Morning lectures were a bore as usual. Milvus droned on about combat tactics, his paper-like tentacles gesticulating in the air. But, today's lectures were more palatable than usual. Why? It's because he had time to goof off in the afternoon instead of practice. He had managed to learn his new skills in just one day instead of the scheduled two. Uchronia had given him a strict warning to follow the schedule so he'd play it safe and wait until tomorrow to pick up the training program instead of going ahead of schedule. What flawless logic!
After the usual morning lectures and lunch, rather than heading off to the classroom with Uchronia and Gus, Alwin headed back to the dorms alone.
"Where are you going?" asked Uchronia.
"Uh... stomach ache?" replied Alwin, voice rising at the end. Would she believe him? Well, he wasn’t technically lying. His stomach did hurt from overeating at lunch.
"Take care. Just remember to stick to the schedule."
Oh, he was definitely going to stick to the schedule. Absolutely. No doubt about it.
Alwin jumped onto his bed, pulling the covers around himself like a cocoon. They snuggled against his soft body. His eyes gazed up at the tiled ceiling of the dorm, as he began to think of what to do. Maybe he could find someone to hang out with. He scanned the classroom, hoping to find the salvation to his boredom. Zero, zilch, zip, nada, nothing. The only thing keeping him company were the beds that lined the walls.
Sleep? That sounded like a great idea. Alwin sealed his eyes shut, waiting for the sweet embrace of slumber to caress his weary body. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan kept him company as he tried to summon sleep. The fan's blades, made of some unknown material, pushed down cool gusts of wind, spinning round and round in a soothing rhythm.
Sleep? As much as he willed it, it would not come. Instead of slumber, Alwin found himself unable to doze off, tossing and turning. Frustrated, he glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes had crawled by, yet sleep refused to claim him.
If sleep didn't want him, then what was he supposed to do? Alwin found himself bored out of his mind. The silence was deafening, and the clock seemed to mock him with every tick. He groaned, flopping back onto his pillow, and stared at the ceiling, which offered no answers.
With all the free time in the world, he found himself a prisoner of paradise. Maybe he should defy her orders and jump ahead of the schedule. Blasphemy! His brain screamed, but his boredom screamed louder.
Suddenly, an idea sparked. Alwin sat up with a mischievous grin spreading across his face. That boring old schedule of Uchronia's? Sure, he'd stick with it but with a twist that she would never see coming. Oh, for today Alwin would learn the marvelous, illustrious, glorious, probably miraculous skill: Spirit Feet!
Alwin never had a chance to read the skill book at the library, thanks to a certain no-good leaf-wielding girl. The memory of that day still haunted him, a pang of guilt striking his heart. He could still see that poor, old book tumbling to the ground in slow motion, landing with a sad thud on the cold, unforgiving floor. The image of someone stepping on it by mistake made him wince. "Sorry, buddy," he muttered to the imaginary book, "hope you're dodging feet like a pro."
If the skill was anything like Spirit Hands, It was going to be a piece of cake, though definitely not the kind that Gus could eat.
Closing his eyes, Alwin zeroed in on his core. Inside, he readied his imaginary toolkit, preparing to sculpt his mana into the fabled Spirit Feet. In his core, a pair of mental hands sprang to life. They dove into the depths of his mana pool and dug up chunks of clay-like mana. With the raw materials now in hand, it was showtime. Time to craft his masterpiece!
Using his mental hands, Alwin dug into the clay-like mana, pinching, rolling, and squeezing it into the shape of feet. He rolled up five little toes, carefully carving out spots for the nails, then as a final touch he added a lumpy bulge where the ankle should be. It looked like something a kid had made, but hey, if it was good enough for the system to consider it a learned skill, it was good enough for him. With enough practice, they’d turn out more beautiful after each round of sculpting, just like his Spirit Hands had.
There was only one thing to do. Toss it out of his core with all of his might. The mental hands grabbed the pair of feet with a firm grip. Just as they were about to hurl the feet out of his core with all of their might, Alwin hesitated. Something felt wrong. The hands paused, rolling the feet around in their palms, giving Alwin a chance to scrutinize his creation. Other than the shoddy workmanship, the feet looked perfect. Then, Alwin realized why he felt that something was afoot.
