Weeks vanished as Wallace and I immersed ourselves into our new lives within Aranth. I was keenly aware that my growth as a mage had stagnated, and I wanted nothing more than to master healing so I could move on to more fruitful ventures, yet I also knew patience was key.

Becoming a healer was the sole reason I had bothered coming to Aranth. It was key to my long-term plans of permanent physical enhancements and, even if that failed, might help improve my strengthening spell. Cutting corners and rushing would only hurt me in both a figurative and literal sense.

My days fell into three parts. Every morning, I would wake up about an hour before sunrise and practice my altered mana-gathering technique, shrouds, and general mana control. I had an idea I wanted to try soon, but mastering all three skills felt paramount to that goal.

When the sun first crept above the horizon, it was my sign to get moving. I typically arrived at Lysandra's shop before Selene, which left me ample time to speak with my teacher. Lysandra had continued her strange habit of lending me "fun" fictional books and seemed to love talking about them and picking my brain on what I liked about each work.

Once Selene arrived, we moved into more productive tasks. Each day varied, which I suspected came down to Lysandra's mood and logistics rather than any structured training. Most days, I would sit and read in the back room for hours, combing through detailed texts or medical treatises in an effort to cram as much sheer knowledge into my head as possible. On other days, Selene or Lysandra would go over preparing and storing non-magical remedies and treatments, ranging from ointments and unguents for burns, cuts, and scrapes to elixirs and herbal teas for illnesses to antiseptics meant to prevent infections.

Rarest of all were those days when I would accompany Selene as she traveled throughout the city, checking on various patients. I discovered that Lysandra had dozens, if not hundreds, spread across Aranth, with more than one requiring semi-regular treatments for chronic ailments and most receiving their medical assistance with a kind word, a smile, and an assurance that it came freely and without expectations.

It was strange. I still could not grasp why Lysandra was doing this or, more accurately, how. She might receive discounted or free herbs now and again, but she had to be spending a small fortune on supplies. Yet she did so without seemingly any worries or woes about cost.

More uncomfortable, though, was the patient's gratitude. Nearly every person Selene treated thanked her with a smile, watery eyes, and a warm hug. Quite a few gave me the same reaction, usually without the hug, and it struck me as hollow. I had not done enough to warrant such a reaction, after all. It was almost embarrassing and bordered on dishonesty as if I was playing at being a healer.

I typically ignored that discomfort and focused on the benefits to my training. I was not allowed to do anything but watch and carry supplies, and even then, I had to step outside occasionally to give the patient privacy. Watching Selene's work had some merit, as it often raised questions I might not have come to by just reading, but I would have preferred more hands-on experiences.

Selene and I had not become friends. I would not even call her friendly, but as we continued studying together, I realized she respected attention and focus. Selene was not the first to speak but would answer questions...usually. More than once, she would ignore my probing, and I could not say why, but these were rare occurrences and did little to impede me.

Despite those minor pitfalls, my knowledge of the human body and non-magical healing advanced by leaps and bounds. After over a month of focused study, I could close my eyes and imagine a person's anatomy with startling clarity.

I knew the names, locations, and general functions of every organ. I could locate major blood vessels and list bones or muscles without issue. Treatments for ailments such as sprains, lacerations, and broken bones had become seared into my memories, and I knew the basic remedies for common diseases and poisonous substances. The finer details escaped me, as they were too advanced to learn in so short a time, but it was remarkable progress.

However, this was where my impatience returned with a fury. Master Lysandra had taken me in as an apprentice without question and was without question generous and kind, but she was no fool. She believed healers could do much good for the world, but she was keenly aware of the dangers to themselves and others they posed if trained improperly.

So, even with all my progress, she flat-out refused to humor training me in genuine healing. Selene had waited a year before she learned even the most basic spells, which did little for my frustrations. I did not have that long to wait, but there was only so much I could do to "cheat." Rather than ruminate on that, I filled the rest of each day with other activities.

The second part of my days followed a familiar pattern. I would leave the healer's shop and make my way southward. Wallace spent his spare time near the warehouse, usually watching over the repairs while studying or practicing his magic.

