Rowan sat under the tall oak in the backyard, four spell tomes opened in front of him. The late morning sun filtered through the branches above, illuminating the worn pages. It was a peaceful scene—an almost surreal contrast to the weight pressing on his shoulders.

  It took most mages weeks to memorize, practice, and eventually master even a Murmur-level spell. Magic wasn’t something one did halfheartedly. It was an art. A craft they spent their entire lives perfecting.

  But Rowan wasn’t just any mage.

  Before they left on their expedition, he planned on learning at least three.

  He picked up the first tome, its leather worn smooth with age.

  [Whisper Step], Murmur-level.

  A small but noteworthy spell, granting the user swift and quiet movement.

  This spell lightly lifts the caster’s feet, reducing the friction between them and the ground. Though often overlooked as a combat spell, [Whisper Step] is useful for avoiding unceremonious deaths on the battlefield.

  Rowan’s lips quirked upward. It was exactly what he needed, a spell to complement his speed and help him avoid getting injured.

  Wind spells weren’t about raw destruction like Fire, they were about precision, utility, and control. Which was exactly why Rowan had picked Wind as his second affinity.

  Fire was the sword he fought with, and Wind would be the shield he’d use to guard against harm.

  He set the tome aside and reached for the next one, a slightly thicker volume with faded gold lettering.

  [Feather Fall], Murmur-level.

  A humble lifesaver, converting a deadly fall into a harmless descent.

  This simple spell slows a person's fall, causing them to float gently to the ground. Many novice mages practice this spell extensively, not only for the practicality, but for its grace—the sensation of weightlessness is an experience like few others.

  [Feather Fall] wasn’t flashy, and it wasn’t a spell Rowan expected to hopefully use much, but eliminating falling to his death from the list of possibilities of how his life could end was definitely a priority.

  He’d already memorized the circuit, and all that remained was mastering the Intent. Which, unfortunately, meant jumping from the third story.

  Again.

  Rowan sighed and set the book down, his gaze shifting to the third tome, thicker still.

  [Tailwind], Murmur-level.

  A spell that bestows the gift of speed, carried by the wind’s favor.

  When cast, [Tailwind] enhances the movement speed of the caster by a tremendous amount. The effect is akin to running with a strong wind at your back, one that molds itself to your movements, making every step faster and lighter. It is useful in battles when quick repositioning is key. Though beware, the sudden increase in speed can prove disorienting.

  Below was a portion written in another’s handwriting.

  Note. You’d think combining it with [Whisper Step] would be a good idea. It isn’t. — Ilio Kalan-Athlain

  Rowan didn’t know who Ilio was, but the tomes in the Vault had been in use for generations. Nevertheless, he appreciated his ancestors' warning.

  Which didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try it when he mastered both, just that he’d be more careful when doing it.

  Rowan tapped the page thoughtfully.

  [Tailwind] would elevate his mobility to the next level. Combined with his high Dexterity, the boost in speed would make him almost impossible to pin down.

  It wasn’t hard to imagine how useful that would be during a fight, but the fourth tome was a tantalizing alternative.

  [Soar], Murmur-level.

  The dream of flight, if only for a moment.

  The spell allows the caster to ride the wind, propelling them into the air a short distance. [Soar] provides limited flight, useful for avoiding ground-based attacks, leaping over obstacles, or repositioning during combat. While it isn’t capable of carrying the caster far, it is invaluable for a mage caught in close quarters or needing a quick escape.

  Note. Be careful when combining it with [Feather Fall]. It’ll make you go further, but also make you an easier target.

  Flying was a dream Rowan had since he was a boy, listening to tales of mages soaring through the sky on wings of magic. True flight wasn’t something he’d be able to do anytime soon, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t mimic it.

  If only for a moment.

  Rowan imagined himself gliding above the battlefield, wind whipping through his hair. Enemies from below wouldn’t be able to touch him, while he could rain down spells from above.

  But practicality won out.

  Mages could still hit him, and against someone like Silvia that spell would actually be detrimental.

  “Speed first,” he muttered. “Flight later.”

  There were offensive spells Rowan thought about learning: [Air Blade], [Cyclone], and [Wind Shear], just to name a few. All of them were powerful—and certainly useful, but they just weren’t what he needed right now.

