The clearing of a wooded area erupted into a dazzling display of magical prowess as mage warriors battled fiercely, the surrounding greenery trembling under their power. Four-legged beasts with manes of billowing shadows attacked from all sides with a flurry of wild whistling slashes and snapping jaws filled with jagged razors.

  A man with fiery red hair and fierce determination carved onto his face combined his natural athleticism with magical flair. With the flick of his wrist, embers sparked into flames that whipped between his fingers. The fire enveloped his forearms, cladding them in blazing gauntlets. Evading the pounce of a beast, he plunged his fist into its chest with a sizzling boom.

  As he expertly weaved elemental flair with punches and kicks, incinerating their hides, walls of solidified dirt and rock erupted from the ground. A man with dirty blonde hair waved his hands, commanding the earth to protect his allies' blind spots. The beasts tried, but to no avail, to ambush the fire mage but the earthen constructs had interrupted them, howling in pain as their claws shattered against the sudden earthen formations.

  Another young man with slicked back brown hair and blue eyes met the monsters' ferocity with a serene countenance, a cool confidence that granted him a situational awareness he wouldn't have had otherwise. He backpedaled, dancing around the barrage of attacks with elegant grace.

  A monster managed to slip behind him, pouncing to target his back but he merely smirked. Lifting his finger, roiling waters swirled into existence behind him, morphing into a flat plain as the monster's claws slashed at the construct with a distorted thud.

  Giving his hand a twirl, he ordered the waters to change its form, whirling around the monster until it encompassed its head. Snapping his fingers, the water sphere's interior erupted into spikes that skewered the monster's skull from every angle, killing it instantaneously.

  Moving his practiced hands with graceful fluidity, dozens of the identical constructs spiraled then hardened around the field at various angles.

  "Now, Stark!" He shouted to the fire mage.

  With just a glance, Stark charted a course as he ignited his hand. A fireball roared to life in his palm and he shot it forward. The fire zipped around the field, striking the water plains with frightening speed and accuracy, bursting each construct it came into contact with along the way and blanketing the field in a cloud of thick mist.

  With their vision impaired, the monsters ceased their onslaught as the warm vapor stripped them of their sense of direction. The water mage twirled his hands, manipulating areas of the vapor to cool them back into a liquid and twisting their form into tendrils that locked the monsters in place.

  The beasts groaned as they struggled to break free of their restraints. The last mage warrior, a man with dark eyes and green-tinted wavy hair, stepped forward.

  Blinded by the billowing mist, the warrior closed his eyes, relying on a basic spell they'd learned since childhood. Reaching deep into his physiology, he prodded at his Keensight until the basic technique stirred awake. His body warmed with its activation and he opened his eyes, now flaring with a green hue.

  Thousands of shimmering motes shifted into reality, drifting through the air like ethereal fireflies, each pulsing hue dancing to its own rhythm. The atmosphere glowed with a breathtaking palette of colors. Red motes vibrated with violent intensity, blue motes swept gracefully at his feet, orange motes bobbed along the earth, and green motes—which were more prominent to him—swirled freely in every direction. Each color possessed its own unique energy and essence, their gentle hum tingling the air.

  His teammates' auras phased into view, the color of their silhouettes corresponding with their affinities. As he scanned the cloud, he spotted the congregation of blue particles binding the monsters in place.

  Dropping into a stance, he gripped his rapier's handle as gales of wind coiled around his legs. Launching himself forward, he commanded the air before him to ensure minimal air resistance to deliver devastating attacks. He whirled through the cloud of mist, his rapier slicing through flesh and tissue with deadly precision.

  Their impeccable coordination filled the wooded clearing with a symphony of magic, their enemies falling before their might. As the last of the beasts were vanquished and the mist cleared, a voice announced itself.

  "Perfect form, Weirs," a middle-aged man dressed in a black uniform with gold outlining praised the wind mage warrior after spectating the skirmish atop an earthen pillar. He turned his attention to the earth mage. "Orfal, you provided adequate defenses for your teammates. Liyon, your water attribute has greatly improved since last month. And Stark, your combative capabilities have gotten sharper."

  Without lifting so much as a finger, the pillar descended into the earth until the older man was back on ground level. The warriors all bowed respectfully as he approached. His lips curled at the edges, pleased to find that, although they'd battled for almost an hour, there wasn't a speck of dirt or a drop of blood on their white uniforms, still just as pristine as before their arrival.

  "I'm proud to call you all the pride of Acclar Village," he began to walk past them into the woods back to their village. "Field training is over."

  The warriors followed him through the woods for an hour until they reached a settlement nestled in the quiet countryside. Villagers strolled through the dirt roads pulling carts filled with goods. Vendors bustled with conversation and laughter as people shopped for their essentials.

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  Farmers caressed the earth as waves of fertile soil moved along the ground to provide even spacing for their crops. Women waved their hands with fluidity, guiding streams of water from wells into their buckets.

  "Rest," the middle-aged man ordered his warriors. "We will continue with the next portion of your training in an hour."

