As dawn broke over the horizon, the desert came alive with an array of muted colors. Hues of ochre and burnt sienna painted the sand, a stark contrast to the earlier stillness. Asano felt the energy of the morning reverberate through his core and the dunes surrounding him, pulling him from the depths of his restless sleep.

Syla was already waiting, its sandy form shifting and swirling in anticipation. “Time to begin,” it said, its voice a low, rhythmic whisper that mingled with the morning breeze. “Today, we will expand your understanding of what you can do.”

Asano pushed himself up from where he had settled the previous night, feeling the soft grains he'd used as something like a blanket fall off his form. “What do you have in mind?”

“Today, we’ll explore creating shapes—constructs that can serve more than just a symbolic purpose,” Syla explained, gliding closer. “You will learn to manipulate the sand into objects that can be used for offense and defense.”

“Like weapons?”

“Yes, like weapons. But I ask you to remember, formless one, every shape you create will require a strong intent. The energy you put into it will determine its effectiveness.”

Asano nodded. Intent. It echoed in his mind like a mantra. He focused on his core, feeling the pulse of energy flowing through him. He had to understand this connection better, to draw out its potential.

He settled into the sand, anchoring himself, allowing the grains to envelop him once more. As he concentrated, he envisioned a weapon—a simple dagger. In his mind, he pictured its sleek blade and firm grip. He broadcast the image of what he wanted to create to Syla which made her liquid-like and ever shifting form bob in the air, something Asano had come to understand was a sand creature’s version of a nod.

“Visualize the blade in detail,” Syla instructed. “Feel its form as if it were an extension of your core, your will.”

Taking a deep figurative breath, Asano summoned the energy from his core, directing it toward the grains surrounding him. The sand shifted and trembled in response. A few grains began to swirl together, but the connection faltered, the sand falling back down onto the dunes.

Frustration gripped him. “I honestly don’t think I can do it.”

A slightly warm sensation reached him through the mind link. A… smile? Syla could smile? “Doubt is your greatest enemy. You must push through it. Focus only on the intent. What does this dagger represent to you?”

Asano sighed, which in reality was only a slight shuffling of the sand around him. He closed his non-existent eyes, and thought about it. What did it represent to him? Well, it was rather obvious. Power. Survival and control. It was simple. In many games, the starter weapon is a dagger or shortsword. He was but a grain of sand, without even the most basic forms of defence or attack. He didn’t even have the fancy, floating sand-veil that Syla had.

He recollected his thoughts. He thought again about what this simple idea of a dagger would mean for him. It would mean a step taken, a tool created and a feat undertaken. But most of all, it would mean, a chance. If there really were forces larger than him at play that could harm him, having even a simple dagger could potentially mean the difference between life and death. As Asano continued to think, to ruminate, each thought anchored him deeper. He envisioned not just the weapon, but the feeling of wielding it. He knew he he wouldn’t be able to hold it, as he had no hands, but he imagined it swishing through the air—a tool of self-defense against an indifferent world.

He channeled his energy once more, visualizing the dagger with precision. The sand around him began to swirl, forming a vague outline that sharpened into focus. It was messy, with an uneven shape, but it had the distinct outline of a dagger.

“Keep refining it,” Syla urged. “Add detail, add strength.”

Asano focused further, forcing more energy into the construct. He envisioned the blade sharp and ready, the hilt sleek and bound with black leather. Slowly, the sand solidified, forming a crude but recognizable dagger that glinted faintly in the morning light.

It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was a weapon. He reached out with his awareness to touch it, feeling the texture of the grains, the weight of his creation resting in the depths of his mind.

“Good. But can you wield it?” Syla challenged, its tone shifting to a more serious one.

Asano took a metal breath, letting the energy course through him. He reached for the dagger with an outstretched thought, imagining it lifting from the sand. To his surprise, it flickered into existence, hovering in the air for a brief moment before falling back into the grains with a dull thud, though it didn’t completely lose its shape.

“Not strong enough,” he admitted, disappointment creeping in.

