“Magic is the fundamental element of energy,” he thinks as he attempts to use his natural affinity toward light magic.
Elena uses simple yet straightforward punches and blows that sometimes seem rather erratic to symbolize light magic. Explosive, dynamic, and unpredictable is all there is to Elena’s movements yet all Florence is trying to do is copy Elena to absolute perfection wondering why it won’t work with him.
“It’s all about chaos so be chaotic!”
“That’s easier said than done!”, he thinks. All he does is overthink about even the most trivial things. All he does is go overboard in strategizing when a far more obvious answer is right in front of him.
Instead of letting him figure it out himself, Elena confronts him directly without a doubt in mind.
“There is no form you need to adhere to and even if there was, I wouldn’t know anything about it. Stop doing as told and do as you please. Stop trying to be predictable and do what I can’t predict. Just stop thinking, remain empty, and do anything other than think.”
The two of them are resting on a planet of cloudy yet blue skies, a warm summer breeze, the ocean at their feet, grasslands with one lone massive tree, and ominous mountains far out in uncharted lands. This domain’s nature is that of emptiness.
All he can think of is giving up and lying down gazing at the clouds above. He wishes he could empty his mind but he’s never had the chance to just relax and not overthink. Can he ever be relaxed? Will his body ever stop being tense?
Lying down next to him, Elena can’t help but be as frank and as honest as possible.
“There’s another one just like you. His problem is the fact that he struggles with thinking for something he hasn’t prepared for. His mind becomes empty when he’s met with the unexpected. For a while I was just like you, indecisive, constantly worried about something and more. It took me a while, with Prometheia’s help, to get as far as I did. No one… At least I’m not expecting you to just grasp these things from day one.”
His body relaxes as a subconscious fear of his is lifted off his shoulders. A cloud passes over the two of them shading them from sunlight. The weight lifted off his shoulders is so great that he falls asleep shortly after that. Absolute relaxation feels strange and foreign to a person as anxious and stress-driven as him.
“How long was I out?”, he asks as he wakes up in a hammock.
“Like four hours maybe?”, she replies as she’s knitting something. With her is a stand on top of which is a half-empty glass of water.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get right back to trying.”
Creating a solid path made out of threads, she guides him away from her location towards an island he can barely spot. All alone on a lifeless island only consisting of sand, he wonders just how much longer it will take until he can use magic. Going back to being just as frustrated as he was before taking a nap, he grovels and grumbles.
By the time he attempts to give up, the path has been long gone. Trying to lay down in sand far more coarse than any other, he can’t help but feel like he is about to snap. An attempt at escaping via flight is made but to no avail as a blow of wind sent him crashing back into the island. An attempt is made at escaping via swimming only to be chucked out of the sea by a violent wave. Both attempts ended with him having a face full of sand.
Florence faces the way he came from.
He takes in a deep breath.
“I HATE THIS!”
A single line shrieked with absolute fury is enough to unleash what is his power: raw power. Elena, blinded by looking his direction comes face to face with a nuclear blast. Her regenerative capabilities fix her eyesight before the blast wave can hit her precious beach. Countering the wave of death by erecting a barrier of threads around the coastline, she experiences the sheer might of raw power without control.
In the midst of it stands Hyperion, the boy that had brought forth this deadly attack. Immediately after the blast, he falls to his knees having exhausted his powers. Elena barely staved off the heat and the blast. Her creating a massive dome impenetrable enough to assure that none of the heat, waves, or shockwaves sent her way took a lot more out of her than she thought it would.
“Prometheia,” she says rather dumbfounded.
Her little friend appears as a dove coming into existence out of thin air.
“Put a ring on him until he’s stable enough to use this… thing.”
The dome merges with Elena. Absorbing them, the threads the dome consists of, back into her body through her arms, she wonders how she should approach this situation.
Day 2 he returns still trying to process what happened the day before. He’s trying to empty his mind yet all he can think of is putting himself down for having the audacity to use powers that aren’t as easy to use with incredibly deadly might. On top of that, his eye seems to have a strange zoom in function where he’ll spontaneously start seeing things kilometers away with absolute clarity.
“Why does it have to be a nuke? Why couldn’t it have been anything else like talking to animals or something like that! Saving someone and helping others… As if!”
Frustrated and confused, he’s invited in by Elena. Guiding him straight into her living room, she presents snacks she left on a table. In an attempt to take his mind off things and avoid being told that he’s forbidden from using magic ever again, he decides to strike up a conversation about her life up to now.
“I’ve been wondering, why would you choose to live in a house when you live alone?”, he asks.
“Houses are nice because I don’t have to interact with noisy neighbors or loud assholes that blast music. Spending time in my garden is also quite nice and it’s so much easier to store things. I have so much more space for clothes and buying yarn and all that kinda stuff. If I wanted to, I could try playing an instrument.”