  Setting aside the tome, Rowan closed his eyes.

  It took him barely a moment to shift his perception into the Vault. As he did, a strange pressure pressed against his mind. Then, a heartbeat later, it was gone. Like it hadn’t even been there.

  Rowan opened his eyes, standing in front of a bookshelf in the Vault’s second chamber.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He placed [Feather Fall], [Tailwind], and [Soar] back from where he took them, then stepped back and looked around.

  There was a bookshelf for each affinity, the same as in the first Chamber. Only instead of having a single Chant-level spell per affinity, there were five of them.

  Still, having ten Chant’s to learn would take Rowan a while. A task he was eager to get started.

  He ran his fingers across the spines, reading the titles aloud. “[Sonic Boom], [Air Dash], [Wind Spear], [Zephyr Armor], and [Vortex].”

  He pulled out [Wind Spear], flipping through its pages and admiring the complexity of its mana circuit. It was beautiful, intricate, and leagues beyond what he was currently capable of casting.

  Even memorizing it would be a task, and there were no Wind vents to help him along this time. Rowan would have to do it with his own mana, meditating in between attempts.

  [Iron Will] made that much easier to stomach than before, and with his trait letting him consume potions on top of that, Rowan should be able to master one in around a month.

  The first one was always the toughest, but he’d broken through that bottleneck with [Fireball].

  Rowan carefully set the tome back, turning his gaze to the four new Fire spells.

  [Wildfire], [Inferno Burst], [Molten Sphere], and [Blazing Chains] were the ones his family decided to offer Orange-Core mages, and Rowan saw why.

  If he mastered all four of those, he doubted even mages with a tier-two affinity could take him lightly.

  [Wildfire] and [Inferno Burst] would be the ones he started with. [Blazing Chains] was an enhanced version of [Fire Whip], and [Molten Sphere] was a defensive version of [Fireball], so it seemed like a waste to learn them first.

  Taking out the tomes for those two spells, Rowan quickly glanced at the descriptions.

  [Wildfire], Chant-level.

  A spell that unleashes uncontrollable flames, spreading across the battlefield and engulfing everything in its path.

  With this spell, the caster ignites the ground around them, creating a rapidly spreading fire that consumes everything it touches. The flames are fierce and relentless, growing in intensity as they move outward. Anything flammable caught in the fire is swiftly reduced to ash, and even stone is scorched by the heat. [Wildfire] is the perfect spell for area denial, forcing enemies to flee or risk being engulfed in the blaze. Beware, while the uncontrollable nature of the spell makes it powerful, it also makes it extremely dangerous. The flames spread indiscriminately, and if left unchecked, they can become as much threat to allies as to enemies.

  Note. Do not cast this in a forest.

  It was a spell for when things looked especially bad. Surrounded by enemies and with no care about the fallout. There was no precision to it, just a wave of destruction.

  But sometimes, that was exactly what you needed.

  [Inferno Burst], Chant-level.

  A devastating explosion of flames, centered around the caster and designed to clear the immediate area of foes.

  Upon casting, the spell releases a violent and devastating explosion of fire, radiating outward from the caster in all directions. The blast knocks back enemies and deals severe damage to those caught in its radius. This spell is particularly useful in close-quarters fighting or when surrounded. Exercise caution when in close proximity to your allies, like all Fire spells of this level, control is paramount.

  Note. Trying to force the explosion into a single direction is foolish. It’ll end with you in the center of what amounts to a destabilized [Fireball]. If you want an enhanced [Flame Vent], then enhance [Flame Vent].

  It was similar to [Wildfire], but [Inferno Burst] had a way to toggle the amount of mana you imbued into it, exchanging firepower for control.

  Rowan shook his head, closing the tomes and withdrawing his perception from the Vault.

  He’d been spending more time inside of it as of late. Getting acquainted with all the new items it now offered. If he ever needed to pull something out in a hurry, knowing it was there in the first place was a must.

  His gaze drifted across the backyard, where Annie was practicing with her spear.

  Sweat dripped down her brow as she moved through the forms of [Wind Dance], her spear slicing through the air with precision. She’d been at it for hours, and her determination hadn’t faltered for even a moment.

