Next, I decided it was time to tackle sound magic. I sat there, curled in my much smaller form, leafing through the sound magic book I had acquired from the human lands. Like with the other disciplines, this form was necessary for handling the human-sized texts, and I had grown accustomed to it. As I delved into the words, my mind wandered briefly, reflecting on my progress with my other types of magic.

Lightning was still my strongest, having reached Tier 8. Ground magic followed close behind at Tier 6, while both water and air were sitting comfortably at Tier 5. Fire, which had always been a bit more challenging, had just reached Tier 4 after months of intense focus. And of course, my recent efforts in metal and nature magic had brought me to Tier 3 in both, something I had worked hard to achieve over the past year.

Sound magic, however, was new to me. I had only just begun my studies with the intention of advancing it to Tier 3 in the coming year. I was confident I could achieve that—based on my previous experiences, it typically took me about a year to reach Tier 3 in any mana type, excluding those that naturally aligned with my blue dragon heritage. Lightning, ground, air, and water came more easily to me, thanks to that affinity, but the other types required more dedication and effort. Despite that, I was determined to master sound magic just as I had with the others.

I turned my attention back to the book in front of me. Sound magic, as I had learned, was a derivative of air magic. The vibrations of the air formed the foundation of all sound, and mastering it required an acute understanding of the air’s subtleties—its movements, its changes, and how it carried energy in the form of sound waves. This intrigued me. Unlike the more direct applications of magic, sound magic was about precision and control. It wasn't just about creating sound but manipulating its frequency, pitch, volume, and even the emotional undertones carried within those vibrations.

The possibilities were endless, and I could already imagine how I might blend sound magic with the others I had mastered. For instance, combining sound with lightning could create a devastating shockwave, amplifying the destructive force of a thunderclap. Using it with air magic could allow me to control sound across great distances, either to eavesdrop on conversations or communicate secretly. The potential for deception and manipulation was high, and I knew this magic would be valuable both in battle and more subtle scenarios.

I began with the basics. The first few chapters of the book detailed simple spells—small manipulations of sound, such as creating an echo or amplifying a single note to a deafening roar. These were exercises meant to train the mage to feel the intricate vibrations in the air and guide them with precision. I practiced the first spell, focusing on a soft hum and willing it to grow louder until it filled the cave.

It worked, but the spell felt clumsy. The sound became jagged, almost unpleasant to my ears as it grew louder. I frowned, realizing that, unlike fire or metal, sound was far more sensitive to subtle shifts in the air. It required not brute force, but finesse. I tried again, this time focusing on controlling not just the volume, but the quality of the sound itself, smoothing the rough edges and allowing the tone to grow more organically.

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The hum filled the cave once more, this time carrying a soothing, harmonious quality. I smiled to myself, satisfied with the improvement.

As the weeks passed, I spent nearly every waking moment refining my control over sound magic. The spells gradually increased in complexity—from manipulating individual notes to creating illusions of sound, tricking the ear into hearing things that weren’t there. One of the most challenging aspects was learning to balance the vibrations. Too much energy and the sound would distort; too little, and it wouldn’t carry far enough.

I soon learned to mimic the voices of others with startling accuracy. This trick proved useful in practice, as I could distract or confuse my siblings during our mock battles by calling out in their voices or creating false commands. It didn’t take long before they realized I was experimenting with new magic, but the looks of surprise on their faces never failed to amuse me.

As my skill in sound magic progressed, I began to see how it was intricately tied to emotions. The tone, pitch, and frequency of sound could evoke specific feelings—joy, fear, sadness, or even anger. By manipulating these elements, I could influence how others felt or reacted without them even realizing it. This revelation opened up a new dimension of potential. Sound magic wasn’t just about physical effects; it could manipulate the mind and emotions as well.

I practiced creating soundscapes—complex webs of sound that could influence the atmosphere of a room or an entire battlefield. A high, sharp frequency could induce anxiety or panic in those who heard it, while a low, soothing hum could calm even the most frantic minds. I could weave multiple layers of sound together, creating a symphony that carried both physical and emotional power.

Eventually, I began experimenting with combining sound magic with my other disciplines. One of my first successes was merging sound with nature magic. By infusing sound vibrations into plants, I could amplify the natural hum of life, making it resonate through the ground and air. This created a sort of echo that allowed me to sense the presence of living beings in the vicinity with greater clarity. The plants themselves became more attuned to the vibrations around them, responding to my commands faster and more efficiently.

I also experimented with metal magic, using sound waves to manipulate the resonance of the metals I shaped. By controlling the frequency of the sound, I could cause metals to vibrate at specific frequencies, making them more pliable or even shatter under the right conditions. It was a delicate process, but when done correctly, I could mold metal with far greater precision than before.

As the year drew to a close, I found myself on the verge of reaching Tier 3 in sound magic. I had developed a strong foundation, mastering both the basic and intermediate spells outlined in the book. My control over sound had become second nature, and I was now beginning to experiment with creating my own spells—something I had only been able to do with a few other types of magic.

Looking back on my journey, I realized how much I had grown as a mage. Sound magic, once an abstract and foreign concept, had become another tool in my ever-expanding magical arsenal. Tier 3 was a significant milestone, but I knew that I still had a long way to go. There were still higher levels to reach, and beyond Tier 10, the realm of legendary spells awaited.

But for now, I was content with my progress. I had managed to master yet another form of magic in just a year, and my affinity for sound was beginning to show itself in ways I hadn’t expected. The more I learned, the more I understood that magic wasn’t just about power—it was about control, understanding, and creativity. And with sound magic now firmly under my control, I was eager to see where my journey would take me next.