Scias began mentally preparing for the day.
Memories of the fighting beasts remained vivid in his mind—particularly the bear's earth projectiles that hammered against the feline's defenses.
Even though the bear lost, Scias felt drawn to earth magic more than to wind magic that the feline used.
"If they could do it, why not me?" he murmured, settling into a comfortable stance.
Unlike his force spell, which to his knowledge manipulated energy, this new magic would require creating something material from pure mana.
Scias closed his eyes, recalling how the bear seemed to condense its magic into solid form before launching it forward.
'Two distinct steps,' he thought. 'Materialization, then motion.'
He extended his palm and focused on gathering mana, not releasing it immediately as he did with the force spell.
Instead, he envisioned the energy coalescing, taking physical form. Becoming earth, stone, soil.
Nothing happened.
Scias frowned, adjusting his stance and trying again.
This time he concentrated more intensely on the transformation, willing the elusive mana to become solid matter.
Still nothing.
"What am I missing?" he muttered, wiping his brow.
He sat cross-legged on the ground, going through his memories again.
The bear didn't seem to struggle at all. The earth projectiles formed almost effortlessly before being launched.
Perhaps he was overcomplicating things. Magic, as he learned, responded to intuition as much as to deliberate thought.
Rising again, Scias relaxed his mind and tried a different approach.
Rather than forcing the transformation, he simply imagined holding a small stone in his palm, letting the feeling of its weight and texture fill his senses.
A faint tremor ran through his arm as the energy swirled above his palm, gradually compressing into a vaguely spherical shape. The translucent form darkened, taking on an earthen brown hue.
"That's it!"
The moment his concentration wavered with excitement, the half-formed projectile collapsed into dust that scattered across his feet. Scias laughed despite his disappointment.
"Now I'm getting somewhere."
For the next three hours, Scias worked solely on creating earth from mana, gradually extending the time he could maintain the earth projectile's form.
By midmorning, he could reliably create a stable, fist-sized stone that hovered above his palm for several seconds before his concentration faltered.
"Now the next part," he murmured, wiping sweat from his forehead.
The earth magic demanded significantly more mana than his force spell, leaving him feeling drained after each attempt.
Nevertheless, he pressed on, turning his attention to the second phase: motion.
Creating another earth sphere, Scias held it steady above his palm. Once satisfied with its stability, he attempted to launch it forward with a push of his will—similar to how he'd direct his force spell.
The stone wobbled, rose slightly, then disintegrated into dust.
"Hmm." Scias tapped his chin thoughtfully.
His next attempt focused on maintaining the projectile while simultaneously using a separate stream of mana to propel it.
The stone formed perfectly but remained stubbornly hovering in place despite his efforts to move it.
By midday, frustration began to set in. Scias sat beneath a tree, chewing on dried meat while considering the problem.
'Perhaps I'm approaching this wrong,' he thought. 'The force spell is separate from its target, but this earth magic... maybe the projectile itself is still connected to me.'
This realization sparked a new approach. Instead of trying to push the stone from behind, what if he extended his mana through it? Something similar to the tether he learned to create with his force spell.
Scias created another earth sphere, but this time deliberately maintained his connection to it. When the projectile was stable, he didn't attempt to push it—instead, he pulled it along his mana stream, guiding rather than propelling.
The stone wobbled forward six feet before dissolving into dirt.
"Yes!" Scias punched the air triumphantly. "That's it."
Each following attempt brought improvement.
By late afternoon, Scias could create an earth projectile and guide it forward nearly ten paces before losing control.
The strain on his mind was considerable—maintaining both the creation and the guidance simultaneously required more concentration than anything he attempted thus far.
As sunset approached, Scias made one final attempt.
He formed the most perfect sphere yet, compact and solid. With slow, deliberate focus, he extended his mana tether and guided it forward in a straight line.
The projectile traveled smoothly across the clearing, striking a tree trunk with a satisfying thunk before crumbling into dust.
A small impression remained in the bark—nowhere near as powerful as his force spell, but unquestionably a success.
Scias dropped to his knees, exhausted but elated.
The discovery thrilled him despite his fatigue. Unlike the force spell, which likely manipulated existing energy, this earth magic created something from nothing—or rather, transformed magical energy into physical matter.
His mind raced with possibilities even as his body demanded rest. The earth spell consumed more mana than the force spell and required maintaining two distinct magical processes simultaneously.
Scias would ponder after each success. What to do better? How to improve? This allowed his mana to slighly regenerate before each attempt, allowing him to practise longer.
Overall, Scias was able to make around thirty earth projectiles before his mana depleted.
As stars began appearing overhead, Scias made mental notes of everything he learned.
The earth spell operated on seemingly different principles than his force magic.
Where force was projection, earth was transformation and guidance. Force was immediate; earth required sustaining creation before application.
'Each type of magic likely has its own mechanics,' he realized. 'Its own rules and limitations.'
That thought led to another: perhaps different individuals had natural affinities for different types of magic? Would wind come as easily to him as earth? Or would it present entirely new challenges?
"One step at a time," he murmured, feeling sleep tugging at his consciousness.
Scias drifted off beneath the two moons, dreaming of stones flying through air, of bears throwing mountains, and of magic flowing through his veins like molten gold—transforming, creating, becoming.
