Magic on Avaricia was divided into two distinct schools, as clear-cut as the line that separated day from night. The first was elemental, the kind that whispered to the very fabric of the world, coaxing forth the fiery breath of volcanoes, the whispering winds of the plains, the soothing embrace of water, and the steadfast strength of the earth. Elementalists were the bards of nature, their spells drawn from the very essence of the elements themselves. They sang to the mountains and danced with the storms, their power a symphony of the natural world's might.

The second school, arcane, was a realm of the unseen, a dance with shadows that whispered of powers beyond the grasp of mere mortals. It was a delve into the fabric of reality, where time was not a river but a tapestry that could be pulled and twisted to suit the needs of the cunning. Arcane practitioners did not simply manipulate the elements; they bent the very laws of existence to their will. Summoning creatures from the void, peering into the minds of others, or warping time itself was the playground of these enigmatic mages.

Of the two schools of magic, it was the elemental mages who were the more common sight in Avaricia. Theirs was a craft that sang to the very soul of the world, resonating with the whispers of the earth and the roars of the skies. Elementalists were like the village blacksmiths, their work visible and tangible, shaping the very landscapes that surrounded them.

Each mage was graded by their control over the elements, a ranking system that spoke to the finesse of their art. A Third Grade mage could manipulate their element with ease, a Second Grade could harness its might in battle, while a First Grade could bend the very fabric of the world to their whims.

Not all elemental mages had the gift of arcane spells. But all arcane mages, those who danced in the shadowy realms of reality, had the power to wield the elements.

Being an arcane mage meant understanding the chaos within whilst an elemental mage sought to understand the chaos around them. This fundamental difference in philosophy making it easier for one to be an elemental mage than to dabble in the arcane.

So for Arteus to learn magic, he first had to learn to feel the chaos that surrounded him, to understand the subtle rhythms of the world that were invisible to the untrained eye. He had to become attuned to the whispers of the elements, the gentle caress of the wind, the warm embrace of the sun, the firm grip of the earth beneath his feet. And discover what element he had an affinity for.

They started with the simplest of exercises, sitting cross-legged beside the fire as the snow fell softly outside. Ava guided him through the process, her words a gentle lullaby that coaxed his senses to stretch beyond their mortal coil. "Close your eyes," she instructed, her voice as soft as a snowflake landing on the quiet night. "Breathe deeply, and listen."

Arteus did as he was told, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of the flames. The warmth of the fire licked at his skin, a stark contrast to the frigid air. He could feel the heat, the crackle of the firewood, the smell of the pine and the way it filled the air with a comforting aroma. But it was the air that Ava wanted him to focus on, the very essence of the world that surrounded him.

"Imagine," Ava whispered, her eyes closed in concentration, "that you can breathe through your skin. Feel the air as it brushes against you, the way it caresses your cheeks and slips through your clothes."

Arteus took a deep breath and focused on the sensations she described. At first, there was only the warmth of the fireplace and the smell of roasting meat, the comforting sounds of crackling firewood. But then, as he pushed his senses further, he began to feel the air, the unseen force that filled every corner of their campsite. It was as if the very fabric of the world was a living, breathing entity, and he was a part of it.

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He could feel the air currents swirling around him, the way they danced with the heat from the flames and the cold from outside. Ava's voice grew softer, a gentle nudge towards the precipice of understanding. "Now," she said, "extend your arms, and imagine that your soul is reaching out, touching the chaos that flows 'without'."

Arteus obeyed, his eyes still closed, his mind's eye opening to a new reality. And there they were, threads of light and shadow, stretching out before him, weaving through the very fabric of the campsite. They were everywhere, an intricate web that connected everything. Different colors, different energies, a tapestry of chaos that painted the invisible air. He could see the blue threads of water, the green of life, the red of fire, and the yellow of the air. And amidst all of this, there was a thread that resonated with him, a thread that was a reflection of his own soul, a thread that was white, pure and unblemished.

With a surge of determination, he reached out, his consciousness extending beyond the confines of his flesh. He could feel the chaos within him, a swirling maelstrom of power that begged to be unleashed. And with a thought, a whisper of intent, he began to amplify his own threads, weaving them into the fabric of the world around him. The white thread grew stronger, more vivid, as it stretched out, reaching for the chaos outside. It was as if he had found the perfect note to sing in harmony with the world.

Arteus' thread extended and weaved its way through the chaos before him. As it did, it brushed against a thread of the purest blue, resonating with the very essence of ice and winter's frosty grip. The moment his consciousness touched it, a shiver ran through him.

"Arteus," Ava's voice called him back from the abyss of his thoughts. "Open your eyes."

He did, and the world around him was changed. His arm was sheathed in ice, the cold seeping through his bones and into his very soul. It was not a simple trick of the eye, a glamour to deceive or a temporary transformation. This was his chaos made manifest.

"I guess we've found your affinity," Ava murmured, her eyes wide with wonder as she observed the armor of ice that encased Arteus' arm.

"Affinity?" Arteus echoed, his voice trembling as he stared at the armor of ice that had formed around his arm.

"Yes, an affinity," Ava said, her voice filled with excitement. "Everyone is born with a natural alignment to one of the four elements: fire, water, earth, and air. It's a part of the process that shapes our soul, a piece of the chaos that shapes our very existence." She paused, her eyes searching his as she continued. "For you, Arteus, born in the heart of winter, that looks to be the element of ice."

"Interesting," Arteus murmured, his eyes snapping open to meet Ava's gaze, the ice on his arm slowly dissipating. "But what would happen if I connected my threads to other parts of this... chaos around me?"

"Threads?" Ava echoed his words, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Yeah, like..." Arteus's words trailed off as he stared at his arm, still sheathed in the remnants of ice. He took a deep breath, focusing his thoughts. Then, with surprising ease, begun to extend his consciousness again, reaching out to the threads of chaos that surrounded him. This time, instead of focusing solely on the blue thread of ice, he allowed himself to feel the warm embrace of the fire's red, the solidity of the earth's green, and the elusive whisper of the air's yellow.

His threads made contact with the red of fire, and before he knew it, his right arm was enveloped in a fiery inferno. The heat was intense, yet it didn't burn him, instead it danced along his skin like a lover's warm embrace.

In the next moment, his eyes fell upon the green threads of earth, and the floor beneath him began to tremble. The earth groaned and creaked as the power surged through him, and with a sudden heave, the ground lifted him onto a makeshift pedestal of earth and stone.

He looked down at his left hand, and with a thought, he reached out to the yellow threads of air. A fierce gust erupted around them, sending the pages of Ava's book fluttering like a flock of startled birds. The wind howled, and with each gust, his hand grew warmer, the air thickening with the scent of a spring breeze.

"W-whoa!" Ava exclaimed, her eyes going wide with shock as she stumbled backward. The sight of Arteus' armor changing from ice to fire to earth in the blink of an eye was definitely more than she had bargained for.

"..." But as she stood silently watching him, a smirk begun to creep upon her pink lips.

"...heh." She scoffed, "God-slayer." Before uttering the words, that probably held true now more than ever.

-To Be Continued-