When Mahya and Al returned in the evening, I sat by the lake with my eyes closed, fishing. No rod or net—just water magic.

The surface rippled, each movement sending gentle waves toward the shore. Fish darted through the clear water below, but I didn’t need to see them. I felt their movements through the water’s subtle shifts, tracking the larger ones while letting the smaller fish slip past unnoticed.

There! That one is big.

Eyes still shut, I extended my hand, and a water bubble formed around the fish. The bubble rose, the fish trapped inside, and I directed it toward me along a narrow stream of water that arced through the air.

The stream guided the bubble to my outstretched hands, hovering above my palms. Only then did I open my eyes to grab the fish’s tail and smash its head on the rock for a quick death. The fish vanished into my Storage.

The lake teemed with life, and I had no shortage of targets.

I closed my eyes again, moving my awareness to another spot. Ripples danced, and I let the lake’s current guide my search. Another fish caught my attention, its movement deliberate. Hunting? It was larger than the last.

Perfect.

I kept my focus on the water’s pulse. Another bubble formed, and I sent it curling through the air like a rainbow. The fish flopped inside as it reached me, the bubble holding it in place.

The water shimmered in the fading sunlight, glinting like a polished gem. The bubble released the fish. Slap. Store. The rhythm felt natural now, each step leading seamlessly into the next.

Rinse and repeat.

A school of smaller fish swam past. I followed their trail briefly before letting them go. Patience. Precision. It wasn’t about catching every fish—only the ones worth keeping.

Rue sat on the shore, watching with curious eyes. His tail wagged lazily, splashing water as he occasionally dipped a paw in to bat at the ripples. He also had opinions about each fish I caught, his telepathic voice bubbling with excitement.

“This fish look yummy! This fish good for fish cutlets! This fish make good soup!”

The commentary came with a wag of his tail, splashing more water onto the rocks. He batted at a passing ripple again.

Eyes closed once more, I let the lake’s natural flow settle around me. Another fish caught my attention. I reached out, and the water responded like a trouper—fluid, seamless, under perfect control.

“What are you doing?” Mahya asked from behind me. Her voice held the familiar mix of curiosity and teasing.

“Practicing water magic.”

“Oh, good. For a minute, I thought you were doing some bizarre fishing.”

“That too.”

The water delivered another fish. I opened my eyes as it reached me, the bubble bursting with a quiet whoosh. Grabbing the fish by its tail, I heard Al laugh behind me.

Mahya mumbled something under her breath.

“What?” I asked, squinting in her direction.

She shook her head. “Nothing, nothing. Ignore me.”

“I heard ‘weird.’ Mayhap, perchance, were you mumbling that wizards are weird?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she stood with her hands clasped behind her back, looking up and away with a theatrical innocence that practically screamed guilt. The only thing missing was a casual whistle to complete the act.

“Congratulations on figuring out water magic,” Al said with a smile.

“Thanks.”

“How do you feel?” he asked, his expression turning serious.

“Much better, thanks. Balanced and in control.”

He gave one slow, deliberate nod. “Good.”

Mahya hugged me, her arms wrapping tightly around my shoulders. “Congrats. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said into her hair, the scent of wood shavings and something floral invading my nose.

We just stayed like that for a moment, the lake’s soft ripples running through me.

“I’ll go make dinner,” I said at last. The silence hung for a moment longer before I stood, stretching out the stiffness in my shoulders.

The bag of coals crinkled as I poured them into the grill, each lump clattering against the metal grate. Dusty black soot puffed up, catching in the fading light and making me sneeze. I shook out a match, but paused, twirling it between my fingers. A thought crossed my mind.

Worth a try.

I held my hand over the coals. Heat pulsed from my palm, mingling with the cool evening air as I poured a trickle of fire-aspected mana into the pile. The reaction was instant—an eager whoosh as flames bloomed to life. Orange tongues flickered upward, licking at the edges of the charcoal.

This time, I didn’t ask the fire to ignite all the coals. Instead, I fanned the flames with intention. The fire reacted with reluctance, like a patient groggily coming out of anesthesia—slow to respond, eyes half-lidded and annoyed to be awake. There was a trace of defiance—a half-hearted flare, as if to say, Fine. But only because I have to.

I eased back, used less force, and only coaxed it. The flames settled, spreading evenly across the coals in glowing embers that hissed and crackled. The warmth brushed my skin, and the smoky scent of charred wood curled into the air.

There it was—a perfect balance. No fight. No rebellion.

Yes!

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I straightened. There was something deeply satisfying about working with the fire, not against it. Almost like reaching an unspoken understanding.

The grill popped as a coal shifted, sending sparks skittering upward like tiny fireflies.

“Alright,” I said softly, brushing soot from my hands. “Let’s cook.”

Dinner was simple—grilled fish and vegetables for the three of us, with a few thick steaks for Rue. Fishbones were a hassle he didn’t need to deal with. Besides, it wasn’t like he ever complained about getting a slab of beef instead.

Not that it stopped him from begging.