“Strength comes from focus,” Syla replied. “You must command it, not just simply wish for it. Try again.”

Determined, Asano concentrated, pushing aside the lingering doubt. He envisioned himself in a moment of danger—an attacker looming over him, ready to strike. The urgency propelled him forward, fueling his intent.

“Lift!” he commanded silently, pouring every ounce of energy he could muster into the image of the dagger. The sand responded, swirling around, reforming into the dagger once more. This time, he envisioned it in his grasp, as a part of himself.

With a flick of his will, the dagger shot into his imagined hand, and he felt a surge of triumph as it stabilized, hovering just inches away.

“Better,” Syla said, its tone a mixture of approval and caution. “But can you use it?”

Asano's core thrummed. He gripped the imaginary hilt tighter, envisioning the motion of thrusting it forward, feeling the weight in his mind.

With that thought, he lunged. The dagger shot forward with surprising speed, slicing through the air as it aimed for an unseen target. For a fleeting moment, it felt real, a tangible extension of his will.

But then it faltered, the image shattering as doubt crept back in. The dagger collapsed into a cloud of sand, scattering across the ground.

Asano sank back, another, deeper sigh shuffling the sand beneath him.

“Every struggle is a step toward understanding,” Syla replied, its voice steady. “You must learn that doubt is a part of your journey. It does not define you.

“Easy for you to say,” Asano shot back, the weight of his insecurities pressing heavily on him. He couldn’t remember much, but this sensation he was certain had stuck to him like an iron cloak for a long, long time. “You’re not trapped in this form,” he mumbled.

“No,” Syla agreed, its gaze unwavering. “But I am bound by the same rules of this world. Every being here faces its own struggles. You must not shy away from them.”

Asano felt a flicker of understanding, his core shifting a little in the sand. “So what do I do?”

“Face your doubts head-on, formless one. Use them as fuel. Every mark you create, every weapon you wield, is a testament to your growth. But you must be patient with yourself.”

He nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. Growth. It was a concept he could cling to.

“Now, let’s try again,” Syla prompted, gliding closer. “This time, focus on the purpose of the weapon, not just the weapon itself. Imagine how it would feel to defend yourself with it, to overcome an obstacle with it.”

Asano centered himself once more. He envisioned the dagger, but this time he added layers to its purpose. It was a protector. He concentrated on that notion, allowing the idea to sink deep within his core.

He gathered energy and visualized the dagger, this time imbuing it with a sense of purpose and determination. The grains began to stir, taking form as the dagger reappeared, sharper and more defined. He reached out with his will, feeling the dagger solidify in the air before him. It hovered, steady and resolute, reflecting his intent.

“Now use it,” Syla encouraged.

Taking a deep breath, Asano thrust the dagger forward again, this time with more conviction. It shot through the air, slicing through an imaginary foe with precision, and for a moment, it felt undeniably real.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Asano felt a wave of exhilaration wash over him, but just as quickly, doubt threatened to creep back in.

“Do not dwell on your success,” Syla warned, its tone somber. “There will be times when you falter. When you feel as though you are losing control. That’s when you must push harder.”

“I get it,” Asano replied, his voice steadier now. “But how do I prepare for that?”

“By practicing, little one. You must create a variety of shapes, experiment with different weapons. Each one will teach you something new about yourself.”

Asano felt the weight of that responsibility settle within him. He was determined to learn, to grow stronger, but there was a part of him that felt the shadow of doubt lingering.

“Are the threats out here really that bad?” he asked, his voice quieter. “What should I be afraid of, exactly?”

“Creatures that feed on cores, as I mentioned,” Syla replied. “But there are also the elements themselves—sandstorms, the shifting sands that can trap you. Your greatest enemy is the indifference of this world.”

Indifference. The word struck a chord. He thought of his previous life, where he had felt the same sense of isolation, the same lack of purpose.

“What do I do when I feel that indifference creeping in?” he asked, a vulnerability he would never have shown to a human slipping into his voice.

“Channel it,” Syla replied. “Use it to fuel your resolve. It is a reminder that you are alive, that you must fight for your place in this world.”

