We landed, and I opened the house about ten kiloters from the city, right at the mouth of the canyon, hidden just beyond a bend. We were completely invisible from the city, so we didn’t even need Mahya’s concealnt poles. She put them up anyway. After dinner, we went to bed.
I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot, but my mind wouldn’t settle. During the flight over the mountains, my hands were busy with the cara, snapping shots of the peaks and valleys, but my brain was stuck on other things. The affinities. The fire affinity bugged the most—how much more developed it was compared to Al’s. And then there was the mist affinity, with channels that didn’t connect to anything, just floating there useless. It felt... wrong, like a project soone had started and then abandoned halfway through.
And the fire affinity—it kept ssing with . On one hand, I wasn’t such a scaredy-cat anymore. I could step into dungeons without second-guessing myself, taking things in stride—except for the acid pit. That one didn’t count. No sane person dives into a pit of acid. So yeah, in that sense, it was a good thing.
But then there was the other side. The temper. I’d had to stop myself from flaring up more than once, biting my tongue and keeping it together by sheer willpower. I managed to keep it cool with Cloud and even helped her out, but it took everything I had. That blow-up with Mahya? That wasn’t —not the real . It was the fire in my system, ssing with my Spirit orb.
I rembered reading about it—the Spirit orb being tied to emotion and astral energy. Before this fire nonsense, teasing Mahya was fun. We’d always poked at each other and traded jabs. It was light, easy, and honestly, a blast. For soone like —soone who didn’t really have friends before—having that kind of back-and-forth felt... special. It was a new kind of fun, sothing I never had growing up.
Now, though, it wasn’t the sa. Everything felt sharper and heavier, like the fire was turning sothing simple into sothing complicated. I groaned, flipping onto my side again. It wasn’t just about controlling the fire—it was about figuring out what it was doing to and how to handle it.
The solution to both problems was clear: I needed water affinity. I knew that. The issue was actually getting it. Except for that one ti I achieved unity with water, I hadn’t made any progress. It felt like trying to grab smoke—every ti I thought I was close, it slipped through my fingers.
Well, I didn’t really try too hard, but still.
Frustrated, I punched the pillow, trying to settle in, but it didn’t help. When my mind was running in circles like this, sleep was impossible. I tossed, turned, adjusted the blanket, but nothing worked. Eventually, I gave up, cursed under my breath, and got out of bed.
The roof felt like the best place to clear my head. Lying there, staring at the sky, was sothing else entirely. This world didn’t have light pollution—none of that dull haze hanging over everything like back on Earth. Instead, the night sky was alive with stars, millions of them scattered like glitter on black velvet.
But what really hit was how alien those stars were. Nothing was familiar about them—no constellations I recognized, no comforting patterns to anchor . It should’ve been unsettling, but it wasn’t. The unfamiliarity made it grander, more srizing. It felt like the universe had been cracked open just for , putting on a celestial show that I couldn’t look away from.
Wind was effortless to connect with. But she wasn’t just any affinity—she was special, unique. Once I stripped away all the layers of myself that weren’t truly , it was obvious why. At my core, my base personality aligned with hers too well. It was as if we spoke the sa language, shared the sa rhythm. That connection wasn’t just fast—it was natural, almost inevitable.
Fire and lightning were tougher to connect with, but each ca with its own unique circumstances. Lightning carried an elent of wind within it, and since I already understood that aspect from my ti in Paris, the bridging process wasn’t as daunting. It was like adding a familiar thread to an otherwise foreign weave.
Fire, on the other hand, was an ordeal. I forced it down my channels, raw and untad, surviving only because my healing spells kept intact. That experience had been brutal. Still, I couldn’t deny that my earlier success in creating fire through mana back in Spain probably laid so groundwork. It wasn’t graceful, but it got the job done.
My eyes snapped open, the shock of realization hitting like a bolt of lightning. For both fire and lightning, I’d first learned the aspect—how to create it using mana, how to attune crystals to it.
Was that what created the bridge?
I groaned, facepalming hard enough to sting. How had I not connected the dots before? It was so obvious now. I’d studied and practiced both elents long before I tried connecting to them. Of course, the process felt easier for —relatively speaking, anyway.
For soone else, it probably wouldn’t have been easy at all. Let’s be real—they’d probably have died.
Definitely not ntioning that part to Mahya.
The answer settled my restless thoughts, the pieces finally clicking into place. My mind let go of the endless churn for the first ti that night. Lying there under the alien stars, I drifted off to sleep, the cool breeze wrapping around like a blanket.
Over breakfast, I pushed my plate aside and leaned back. “Are you in a hurry to get to the city, or can we wait a few days?” I asked, glancing between the two of them.
Al raised an eyebrow, setting his tea down with deliberate care. “I am not in a hurry,” he replied, his tone calm but firm. “You are the one eager to go to the city. Personally, if we were to skip cities altogether, I would consider it a blessing.”
Mahya jabbed her fork in his direction, her grin mischievous. “What Al said,” she chid in, clearly enjoying herself as she took another bite of her food.
