Ronan, Tavin, Orin, and Andrea returned to the camp, their bodies weary but their spirits high after the intense battle. Orin, still buzzing with excitement, could barely contain himself as he eagerly searched for their teacher, Mr. Alden. His eyes sparkled as he approached Mr. Alden, his voice loud with enthusiasm.
"Mr. Alden! You won't believe what happened today! We took down a Rank-three beast!" Orin practically shouted, his hands gesturing animatedly.
Mr. Alden raised a hand, a patient smile forming on his face. "Okay, okay, Orin. I'll listen, but first, freshen up. You reek of battle and sweat."
Orin pouted slightly but nodded, rushing off to clean himself up. As the evening settled in, the campfire flickered warmly, casting dancing shadows on the faces of the young warriors as they gathered around.
The scent of roasting meat and fish mixed with the comforting aroma of vegetable soup filled the air with a sense of home despite their rugged surroundings.
The group sat in a circle around the fire, their plates filled with food, their laughter mingling with the crackling of the flames. As they ate, Orin finally got his chance to recount their battle. His words were animated, and his voice rose and fell with excitement.
"And then—bam! Ronan's Blazing Strike hit the monster's right leg! You should've seen it! That thing didn't stand a chance!" Orin beamed, acting out the moment as if reliving it.
Tavin chuckled, shaking his head. "You make it sound like we weren't struggling half the time."
Orin gave an embarrassed smile, while the others burst into laughter.
After dinner, as the others settled into their own routines, Ronan stepped away from the fire, finding solace beneath a nearby tree. Sitting against its rough bark, he focused on his fire magic, summoning small flames in his hands.
He wove them into intricate shapes, burning birds that flapped their wings, swirling tendrils of fire that coiled like serpents, miniature towers that flickered with heat.
His brow furrowed in concentration, his mind and mana in perfect harmony. It wasn't just practice; it was refinement and control.
Mr. Alden approached him, his gaze settling on the melted remains of Ronan's sword. "Let me see that sword of yours."
Ronan hesitated briefly before handing it over with an embarrassed smile. Mr Alden turned the warped blade in his hands, inspecting the damage with a knowing hum. "You should get an elemental sword. They have great resistance to their corresponding element, so a fire-element sword would be less likely to melt like this."
Ronan nodded. "Okay, sir."
As Mr. Alden settled near the fire once more, Andrea approached him, her expression thoughtful. "Sir, do you have some time? I want to ask something."
Mr. Alden glanced up and nodded. "Of course, Andrea. What's on your mind?"
She sat across from him, her gaze shifting to the ruined sword in his hands. "I've been thinking about Ronan's sword… How did an Adept flame mage melt a mid-grade weapon? That shouldn't be possible."
Mr. Alden smiled knowingly and held up the damaged blade. "Let me ask you something, Andrea. Why do you think an Adept can't melt a mid-grade sword?"
She answered confidently, "Because their fire isn't strong enough. And even if someone had a higher-grade flame, they would need to conquer it; it's hardly believable that an Adept could conquer it. Ronan's just at Adept two. There's no way he has that kind of power."
Mr. Alden chuckled. "You're only looking at the surface of what it means to be a fire element user."
Andrea frowned, intrigued but confused. "What do you mean?"
Mr. Alden's expression grew more serious. "Power isn't just about the quality of your flame or how much mana you have. A high-quality flame gives advantages, yes, but the real strength of an element comes from control. Take water magic, for example. If used wildly, it's just a splash, but with precision, it can cut through iron. Fire is the same. The more control you have, the more powerful you become."
Andrea frowned, absorbing his words. "But he's only at Adept two. How can he have such high control already?"
Mr. Alden sighed, shaking his head. "This is why most of you fall behind. You all put too much emphasis on mana capacity and rare affinities, but that's not everything. Unlike some of you who were born gifted, Ronan had to work twice as hard. His mana pool is smaller than yours, so he trained his body to compensate for that weakness. And his fire control? It's almost beyond Adept four."
Andrea blinked in surprise. "Beyond Adept four? That's…"
"That's dedication," Mr. Alden finished. "The reason his sword melted wasn't because his fire was inherently stronger; it's because he controlled his mana so precisely that he intensified the heat in his Blazing Strike. He focused all his energy on one moment, one attack. That's why it was so effective."