  The warriors nodded in agreement before dispersing. The middle-aged man continued through the village, cutting through an area he designated for basic training. Weathered wooden dummies lined against a brick wall with racks of dulled swords on either side. He was making his way to the courtyard when he stumbled across a boy who stood before a training dummy.

  Sweat dotted his face and soaked his plain brown shirt. Short dark hair draped over his forehead, just above his tan eyes. He let out a deep breath, spaced his legs, and closed his eyes. Tapping into his channels, he felt the warmth spread over his body and caress his sight. As he opened his eyes, now simmering with a silver hue, he was met with a tranquil scene he'd seen before.

  From what he'd been told, the motes were supposed to resemble a kaleidoscope of colors, casting a mesmerizing spell that would captivate one's senses. However, once again, he was met with the same near-stagnant white motes quietly hanging in the air.

  He studied the white motes intently. There was always a speck of hope that he'd spot a deviation in their almost-static nature but once again, there was nothing to work off of.

  After watching the Acclar's warriors in action for years, he had a solid grasp on how to make the particles react. However, time and time again, he'd try to influence their behavior but with zero results.

  "Come on," he strained his concentration, shooting out his hand in hopes that it would strengthen his focus but after minutes of nothing happening, he gave up.

  It was only when he released his Keensight that he'd finally noticed the man watching him with narrowed eyes. The boy startled back but quickly composed himself and mustered an awkward bow.

  "S-sorry, Father. I didn't know you were standing there." He stammered.

  "Of course you didn't, even with your Keensight active." He scoffed, disappointment etched onto his hardened features.

  The boy pressed his lips together in shame. "I-I thought, maybe if you have time, you could teach me how to—"

  "We've gone over this before, Conner." He cut him off and continued on his way, turning his back on his son. "If you believe you could amount to anything without the backing of mana, you're mistaken. You may wish to waste your time but I won't be convinced to waste mine."

  The boy, Conner, reached out a hesitant hand towards his father's gradually retreating form until he disappeared around a corner. He heard snickering behind him and turned to find Stark walking down the street with Liyon, poorly concealing their amusement.

  "Acclar's cripple is back at it again, eh?" Liyon remarked, a haughty smirk tugging at his lips.

  "Keep it up, and maybe you'll achieve a fraction of our strength." Stark's words dripped with sarcasm.

  The two sauntered off, their words thickening the cloud of self-doubt that hung over Conner since the day his father deemed him a lost cause. Picking up a practice wooden sword from the rack nearby, he began mimicking a handful of techniques he'd seen the village's warriors use. However, without guidance, he could never tell if he had proper execution.

  He tried to ignore the scrutinizing gazes he knew were watching him but after an agonizing hour of blind practice, he returned his sword and retreated to his home. Upon entering, he made his way to his father's study, to the only sense of comfort he had in a village that emphasized strength.

  Over the years he spent fleeing from embarrassment, he'd read nearly every book on mana manipulation, each one providing nothing of value to him. Browsing a section of the study he'd neglected, he picked out a few books and sat himself down at the table underneath the window overlooking the courtyard.

  The books he'd chosen were so comprehensible that even a child could understand and implement them. Although he scoured the study in search of information that he'd missed about the basics, his desperation would always lead him to concepts about mana he was already familiar with.

  It wasn't until he moved on to the next book that he discovered something intriguing. For the first time, he found something that briefly touched on white particles. His mood lifted and he eagerly absorbed any information he could. He was hopeful this would be the breakthrough he needed, however, the more he read, the more he deflated.

  It proceeded to explain that since 1 in 1000 people could detect these white particles without apparent cause, there was very limited research on the subject. Afterwards, the author quickly moved on to more elemental-related topics.

  Closing the book, he was left feeling more demotivated than before. He looked through the window on his right to find the warriors out training. He watched them longingly as they honed their affinities to perfection, the villagers passing by admiring their prowess.

  Prying his eyes from their training, he dragged his gaze across the unfinished books before him. He hadn't read everything yet so until then, there was still a chance to learn something. Doing his best to ignore the voice in his head whispering helpless thoughts, he opened the same book and continued reading.

  He didn't know when, but at some point, he ended up face-down on the table. With a grumble, he sluggishly lifted himself up, the book's gutter imprinted on his face. He couldn't quite place it, but something felt off after he'd woken.

  It wasn't that the sun had already disappeared below the horizon, blanketing the sky in black dotted with ethereal specks, or how his father hadn't kicked him out of his study after late hours. His hairs stood on end and bumps had formed along his skin.

  'What's happening?' he asked himself, scanning the room for any anomalies.

  He concentrated on clearing his muddled senses while waving away the lingering fog that still clouded his mind from slumber. He panned his bleary gaze to the window.

  Lanterns hanging overhead on every building illuminated the streets in a dim orange glow. That's when he spotted an object on the ground in the middle of the street. Rubbing his eyes into focus, he looked back at the object sprawled out on the ground. It took a minute or two for it to register what he was looking at but the red pooling under its form made it apparent.