CHAPTER 12

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The forest was still as the early morning mist curled around the trees. I stood alone in the clearing, the mask in my hand, feeling its rough texture between my fingers. It had been days since I started wearing it, and each time I slipped it on, it felt more like a part of me. The mask wasn’t just a tool to hide my identity—it was a reminder of everything the hermit had been trying to teach me. Control. Restraint. Patience.

As I slipped the mask over my face, the familiar feeling settled in—a mix of anonymity and power. Behind the mask, I wasn’t just Niv, the boy driven by revenge. I was something more. I was becoming someone calculated, someone who could wait for the right moment to strike.

I had started to speak less in training, listening more to the hermit’s instructions. Not that the fire of my ambition had lessened, but there was something satisfying in mastering each small detail of the magic. It made me sharper. The days of rushing, demanding more, felt further behind me now, though there were still moments when impatience stirred within me.

The hermit approached quietly, as he always did, his expression calm as ever. “You’ve made progress,” he said, eyeing me carefully. “But today, we’ll see if you’ve learned to apply control when it matters.”

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask for more details. I had learned that with the hermit, explanations weren’t always immediate. He expected me to figure things out on my own.

Without another word, he waved his hand, and the ground beneath us shifted. Rocks and boulders rose from the earth, forming a jagged, uneven battlefield. This wasn’t going to be a simple lesson.

I narrowed my eyes behind the mask, already sensing the Aetheric Flow shifting around us. I could feel the air grow dense with energy, the ground trembling slightly as if waiting for me to make the first move.

The hermit watched me closely, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. I could feel what this was. He wanted me to test everything I’d learned—not just raw power, but how I used it. How I controlled it.

I took a deep breath, reaching out with my senses, feeling the Flow, the energy beneath the surface. Patience, I reminded myself. Don’t rush.

I raised my hand, and the air shifted immediately, responding to my will. But instead of pushing the wind forward in a blast like I once would have, I focused on control. The wind moved slowly, twisting in a spiral around me, as if waiting for my command. I could feel the pull of the magic, the power thrumming just beneath the surface, but I didn’t force it. Not yet.

The hermit nodded slightly, his approval subtle but there. “Good. You’re learning to hold back.”

He raised his own hand, and a gust of wind rushed toward me, sharp and fast. But I was ready. Analyze.

My mind worked instantly, breaking down the trajectory, the force of the attack. I didn’t need to dodge completely—just adjust. With a slight flick of my wrist, I shifted the wind around me, dispersing the attack before it could hit.

The hermit didn’t pause. He sent a wave of rocks toward me, the ground cracking beneath my feet. But I wasn’t overwhelmed. I was calm, focused. I called on the earth beneath me, sending up a pillar of stone to intercept the attack, the rocks colliding mid-air and shattering.

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“You’re holding back, but you’re still reacting,” the hermit said, his voice steady. “What have I told you about control?”

I gritted my teeth behind the mask. I knew what he meant. He wanted me to think ahead, to control the battlefield, not just react to it.

I lowered my hands, feeling the Flow shift around me again. This time, I didn’t wait for the hermit’s next attack. I reached out with my magic, not to strike, but to manipulate. The ground beneath us shifted subtly, the earth softening in places, hardening in others. I felt the wind pick up, swirling in a slow circle around the clearing, creating a controlled vortex.

The hermit moved to attack again, but I was already ahead of him. Slip. I shifted the earth beneath his feet, causing him to stumble just slightly, but it was enough. I used the moment of imbalance to send a wave of water rushing toward him, the stream nearby surging with my command.

But I didn’t overdo it. I didn’t try to overwhelm him with sheer power. The water was controlled, precise, cutting off his escape without drowning the battlefield in chaos. I was in control.

The hermit sidestepped the water easily, but I could see the slight nod of approval as he did. I had anticipated his movement, guiding him into exactly where I wanted him.

“Better,” he said, his tone quieter now. “You’re thinking ahead. But can you maintain it?”

I didn’t respond. I was focused, my mind calculating every possible move. The ground beneath the hermit shifted again, but this time I wasn’t trying to knock him off balance. I used Slip in a subtler way, creating small shifts in the earth that made his footing uneven. He wouldn’t fall, but it would slow him down. That was control.

The wind picked up again, and I used it to my advantage, creating a funnel that restricted the hermit’s movement. He could move, but only in the direction I wanted him to. I was controlling the battlefield now, not just reacting to it.

The battle continued for what felt like hours. Each move I made was more calculated, more deliberate. I wasn’t trying to overpower him anymore. I was controlling the flow of the fight, predicting his movements, anticipating his reactions. And the more I focused, the more natural it felt.

But there were moments when the old habits surfaced. I could feel the temptation to push harder, to unleash more power, but every time the thought crossed my mind, I remembered the hermit’s lessons. Control, not force. Patience, not recklessness.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the hermit raised his hand, signaling the end of the battle. I lowered my arms, my body tense but not exhausted. I had held back. I had maintained control.

The hermit approached, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve improved,” he said simply, but I could hear the approval in his tone. “You’re learning to manipulate the battlefield, not just dominate it.”

I nodded, though my mind was still racing. This wasn’t just about combat anymore. It was about everything—how I approached the Flow, how I controlled the magic around me, how I handled myself.

“You still have much to learn,” the hermit said, his eyes locking onto mine. “But you’re starting to understand. Control isn’t just about power. It’s about knowing when to act, and when to wait.”

I met his gaze, the mask hiding my expression, but inside, I felt the truth of his words. I wasn’t the same person I had been when I first met the hermit. I was changing, slowly, but surely. My tone had softened, my temper had cooled, and I was beginning to see the value in waiting for the right moment.

For the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of calm. It wasn’t the calm of complacency, but the calm of knowing that I was becoming stronger—not just in power, but in control. And I wasn’t in a hurry anymore. I could wait. Patience was a weapon too.

That night, as I sat by the fire with the mask still on, I reflected on everything I had learned. The demon was still out there, but I wasn’t as desperate as I had been. I would face it when the time came, and when I did, I would be ready. Not because of my power, but because of my control.

I was learning to wait, and I was becoming stronger for it.