The feet shouldn't be thrown out. They should be kicked out. Alwin dismissed the pair of mental hands, and in their place, a pair of mental feet appeared. They performed a couple of practice shots, kicking the mana pool causing splashes of mana to spray out before inevitably crashing back in like tiny little fireworks. When the feet were nice and warmed up, it was time to get serious. Time to give his creation the boot!
The mental feet got into position, standing next to the pair of Spirit Feet like soccer players eyeing a penalty kick. Alwin gave the command, mimicking a referee's whistle for kickoff. They pivoted around the ankle, winding up like a spring coiling. With a snap, the mental feet connected, sending the Spirit Feet flying straight for the walls of his core. It passed through the barrier and that all too familiar welling sensation boiled up in Alwin's throat. One of these days he would have to learn how to silent cast.
"Spirit Feet!" yelled Alwin.
A split second later, the pair of Spirit Feet materialized right in front of Alwin. They plopped onto the ground, awaiting commands from their master. Now came the most tedious part of the process: getting them to obey him.
Sweat dripped down Alwin's face as he struggled to control the Spirit Feet. Just trying to get them to wiggle their toes took a considerable amount of effort, he couldn't imagine how hard it would be to get them to walk. That would be a problem for future Alwin, present Alwin was dealing with the more immediate issue of toe wiggling.
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As the minutes ticked by, Alwin gradually wrestled control over the stubborn pair of feet, which had finally decided to cooperate—well, sort of. They wiggled their toes on command now, a small victory that felt monumental. But that wasn't all, they could even tiptoe now, albeit with the grace of a drunken ballerina. It was like trying to teach a newborn baby.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Alwin conquered his biggest hurdle yet: walking. The Spirit Feet staggered forward, stumbling, tripping, and bumbling their way to the bed frame. It was the epitome of ugly, but it worked, and that was all that mattered.
New Skill Learned: Spirit Feet (F)
Alwin summoned his Spirit Hands into existence and used them to grab a towel to dab the sweat off his body. Well, that was the plan. What actually happened was a disaster. The Spirit Hands struggled to fly in a straight line toward the cabinet, zigzagging and colliding like drunken birds. Mid-flight, they managed to crash into each other multiple times, turning the journey into a literal slapstick routine.
Even when they reached the cabinet, they couldn't get a grasp on the handle. They missed it entirely, hovering at the wrong height like a bunch of depth perception-challenged fools. After what felt like an eternity of fumbling, they managed to wrench the door open—only to yank out an entire stack of towels and hurl the whole bundle at Alwin.
This was a problem. The hands were working perfectly during lunch so why were they being so disobedient now? Alwin looked down at the mess that he had created. Standing atop one of the strewn towels on the floor, were his Spirit Feet. Was it because of them?
Alwin dismissed the pair of feet, watching them dissolve into a puff of magical particles. He mentally commanded the Spirit Hands to help him clean up the mess. To his surprise, despite the earlier protests, the hands moved without a hitch. They picked up the scattered towels, folded them, and stacked them back into the cabinet. Seems like the feet were the reason. Or was it?
"Spirit Hands!" yelled Alwin.
Another pair of blue spectral Spirit Hands appeared in front of him. Alwin issued both pairs a simple command: high-five each other. The hands flew towards one another, or at least attempted to. Like before, they wobbled and swayed like drunken sailors on a turbulent sea. Instead of a crisp high five, they fumbled, missing the mark and flying past each other like a couple of rowdy drunks.
Alwin dismissed the first pair of hands. Their blue light flickered, then faded into innumerous magical particles. Only the second pair remained in the air, idling around. With another mental command, he instructed them to high-five each other. Lo and behold they obeyed. And this time, they were spot on. They flew towards each other with perfect accuracy and without a millisecond of delay.
That confirmed it. Alwin lacked the ability to command more than one set of his skills at once. It was like whatever order he issued would get jumbled up causing the mess that he had seen earlier. Thankfully, there was a solution to his predicament. It was a simple matter that even a child could come up with. Practice.