Rue padded over the moment I sat down, his wide eyes practically gleaming. He rested his chin on my leg, and his tail gave a hopeful thump. Then another. And another, until it became a steady beat on the ground, the rhythm of a dog who knew he would get what he wanted, eventually.

“Fine,” I said, tearing off a piece of fish and holding it out. He snapped it up, his ears twitching in delight.

He didn’t take long to work his way around the table. He nudged Mahya first. She glanced down, pretending to be stern, but her resolve melted in seconds. With a quiet laugh, she slipped him another piece.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Al held out longer, his expression one of dignified resistance. But Rue was persistent, circling back to him with a mournful whine and the saddest eyes he could muster. Eventually, Al sighed, shaking his head as he handed over a chunk of fish.

I leaned back, content to let the moment wash over me. Tonight, the soft crackle of the coals, the smoky scent of charred fish, and the warmth of the fire felt more satisfying.

Light and warm, that sense of accomplishment still buzzed in my chest, like embers that refused to die out. I finally understood why, until today, the Fire entry in my profile didn’t show any progress or level of mastery.

But tonight, things shifted. The fire hadn’t fought me. I hadn’t wrestled for control or forced it to bend to my will. Instead, we worked together—guided by intention, not command.

I was a [Novice] at Fire Magic. And damn, that felt good.

Now, there was just one last element to master. And somehow, I knew it would come easier than the others. I could feel it—an incomplete shape inside me, like a square with one missing corner. The absence was palpable, a gap waiting to be filled. It wasn’t a guess or a vague hunch. It was a certainty that hummed beneath my skin.

The sensation reminded me of the Knowing I sometimes experienced through my Gate Traveler class—those flashes of insight that had no base in reality. But this wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel like something granted by an external force. It wasn’t knowledge handed to me.

This Knowing came from my mana, my magic. The missing piece wasn’t just an abstract feeling, but a tangible hole pulling at me, trying to draw itself into place. There was a magnetism to it, a tug. It was a void trying to be filled.

I woke up buzzing with excitement, and practically leaped out of bed. Today was the day. The Earth element was calling to me—pulling me like gravity—and I was ready.

Sadly, Mahya had other plans.

She caught me before I even made it to the coffee pot. “Before you bury yourself in dirt and stones, how about doing something useful?”

I blinked. “Useful? I’m mastering Earth magic. That is useful.”

“I mean useful for all of us. We need to find the dungeons in the city. You can ask the wind, right?”

I sighed. “Fine.”

She grinned, rubbing her hands like a kid about to open presents. “Let’s go.”

We were airborne after a cup of coffee and Mahya impatiently tapping her foot. I flew like always, and Mahya followed behind me on the flying sword.

“You’ve really gotten the hang of that thing,” I called over my shoulder as we flew toward the city.

“It’s turning out to be very useful,” she called with a grin.

As we reached the edge of the city, I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the breeze rush past my face. The air tasted of rust and stone.

“Show me the dungeons,” I whispered, pushing a bit of mana into the request.

The wind shifted, pulling me with invisible currents. I let it guide me, turning right and then left, dipping lower toward debris before soaring up again.

I glanced back at Mahya. “Follow me.”

She nodded, and the sword picked up speed. We wove through narrow streets, gliding over piles of rubble. The wind guided me from one place to the next, each stop revealing another hidden dungeon entrance. Some were buried under stone and dirt, others in plain sight, embedded in walls.

At each one, her grin grew wider. By the time we mapped the entire city, she was practically giddy.

“This is incredible,” she said, rubbing her hands together again. “Thirty-one dungeons!”

“I guess you’ll be busy for a while.”

She shot me a playful look. “Only if you’re not coming with us.”

I hesitated. “You need me for the clearing?”

Her expression softened. “If you want to join, we’d be happy to have you. But if not, we can manage just fine.”

"I’ll leave those to you."

She nodded and squeezed my arm.

When we returned, Rue padded up to Mahya, his tail wagging as he nudged her leg with his nose.

“Rue’s joining us for the dungeons,” she said, scratching behind his ears. “Aren’t you, big guy?”

“Yes! Rue need levels! Rue need be more dangerous,” he declared, lifting his nose in the air.

Al appeared moments later, striding over to join them. With a quick nod, the three of them headed back toward the city.

I watched them go, a knot of worry tightening in my stomach. I knew they could handle themselves—they’d already cleared plenty of dungeons without me. Still, the concern about them going in without a healer lingered at the back of my mind.

I shook my head, forcing the concern aside. Time to get back to my attunement.

For the rest of the day, I lay on the ground, arms stretched out, palms pressed flat against the stones. The earth beneath me felt constant and unyielding. Durable. There was no motion—no swirling chaos like the wind, dancing spark like the fire, or flowing currents like the water—only a steady and solid presence.

I let my mana trickle from my hands, spreading out beneath me. The sensation was strange at first—muted. Like I was trying to push my mana through a thick blanket. The earth didn’t react the way fire did, eager to flare up and devour. It didn’t dance with me like the wind or flow smoothly like water. It simply was. Ancient. Immovable. Patient.

