs I’d first made against those pirates. “Making them a central part of your style would make you a very destructive fighter.”
I considered her words, before eventually shaking my head. “I’ve tried to use them in close combat, but it doesn’t really work. The force of the explosion affects me as much as my opponent when I’m fighting in that range.”
There was another silence as everyone walked. It was eventually broken by a new voice, one I didn’t recognize.
“Well, it might help to think of what kind of fighter you want to be first,” came a girlish voice, far too pitched for it to be from anything but a child.
Startled, I whipped around and found myself staring into the eyes of what I could only describe as a ghost. I’d never seen one before in my life – never had thought they were even real – but as I took in the strange wispy body before me, that was the only word I could come up with.
The ghost, whose form resembled, as I’d guessed, that of a child no older than nine, floated calmly over Galas’ shoulder, watching me with an amused expression. Her entire body was an icy blue color, cobbled together by wisps of cloud.
Beyond the strange, ethereal quality of her body, however, the girl was absolutely adorable. Her cheeks still held onto the chub of childhood, looking like perfect little spheres that rounded out her face into a circle. She had wide saucer eyes and a button nose, pigtails and a long flowing dress that fell past her feet. Long enough to have been a tripping hazard, had the little girl not literally been able to float.
And fly, too, I learned, as she floated over to me, taking in my shock with an adorably mischievous smile. “What? Never seen a spirit before?” she asked.
I shook my head, knocking myself out of my trance as I did. “Can’t say I have,” I said, a smile slowly coloring my face. With everything I’d been through, a mere ghostly child was hardly enough to throw me off. Now, it was simply a delight to see such a novel thing.
“Ah, I don’t believe you’ve been introduced, have you?” Najam said as he saw our interaction. “Ruby, this is Angel. Angel, Ruby.”
“Are you one of Galas’ spirits?” I asked. “You don’t look like you can fight much.”
The people gathered stifled laughter as Angel fixed me with a crossed look. “Of course I don't. I'm not a fighter. I’m not like those barbaric, lower realm spirits. I’m a higher spirit. I’m civilized.” The girl put her nose up as she spoke, but it was hard to take her seriously, given her childlike demeanour.
The girl flew back to where she appeared from, then, resting over Galas’ shoulder. “My job is far more important,” the girl declared. “I do the talking for Galas, here,” she said, “so that he doesn’t need to lower himself to your level.”
Galas immediately turned to the girl on his shoulder and gave her an admonishing look, which should have been difficult considering his eyes were still closed, but the idea still carried across effectively. Clearly, he’d had a lot of practice giving those looks, and I could imagine why.
“Fine, fine,” the girl quickly relented under Galas’ look. “Galas says that he’d love to talk to you guys if he could, but this is the next best thing. And he says that I have to apologize for what I said.”
I don’t think that counts for an apology, I thought to myself with a smile, but I didn’t bother pushing the idea. I’d taken no offense anyway – the girl was adorable in her arrogance.
“Anyway,” the girl continued on, “what Galas was actually trying to say was that you should consider the kind of fighter you want to be before picking your style. You say you want to be a close combat fighter, but even amongst them, there are differences. You could pick Ren’s style, which favors speed and precise movement, and aims to kill as quickly as possible. Or you could go Gyda’s route, which takes less skill in technique and is more centered around brute forcing your way through the enemy's defense.”
The girl paused for a second there, before sheepishly continuing. “Galas says he didn’t add the part about taking less skill. I was simply saying that because it’s true.” The girl paused again. “Galas says that’s not true, but I disagree. Anyway,” the girl said quickly, moving on before Galas could continue the silent, telepathic argument, “or you could be like Lionel, who uses his massive body to absorb tons of damage, and swing around his massive sword when he gets the chance.”
“Huh,” I said, considering the girl’s – or, I supposed, Galas’ – point. “That does make sense.” I was silent for another moment, when a thought suddenly occurred to me.
“Wait, you said that most Elemental Mages who fight up close usually have affinities with something hard and moldable, right?” I asked, turning to Gyda. “So is fire not able to become hard, if you compress it enough or something? Because those arrowheads I can make could cut through stuff.”
Gyda shook her head. “No, fire is able to turn hard, if the mage wielding it has enough practice and strength. And it’s easier for smaller things like those arrowheads you used, but the larger things get, the harder it gets to make them solid. That’s why it’s just easier for mages with harder affinities.”
“Hmm.” The wheels of my head were turning now, close to landing on an idea – I could feel it. The idea was just barely out of reach; I was only missing one piece of the puzzle, and once I had it, everything would snap into place.
Suddenly, Najam and Lionel, who were leading the group, came to a stop, forcing the rest to stop as well. I was dragged out of my thoughts as Najam shrugged off his bow and turned to face us.
“Alright, we’re here,” he said, a big smile on his face. To his side, Lionel unsheathed his greatsword from his back, unveiling its great silvery length before the world. And as my eyes took it in, that last piece finally fell into place, and all of a sudden, I knew exactly what I wanted to be.