Asano considered those words. ‘Use my shortcomings as fuel. Sounds counterintuitive, but I guess I could try it.’

He felt a slight swell of determination rising within him. He would fight—not just for survival, but for a place here, in his strange, weirdly sandy world.

As the empty sun climbed higher, casting the desert in a warm glow, Asano continued to train, shaping the sand into various constructs—a spear, a shield, a sturdy wall. Each creation became a reflection of his thoughts, his fears, and his desires, and as a resul they all looked slightly different from Syla’s. They were wholly is own.

He pushed through the doubt, allowing it to transform into strength, and with each mark, he felt more connected to this new reality. The shadows of his previous life began to fade a little, some of it replaced by the promise of growth and the fight for survival.

With every hour that passed, the grains became something that felt like a part of him, and he found solace in the rhythm of his creation. Asano was a grain of sand, but he was also so much more. With each weapon he forged, he felt the boundaries of his existence stretch, pulling him further into a purpose that transcended mere survival.

Hours slipped away as he honed his skills, each creation pushing back against the confines of his identity. The dagger, the spear, the shield—they were not just tools; they were embodiments of his confusion, doubt and detemination, each one reflecting a facet of his extremely unexpected journey.

“Focus on the feel of the weapon,” Syla urged, hovering beside him. “Imagine it becoming part of you, a symbiotic relationship. You cannot just will it into existence; you must become it.”

With Syla’s guidance, Asano closed envisioned the blade, felt its weight in his non-existent hands, the rush of wind as he swung it. He pictured the thrust and the block, the movement flowing seamlessly like water.

In this state of heightened awareness, he reformed the dagger into a more complex shape—a short sword this time. The grains twisted together, swirling as if caught in a tempest. The blade took form, glinting in the sun as it solidified.

Breathless he reached out with a trembling thought. The sword responded, lifting from the sand with an ease that filled him with exhilaration.

“Now, strike!” Syla commanded, its voice ringing with authority.

Asano didn’t hesitate. He swung the sword forward, the motion fueled by the energy pulsing through him. It sliced through the air with a satisfying whoosh, cutting an imaginary target down in an act of pure instinct.

“Feel it? That rush?” Syla asked, the sand-creature showing more movement and emotional turbulations than it ever had before . “That is the flow of your power. You have the ability to shape your surroundings, to mold them into your will. Never forget that.”

The thrill of creation surged through Asano, a high that was intoxicating in its intensity. He was no longer just a spectator in this world—he was someone who had the potential to become a participant, an agent of change.

“Again!” Syla encouraged.

He let the sword dissolve into grains once more, shifting his focus to a new form. He pictured a shield this time, something to protect him against unseen dangers. The sand swirled, gathering strength as he pulled at the grains with intent.

The shield emerged, robust and reassuring, and he lifted it up into the air instinctively as he faced an imaginary opponent.

“Very good,” Syla praised, but there was an edge to its tone. “Now, think about what lies beyond the boundaries of your training. Remember that mastery over your power will not shield you from every danger.”

Asano paused, the weight of those words sinking in. “What do you mean?”

“Understanding your surroundings is just as crucial as understanding your abilities. You must be aware of what could threaten you in this vast world. Prepare not just for the battles of today, but the ones that lie ahead.”

The reality of those words settled over him like a shroud. He was not alone in this desert; there were creatures lurking in the shadows, and he hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of this world’s dangers.

“What kind of creatures?” he asked.

“There are predators that stalk the sands, driven by instinct and hunger. You must learn to recognize the signs of danger, to sense when you are being hunted.”

“How do I do that?”

“Through awareness. Your mana awareness will guide you, but you must be attuned to it. Listen to the whispers of the wind, the tremors in the earth. Feel the subtle shifts that indicate life nearby. Every being in this world is a part of the cycle, and you must learn to navigate it.”

“I can do that,” Asano mentally shrugged.

“Good. But for now, let’s focus on your constructs. You’re gaining control, but I want you to push your limits. Can you create something more complex? Perhaps a multi-part weapon?”

