A few days have passed since Wanderer went missing.

Tyrus searched tirelessly, his legs giving out and his breaths becoming ragged gasps. Sweat and dirt had turned his clothes into a second skin. He collapsed onto a nearby tree, and the rough bark scraped against his back as he clutched his sides and wheezed for air. No matter how many times he wiped his eyes, the lingering sweat in the corners continued to sting.

What made Wanderer leave so suddenly? Did she leave because she couldn't handle Tyrus's constant presence and overbearing behavior? No, that couldn’t be it. He remembered Wanderer called herself a nomad, and that she didn’t linger in one place. Tyrus also guessed she didn’t hate his guts or found him unpleasing, given her actions. Her abrupt departure without a farewell meant they overstayed their welcome.

Tyrus didn’t expect to grow fond of Wanderer so quickly. Just like others he met, Tyrus was on guard, gauging how they would react and whether they were a threat to his well-being. On their first meeting, his body had told him Wanderer wasn’t dangerous-not to him, at least. Nonetheless, he had to be careful. One wrong move and he’d have been caught. He shuddered when he remembered what happened to those brutish men.

Tyrus remained motionless for minutes, absorbed in thought until a rumbling jolted him back to reality. Senses on high alert, he scanned the area, searching for the source of the noise. Just when he thought it was his fatigued mind playing tricks on him, he heard another, this time coming from down below. It was his stomach that was making all the racket. Tyrus just now realized how long it had been since he had eaten.

Using the tree as support, he stood on his wobbly legs, stretching as his joints popped. It was about time he started searching for food. The reason Tyrus could survive for so long in the forest was because of hunts. He would explore and scavenge for food, mostly animals and avoiding mushrooms and unknown plants. Not that it was hard of an activity to do. In fact, it was quite easy. He got the hang of it in just a few days when he first started out. Maybe it was his instincts that helped him. But first, he had to go back to the shack before he could start.

Tyrus strode toward the home, taking only ten minutes to reach. Sighing to himself, he walked in, his eyes already set on the table. Instead of the usual wooden bowls and box, there was a familiar ring in the middle. Tyrus knew instantly what it was. He rushed over to the item and inspected it all around. Within the metal, there was a gem that glowed green. Tyrus had never taken the ring off of those two goons. The only person who did was Wanderer. Did she perhaps leave it as a parting gift?

He tapped on the green gem. A dagger popped right out, clattering onto the table. He clutched the weapon, feeling the leather press onto his skin.

At a glance, Tyrus knew where it originated from, yet he felt nothing when he saw the dangerously sharp tip. It wasn’t heavy at all, and he swung it a few times. After he finished testing it out, he laid it on the table and wore the ring. At first, it was too big, but out of nowhere, the ring shrank, fitting snugly on his finger.

Thank you, Wanderer. I’ll use it to the best of my abilities, Tyrus thought. He altered his gaze over to the box and clicked it open. Lying dormant was a white orb. Scrawled on its exterior were symbols Tyrus had trouble understanding. He did not know what they meant or what purpose they served. Since he found no use for it, he just kept it tucked somewhere safe. He discovered it in his pocket one day, long ago, without any knowledge of how it got there.

Tyrus grabbed the orb and hovered it over the ring. It gobbled the object in seconds. He smiled at the ring’s feature, excited about how it worked.

The thing obviously had to work through magic. What else would allow it to store objects twice its size? What he wanted to know was what type of magic specifically and if he could replicate it himself.

Though he was curious, he quickly gave up and grabbed the dagger, returning to the outside. Once there, his stomach growled again. He paid no attention and grasped the dagger. Now that he had a weapon, hunting would be easier. No more did he have to rely on Beast Transformation and sap more energy than needed.

On the topic of energy, it was wonderful that he became a sorcerer, but he did not understand the element he awakened to. It definitely wasn’t the common four elements or ice itself. Thinking back to that pale blue light he emitted, it carried the same color as water; it was much weaker compared to the fire attack that hit him. Tyrus feared he was given a weak element to use.

“No… weak or not, I’ll improve it. No one starts off strong.” If he wanted to improve his element's strength, then he would have to train diligently to where it’s as strong as the others- if not more. Wanderers’ words repeated in his mind: Struggle for a better life. Do not be content with a life of mediocrity.

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A fire rekindled in Tyrus’ heart, and his determination was as vast as the skies themselves. With his goals set in stone, he headed deeper into the forest, looking for prey to catch. If he wanted to grow stronger, then he’d have to train his body alongside his magic. No more will he rely on Beast Transformation. Tyrus had only used the transformation because it made hunts easier. He was forced to use an ability- a crutch- he despised with all his heart. Though it had its uses, the negatives were far more detrimental, and he would limit its usage.

Without meaning to, he gripped the seams of his hat. When he realized he still had it on, he removed it and stuffed it inside the ring. It was a mystery how many items the ring could carry. If he was right, there were two items stashed inside. Tyrus thought to make it a priority to figure it out later. Right now, he needed to focus.