We would typically meet up a few hours before sunset and train together, either sparring or practicing one of several techniques. My sword skills had reached a point where I saw little reason to continue honing them, and I began focusing wholly on my swordstaff instead. Beyond that, I wanted to perfect Wallace's looping technique before we left the city and integrate it into the rest of my magic.

My companion, meanwhile, showed me the difference in our gifts. He did not take to enchanting quite as well as other skills, but his talent in general mana control, most aspects of forging, shrouds, and unstructured spellcasting far outstripped mine at the same age. I could see the beginnings of a style forming, one not unlike Leon's but focused wholly on close-range swordplay as opposed to long-range archery.

After sunset, I would return home and throw myself into note-taking and theorizing. My books became filled with dozens of schematics and plans, usually long, multi-month trajectories for what skills to learn, how they might fit into one another, and how best to leverage these new talents for future growth.

It was unhealthy, I suspected, and far closer to an obsession than anything, but I knew I had to use every advantage possible. So, I continued at it. I took to heading out, often late at night, applying what I had planned in an effort to grind away any flaws within my spells. Evenings became a time of solitude, and despite many failures and near-constant exhaustion, it felt almost relaxing.

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And so it was that I found myself alone one late afternoon.

It was just after sunset, not so late and not so far outside the city as to be dangerous, but certainly quiet. There was little natural coverage, as the region tended towards grasslands and rolling hills, but I had found a small collection of trees and bushes maybe a half-hour walk north of Aranth.

I stood before a wide tree, large enough around the middle that I could barely encircle it in my arms. The bark was rough, marked with divots and cuts where animals must have dug into the surface at some point. I could only see it thanks to the dying sunlight. If it got much later, I would need to head back, but I had just enough time to test out the fruits of my labor.

First, I drew upon my core. Aether flowed out, passing down each limb and throughout my chest in wide, intricate loops. The patterns had become second nature by now, and each circuit filled my body with a sense of strength and a buzzing feeling of mana through flesh.

This was Arcane Body, the result of many, many hours honing my strengthening spell. I had spent more time than I cared to consider perfecting it, applying what I had learned about the human body to refine the magic. Most of that came from little tweaks to the flows, which eased the strain upon my flesh and improved efficiency, and I now considered it almost impressive. Full of flaws and imperfections, but a far cry from where I had started.

When those rhythmic loops settled into place, I reached into my core again. I pulled Aether out of my body this time and wrapped it around myself. The diffuse cloud solidified, forming two distinct layers. I felt it settle into place with a magical 'weight' and smiled as the brilliant green plates of my Travelers Armor formed.

I glanced over myself and saw the emerald plates overlaying my chest, shoulders, arms, and upper legs. Beneath these plates was a smaller, close-fitting layer that acted as a secondary defense. Both faded into invisibility after a few seconds, but that brief examination was enough. Much like my Arcane Body, there were flaws to fix and improvements to make, but it would have to do.

Maintaining both spells without any issue had taken me weeks. I had modified and improved both that they drew upon my core more heavily, and though my channels could weather the strain, my mind was far less suited for the task. Yet I was still not done.

I closed my eyes and reached for my mana a third time. Here was where I had failed a hundred times prior. I suspected today would be the hundred and first, but I was open to being surprised.

Moving my body through force magic was beyond my means. I had continued honing my skills in that regard, but it would take months to gain enough fine control for such a feat. I was more apt to wrench my arm out of place than anything else.

However, holding myself in place was a far easier task. All I had to do was take mana from my core, wrap it around myself, and keep that makeshift construct in place.

I also had to maintain Arcane Body and Traveler's Armor and keep either from interfering with my casting, which proved a far taller task than I assumed when I first devised the idea.

It took all of my focus to maintain the balance for even a heartbeat, and using it in combat was so far outside the realm of feasible as to become laughable. I would likely reach Fog before managing that feat, but this was a test for possibility rather than viability.

I felt the shroud of mana settle around my body, clamping down with an unsettling weight. Here, my magic served a secondary purpose I had not considered until recently.

Protection from my own power.

My Aether had the strength of a Fog, and with that came certain risks. If I tried hard enough, I could crush bones and rend limbs from a person's body, which made force magic very dangerous.

Manipulating my body risked serious injury, and my magic served as a workaround until I developed the control necessary. Arcane Body granted me the natural strength to withstand the weight, while Travelers Armor helped shield me from some of the crushing pressure.