His attempt at making conversation just leaves him bitter and jealous. Right now, his emotions are going haywire as everything he had bottled up for years attempts to resurface in ways he can’t explain. Relaxing yesterday and that unfathomable failure of what was supposed to be the magical discovery of his innate powers, leave him unsatisfied and ready to unleash every emotion known to man.
“Could I live somewhere like this too?”, he asks himself as his feelings accumulate into a sense of melancholy.
“A coffee table with all kinds of magazines, snacks, a comfy beige rug, gray sofas facing a TV, more box shelfes that add decor through the use of plants, magazines, and books, a fan located right next to the couch,… She has everything one could want. Could I ever have all that?”
“Well, about yesterday…”
He panicks on the inside as he awaits her judgement.
“You did great!”, she lies as naturally as she breathed. Elena will do anything to keep a new friend.
His eyes light up. Praise is something he isn’t particularly used to.
“But you do need to tone it down. No one needs a Tsar Bomba. What we need are far more refined attacks that can help your team in battles.”
Prometheia appears once again as a ferret carrying a bracelet within its mouth. The bracelet consists of a several black crosses that aren’t held together yet remain as one bracelet. Each cross seems to have its own white crescent moon where their symmetrical axis lies. Dropping right onto the coffee table next to the snacks, he’s expected to have it on at all times.
“This bracelet is a gadget we use to help rookies deal with their shortcomings when it comes to releasing magic. These Anti-Outburst-Bracelets (AOB) have enough storage to tank a hundred Tsar Bombas before they break and let loose of the energy within. I think a demonstration would be best.”
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Her living room and everything within it turns into threads that slowly spin out of existence to reveal Elena’s domain.
“Unleash your magic right now,” she demands.
“Are you sure?”
“Just do it.”
This time, he snaps his fingers multiple times in an attempt to unleash light magic. All it does is tire him out more and more. Unlike yesterday, one attempt isn’t enough to knock him out. Instead, all he does is tire himself out as he releases magic in smaller amounts that don’t bring harm to him.
“How come I’m still awake?”, he asks.
Prometheia disappears once again before Elena could tell her to explain what is going on.
“Releasing magic for the first time is much more intense as you’re still learning how to finetune your newfound skill. Usually, it’s all on a spectrum where some may release little to no magic while others release most of what is in their reservoir. Rarely do people go as far as release as much as you did. At least now that you know what it feels like, learning should be so much easier.”
“Then what do I do from here?”
“Try to go as small as you possibly can. Try to understand how you feel when releasing magic, why you feel that way and what it does to you. Now leave.”
Once again, she sends him off to that island he had burnt down. A massive crater can be seen from afar as his eyesight worsens once again making him zoom into the spot where he stood on when he unleashed that blast. Now buried underwater, all he can do is move further inland and pray that it works.
“I think this should be enough.”
His first attempts are made with his eyes closed. It almost feels as if his whole body is pulsing. The pulses are disrupted and lead towards the bracelet. AOBs seem to be incredibly durable and incredibly useful. He wonders whether or not they are used outside as a potential energy source.
“I can somewhat pinpoint how it feels to use this power. Answering why and what is probably going to be much harder.”
This time, he decides that he should knock on his right leg to test his output of magic. He can feel just one pulse of magic that quickly travels up his leg. Feeling himself getting tired, he still decides to push himself further at the risk of his well-being. Every knock can be used to release magic draining him to the point of knocking him out once again.
Waking up once again several hours later on an empty stomach that needs to be filled, he simply pushes himself even more. This time, he’s using snaps. With varying intensity, he can achieve differing levels of pulses. He’s starting to grasp how magic is released and pinpoints it down to just flexing a muscle. He still has to get used to the pulses as they may distract him in battle.
“I know I’m supposed to test magic but I can attempt to fly on my relic. If I can use magic while on it, I won’t have to worry all that much about using magic in moderation while fighting.”
His first attempt at flight is a rather simple one. Since he still needs his fingers to accurately control his relic, he struggles with lifting himself off his feet. A meter above ground with one hand on his key, he attempts to fly only to be shaken off by hastily made commands. After about half an hour, he can finally take off at a brisk pace.
Balancing on top of the relic is still far from attainable as all he can do for now is hold onto it. His next step is spinning it out of control to test his ability to regulate himself under stress. Slipping off a few times before he can attempt to even cast his first pulse, he manages to master holding on after a good ten minutes of getting battered.
The last thing that could get in the way of his training is his eyesight. As such, he’ll have to just believe in himself and close his eyes without knowing what he may spin into. Off hope and feeling alone, he releases a light blast from just his finger under the stress of holding onto the relic.
“I did it!”, he yells right before being flung off.
Landing with absolute success, he’s confident enough to take off the bracelet and attempt his first controlled blast. His fingertips alone are enough to bring a massive amount of deaths if unleashed in public. The first stunt he pulls off is a blast strong enough to rival a grenade but without the shrapnel.