In his dreams, the stones became boulders, the boulders became mountains, and the mountains reshaped the world.
After waking up, he sat up in his makeshift bed, rubbing his eyes.
'This won't do,' he thought, stretching his stiff limbs. 'I need a break if I see magic even in my dreams.'
The obsession with mastering magic consumed him entirely these past days. His body felt drained, his mind fatigued despite the night's rest.
Every waking moment was dedicated to magic practice until magic was all he saw, all he thought about. Even in his dreams.
"A day without training," he declared to the empty cave, "atleast a day."
The decision brought unexpected relief. Even though he told himself he would take learning magic less seriously, he still pushed himself.
Scias performed his morning routine without rush. He gathered his waterskin, some dried meat, and his dagger—more out of habit than expectation of danger.
The forest proved relatively safe within his territory, though he remained vigilant.
The heat was slowly rising as he ventured beyond his usual training grounds.
He headed toward the pond he discovered weeks earlier, where his familiar creek flowed into a surprisingly deep pool surrounded by smooth stones. The perfect place to cool off and clear his mind.
As he approached, moving quietly through the underbrush, Scias froze.
At the water's edge stood a creature similar to the one he hunted during his first days in this world. It was similar, but much more majestic.
A white stag, taller than any deer he'd encountered, drank delicately from the pond.
Its coat gleamed like fresh snow under the sunlight, antlers spreading from its proud head in all its glory—not the branched pattern of common deer but an intricate crown of ivory that seemed to catch and reflect the light.
'What a majestic creature,' he thought, barely daring to breathe.
Unlike the hunting instinct that guided him before, Scias felt only awe.
He remained motionless, drinking in the sight with a sense of privilege. Such beauty deserved to exist unhindered. The idea of raising a weapon against this creature seemed utterly blasphemous.
Minutes passed as the stag continued its leisurely drink, occasionally lifting its head to survey the surroundings with alert but unhurried awareness.
Scias waited patiently, content merely to witness this moment.
When the stag drank its fill, it raised its head with dignified slowness.
As it prepared to depart, it suddenly turned, looking directly toward Scias's position. Despite his stillness and partial concealment, the stag somehow detected his presence.
Their eyes met across the distance.
Scias expected the creature to bolt, as any wild animal should when detecting a predator
Instead, the white stag held its ground, regarding him with unusual intensity. Its eyes—Scias could now see they held an amber hue unlike the brown of normal deer—seemed to evaluate him with intelligence far beyond animal instinct.
The moment stretched, neither moving, until Scias felt an inexplicable certainty that he was being judged by standards he couldn't comprehend.
Then, it turned gracefully and disappeared into the forest without hurry.
Scias released the breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Strange," he murmured, stepping from his concealment.
The encounter left him with an odd feeling, as though something significant occurred beyond his understanding.
Arriving at the pond's edge, Scias surveyed the clear water with new appreciation.
He removed his clothes, folding them neatly on a flat stone, and stepped in cautiously. The water was pleasantly cool against his skin, washing away days of sweat and tension.
Despite the relaxation, his instincts remained alert.
He kept regular visual sweeps of the tree line, watching for predators that might be drawn to the water, and he avoided the deeper center of the pond where unknown creatures might lurk beneath the surface.
As he floated on his back, staring at the sky, his thoughts returned to the white stag. In his former world of Eswua, such distinctive animals were often considered omens or spirit guides in various cultures. Was this creature merely an unusual specimen, or something more?
Scias let his mind go blank, surrendering to the gentle rocking of the water. No longer paying attention to his surroundings.
The tension in his muscles melted away as he floated, eyes closed against the dappled sunlight. For once, nothing occupied his thoughts. Just peace.
A faint rustling from the shore barely registered in his consciousness.
When his eyes finally opened, three red foxes were gathered around his neatly folded clothes, their eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Hey!" Scias yelled, attemting to scare them away.
One fox's head snapped up, a corner of his painstakingly crafted loincloth already dangling from its mouth.
The creature blinked once, as if to say "finders keepers," then snatched the garment fully into its jaws. Its companions quickly grabbed the remaining fabric scraps and his boots.
Scias thrashed through the water, creating waves that slapped against the shoreline. "Those are mine!!!"
The foxes exchanged glances that could only be described as amused before darting deep into the forest.
By the time Scias reached shore, dripping and fuming, all that remained was his dagger stabbed in ground.
The former military commander stood naked, hands on hips, glaring at the rustling bushes where his clothing disappeared.
"Perfect," he sighed, yanking his dagger from the ground. "Outsmarted by foxes."
He glanced down at his bare form and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'At least there's no one around to see this shame.'
The walk back to his cave almost became a ridiculous stealth mission. Scias crouched behind bushes, pressed himself against tree trunks, and used large leaves as coverings whenever possible. Reduced to a naked man skittering between shadows like a startled squirrel.
That's what Scias thought he would do at first.
Then he realized, 'I am the only human around here, so why bother.' And he walked naked with dagger in hand as if nothing was wrong.
Without his crude clothing, the sun beat mercilessly against his skin.
On his way back he thought about his next actions.
He needed new clothes. But did he also need a fox stew? That remained to be seen.