I was keenly aware that losing control over either would almost certainly injure me, but I was also relatively confident my force magic "clamp" would be the first to break. So, I considered it a risk worth taking.

Opening my eyes, I found that my body now felt heavier. It was almost like wearing a backpack, but one that weighed down on my arms and legs as much as it did on my torso. I took a few steps, smiling as the magic remained steady and stable.

I had realized already that I would need greater physical weight and leverage to fully exploit my strength if—or rather when it became truly titanic. This was my workaround until I figured out a more efficient method, but that did not make it pleasant.

After about fifteen steps in either direction, I returned to my starting place and looked at the tree again. Here was the first test, and one I had never managed to run safely. Every time I tried in the past, my mana frayed and broke apart too quickly.

Fingers crossed, tonight would be different.

I planted my feet and braced myself, taking a few deep breaths. Since my duel with Wallace, I had learned to throw a punch, but my skills remained squarely in the realm of "comically crude." However, it was also safer than introducing a fourth element to my testing.

Slowly, I drew my arm back, gathering as much strength as possible for my strike. All I had to do was throw a single punch without losing control of the three pieces of magic.

I held my position, checked over my magic once more, and then struck.

My punch landed like a warhammer. Bark shattered, and I felt my fist crack through wood down to the wrist. Wooden bits and shards bounced off my armor, and I flinched as a few pieces deflected off the invisible shell around my face.

Slowly, I pulled my fist out of the tree and tried not to gawp. There was now a crater deep within its surface, a near-perfect hole the size of my fist. Sap leaked from the edges of the wound, and I glanced down at my hand to find bits of wood sticking to the flickering green armor. The impact had been enough to stress it, though even now, I could feel mana draining away to repair that damage. More importantly, I still had not lost any of my spells.

As far as tests went, it was a success. I tried not to smile as I glanced down, finding two divots where my feet had dug into the soft dirt. In an ideal world, I would find a way to create my own footing, but artificially increasing my weight was a decent shortcut.

I considered returning to the city, then decided against it. If I was on a roll, I should practice more and try to get a better feel for the technique. Once I lost control over the magic, I would return to Aranth.

So, I circled the tree, planted myself, and threw another punch. And another. Each one emboldened me further, and I wondered if I had turned a corner. Maybe it was something akin to getting past a block, and now that I had gotten a handle on it, I—

My focus frayed as my thoughts wandered to other things. I felt the force magic holding me in place waver, the streams flowing throughout my channels becoming erratic. They began interfering with one another, destabilizing the whole as a result.

I tried to pull my strike or regain control over my magic, but there was not enough time. The force magic shroud was the first to go, but not the only one. I felt my armor waver and flicker, and my Arcane Body seemed to hum as the rhythm caught.

There was just enough time to twist, shifting my punch from dead-on to glancing. Then, my strike landed.

My Travelers Armor held for a moment, then cracked under the impact. My Arcane Body followed a moment later, but that left just enough time for my punch to land with near-superhuman strength. I bit back a scream as something audibly snapped in my hand, my eyes involuntarily slamming shut against the sudden pain.

I staggered to one side and pulled my left hand to my chest. It throbbed angrily, but just a few seconds later, I felt the pain begin to numb. A part of my mind noted that this was a natural reaction to a serious injury, while the rest screamed how foolish I was to press my luck.

After about a minute, I straightened up and opened my eyes to examine my hand. There was no swelling or discoloration, but a few experimental squeezes confirmed that I had broken something. My fingers did not quite bend right, and there was a flash of pain whenever I tried to move them too much.

I considered treating it myself, mostly out of embarrassment. While I had no magical remedies, I did have a few mundane treatments that might help speed healing. It took me just a second to dismiss that as an option for a few reasons.

First, I had no practical experience yet. I was just as apt to misidentify my injury or treat it improperly and hurt myself. What kind of fool would let their ego hinder them so much?

And second, something occurred to me. A...gamble and an opportunity if I knew where to look.

So, I straightened up, gathered my courage, and set off for the now-daunting trip back to Aranth. Hopefully, Lysandra would not be too irritated about a nighttime visitor.