Alwin summoned a second set of Spirit Hands and got to work. His tongue poked out between his lips as he focused all of his energy on the two pairs of Spirit Hands. The addition of just one more pair made controlling the original set exponentially more difficult. Still, he pressed on.
Sweat trickled down his forehead as he issued commands, giving both of them the same set of instructions: high fives, peace signs, fist bumps, finger guns, etc.
The longer he did this, the better they got. The hands were starting to heed his every whim with nary a shred of resistance. When he told them to high-five each other, both pairs came together with a resounding clap. When he instructed them to form peace signs, the fingers snapped into V-shapes. When he commanded them to fist bumps, they formed fists and collided together with a loud thud. And when he said finger gun, the hands pointed at each other, mimicking an old Western shootout, complete with pretend recoil.
Alwin soon expanded his training. From issuing the same commands to all four hands at the same time, he trained them to move independently from one another. One hand flashed a thumbs up, while the others performed different gestures: peace signs, finger guns, and even the occasional jazz hands. The training continued to increase in difficulty, with the number of simultaneous movements increasing. By the time Alwin was done, his whole body was drenched in sweat. His back had grown sore, but he felt accomplished.
Skill Mastery Increased: Spirit Hands(F) → Spirit Hands(E)
Alwin summoned a fresh towel with his now obedient Spirit Hands and dried himself off. They felt smarter, almost as if they had gone from a newborn babies intelligence to that of a toddler. Not much but noticeably different.
That was phase one of his impromptu training session. Onwards to phase two. After dismissing a pair of Spirit Hands, a pair of Spirit Feet took their place.
Just as Alwin had expected, the feet were equally uncooperative as the hands were earlier. The pair of feet stumbled as they tried to do a simple little jig, only to fall flat on their face. The hands fared slightly better, though not by much. When he commanded them to make a peace sign, the fingers drooped down limply instead of standing at attention, looking more like a pair of floppy bunny ears.
A low groan escaped Alwin's mouth, it looked like he had his work cut out for him. First, he would tackle the feet, then he'd deal with the hands. When that was taken care of, he'd work on controlling both hands and feet at the same time. Alwin repeated the same process of getting the feet to wiggle their toes, then tiptoe, then finally to walk. The same story unfolded. It was slow progress, but steady. The feet steadily progressed from flailing around like dying fish to doing a tippy tap dance.
With the feet taken care of, Alwin directed his efforts towards the hands. Much like the feet, they too required some serious love. Having to do this all over again was a serious pain, but there was no other way. He commanded them to perform various gestures, asking for a fist bump, a peace sign, a heart, and so on. At the start, the hands failed miserably. They collapsed into a heap on the ground, like a broken puppet. But with enough repetition, they too got the hang of it, though their movements were stiff and clumsy, like a rusted-up robot.
Each breath came in ragged gasps as if Alwin had just run a triathlon. This was the final hurdle: getting the feet and hands to work in tandem. Alwin stared at the feet. They stood still, waiting for his next order. His hands hovered at attention, awaiting the signal. This was the moment of truth. Would his hard work pay off, or was he doomed to spend the rest of the day practicing? His heart pounded as he took a deep breath, mentally commanding the feet and hands.
The feet took a step forward, followed by another and another, slowly but surely advancing. His hands twitched and jerked, shifting erratically until they settled in the positions that he wanted.
Success!
Now that he could control both hands and feet at the same time, albeit, rather shakily, the only thing left to do was practice. But, Alwin wanted to do something first. The feet walked back to Alwin, did an about-turn, and waited patiently for their master's orders.
With a cheeky little grin, Alwin hopped onto the Spirit Feet. It was like balancing on a tightrope, his body teetered and tottered, threatening to throw him off at any moment. Alwin inhaled deeply, steadying himself. Once he got used to the feeling of balancing atop a pair of feet, it was time to take things to the next level.
Alwin summoned the hands to his side, literally. The pair of Spirit Hands flew across the room, zipping past the beds, before finally attaching themselves to his sides. With this, his transformation was complete. Now he was Alwin, the spirit warrior, or whatever cool name he could come up with later. He struck a pose, feeling a rush of exhilaration as he imagined the epic battles and adventures that awaited him.
"Alwin! What are you doing?" came an angry shout.