A Month of Becoming

"Don't say dump things—it's not like you!" the voice said.

"I just did what you did with your change of voice there to tease you! So I just need to get the mana to disappear, right? Let's see," Icariel said.

Icariel focused again, reaching for the flame with his will. Slowly, the fire shrank—until it vanished, and the mana flowed back into him like warm smoke returning to its source.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it," he said, more confident.

"Of course. It's easier with simple spells like this," the voice replied. "But now… like I said earlier—it's time to try again. This time, don't mix mana from the air to create it. Try bringing back that flame using only the mana inside your body."

"But… it didn't work before when I tried," Icariel said, confused.

"Just try it," the voice said, firm but calm. "Imagine the flame in your hand."

Icariel nodded slightly. His eyes stayed open this time, focused and sharp. He held out his hand, recalling the warmth, the glow—the feeling of the flame he had just summoned.

And suddenly—fwssh.

A flame sparked to life, dancing in his palm.

"It worked!" he gasped, stunned. "How?! I didn't mix anything this time. It was just… my own mana!"

"Of course it worked," the voice answered, matter-of-fact. "Why would you need to mix anymore?"

There was a pause, then the voice continued:

"Mixing is only required once. The moment you channel mana from the outside, combine it with your own, and then reclaim it—your body, your mind, your very soul—remembers. The memory of the spell becomes a part of you."

Icariel stared at the flame, flickering gently in his hand, stunned by how natural it felt now.

"It's just like when you first learned to use an axe," the voice explained. "In the beginning, every move needed caution, attention. You had to think—where to swing, how to hold, when to strike. But after days, weeks, your muscles remembered. Your body flowed on instinct. This is the same."

"So that's how I'll learn spells faster?" Icariel asked.

"Exactly. Once your body experiences it, it knows it. And next time, you won't need to struggle. You'll just… summon it."

"Then that's why it didn't work before," Icariel realized aloud. "Because I hadn't acquired it yet. I hadn't learned it."

"Correct," the voice confirmed. "You can't use what you haven't earned. But now… you've taken the first true step into magic."

"From now on—for one whole month—you'll begin mixing all kinds of mana types and imprinting them into your body," the voice said."Your body still can't handle high-level spells, but for the next thirty days, you will learn every element nature possible. And once you do, they'll always be available to you—whenever you need them."

"What do you think?"

Icariel looked down at his hands, remembering the feeling of the flame—the power. Then he smiled, a real one this time.

"Ha… to be honest, I started all of this for one reason—just like I said at the beginning: the more cards I have, the better my chances of survival."

"In this new land, away from Mjull, outside of my safe little home… I need every edge I can get. That's why I decided to train, to suffer, to bleed—to grow stronger even when I hate it."

"But..." he paused, eyes reflecting the small fire still dancing nearby, "...after seeing the result for the first time—after really feeling it."

"I'm… excited. Genuinely."

"For the first time, I'm curious. I want to see how far I can go. What I can handle. What we can do—together."

"It's the first time I've felt like this. And it's a great first feeling."

He clenched his fists with resolve, his voice steady.

"I'm ready. Teach me all you can."

There was a small pause. Then the voice replied, simple and firm:

"Sure."

"Be ready. This month is all you will have... to learn as much as you can."

A month. That's all the voice gave him.

Thirty days to learn how to manipulate the forces of nature themselves—fire, water, wind, earth, lightning, ice—all through the mystical lens of mana, all through the new gift he'd awakened: White Sense.

Icariel stood in the middle of the woods, shirtless, his skin marked with fading wounds and faint scars. The forest around him shimmered, not with sunlight, but with mana. His vision, now permanently awakened, could see the subtle orbs of gold, white, blue, green—mana flowing in every corner of the world.

He clenched his fists. Let's start.

And so, the short month began.

The voice instructed him calmly, "You've already tasted fire. Now, you'll understand it."

Golden and blue. He'd seen them before, but now the voice told him to change the ratios.

"More blue, less gold. Less blue, more gold. Watch what happens."

When he added more golden orbs, the flame in his palm swelled—hot, violent, untamed. Sweat rolled down his forehead as the fire crackled louder with every shift in proportion. Sometimes it was too wild—threatening to burn him. Other times, it fizzled out like a dying ember.

But he endured. He learned.

It took him three days to imprint all kinds of fire in his memory:

A massive, harmless flame, wide and bright but cool to the touch—formed by more blue than gold.

A tiny, condensed inferno that could burn through a body in seconds—created with just a flick of internal mana added to a golden-heavy mix.

"If you pour enough of your own mana into it…" the voice had said, "you could burn one in seconds."

Then came Wind.

"Find a high point," the voice told him. "Somewhere you can truly feel the wind."

There was no hill nearby, but Icariel didn't hesitate. He climbed the tallest tree he could find.

The wind welcomed him.

There—white and light green orbs danced in the air. He reached out and mixed them.

At first, a gentle breeze flowed past his fingers. Then a gust. Then—

FWOOOM.

A slicing arc of wind blasted forward, tearing branches from trees, knocking him off balance. Icariel fell, crashing to the ground.

He blinked up through the swaying leaves, stunned. "…I did that?"

"Who else?" the voice answered.

He grinned.

That was how he learned his first wind spell: Wind Slash. And he remembered what the voice had told him—"You don't need to mix anymore. Just imagine it. Shape the spell from what your body already remembers."

Week Two – Water and Earth

"Go to the stream you found," the voice said.

Icariel crouched by the quiet water source behind the cave. Dark blue orbs, touched with silver, glimmered above the water's surface. He raised his hand.

"Combi...," he whispered.

The orbs danced to his call. Tiny droplets formed from the air itself, swirling around his fingers. He smiled.

"I know this part. Combine them."

And he did. A flowing strand of water formed in his palm.

Then after learning it, he tried again—this time, summoning water without mixing outside mana. He closed his eyes and imagined it.

"It worked."

The spell had been imprinted.

"Perfect." the voice muttered, "Personally, water's not your strongest. You won't use it often. But it's good to have."

Icariel nodded. "You never know"

Next was Earth.

"It's one of the hardest and most useless for your purposes," the voice said flatly. "We'll skip it."

The earth elemental—you can't create it. You can only use it and manipulate it, like throwing stones at monsters. It's not worth it unless you're really proficient, and since you'll learn the other two powers, it's not worth bothering with.

Icariel didn't argue. The voice had never steered him wrong.

And now…

The voice went quiet for a moment, almost thoughtful.

"For the next week… I hope it rains."

Icariel tilted his head. "Why?"

"…Because you'll be learning Lightning. The hardest to feel. The hardest to control. And the most dangerous to let go of once you do."