As they spoke, Ronan approached them, his expression calm. "Good evening, sir. Andrea." He then gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry for interrupting your conversation, but I came to get my sword back."
Mr. Alden handed over the partially melted blade with a new sword. "Here you go. And a new sword."
Ronan took the two swords, expressed gratitude and left, but instead of heading to his tent, he walked toward the pond near the camp. Mr. Alden watched him go, then turned back to Andrea. "If you want to see how hard he works, go to the pond after some time."
Curiosity sparked in Andrea's eyes. "Now I really want to know what he's doing." And so, as the night deepened, the quiet rippling of the pond awaited those willing to see the true extent of Ronan's dedication.
The tranquil surface of the pond rippled as Ronan stood atop the water, his body tense with focus. The moon cast a pale glow over the pond, its silver light reflecting off the water's surface.
He took a deep breath, steadying his stance as he raised his sword, its blade already crackling with fire mana. The heat radiating from his weapon distorted the air around him, yet he remained undeterred.
It had been two weeks since he started this rigorous training, fourteen days of relentless effort, countless falls into the water, and an endless cycle of frustration.
Maintaining mana control to walk on water was difficult enough, but simultaneously infusing his blade with fire mana required exceptional precision.
He swung his sword, the crimson flames trailing behind like molten ribbons in the night. The sight was mesmerising, yet before he could execute another strike, he felt his balance falter. His control wavered, and in an instant, he plunged into the cold depths once again.
Ronan surfaced, gasping, his wet hair clinging to his face. He clenched his fists and glared at the rippling water. "Why? Why couldn't I get it right?" His frustration gnawed at him, yet he refused to stop. With gritted teeth, he climbed back onto the water's surface, determined to try again.
From the edge of the pond, Andrea watched in silence. She had come to check on Ronan, expecting to find him training, but she hadn't anticipated this scene.
Every strike of his blade painted the night with fleeting streaks of fire, illuminating his unyielding determination. Yet, every few swings, he would stumble and fall, only to rise and start anew.
She had always thought of him as reckless, someone she looked down upon due to his single fire element and lower mana reserves. But watching him now, seeing his unwavering will, something in her perspective began to shift.
Andrea's fingers curled into fists at her sides. "He keeps pushing himself, even when it's painful," she murmured. "And I... I never truly acknowledged his strength."
The realisation settled uncomfortably in her chest. She had always judged others based on their mana capacity, deeming those with a single element as weaker. But Ronan wasn't weak. He wasn't giving up. And if he could push through his hardships, then she had no excuse to remain blind to her own faults.
That night, when they returned to camp, exhaustion weighed heavily upon them. The entire group had been worn down from their battles, and the moment their heads touched their makeshift pillows, sleep claimed them instantly.
At dawn, the crisp morning air was filled with the scent of damp earth and fresh dew. Mr. Alden, their mentor and leader, stood before them as the sun rose over the horizon.
Most of the group, including Andrea and Orin, remained fast asleep, but Ronan and Tavin were already up. Ronan and Tavin, "Good morning, Sir."
"Good morning. You all fought well yesterday," he said. "Defeating a Rank-Three monster is no small feat. Take today to rest. You've earned it."
Ronan, however, had no intention of resting. "Sir," Ronan spoke up, stepping forward. His voice was steady, yet there was a burning determination in his eyes. "I want to go hunt some flame monsters. I need your permission."
Mr. Alden studied him for a moment before his lips curled into an approving smirk. "Don't do something reckless or Amara will kill me," he said, amused. Then, reaching into his belongings, he pulled out a finely crafted high-grade sword and held it out to Ronan. "Take this. You'll need it."
Ronan's eyes widened slightly before he accepted the sword with both hands, bowing his head in gratitude. "Thank you, sir."
Before Ronan turned to leave, Mr. Alden's voice rang out again, firm yet caring. "Remember, if you find yourself in trouble, break the jade crystal I gave you. I'll come immediately."
Ronan nodded, gripping the jade crystal tightly before tucking it into his belt.
"Understood."
With that, he turned to Tavin, giving him a short but sincere nod of farewell, then set off towards the wilderness, ready to face whatever trials lay ahead.