I sighed, shaking my head. “Great. The two of you are a united front against . Fantastic. I feel very supported.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes, the silence that cos when everyone is too comfortable to feel the need to fill it. Eventually, Mahya tilted her head and asked, “What made you change your mind? You are the one who wanted to go to the city to sell things.”
I shrugged, poking at the crust of my bread. “I still want to go, just not today. I think I’ve figured out how to get the water affinity, and I want to work on that first.”
Al leaned forward slightly, his expression unusually serious. “Why are you so insistent on going to the city?” he asked. “I understand you wish to sell items, but you have enough points. If storage is the issue, you have more than enough resources to upgrade it. You also have the inventory that you only use for money. According to your explanation, you can store quite a lot in it. Furthermore, the house can accommodate far more than we currently store. In light of all this, I do not see why you feel such urgency.”
“I did not ntion this before,” he continued, “because I have noticed that when I ask for sothing, you rarely argue. You even convinced Mahya to assist when I needed sothing. Out of respect for that, I have remained silent about this. However, I do wish to understand your reasoning.”
I sat up straighter, folding my arms as I t his gaze. “It’s not just about selling things,” I explained. “For , visiting a new world isn’t just about the scenery or, in this case, clearing dungeons. A world isn’t just geography and dungeons. The most interesting part of traveling is eting the locals, seeing their customs, their clothing, their architecture. Tasting their food, discovering sothing completely new, hearing their music—it’s about experiencing the culture of the world, not just the physical parts of it.”
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Al nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I understand that and even agree with your perspective,” he said. “However, this is a dreadful world. We both know it. So why do you feel the need to experience this particular world?”
I smirked, leaning back again. “Because if we don’t experience the terrible worlds, how are we going to appreciate the good ones?”
Before Al could respond, Mahya reached across the table and smacked the back of my head. Her grin stretched wide, her eyes sparkling with amusent. “You’re an idiot,” she said, the teasing lilt in her voice impossible to miss.
I rubbed the back of my head, shooting her a mock glare but deciding it was probably best to let it go. It felt like a good stopping point for that discussion, and I wasn’t in the mood to get smacked again.
I found a spot just before the bend in the river, where large, smooth rocks lined the edge. It was perfect. I perched on one of the flatter rocks, dipping my feet into the cool water. The gentle current swirled around my ankles, a rhythmic motion that helped quiet my thoughts. Closing my eyes, I stretched my mana sense as far as it would go, letting it seep into the surrounding water. I didn’t force anything or manipulate the flow—I just let my mind follow the water, moving with it, feeling its quiet strength and steady rhythm.
Ti slipped away as I sat there, completely imrsed in the mont. The sun climbed higher, its warm rays brushing my skin, and eventually, I noticed it was more than halfway across the sky. Taking a deep breath, I took the next step. I slid into the river, letting the water envelop , and for the first ti, I actively tried to understand it—its mana, its essence, its... flavor, for lack of a better word.
It wasn’t easy. Hours passed as I focused, my mind straining to grasp what made water mana tick. It wasn’t like the other elents I had worked with; it was subtler, deeper, like trying to catch a shadow in a mirror. Finally, though, sothing clicked. I couldn’t put it into words, but I thought I had it.
Excited, I climbed back onto the rocks, cupping my hands as I channeled mana into them. The mont the clear liquid shimred into existence, pooling in my palms, it touched my skin. At first, it looked perfect—exactly like water.
A sharp sizzle erupted, and a searing pain shot through my palms. I yelped, flinging my hands wildly. “Oww! Oww! Oww!” I stumbled backward, shaking my hands and blowing on them like that would sohow help.
The sharp, dicinal tang of sothing acrid lingered in the air, and I stared at my palms, red, stinging, and slightly frosted-looking. “Okay,” I muttered, wincing. “Not water.”
Healing Touch eased the pain, leaving my palms smooth and unblemished, but I was still utterly confused. How the hell did I burn myself with water?
I spent another hour focusing on the flavor of water mana, doing my best to figure out where I went wrong. When I thought I had a handle on it, I tried again.
I cupped my hands, channeling mana into them, watching as the clear liquid pooled. It looked perfect. Crystal clear, exactly like water. For a mont, I felt a wave of relief. Maybe I’d finally done it.
Then the pain started.
It wasn’t imdiate, but when it hit, it hit hard. A deep, gnawing ache spread through my palms, like sothing was digging its way under my skin. It wasn’t the sharp burn like last ti—it was worse. It felt like it was inside my hands, burrowing deeper with every second.
“What the—?!” I yelped, flinging the liquid from my palms, but the damage was already done. My hands throbbed, red and swollen, and the edges of my skin were turning pale, almost waxy. The pain wasn’t just on the surface—it felt like it was attacking my bones.
Frantic, I activated Healing Touch, spell washing over my palms and chasing the pain away. My hands looked fine again, but my head wasn’t. What the hell was that stuff? How did I screw up water this badly?
