The earth class dragged on, a test of patience for Garry. It wasn't marked by events, but rather by their absence. The classroom, with its stone floor, was still except for the soft rhythm of students breathing. They stood in neat rows, eyes closed, feet grounded as Heclot Bary had instructed.
Garry concentrated, mirroring Heclot's guidance.
His feet were planted.
His breath was even.
His mind... quiet.
He centered his focus between his chest and stomach.
He stilled his thoughts.
He listened.
At first, he was only aware of his body: his heartbeat, the weight in his legs, a faint ache in his shoulders from holding so still. The air felt heavy, stagnant.
Minutes stretched.
Then more.
But nothing happened:
No pressure.
No warmth.
No pull from deep within.
Heclot's voice broke the silence. "Those who sense something, speak up."
A beat of silence. Then, a student near the front spoke, calm but firm. "I feel a heavy sensation, sir. Like a downward pull."
Heclot acknowledged with a nod. "Good."
Garry squinted, glancing that way. The student stood tall, his face calm and focused.
Another long quiet followed.
Then another voice surfaced, "Sir, I can see it."
After a few moments, a third reported success.
Heclot ended the exercise.
"Class dismissed," he said. "Return tomorrow."
Walking out, Garry felt a strange tightness in his chest—not fear, not anger, but something else.
Disappointment.
Not with the lessons.
Not with Heclot.
With himself.
The hallway outside buzzed with hushed voices.
"I didn't think it'd be so easy," someone commented.
"I felt warmth in my core as soon as I closed my eyes."
Garry passed them, lost in his thoughts.
His mind wandered to a dusty road leading home.
To a promise easily made.
When we meet again, we'll both be strong.
He saw Radec's face in his mind. Grinning, hopeful, sure that they'd be successful together.
Garry clenched his fist slightly.
Acarme was already inside, sitting on his bed, practicing with a small tool. He looked up as Garry walked in.
"You seem out of it," Acarme observed.
Garry dropped his bag and sat wearily on his bed. "I didn't notice anything."
Acarme paused before speaking.
Acarme nodded slowly. "That's expected."
Garry frowned at the wall. "Doesn't feel like it."
Acarme leaned back, supporting himself with his hands. "Earth isn't popular for no reason. It fights any rush. Most people hate feeling ignored by their element."
Garry sighed softly. "I'm not rushing."
"I know," Acarme replied. "That's why you're upset."
Silence filled the room.
Garry lay back, staring at the ceiling.
"I made a promise," he said after a bit.
Acarme looked at him. "To who?"
"A friend. From my village." Garry's voice was low. "I said we would both be strong when we see each other again."
Acarme didn't smile.
"Then don't stop trying," he said. "Promises aren't broken by a rough start."
Garry nodded.
But the weight in his chest stayed.
Not yet.
The academy always shifted after dark—less imposing, less watchful. The halls dimmed, footsteps quieted, and even the walls seemed softer.
Garry sat on his bed, elbows on his knees, gazing at the floor.
Acarme watched him before speaking.
"You're thinking hard," he remarked.
Garry didn't look up. "Is that even possible?"
"With you? Yes."
Garry sighed deeply. "I keep going over it. I stood there and did everything right. And still...nothing."
Acarme stood and came closer. "Earth magic isn't about effort alone."
"I know."
"But knowing doesn't help," Acarme added, "especially when others are making progress."
Garry clenched his fists. "I don't care about being slow. I don't want to be stuck."
Acarme paused for a moment.
"Sit up," he said finally.
Garry frowned. "What for?"
"I can give you a hand," Acarme said. "A little. But listen before you agree."
Garry straightened up.
"This won't awaken your core," Acarme said. "It won't solve your problems. All it can do is help you sense what you're supposed to be feeling."
"Okay," Garry said quickly.
Acarme nodded. "Then sit."
Garry shifted, crossing his legs on the bed. Acarme shifted behind him and put his palm flat against Garry's back, near his shoulder blades.
"Close your eyes," Acarme instructed. "Breathe normally. Don't chase anything."
Garry obeyed.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—
A slight feeling spread through him.
Not hot.
Not pressure.
It felt like cool liquid, creeping slowly inward, filling places unknown. It moved carefully, testing each path before continuing.
Garry resisted the urge to react.
*This must be his core*, he realized.
Time passed.
Minutes went by.
His awareness intensified. His breathing slowed. The heaviness faded, replaced by a floating sensation.
Then he felt it.
A presence.
A dark sphere appeared in his mind.
It wasn't clear.
It swallowed light rather than reflecting it. Thin, pale cracks ran across its surface and within them flowed white essence.
Garry's breath skipped.
*So this is it.*
The moment his focus increased—
The flow stopped.
The white essence vanished, like water cut off. The sphere faded, dissolving before he understood it.
Acarme pulled his hand away.
"That's enough," Acarme said.
Garry opened his eyes and turned.
Acarme looked worn. His shoulders sagged, his breathing was uneven, and sweat covered his face.
"This is using more power than I thought," Acarme said. "Your core won't listen to me."
Garry sighed. "I'm sorry."
Garry was smiling.
"I saw it," he said softly.
Acarme glanced at him. "Good."
"Even if it faded… I noticed it."
"That's progress," Acarme said. "Small. You are getting there."
Exhaustion settled in, heavier than sleep. Garry lay down with a strange warmth in his chest—not joy, but relief.
The next morning, earth class felt clearer.
When Heclot Bary walked in, hands were raised rapidly.
"Sir," one student asked. "I've found my core."
Another replied.
Heclot nodded. "Good."
He looked through the room. "Those who have found their core, follow me. The rest, stay."
Almost half the class stood up.
The scraping of chairs was louder than it should've been.
Garry stayed in his seat.
He didn't feel anger.
But the room felt empty after they left.
Time passed.
A few more students found their cores and quietly followed after them.
When class ended, the difference was obvious.
As students left, whispers were heard, circling the students who stayed back.
"Still nothing?"
I guess not everyone is the same.
Garry didn't react.
That night, Acarme helped again.
Garry saw it.
Clearer this time.
The dark sphere remained—but the cracks widened. The white essence flowed freely, but it did not stay.
Acarme pulled his hand away, breathing hard.
"…Your core is weird," he said quietly.
Garry's smile faded. "What does that mean?"
Acarme hesitated. "Cores are usually open. Even if they are not in use. Yours is shut. Like it's blocked off."
Garry felt his stomach twist. "Is that bad?"
Acarme glanced around the cafeteria. "Don't be too loud."
Garry did.
"I don't believe it's risky," Acarme said. "Probably a thing you were born with. The essence should break through in a day or two."
He paused, "Or you'll bend reality."
Garry laughed. "Stop reading those novels."
They finished dinner quietly and returned to the dorm.
That night, Garry stayed awake.
His core wasn't rejecting him.
Something was simply in the way.