Returning to the kitchen of The Grinning Griffin after witnessing the elemental duels at the university was a jarring experience. One
moment, I was watching students command lightning and reshape the earth, the
next? I was back in my personal hell, staring at a mountain of greasy pots that seemed to multiply every time I turned my back. The smell of old stew and Borin's perpetual rage felt more oppressive than ever.
The `75 XP` I'd earned from the delivery quest was a welcome boost, pushing my experience bar past the halfway mark to level 3. It was a tangible reward for my field trip, but the real prize was the knowledge I'd gained. Watching Petra and Caden, and especially Seraphina, had fundamentally changed my understanding of magic. My single, explosive, uncontrolled fireball was the magical equivalent of a toddler throwing a tantrum. It was loud and messy, but it lacked intent, precision and purpose.
That night, after a grueling shift spent mentally replaying the duels while scrubbing congealed gravy, I climbed the stairs to my attic room with a new sense of determination. My mana pool had regenerated throughout
the day, the throbbing headache from the Mana Depletion Sickness having faded
by late afternoon. It was full, or at least, as full as my meager stats would allow. It felt like a small, warm weight in my core, waiting to be used.
Tonight wasn't about raw power. It was about control.
I sat on my straw mattress, the dusty room lit only by the faint moonlight filtering through the grimy window. I extended my left hand
this time, deciding to give my scorched right palm a rest. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and reached inward for my mana.
My goal was simple: recreate the [Ignite] skill, but smaller. Weaker. I didn't want a roaring explosion; I wanted a flicker. A single, steady flame, no bigger than my thumb.
I followed the steps from the System's tutorial, but with a crucial modification. Instead of yanking on the power, I tried to coax it. I pictured my mana not as a raging river, but as a single thread of golden light.
I gently pulled that thread from my core, guiding it down my arm and into my
palm. The sensation was faint, a barely there tingling.
I held the energy in my hand, feeling its warmth. Then I focused my will. Not on an explosion or a roaring forge, but on the
simple, clear image of a candle flame. I poured all my concentration into that
image: its shape, its color, the way it danced.
*Ignite*
A tiny spark, no bigger than a pinprick, appeared above my palm. It winked out of existence almost instantly
It was a failure, but it was a *successful* failure. It wasn't the uncontrolled *fwoomp* from the night before. It was small. It was
controlled. It just wasn't… sustained.
A new notification popped into my vision, one that made my heart leap.
[You have attempted to modify the manifestation of a known
skill.]
[New Sub-Skill Gained: [Mana Control]]
[Mana Control] (Passive/Active) - Level 1 (0/100)
Passive Effect: Slightly increases the efficiency of mana expenditure for all skills.
Active Effect: Allows the user to consciously
regulate the flow and output of mana for a skill, altering its size, power, and duration. Success rate is dependent on skill level and Wisdom.
"Yes!!!" I whispered, punching the air with my free hand. This was the key. This was the skill that separated the Caden's from the Petra's. It wasn't just about having power; it was about being able to throttle it, to use exactly as much as you needed and no more.
For the next two hours, I practiced. It was a delicate, if frustrating balancing act. I would pull a thread of mana, focus my will, and
try to create that tiny flame.
*Spark*
*Flicker.*
*Poof*
Each attempt ended in failure, but each failure was a lesson. I was learning the feel of my own mana, the precise amount of concentration needed. It was like trying to find a specific radio frequency, turning a dial by infinitesimal degrees. Too much mana and the spark would be too strong, snuffing itself out. Too little mana, and nothing would happen at all. Too little focus, and the energy would dissipate. Basically passing a thread through that tiny hole in the needle, while needing some, really, strong, prescription glasses.
With each attempt, a tiny notification chimed.
`[Mana Control] has gained 1 XP.`
`[Mana Control] has gained 1 XP.`
It was a slow, arduous process. My concentration would break, my frustration would mount and I'd have to stop, take a deep breath and start over. But I wasn't just blindly trying anymore. I was learning. I
could feel the connection between my will and the energy becoming stronger, less clumsy.
Finally, after what felt like a thousand failures, something shifted. I pulled the thinnest possible thread of mana, barely a whisper of
power. I shaped my will around the image of the candle flame, holding it steady in my mind's eye.
*Ignite.*
A tiny flame, the size of a grain of rice, flickered into existence above my palm. It wavered, threatening to go out. I held my breath, pouring all my focus not into creating it, but into *sustaining* it. I fed it the tiniest, steadiest trickle of mana I could manage.
The flame stabilized. It grew to the size of my thumbnail, a perfect, teardrop-shaped flame of orange and yellow, dancing silently in the
air. It cast a warm, gentle glow on my face, reflecting in my wide, astonished eyes.
It was beautiful. It was perfect. And it was mine.
I held it for a full ten seconds before my concentration wavered and the flame vanished with a soft *pop*
[Skill [Ignite] has gained 10 XP. (15/100 to Level 2)]
[ Skill [Mana Control] has gained 5 XP (78/100 to Level 2)]
I let out a long, shaky breath, a wide grin spreading across my face. The mental exhaustion was immense, far greater than the night before.
Sustaining the flame, even for that short time, had been like holding a complex equation in my head. But I had done it.