  Annie was talented, and relentless, so Rowan had no doubt she’d master the technique by the time they left on the expedition.

  The enchantment on her spear glowed faintly, guiding her movements through the intricate steps, her body coiling like a string before lunging.

  Rowan watched her train, resting his back against the bark and pulling out a canteen.

  He’d been practicing for hours, a ten minute break wouldn’t hurt.

  She finished a few moments later, swinging the spear around her neck and into her other palm, slamming the butt into the ground.

  Taking a deep breath, she relaxed, turning to look at him.

  “I’m so close,” she said, walking towards him and tying her hair back, sweat glistening on her skin. Despite her exhaustion, her eyes were bright with energy.

  “If I get it today, I might actually have time to work on advancing to Iron IV before we leave.”

  She sat down next to him, snatching the canteen out of his hand. “You?” she asked, a smile tugging at her lips. “How’s your pondering going?”

  Rowan snorted. “Good. I’m thinking big thoughts.”

  She uncorked it, taking a big swig, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Honestly, I expected something more when you said you’d be learning spells,” she shook her head. “You mages have it so easy. Us warriors have to toil away under the sun while you relax in the shade. How’s that fair?”

  Rowan chuckled. “You do know I’m actually doing something, right? Not to brag, but it’s super impressive.”

  Annie laughed, setting her spear on the ground. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and Rowan’s eyes moved to a window on the second floor. “You think he’ll manage it?”

  Nemir hadn’t left his room today, and if Rowan’s guess was correct, that would be a common occurrence until the expedition.

  He was on the cusp of advancing to Silver and acquiring an Aura. Something that would allow him to contend with the opponents they’d be facing.

  Rowan had seen the fire in his eyes after Quinea’s speech.

  Out of all of them, Nemir was the hungriest for that next step. He’d been stuck at Iron V ever since Rowan met him—and likely longer. Although stuck wasn’t exactly the correct term. He’d been making progress every day, and after the fight in the cavern, Nemir was closer than ever.

  But the last step was the hardest, and all Rowan could do was hope his friend managed it.

  Annie shook her head. “No, but he’s not trying to either.”

  She pulled out a small whetstone from her breast pocket and started grinding it against the speartip. “But he’ll definitely manage it during the battle. Meditating a few days before an attempt makes it much more likely to succeed.”

  “Makes sense, “ Rowan nodded. “A hobgoblin or two should be enough to sharpen it.”

  “I’m actually surprised he didn’t get it during our quest,” Annie said. “I definitely felt something at the end, but he didn’t have a chance to really grab hold of it.”

  Nemir was trying to create an Aura of Might, which would turn his already substantial strength into something even greater. But he needed something to be Mighty against to make that happen.

  Rowan looked down at the tome in his hand, tracing the leather binding. “I’m sure he’ll manage it. Nemir’s talented, and he’s definitely had training.”

  Annie arched an eyebrow. “Training? Is that what we’re calling it?” she squinted at him. “Are you trying to gossip?”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Thanks, but no. That’s not a well I want to go down into.”

  “Shame,” She shrugged. “Omi, Sil, and me have a betting pool going about which House he’s from.”

  “Just the one?” Rowan asked, his lips quirking upward.

  “Of course,” she answered immediately. “On a totally unrelated note, would you say you prefer the sea or the snow?”

  Rowan snorted. “I prefer peaceful meadows where I can work on my spells without being interrupted by a sweaty redhead.”

  Annie grinned. “Well, too bad,” she stood up, bracing the spear against her shoulder. “Just make sure I’m here if you’re planning on throwing yourself off the roof again,” she shook her head, muttering, “Can’t believe I missed that,” as she walked away.

  Rowan chuckled, turning his focus back to the tome.

  Silvia and Omi were at the Guild, having left early in the morning to practice with their new equipment. They didn’t have techniques to master, so they instead focused on sparring against other adventurers. And with the news of the upcoming expedition spreading, they weren’t the only ones.

  Almost all of the Iron-ranks in the city were either training, working on their skills, or trying to advance. They knew what was at stake, and in the next week, everyone had the same mission.

  To grow as strong as possible.

  Rowan had spells to master, and he was eager to get that done.

  [Iron Will] activated as he opened the book, his determination renewed and focus unwavering.