Tyrus' ears perked up at the sound of fluttering wings and the light scampering of a creature across the forest floor. Leaves rustled and crunching against the creatures that dominated the night. Thanks to nightfall, the forest was quieter than usual, making it easier to pick up sound cues. He wandered through the forest with careful steps, swiveling his head around, dagger in hand. Seeing in the dark was child’s play. In fact, his vision worked much better when the moon was in control of the sky.

A few more steps later, a new sound emerged. He heard a continuous trickling noise and some splashes. Following the noise, Tyrus dashed toward the source, all the while avoiding branches and dry leaves. Pushing through a wall of shrubs with red flowers, he finally located the source. A shallow stream of water marched through a bed of pebbles and rocks. At one end was a makeshift bridge of boulders with green moss growing on top. Some trees hung over the natural formation as if shielding it from the moon’s glow. What caught Tyrus’ attention wasn’t the water, but the creature drinking its contents leisurely.

A black boar three times the size of Tyrus was licking the stream on its outer edges. Its backside had fur with gray markings, while their gigantic head was free of it. Two small tusks with an upward curve protruded from the corners of its mouth. Gaze set firm on the beast, Tyrus slinked closer behind bushes, stalking it. Whenever the boar seemed like it was aware of his presence, Tyrus would stop moving until the boar returned to its usual routine. They were animals that had a good sense of hearing. Patience was a requirement in these situations.

Moments later, Tyrus was directly behind the beast. As soon as the boar finished refreshing its gullet, he acted. Tyrus jumped out from the bushes and leaped at the boar. The movement of the bushes scared the boar, and it sidestepped, narrowly avoiding steel. Tyrus regained his balance and faced the boar, glaring at it with hungry eyes. Immediately after locking eyes with him, the boar turned and trotted away.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Tyrus never let his prey escape, and he would not break that record now. He did not want to go back to the village fishing for scraps again. He ended up there only because he couldn't find food in the forest earlier that day. It would be a while before he returned for any reason after his previous encounter.

Tyrus chased after the boar through the forest, jumping over fallen trees and passing by slumbering animals. Much to his dismay, the boar he was chasing was extremely fast. Now that he thought about it, this was his first time chasing such an animal. The boars he hunted were smaller and had black hair- free of gray. This beast differed from the others. For a quick moment, Tyrus thought of using Beast Transformation. He quickly dismissed the thought and clenched his teeth, mentally berating himself for thinking about it.

"This is the best time to test out the element."

Digging deep within himself, Tyrus called forth the mana living in his body. The power instantly came to life in his left hand, crackling and casting a blue hue across the area. He raised his arm, pointing his palm at the beast, and imagined releasing the power from his body. Nothing happened. Tyrus tried it again, this time closing his eyes. The same result followed suit. He scowled and called it off, disappointed by how useless it was. Was there a missing detail or was the element only applicable to his body?

While Tyrus was trying to wrap his head around the unruly magic, the boar suddenly stopped and spun around. He followed along and halted, scanning his new surroundings. The boar had led them to a small clearing barren of trees. What lingered was grass that reached his knees, making it somewhat difficult to run through. A loud cry captured his attention while he was inspecting the area.

The bizarre boar stomped its feet, lowered its head, and charged. Tyrus was shocked by the display briefly, but held his ground. When the boar was a few steps away, he leaped to the side and brought his dagger outward. He felt the dagger penetrate through tough flesh and a warm liquid stained his fingertips. A beastly roar emanated from the wounded animal as it paced around Tyrus. The dagger worked just as well as using his own claws, if not better. It was practical and cleaner than using his own. He was not fond of blood getting on his hands.

Tyrus dared not let the animal rest and lurched forward. Rather than fleeing, the boar charged once again. Tyrus opted for a change and reactivated the magic. He was hell-bent on figuring out how it worked, no matter the cost. Right as the boar’s tusk was on the verge of piercing his chest, Tyrus stashed the dagger away and pounced on top of the beast. He grabbed a fist’s worth of prickly hair, hanging onto dear life as the boar kicked and reared. In a desperate moment, Tyrus unleashed his magic, silently pleading for it to be effective.

The element spontaneously crackled, blanketing a wide area of the beast’s backside. The air was thick with the smell of burning flesh, and he could hear popping and sizzling sounds coming from below. A squeal unlike anything he heard had him almost bleeding in his ears. The frantic thrash increased in power, yet Tyrus clung on. He summoned the dagger and plunged the blade right into its neck. Blood splattered all over his chest and trousers as the thrashes grew weaker. Another few stabs and the creature stopped. Soon after, it fell lazily onto its side. Tyrus leaped off the creature and lay flat on his back, taking in large gulps of air. A smile crept on his lips.

He just figured out one use for the element.