Reds, oranges, and yellows streaked across the evening sky, painting the violet canvas in a vibrant blend of colors and hues as the sun bid farewell. On a normal day, I would be happy to bask in this glow and admire the beauteous sunset. But not this day, in the middle of an ocean some unknown distance from the closest landmass. And from what I could infer from all the magical screens, I was not on Earth anymore.

My thirst had been quenched over the past hour, with my mana dropping to the low 400s. I didn’t know the conditions for determining the rate of mana consumption, but it was clear that it wasn’t a linear calculation. I had used three times as much mana in the past hour than I had the entire afternoon preceding it. Constantly changing the phase of water was certainly a part of it, but I wondered if the level increase of my [Heat Transfer] skill was a component as well. And I was now fairly certain I could accelerate the reaction with [Mana Manipulation], and that could either have been a flat cost or a scaling one, requiring more mana the harder I pushed.

But now was not the time for such deliberations. They could wait until I was firmly established in a safe zone on land with a bounty of abundant resources. As it was, I had an important decision to make, and not enough information to make it.

Night was falling soon, and best as I could tell, there was no moon in sight. Not that it would always or even often be visible with the sun, but not seeing one was making me quite wary of the darkness to come. While I could attempt to sleep through the night and stay balanced on this wooden plank I called a raft purely for my state of mind, I would be a very vulnerable and exposed food source.

There had been no sign of life anywhere around me, but with how vast the ocean was and how limited my senses were, this was hardly a surprise. Still, I had to experience a night on this new world, assuming it was one. I had not completely ruled out the Superpowers Story or the Insanity Theory quite yet. For all I knew, come the cover of darkness, a legion of flying shark monsters would take to the skies and hunt down anything foolish enough to swim in their path.

Unlikely, but I couldn’t exactly discount it.

Anyway, scared of the night, just don’t sleep! Easy, right? Sure, except that then I would be asleep the next day instead. And if there were any rescue craft, or any other craft at all really, they would only be able to see me during the day. And I had the best chance of being spotted if I were waving and shouting at them than if I were just an idle piece of driftwood floating in the distance.

Two possibilities with incredibly unlikely scenarios attributed to them. But fret I did, because what else should I do? This was a decision that, while probably meaningless, could also determine the very shape — and most importantly, length — of my life.

The colors in the sky began to fade, the violet shades slowly turning black across the sky. Some of the brightest stars were beginning to peak through the dusk, signaling that my time was running short. I wondered whether the stars would be enough to see by, even without the presence of the Moon (or of a moon). Somehow, I doubted it.

If it was too dark to even see, then there would be no point in staying awake to begin with. On one hand, this made my decision an easy one. On the other hand, I didn’t like not having a choice. I needed to see if there was a way to generate light.

I didn’t have a flashlight, so the only way I could conceivably generate light was to start a fire. To start a fire, I would need two things: an ignition source and something to sustain the flame. The ignition source was somewhat settled — if my [Heat Transfer] skill could boil water, it could suitably heat a scrap of cloth or lock of hair. But I didn’t have enough of either to sustain the flame through the night, and I wasn’t keen on sacrificing the raft either. What else did I have on me?

The handful of salt, a lot of seawater, and maybe mana, if it could manifest externally. As a quick test, I tried to use [Mana Manipulation] to gather some mana in the palm of my hand and conjure up a flame or light ball. Nothing happened. It was difficult to move my mana past the boundary of my skin, and I didn’t know if that was a hard rule or simply a result of being at the first level.

At least I knew I could use mana to influence things beyond my direct touch. Amid the countless freezing and boiling of water, my [Heat Transfer] skill had leveled up.

Skill Advanced: Heat Transfer Lv. 2 —> Level 3

Heat Transfer Lv. 3 — Transfer heat on a 1:3 ratio between yourself and a target you are in close proximity with.

While a nice upgrade, it hadn’t exactly been useful at the time. I still needed to cup the water in my hand to boil it since the ocean was simply too big a target. Ultimately, nothing changed except my understanding of the skill, and I still didn’t have anything I’d be willing to set on fire.