The next week fell into a new rhythm. By day, I was Maddox, the surprisingly efficient dishwasher. My increased stats and my [Lesser Physical Endurance] skill meant I could clear the dish pile in record time,
earning me the occasional grunt of what might have been approval from Borin.
The steady, mindless work was the perfect time to think, to plan, to analyze the duels I had seen. The constant trickle of XP from washing dishes became the foundation upon which I would build my power.
By night, I was Maddox, the secret apprentice mage. I never again tried to create a roaring fireball in my tiny, flammable attic room. My practice became a study in minimalism. My goal was to use the least amount of mana to create the most stable flame and hold it for as long as possible.
My [ManaControl] skill leveled up quickly.
[ Skill [ManaControl] has leveled up to Level 2!]
PassiveEffect: Increases mana efficiency.
ActiveEffect: Increased success rate and precision in regulating mana flow.
The difference was immediate. It became easier to find that delicate balance. My tiny flame became steadier. I could hold it for thirty seconds, then a minute, then five. I started experimenting. I made the flame
shrink and grow with a thought. I made it dance and weave in the air above my
palm.
My *[Ignite]* skill also continued to level up, albeit more slowly. Each level seemed to make the fundamental act of creating the flame a little easier, a little more instinctual.
But my biggest breakthrough came a week after my trip to the university. I had just reached Level 3 from a combination of dishwashing XP and a small quest to de-rat the pantry (which I accomplished by cornering the rat and scaring it out the back door, earning me a cool `50 XP`).
[You have reached Level 3!]
[ You have gained 5 Attribute Points and 1 Skill Point]
I immediately invested the points. I put 3 points into Intelligence, raising it to 11, and 2 into Wisdom, raising it to 9. The effect was instantaneous. I felt a subtle shift in my mind, a new clarity, and the warm ember of my mana pool in my core felt noticeably larger, fuller. My regeneration would be faster, too
For my skill point, I opened the Fire skill tree. A new option was available.
[Firebolt] (Active): Shape a small amount of Fire mana into a condensed, projectile form and launch it at a target.
Cost: 1 Skill Point.
Prerequisites: [Ignite] Level 3.
My `[Ignite]` skill was Level 4. I learned `[Firebolt]` without a second thought.
The tutorial was similar to `[Ignite]`, but with an added step: compression and release. It warned that an unstable bolt could detonate
prematurely.
That night, my practice changed. My target was the stone wall opposite my straw mattress. I wasn't trying to damage it, just to hit it.
My first attempt was a disaster. I channeled the mana, shaped it into a small, glowing sphere in my hand, but when I tried to
"release" it, it just fizzled out, showering my fingers with harmless, warm sparks.
It took another hour of frustrating trial and error. The key, I discovered, was the release. It wasn't just letting go. It was a mental
*push*, a final application of will that sent the compressed mana flying.
My first successful `[Firebolt]` was pathetic. It was a glowing orange marble of light that wobbled through the air for about five feet
before hitting the stone wall with a soft *tink* and dissipating. It was less of a deadly projectile and more of a magical spitball.
But it was a start.
[ Skill [Firebolt] has gained 1 XP]
The days turned into weeks. My life was a cycle of grind, practice, learn, repeat. I reached Level 4. I poured all my new attribute
points into Intelligence and Wisdom. My mana pool grew, my regeneration quickened. My [Mana Control] skill hit Level 5. My firebolts became faster, more stable. They no longer wobbled, they flew straight and true, hitting the wall with a satisfying *thwack* and leaving a tiny, temporary scorch mark that I would quickly wipe away.
I was getting stronger. I could feel it. But I was also hitting a wall. Practicing in my room was safe, but it was limiting. I couldn't test the real power of a firebolt. I couldn't practice larger manifestations of flame. I couldn't practice moving and casting at the same time.
I needed a better training ground. A place where I wouldn't set my bed on fire.
One evening, as I was finishing up the last of the dishes, Leo came into the kitchen, looking exhausted.
"Long day?" I asked, stacking the last plate.
"The longest" he sighed, leaning against the
counter. "We're running low on Griffin's Gold ale, which means I have to do a cellar run. And the cellar is… creepy."
"Creepy how?"
"It's just… old," he said with a shudder.
"It's part of an old smugglers' tunnel system, Elara says that it goes on forever. It's dark, it's damp, and I swear I hear things skittering around in the dark. I hate it down there".
An idea, brilliant and reckless, sparked in my mind. A cellar. Underground. Stone walls. No flammable materials. Dark. Secluded. It
was perfect.
"You know," I said, trying to sound as helpful and casual as possible. "I'm not busy. And I'm not afraid of the dark. I could help you. Or, you know, just go down and grab a few kegs for you"
Leo's face lit up like a sunbeam. "Really?! You'd dothat? Maddox, you are a lifesaver!!! The trapdoor is behind the bar. Just take a
lantern. Grab two of the red-banded kegs. I would be eternally grateful."
"No problem at all," I said with a smile.
"Happy to help".
As I walked out of the kitchen, I pulled up my quest log.
The main quest, `Become the Strongest`, loomed at the top. But I knew, with a
thrill of anticipation, that I was about to start a new, self-assigned side quest.
Its name was Operation: Secret Underground Fireball Practice Range. And I had a feeling it was going to be a lot more fun than washing dishes.