A cyclone spun above my hand, swirling aimlessly.
To be honest, I didn't know what to do anymore. Not really. I barely remembered who I was, so how was I supposed to figure out what came next? I went from being human to… this—a living cloud. There had to be something ironic about that, though I wasn't in the mood to laugh.
Did I even have needs? I didn't feel hunger or thirst. Was that normal? Hell, I didn't even know if I was normal. And even if there were people out there, would they accept me? Probably not.
I had no idea what to do next.
"Fuck," I muttered.
The cyclone flickered, then kept spinning. I stared at it in silence.
And here I was, sitting alone, talking to myself.
Maybe I am insane.
I close my eyes, resolving to explore the vast unknown that stretches beyond my Site.
Standing up, I push off with my toes—a gesture that feels oddly unnecessary, yet still grounding. Then I soar into the skies, the winds embracing me like an old friend. It feels right, comforting even—a strange kind of homeliness in this new form. Picking a random direction, I let myself drift, carried by the currents and my curiosity.
As I move, I experiment with the powers that flow through me. With a mere thought, I summon rain, feeling the droplets gather and fall as if pulled into existence by my will. I conjure clouds, letting them billow and swirl in intricate patterns. I summon blizzards that chill the air around me, and , I spin hurricanes and tornadoes, All in the pump of my hand watching them twist and spiral with awe.
But then the thought strikes me: Lightning.
I focus, instinct guiding me as memories from my past life resurface, faint and fleeting. Lightning. I remember it as a phenomenon of imbalance, a discharge of energy within a storm, though the details are hazy. Something about particles colliding, charges separating Is still a little hazy
Still, But I get a feeling—or whatever You would call it I know what to do. The storm within me churns as I pull moisture into the air, letting droplets collide and freeze, the chaos building. Instinctively, I feel the charge begin to shift. The heavier, colder particles sink low, pulling negativity with them, while the lighter, rising particles carry positivity upward.
A tension forms in the air, a pressure I can feel pressing against the edges of my awareness the imbalance grows
With a spark of intent, I let the tension release. A blinding flash erupts, illuminating the space around me. Thunder follows, its rumble echoing through the vast expanse. I blink—or at least feel like I do—staring at the trail of energy dissipating into the air.
The process felt natural, as though my instincts knew the steps even if my mind couldn't articulate them. It was like magic; it was raw, elemental power, something primal.
I look down at my hand, the faint traces of static clinging to my form. The power is exhilarating, a reminder of how far I still have to go. I could create storms, rain, and now lightning. But what else could I do
It was nice, but it lacked the refinement I craved. I called to my other abilities, the rain, the wind, the hail—all things I couldn't quite control yet. Lightning, though… lightning was different. It wasn't precisely controllable by nature; it was chaotic, unpredictable, raw. That was the essence of it—untamable, or at least it seemed so on the surface. But even chaos has rules.
Lightning seeks a path, I thought. Always searching for the easiest way to complete the circuit. A flaw, a weakness, or a connection it could exploit. It's not wild in the truest sense; it's simply driven by the Obscure laws. It flows where it must, conducted by metal, water, the earth—anything that could guide it.
I extended my awareness, feeling the mana swirling around me. My existence now felt more like a current than a solid form, a flow of energy and will. Could mana act as a conductor? Could it guide the lightning? If it could, maybe I wouldn't need precision in the traditional sense. I could let the mana guide it for me, channeling its raw force into a focused strike.
I pulled in moisture from the air, condensing it until I felt the temperature drop sharply. The storm inside me churned, the air around me buzzing with anticipation. I visualized the mana in my surroundings, threading it like filaments through the storm clouds above. Slowly, the charge built again, negative energy pooling low, positive energy rising high. The tension between them grew unbearable, the air crackling with potential.
And then, I willed it.
The lightning struck, not in the wild, branching chaos I expected, but in a single, precise arc. It leapt from my hand to the ground below, guided by the invisible threads of mana I had woven. The strike illuminated the landscape, its energy rippling through the earth.
I stood there, stunned, as the air settled. It worked. Mana could conduct lightning. Maybe not perfectly, but enough for me to shape its path. A smile spread through me—if I could refine this, what else might be possible?