Sigh. The air was not flammable, the salt was not flammable, and the water was not flammable. Everything was nonflammable except the things I had a scarcity of.

Or…was it? An idea came to mind; an absurd one, but an idea nonetheless. Water may not be flammable, but part of it was. That part being hydrogen. Hydrogen gas was definitely flammable, and liquid hydrogen was literally used as rocket fuel. Oxygen wasn’t flammable itself but could help start fires. Could I somehow use mana to separate the two?

I eyed my 417/1597 mana which had not gone up at all in the time I had been resting. I hoped this wasn’t a finite resource, or that I would find some way to restore it soon if it was. The utter convenience of being able to create drinkable water in the middle of the ocean was not something I wanted to lose. Should I risk spending possibly the last of mana on the off chance of creating a light I may not need?

The sun was now dipping below the horizon, the colors heralding its departure now fading to the night. Already was my vision hampered, the distance I could see across the ocean greatly diminished. Soon it would be too dark for me to see even the water touching my raft. Upon consideration, I realized that my decision came down to two choices. Trust in the pitch-black ocean to see me safely through the night, or trust in myself to solve each problem as it came.

I chose to trust in myself.

Water was two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen, though the oxygen atom was a lot larger than the hydrogen atoms. I didn’t exactly know a lot of chemistry, but I did remember there existing a process for separating the hydrogen and oxygen within water into their constituent gases. Not from university, but from a grade school science fair. All the demonstration needed was a cup of water, salt, a battery, and two paper clips.

The setup required saltwater — which was convenient for me — because saltwater was electrically conductive. The battery provided a voltage source to drive the flow of current and the paper clips or other conductive wires were used to connect the positive and negative terminals of the battery to the water. When this water-based circuit was complete, electricity would flow in a loop from the battery to the positive wire, from the positive wire through the water to the negative wire, and then back through the battery. The hydrogen and oxygen atoms would separate in the presence of the electric current, floating up as gas bubbles around the negative and positive wires respectively.

I had saltwater, and I had already had a method to capture this gas. The ice I was very familiar with using was buoyant, and the hydrogen gas wouldn’t be able to escape into the water below it. If I could control where the hydrogen bubbles would emerge, I could store them in my hollow ice bricks, which I could now maintain at a low temperature from a short distance. Then, when needed I could transfer heat from my body directly to the hydrogen gas and ignite it. The ice was transparent so I would be able to see the glow even without melting it.

My only question now was whether I could use mana as a substitute for electricity. I cupped another handful of water in my pruned hands, closed my eyes, and focus my mana once again. This time, however, I thought not of the heat of fire but of the shock of lightning. Instead of vibrating atoms represented by temperature, I imagined buzzing electrons represented by charge. Electrons were fast, instantaneously popping from one location to the next. In their quantum state, they were impossible for me to understand. So I didn’t try. I simply accepted their strangeness and asked them to move as I wanted. Electricity was not something controlled. Electricity was guided. We created pathways, and the electrons would follow.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

So I did just that. In my mind, with my mana, I envisioned a track for the electrons to trace through the water. A loop that originated at my right thumb and traveled through the water to my left then continued through the inside of my hands back to my right thumb. At first, the mana resisted me. It did not want to conform to the unfamiliar directions I had given. But I didn’t force it or push any harder. For a reason I could not explain, I was confident. Perhaps my familiarity with magic had increased enough to grant me some degree of intuition, or perhaps my singular success with [Heat Transfer] had made me arrogant.

Either way, my approach was soon vindicated. The path shifted, becoming more wavy and complex. It was dynamic and ever-changing, constantly adapting to the fluid conditions of the water and my own flesh and blood. I felt a new energy converge in my core and join what I associated with heat. It was stunning.

With a start, I felt the connection complete and a burst of mana jolted through my hands. I opened my eyes in time to see a scattering of bubbles emerge right where I had intended near my thumbs. There were twice as many hydrogen bubbles as oxygen bubbles, which made sense seeing as water contained that very ratio. A moment later, the expected translucent blue box appeared.