Asano nodded, the challenge igniting his competitive spirit. He envisioned a spear, but one that could also transform into a shield—a weapon of both offense and defense. He gathered the sand, his intent sharper than before.

The grains responded to his will, swirling in a dance of energy as they formed into the desired shape. A shaft emerged first, tall and strong, then the blade formed at the tip. Finally, he added a cross-guard that could expand to serve as a shield.

As he rolled back to observe his creation, pride swelled within him.

“Lift it,” Syla instructed, its voice a steady pulse in his mind.

Asano did just that, extending his will and commanding the spear to rise. The moment it took flight, he felt a surge of power coursing through him, the bond between them strengthening.

He swung the spear in an arc, practicing thrusts and blocks as he moved through the motions. The world around him faded, and all that existed was the dance of his energy and the weapon he had forged.

“Excellent! You are beginning to understand the synergy of creation and combat,” Syla praised, an undercurrent of excitement in its tone.

But just as the exhilaration surged within him, a distant rumble echoed across the horizon. Asano paused, feeling the ground tremble beneath his core, causing him to inadvertently sink into the sand.

“What was that?” he asked, popping out of the sand and scanning the barren landscape.

Syla’s expression shifted, the once encouraging light in its gaze dimming. “A warning. We must be cautious.”

Asano's core raced. “Cautious of what?”

“Sandstorms can come without warning. They can strip you of your constructs, disorient you, even bury you if you are unprepared. We must seek shelter.”

Without waiting for a reply, Syla began to glide away, its form seamlessly merging with the shifting sands. Asano felt a wave of urgency wash over him. He focused on the spear, willing it to dissolve back into grains before it could be swept away.

“Where do we go?” he called after Syla, scrambling to keep up as the wind began to pick up, swirling sand around them in a chaotic dance.

“There!” Syla pointed to a cluster of rocks in the distance, their jagged forms rising above the dunes. “We can take shelter there until the storm passes.”

The wind howled, a fierce warning that sent a shiver down Asano’s spine. He ran, well, rolled, the grains beneath his core shifting and sliding as the desert seemed to come alive with the force of nature.

As they approached the rocky outcrop, the sky darkened, and the first gust of the storm hit, slamming into him like a wall. His form was swept a few meters off course, though he managed to dart forward just in time to slip into the relative safety of the rocks.

Inside the outcrop, the wind howled outside, the sound a low, mournful cry that echoed off the stone walls. Asano pressed himself against the cool rock, the energy within his core roiling with anxiety.

“Stay low and stay quiet,” Syla instructed, its voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. “The worst will pass soon.”

Asano nodded, his mind racing. The storm raged outside, whipping the sands into a frenzy. He could feel the energy in the air shifting, the mana around him swirling in unpredictable patterns.

In the darkness of their makeshift shelter, he pressed against the rock, trying to find some semblance of calm amidst the chaos. The earlier thrill of creation felt distant, overshadowed by the sudden threat of nature’s fury.

“Are we safe?” he asked, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle over him.

“For now, yes,” Syla replied. “But remember, safety is fleeting in this world. You must always be prepared for the unexpected.”

Asano closed his figurative eyes, letting the storm wash over him. The howling wind was a reminder of his vulnerability, a stark contrast to the strength he had felt moments before.

He couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that filled the air. What else lurked in this unforgiving desert?

The storm raged on, a fierce tempest that tested his resolve. And within that storm, as the wind whipped around him, Asano felt a flicker of fear. Could he truly survive in a world that seemed so indifferent to his existence?

But beneath that fear, another realization took root. He had survived this long. Well, it was kind of not long at all, but still. He was learning, growing stronger, even if the world outside felt chaotic and unpredictable.

And with that thought, a sense of determination flickered within him once more. He could adapt. He would learn.

Asano pressed himself against the cool stone. The storm would pass, and when it did, he would rise to meet the next challenge. He was sure of it. He would fail a lot, that he knew. But in that moment, amidst the howling winds, he found a spark of hope.