Closing my eyes, I followed the path of my mana, sending it deeper into the ground. I traced the way it wound around stones, slipped between grains of sand, and pressed into packed clay. Each layer told its own story, a silent history etched into the earth.

The surface was loose and full of life—the remains of fallen leaves, scattered roots, and tiny insects burrowing through it. But as I went deeper, the earth became denser, with layers of stone beneath the topsoil.

I shifted my focus to the texture—the gritty feel of sand, the cool smoothness of clay, and the jagged edges of buried rocks. There was no chaos here—everything fit, everything had a place.

Hours passed without me moving. My breaths slow, matching the steady rhythm of the earth beneath me. There was no need to rush. The earth wouldn’t react well to being pressured. It demanded patience.

The deeper my mana went, the more I understood earth's nature. It didn’t push or pull like the other elements. It held, encapsulated, engulfed and supported. It didn’t ask for control or respect—it expected it as its due.

At one point, I might have felt a pulse—a slow, steady thrum deep beneath the surface. It was so faint that I wasn’t sure. Earth’s heartbeat—ancient, constant, and timeless.

I moved the ground beneath me. Not in a commanding way or demanding control, but a subtle shift. The earth responded and changed the way it supported my weight.

I wasn't ready to initiate contact just yet. For the time being, I was happy to observe and study its rhythms and patterns. I found peace in the methodical journey of discovery. I had a sincere desire to understand without pressure.

In the evening, I finally sat up, brushing dirt from my hands and clothes. My back ached from lying still for so long. I pulled my senses out and returned them to the world around me.

I’d return tomorrow and connect. But for today, I was content to sit with what I’d learned, feeling grounded in the now.

Mahya, Al, and Rue returned, looking disheveled but all smiles.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“Good,” Al said. “Two average cores, some interesting materials, and no serious injuries.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “You got injured?”

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Mahya said, waving her hand dismissively and rolling her eyes. “Just scrapes and minor bruises. We didn’t even need potions.”

I let out a breath, relaxing. “Good.”

The next day, I returned to the earth.

This time, I didn’t lie down and let my mana trickle into the soil. I knelt, pressing both palms flat against the ground, allowing the rough dirt to bite into my skin. I breathed slowly, matching my rhythm to the steady pulse I’d felt deep beneath the surface. Closing my eyes, I reached out, but this time with my awareness, not my mana. I sent it downward, with intention.

I didn’t just explore. I connected.

It started the way it had back in Nevada—when I first felt the earth. I achieved oneness with relative ease—faster than ever. Layers of stone, soil, and sediment lay beneath the surface, and the roots of nearby trees ran through the ground like veins.

I let my awareness go deeper. The oneness grew stronger, pulling me further. Slowly, I pushed past oneness, seeking something deeper—something more.

Unity.

It wasn’t like the overwhelming connection I’d felt with water, when I’d lost myself in its currents, becoming one with its flow. Earth didn’t work that way. It didn’t sweep me away. It held me. The connection wasn’t as strong as with water, but it was there—a steady pulse, a quiet acceptance.

When I opened my eyes, hours had passed. Only a sliver of sun was visible over the horizon. My hands were covered with soil, and my knees ached from kneeling so long. But I felt different. The earth and I were no longer strangers.

I stood up, stretched, and examined how I felt—not emotionally but physically. Something was still off. There was a jarring note, and I knew it came from me.

What is it?

Wind pulling up—not letting go. Earth pulling down—insistent. I split my mind in two. One half connected to the Wind, and I soared. The second one connected to the Earth, and I hovered in the air, stuck in place. Less Earth, more Wind. I soared up. More Earth, less Wind. I landed, and it clicked. Smoothed out. The jarring note disappeared.

My being — my existence — unclenched.

Tension melted from my body. Muscles loosened. Breath eased.

I lost my balance.

My knees buckled. I wobbled, arms flailing for a second before I steadied myself. My mind let go of the reins entirely. It split—fractured into four on its own, without my input. The elements fought for balance.

And then the surge came.

A wave of raw energy tore through me, coursing from my orbs to my fingertips. My body trembled. My vision blurred. Mana burst outward.

The blast swept across the ground like a gale, flattening grass, scattering leaves, shaking branches. The air crackled with wild power.

I roared—a raw, guttural sound as a torrent of power poured out of me.

The elements clicked into place.

The world stilled. The energy quieted.

I sagged, knees hitting the dirt, breath ragged.

Balance.

The feeling was familiar, though different from all the other times.

I checked my mana. 5,100/13,000.

Wow!

Earth joined my profile—but, alas, no mastery level was listed.

I expected that. Still, it was annoying. I sighed deeply and headed off to make dinner.

When the dungeoneers returned, they stopped dead in their tracks, staring at me.

“What?” I asked, wiping my hands on a towel.

“Look in the mirror,” Mahya said, her tone somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

Curious, I headed to the bathroom behind the stairs and glanced at my reflection.

My hair was streaked with purple.