"Phew..." I sighed, dropping the pen on the table. My fingers ached and my eyes were blurry, and I could barely remember what I had just copied. I slowly massaged my temples, trying to ward off the slight headache as I reflected on the transience of life. It always seems strange to me how the hours slip through our fingers when we concentrate too hard. I looked up and stared out the window—the sun was shining outside, gilding the wooden roofs and dirt trails of little Stolz with its soft, warm light.
I decided that was enough for today. I had already copied more than I had planned, and although the deadline was three weeks, I intended to finish everything in two. Not only for the reward, but because it gave me a comforting sense of control. And in a way, a predictable routine was almost a luxury after what I had been through.
Stolz was tiny. It looked like a lost spot on the map, surrounded by mountains in the distance and nestled on the edge of the infamous Black Forest. An intimidating name for something that, so far, had proven to be more of a living forest than a real danger. For some reason, that dense, dark forest was surprisingly fertile. There was an abundance of creatures, fruits, and herbs that defied logic. It was as if the forest had been forgotten by the world's greater horrors.
Most of the villagers made their living from agriculture and mining. More specifically, the extraction of mana cores from monsters — an activity that seemed almost trivial here, since the monsters in the region were weak. Their souls left only white stigmas on the cores, and that was enough for local businesses.
I heard laughter and voices outside. I peeked out the window. The children, always restless, were organizing themselves into small groups. One of them ran toward the forest with an air of mission. It wasn't long before one of the children shouted excitedly:
"Let's hunt slugs, whoever hits the most wins sweet bread!"
I chuckled softly. Magic slugs as training targets—that was truly the lowest level of the food chain in this world. Still, seeing that childlike enthusiasm was contagious. When they asked me to join them, I hesitated for a second, but ended up accepting. It would be a good rest for my mind — and, frankly, some local entertainment wouldn't hurt. Besides, observing how they dealt with magic in practice could be... interesting.
In addition to working with books, I took the time to experiment with different forms of mana and their effects on the body — a curiosity that bordered on obsession. I called this process "mana breathing" when I absorb a specific type of elemental energy and distribute it throughout my body, which I named "mantle" The idea was to understand how far the human body could go when attuned to pure elements. And also to find out exactly where it began to break down.
I started with fire mana. It warms the muscles and makes them react with greater strength and speed, which, at first, seems ideal for hand-to-hand combat. But the price is high: tissues wear out quickly, and pain arises as if the flesh were being burned from within. It is an explosive power, but destructive—especially if used for long periods.
Dark mana was... unexpected. It strengthens the body even more than fire mana — almost twice as much, in fact — but in a different way. The muscles become more flexible, as if they were made of rubber with steel inside. And the most curious thing: when I wear this cloak, I noticed that people have difficulty maintaining eye contact with me. It's as if there were something in my countenance, some invisible shadow, that instinctively aroused fear or discomfort. I made a note of that. It may be useful.
The Lightning Cloak fascinated me. When I activated it, I felt as if my brain connected with electrical impulses around me. Everything slowed down, as if the world were moving in slow motion, and my reaction speed quadrupled. I barely thought and my body was already acting. However, when the effect wore off, I was struck by an absurd dizziness, as if the ground was moving away from me, and a numbness overwhelmed me for hours. I almost fell asleep standing up.
The light mana was the most dangerous. One step was enough to throw me hard against the wall. I didn't jump, I didn't run — I just took a normal step, but the acceleration was so violent that I crossed the room in an instant. Light amplifies all movements to superhuman levels, but soon after, the muscles lock up. It's like turning on a turbo engine and burning it out in seconds. Trying to maneuver like this is madness. Unfeasible.
The water cloak, on the other hand, had the opposite effect. The body becomes heavy, slow, almost lazy. But there is a subtle and powerful benefit: it allows you to absorb water mana directly through your lungs, replacing ordinary oxygen. A technique that can be useful in airless environments — or underwater. However, the lethargic state requires caution. A mistake can be fatal if you are in combat.
When I tested wind mana, I thought I was going to die. The energy flooded my body and, for a moment, everything felt light and free. Then, small veins in my arm began to burst. The excess of uncontrolled oxygen turned my circulatory system into a time bomb. It almost cost me my consciousness.
As for ice mana, I wasn't foolish enough to test it. It is an unstable fusion of wind and water — two elements that, separately, have already shown their risks. Together? Better to wait until I understand the principals involved better.
When I tested the earth mana, the impact was immediate. The ground creaked under my feet, as if supporting the weight of an entire house. My body became absurdly heavy, but in return, the strength I felt was almost monstrous. For a moment, I was certain: if I punched a rock the size of a house, it would turn to gravel. But that density also came with risks — one more misstep, and I would have opened a hole in the floor of the house. I made a point of suspending its use immediately. The last thing I wanted was to sink into living soil.
The mana of death... well, I didn't test it. Something about it repulsed me, a primitive sense of self-preservation screamed inside me. It was different from the other elements—silent, viscous, like a presence watching me back. It wasn't the right time to play with it.
The mana of life, on the other hand, was surprising. It began to be absorbed by my body as if it were food. I could feel the tissues slowly regenerating, small wounds disappearing as if time had accelerated for them. It was almost comforting, but also demanding. Absorbing it seemed to pull something out of me — maybe focus, or maybe... hope? I can't explain it. It was as if the mana wanted to heal even my soul.