“Woah! But I still have to get down to the "light" part. If mine is pure then I surely can become a flashlight, right?”
“Pure light, explosions akin to the sun, super vision… I should have a name befitting that!”
“One with the stars, Hevelius?”, he says speaking to himself. Under the assumption that no one is watching, he indulges in vivid fantasies and joyful banter.
“Nukleus, the blessed sunchild? Starchild, Aster? God’s grace, Giovanni? Maybe something more godly like Helios? One of the twelve, Hyperion? Relic destroyer, Shenshoujing?”
Prometheia appears behind him as if she had come into existense out of thin air simply inspecting him while remaining weary.
“How long have you been here?”, he asks rather flustered.
“I was just wondering what you’re doing but I’ll leave you to it.”
“No wait! Out of all the names I may or may not have said just now while supposedly talking to myself, which one’s the best?”
She steps closer.
“I’m torn between Hyperion, Giovanni, and Hevelius. Maybe Elena could pick between those three?”
With greater mastery over his relic, he attempts to mount it like a witch would mount a broom while inviting Prometheia to ride along. Though uncertain as to how much she can trust Florence, she believes that she can at least sit on the other end while staring at him to ensure her safety.
The whole ride, though at times bumpy, went rather good. Though there was this awkward aura of mistrust Prometheia was emitting the entire flight, she seems to have confidence in his abilities.
“Never thought the two of you would come here together! Prometheia is rather distrustful of-”
“I’m not your pet so stop treating me like one!”, she hisses at Elena before Elena could finish her sentence.
Elena, smirking, snaps her fingers inquiring on the skills Florence has gained so far. Putting on sunglasses, while creating a metallic box only she could fit in that only exposes her eyes, she wonders about the damage he could deal to her and her paradise.
The first stunt Hyperion pulls off is just one simple explosion even weaker than the one before. As small as his finger tip, it only creates a draft that barely sets their clothing into motion but still enough heat to be felt if ever so slightly.
His second stunt is flight while triggering an explosion at high speeds. Slipping off and crashlanding, the next explosion is significantly stronger yet too weak to cause more than a few casualties in a residential building. It at best could set a building ablaze, weaken its foundation and shatter windows.
“Hmm… You’re pretty capable and seem to pick up quickly. Your affinity obviously helps with that. Still, for half a day’s worth of training, you’ve come quite far. Do you want to train some more, even if mentally taxing?”
“I’ll train some more! I think I can handle it!”
“You’re way too excited for the state you’re in. You should rest and stop exhausting yourself,” she states.
No amount of enthusiasm can help one power through exhausting excersises. If she, from day one, put in as much effort as Florence is putting in right now, she would be too drained to deal with anything unrelated to training.
“But I guess there’s a little more I can teach you before we rest. I can’t have you going into battle without something to defend yourself with.”
“But my key-”
“Your key’s defensive capabilities mostly depend on your magic. That’s where your spirit comes in!”, she announces with grandeur.
Holding out her right arm, she has him watch as her skin turns into a yellowish white. Pinching herself with her left as hard as she possibly can, she feels no pain and no marks are left behind. Going through the same process on her left arm, a light mark that fades away shortly after appears on her arm.
“As you can see, there’s a clear difference that showcases an increase/decrease in your defensive capabilities.”
With a sudden kick to the stomach he couldn’t anticipate, she sends him flying as he painfully vomits midflight.
“Sadly, I don’t know of any other way to make you learn how to harden, so we’ll have to make do with that. Give me a thumbs down if you need a break.”
A thumbs up to signify his willingness to suffer… Her next strike is one straight to the chest where he feels as if he is dying. His breath becomes far too irregular and the inability to breath as he gasps for air is cruel yet he pushes for more still trying to anticipate the next attack.
Barely, he blocks the next attack by crossing his arms and shielding himself from her next attack. Still, he could feel his bones breaking. His pain tolerance has gone up thanks to all the abuse he has put himself through the last 48 hours yet his brain is still being flooded by pain obstructing his ability to strategize and think. Once again, she goes for his stomach, but this time, with a jolt, he lessens the impact.
Elena can tell that his lack of heaving and vomit means that he has hardened in a way. Lifting his shirt, he stares at the slowly receding white patch. He succesfully avoided taking more damage than necessary yet feels incredibly fatigued both mentally and physically.
“Two more for good measure!”, he musters up with a broken smile.
One thing he wants to inspect is how she attacks. By witnessing her first strike, he realizes that she uses controlled leaps to dash forward without touching the ground before delivering a blow. Before she can strike a second time, he uses his relic to catch her offguard and flip her into the sand. Exhausted, he collapses into the sand as she gets a face full of it. He took an extra blow just to embarass her in front of Prometheia. The last thing he hears is the muffled laugh stemming from his little companion.
An hour later, he awakens fully patched up yet still a little exhausted. He considers himself the victor as he sends a smirk her way. She pouts and huffs before unleashing a storm to burry him under sand.