Skill Advanced: Mana Manipulation Lv. 1 —> Lv. 2

Skill Acquired: Electrolysis Lv. 1

Mana Manipulation Lv. 2 — Channel mana to enhance a skill cast by the user.

Electrolysis Lv. 1 — Apply an electric potential of 5 volts through a target in direct contact or connected via any single conductive material.

And just like that, a new skill was acquired. Maybe acquiring magic skills was easy in this world? Or maybe I was getting a boost for starting from scratch. In any case, I would be glad for the phenomenon and continue with my experiment.

I crafted an ice brick from the water in my hands and hollowed it out once more, though now with the hole off-center to make it easier to position over the rising hydrogen bubbles. That complete, I scooped up some more water and quickly used [Electrolysis] to separate the hydrogen and fill the ice. The trick this time, since the hydrogen would not cool down into a liquid, was to submerge the tip of the makeshift container slightly so the water served as an additional barrier to prevent the gas from escaping. I couldn’t tell how quickly the ice was filling, but I didn’t think I’d need to wait too long for my first test.

After a few minutes of watching bubbles rise, I decided I’d had enough and froze the water surface right where the opening to the ice was, sealing it off. Having control over the target from a distance also gave me better-localized control, which was a very nice feature. Then, I focused on the space within the ice where I expected the hydrogen to be and invoked [Heat Transfer] with full force.

Nothing happened. Had the skill failed? I felt the flow of energy into the ice, but there was no light. I raised my hands to take a closer look and spotted some faint evidence of melted ice. Had the flame just died so quickly that maybe I blinked and missed it?

Okay, what else did I remember about fire? I knew hydrogen definitely burned. Hydrogen fuel was what got humanity to the Moon. But what was I missing?

Oh, right! The oxygen! I’d even noted it earlier — oxygen helps with combustion. If I just added a second slot so that the oxygen and hydrogen would rise up and filled the hollowed ice brick, then that should be visible this time. I hoped.

I crafted a new ice brick, this time creating holes to the left and right of the center. I wasn’t too concerned about either gas pushing the other out. Both would first eject any regular air from the inside out through the water, and I could see the bubbles leaving the system. At some point, the air would be gone and the gas would start to mix. I didn’t have very fine control over the exact ratios, but hopefully the estimated 2:1 hydrogen-oxygen formulation was useful for this.

When I was done with the second brick, I closed it off and once again invoked [Heat Transfer] to provide thermal energy to the internal chemistry. In moments, the energetic compound flashed with a burst of light before just as quickly dying.

Success! Sort of! My experiment was a qualified victory, but still a victory nonetheless. I confirmed that I remembered properly how to harvest hydrogen and oxygen from water, which could prove very useful. I confirmed that hydrogen does burn and then I could ignite it with [Heat Transfer]. But what I forgot is that hydrogen burns quickly. What little I had managed to capture disappeared in a flash. This would not work for a sustained night light.

Still, I had little alternative, and maybe I didn’t exactly need a sustained light. I could prepare as many hydrogen bulbs as I could before my mana ran too low to light them and then light them as needed if I heard something approach. A compromise.

I spent the rest of the evening freezing ice bricks and electrifying the water to fill them. Fortunately, my improved range on [Heat Transfer] coupled with the “conductive path” requirement on [Electrolysis] meant that I could create multiple hydrogen bulbs in parallel. The range was limited to a small ellipse surrounding my raft and I had to focus on imagining a very detailed multi-node electrical path, but it sped up the process considerably and allowed me to create and hopefully fill twenty of these icy creations. I made the walls thicker this time to prevent them from melting overnight, not needing nearly as much internal volume this time since there was no chance I’d fill them as they were before.

After carefully positioning the bulbs in front of me as I sat cross-legged on my raft, I finally rested my eyes and settled in for the long night. The sun was now completely gone and my visibility was nulled. Maybe these lights would help, or maybe they wouldn’t. I doubted I would be able to see far at all with only a flash of light, but didn’t regret the effort. I had a new skill I could play around with tomorrow.