I flexed my fingers, still rattled. “Okay,” I muttered to myself, “definitely not water. And definitely not trying this again until I know what the hell I’m doing.”
I went looking for Al. He might know. If anyone could explain what had just happened, it was him. I found him sitting at the table outside, polishing so weird contraption with a ticulousness that only Al could manage.
“Hey,” I said, pulling up a chair across from him. He didn’t look up, just kept working.
“What is it?” he asked after a mont.
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling like an idiot even before I opened my mouth. “So, I was trying to... you know... make water with mana. But, uh, I think I made sothing else instead. It burned my hands, and then it started ssing up from the inside. Healing Touch fixed it, but it was bad. Like, really bad. Any idea what it could’ve been?”
That got his attention. He set the contraption down and looked at , his brows furrowing. “Burned your hands and affected you internally?” he repeated, his tone skeptical. “That does not sound like water at all.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” I said, leaning forward. “It looked like water. Felt like water at first. Then it started eating through . Any thoughts?”
Al sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “I cannot say for certain. You described sothing corrosive, perhaps acidic, yet it was clear like water. It is possible you accidentally created so form of acid.”
I nodded, hopeful. “Okay, that makes sense. What kind of acid would act like that?”
“That,” Al said, raising a finger, “is where I am at a loss. I am not familiar with any acid that would form directly from mana manipulation. Alchemy requires ingredients and precise asurents. Mana manipulation, as you describe it, introduces entirely different variables. I cannot explain how you managed to synthesize sothing so dangerous with no reagents or apparatus.”
I slumped in my chair, frustrated. “So you’re saying you don’t know?”
“I am saying,” Al said, with just a hint of irritation, “that without more information, it is impossible to identify what you created. It could be so unstable byproduct of your mana process, sothing unique to your thod or affinity. I would need samples, detailed observations—”
“Well, I’m not exactly keen on trying that again just so you can take notes,” I cut in.
“Wise,” he said dryly, picking up his contraption again. “My advice? Do not attempt to create water until you understand mana manipulation at a molecular level. You clearly lack that understanding at present.”
I stared at him. “Yeah, thanks. Super helpful, Al.”
He didn’t even look up. “Anyti.”
His last sentence bounced around in my head like an annoying echo. Understand at a molecular level. Maybe he had a point. Maybe I’d been going about this all wrong.
With that thought nagging at , I headed to my library.
Standing there, surrounded by shelves packed with books, I usually felt a swell of pride. This was my collection, a treasure trove of knowledge I’d gathered. But today, I felt overwheld. I needed information, and I had no idea where to start.
I stared at the shelves, trying to make sense of where to begin. The books seed to mock with their sheer number and randomness. After a mont of fruitless pacing, I tried sothing. Closing my eyes, I reached out with my connection to the core, willing it to guide to what I needed. The shelves remained frustratingly silent. Of course it didn’t work. I didn’t even know the na of the book I was looking for, so how could the core?
Fine. Plan B.
I activated my Luck and waited, glancing around expectantly. Nothing happened.
“Seriously?” I muttered, throwing my hands in the air. “Hey, your description says you help with lucky finds or stuff that leads to a better future. If I find sothing here, it will definitely be lucky and lead to a better future. You know, with more affinities and less burning my hands. So… do your job, dammit!”
Still nothing.
Grrrrr!
With a deep sigh, I gave up on magical shortcuts and started looking manually. Book by book, shelf by shelf, it was slow going. It took two days to find my first real answer.
In a book nad Chemistry: The Central Science (14th Edition), I stumbled on this passage:
"Hydrofluoric acid (HF) is a solution of hydrogen fluoride in water, known for its potent corrosive properties. Its molecular composition, consisting of a single hydrogen atom and a fluorine atom, makes it distinct from water (H₂O) in both structure and behavior. While visually similar to water, HF reacts with organic and inorganic materials, causing severe chemical burns. Its ability to dissolve materials such as glass demonstrates its extre reactivity and danger."
The explanation left blinking. It was fascinating—scary, but fascinating. I’d apparently created a substance capable of lting glass and frying my hands at the sa ti. Not exactly a win, but it explained a lot.
One day later, still buried in books, I found another piece of the puzzle in General Chemistry: Principles and Modern Applications (12th Edition):
"Hydrogen peroxide (H₂O₂) closely resembles water (H₂O) in its molecular structure, differing only by the addition of one oxygen atom. This additional oxygen results in peroxide being a reactive oxidizing agent, capable of causing cellular damage upon contact. Unlike water, hydrogen peroxide can bleach organic materials and produce burns on skin due to its ability to break down into reactive oxygen species."
The pieces were starting to co together. Apparently, my attempts at creating water had gone slightly off-track, leading to accidentally generate so of the nastiest substances known to man.
The knowledge was definitely broadening my horizons, and I could even admit it was kinda interesting. But it didn’t bring any closer to actually gaining the water affinity. Just the thought of having to add chemistry to my already too-long list of things to learn made groan.
“Water,” I muttered, flopping onto my chair in defeat, “is a bitch.”
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