And tomorrow would surely come. Just after this calm, relaxing night.

I closed my eyes, and let my fatigue wash over me.

Time for a well-deserved rest.

Time to sleep.

*splash*

I jumped up, nearly tipping over the raft, and swiveled over toward where I heard the noise. After hours of hearing nothing but my thoughts, with not even a single splash of the water against the raft, I could easily distinguish this sound from the rest. Something was out there. Something new.

I listened intently, and seconds passed into minutes. Still, I waited, unmoving, unrelenting. I knew what I had heard, and I would not let it catch me off guard.

Still nothing. The sound of my breathing seemed remarkably pronounced, and my accelerated heartbeat pulsated rapidly in my ears. I channeled my mana toward the closest of my ice bulbs. Time to see if this worked.

[Heat Transfer] invoked, followed shortly by a blaze of light that flared over the near waters. The light was not pronounced enough to reach the horizon, nor was it prolonged enough to get a detailed view of the surrounding waters.

But it was enough to catch the silhouette of a certain oblong object peeking out above the water’s surface. And now that my brain knew what to look for, it was filling in the gaps.

That fish-shaped gap jumped straight toward me. Startled, I swung my arm as if to bat it away. A mistake.

Two rows of pointed teeth emerged, somehow clearly visible in the moonless night, and bit down. “Argh!” I shouted in pain and batted the foot-long fish against my leg to knock it free. It leaped back into the water, but I knew it hadn’t left entirely. Not when it already tasted my blood.

I cradled my bleeding arm, wincing at the pain but knowing there was naught I could do but fight through it and prepare for Round Two. This was far from over.

A quick scan of the surrounding waters failed to reveal the silhouette again. It was difficult, and my eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness. I knew that igniting another hydrogen bulb would prolong that adaptation but hopefully, it would do the same to the fish, and I needed to know where it was before getting caught off guard again.

I used [Heat Transfer] on a second bulb and swiftly searched in the direction the fish had jumped. Nothing was visible this time, but I focused intently waiting for it to emerge. Except, I forgot one important fact.

Fish could swim underwater.

Splashing water sounded behind me, and I ducked as I pivoted around to see my assailant. A glowing ring of white daggers flew toward my face like the business end of a football. On instinct, I clapped my hands on either side and squeezed. The fish squirmed and flexed its jaw, biting at my hands and wrists. I held it at bay long enough to remember my new skill and cast [Electrolysis] between my hands. I waited for the electric shock to kill the fish, but some more violent wrangling soon indicated it hadn’t worked. Level 1 must not give me enough voltage.

I intended to switch to [Heat Transfer] when another splash alerted me to my left. I spotted another round silhouette a split second before its mouth opened to reveal its glowing teeth. Lacking a free hand, I did the only sensible thing I could think of and threw the fish in my hands at it.

Or rather, I [Threw] it. Completely forgetting about the mundane skill on my status until now, I activated the skill seemingly by muscle memory. Mana channeled through my arms and accelerated the fish far faster than what a quick flick at point-blank range would be capable of.

My involuntary projectile slammed into the oncoming fish with an audible clap and pushed it back just enough so they both fell into the water. I gasped for breath, the adrenaline pumping my blood quickly in the excitement. Blood trickled out my right arm, and I considered taking my shirt off to wrap it around the wound.

But I needed more information first. I grabbed four ice bulbs and tossed them off the raft in the four cardinal directions (or my best guess thereof). Then I spun slowly in place, igniting each bulb in succession as I faced it. This gave me about three seconds of cumulative vision, the light from the next flame flaring as the previous burned out. What I saw took what confidence I’d built straight away.

Dozens of fish heads protruded from the ocean surface in all directions, their eyes reflecting the dying embers of my icy candles. I paused, not wanting to provoke them into further action. I waited, hoping against hope that they would turn tail and swim away.

The fish did not flee. They leaped.