Which path to take?

  To be honest with himself, he had no idea what half of what Eve said even meant… it just felt like he didn’t have much to go on. Should he play it by gut? But that wasn’t really his style either. He needed a bit of somethin’ to lean on at least.

  So… which one suited his style?

  He was pretty fast, especially with his Active Skill. But his offense could use a boost. Maybe something with fire? Heat Magika… yeah, nah. He'd pass on that.

  What about the lightning one? That sounded damn cool. A flashy strike? That’d be sick. But the name was weird, and Eve said something about pull and push and magnets? Not exactly clear, but… still, could be worth a shot.

  So that was one.

  Next was the invisible poison—Radiation, or whatever. Yeah, skip.

  Then Kinetic… hmm. That was a solid pick. Just making things move with his mind sounded awesome. Imagine his spear floating mid-air, shifting direction with a flick of thought? Eve also said it was about physical force and movement. Yeah, strong contestant.

  Spacetime came next. That was the one with warping and teleporting stuff, maybe even slowing time? Honestly felt like a cheat. But based on what Eve said, that was probably way outta his league right now. Still, might be fun to try it just to see what happened.

  And all those abstract ones—Life, Soul, Order, Void? Yeah… if nothing of the before worked out, he’d give one of those a try.

  “Okay, let’s start with the lightning one,” he said, after making up his mind.

  “Electromagnetic? Interesting choice,” Eve replied.

  She pointed upward, then swept her hand across the space around them.

  “Electromagnetic Magika isn’t just lightning. It’s the manipulation of electric and magnetic fields. Together, they form what’s called an electromagnetic wave—like light, radio, X-rays. What you think of as ‘lightning’ is a violent discharge of electricity, but the spectrum is much broader.”

  Hope blinked slowly. “Uh-huh. I’m still stuck on lightning.”

  “That’s fine. Think of it like this,” she continued patiently, “Electric fields push or pull charges—positive or negative. Magnetic fields bend the path of moving charges. Together, they dance. The field flows in pulses, ripples in space. That’s what you’re trying to feel.”

  She raised two fingers.

  “Now—look around you. Electromagnetic traces appear as light-blue flickers, thinner than hair, almost like sparks. They pulse rapidly and vanish. They don’t drift like Air, and they’re much faster. You’ll feel a tingle at first.”

  Hope narrowed his eyes and reached out with his senses, letting the world settle around him as he tuned in to the flow of Magika now so much clearer than before. The new gear really made a difference—it felt like a fog had lifted from his mind, like he’d been stumbling around blind and suddenly the world had shapes, outlines, patterns that actually meant something.

  He could see the shimmer of red drifting close to the ground—Heat Magika, strong and ever-present. Nearby, thin, translucent ribbons of white curled and spun lazily in the air, unmistakably Air Magika, familiar and comforting. The denser, slower waves of brown clung to the surface, forming swirls and coils that radiated the quiet presence of Earth. Water was harder to spot—just a faint, fleeting presence, like steam slipping between cracks, barely there at all in this dry place.

  But his focus wasn’t on those.

  He was looking for something else.

  Something quicker.

  He let his attention stretch, hunting for the telltale flickers of blue—the ones that danced instead of flowed, sparks that didn’t settle but darted and flashed as if alive. It took a while, longer than he’d hoped, but he was patient. He knew the game. Nothing came easy.

  Then, just as he was about to shift his focus, he saw it—a twitch of light, thin and electric, at the edge of his perception. And when he locked onto that single point, more began to emerge, like a hidden trail unveiling itself the moment you found the first step. The flickers multiplied, skittering like nervous fireflies across the field of vision.

  There you were.

  He grinned slightly and extended his will toward one, trying to draw it closer, guide it with the same instinct he used for Air. But this wasn’t like wind. The spark jittered, blinked, and vanished before he could get a grip.

  “Playing hard, huh?”

  This time, he leaned in with more focus, channeling his Magia into the act—not forcing it, but giving it weight, intent, something to anchor his command. The spark resisted again, buzzing in place like a fly. He pulled harder, with rhythm, with pulse, with control.

  And then, it came.

  It zipped toward him in a sharp little arc, crackling faintly as it crossed the space. Another followed. Then a third. They were small, fast, but responsive now, as if acknowledging his reach, as if finally willing to play along.

  And as more came towards him—

  “Ah, shit,” he muttered, rubbing a spot in his right hand as a grin broke through. “Okay. I felt that.”

  Eve chuckled lightly, her tone amused but proud. “How did it feel?”

  “Not just a tingle, that’s for sure,” he said, flexing his fingers and shaking the buzz out.

  ??Electromagnetic Handling (Level 1)

  You’ve glimpsed the pulse under all things—fast, sharp, unpredictable.

  ? 5% reduction in mental strain when manipulating Electromagnetic Magika.

  ? +1% to Magia while in the presence of Electromagnetic Magika (only the highest applicable Magika Handling effect applies at once).

  Hmmm… just one level.

  The feeling wasn’t exactly disappointing, but it didn’t bring that spark of satisfaction he’d felt the first time he connected with Air Magika. There, it had been instant—fluid, natural, like something he’d always known how to do. This? This felt forced. The sparks were real, yeah, and he’d moved them, but the connection wasn’t. It was like grabbing smoke—every time he thought he had it, it slipped just out of reach.

  He exhaled slowly, brows knitting slightly. Maybe this was all he could do outside of Air. Maybe he’d been lucky with that one, and everything else would just be a slog from now on. Still, it made him wonder.

  Was it even possible to be good at more than one?

  “Hey, Eve,” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Can someone be, like… a prodigy in more than one type? Or is that a one-shot deal?”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Well… yes. It’s uncommon, but not impossible.”

  “I see… okay, well, let’s go to the next—Kinetic,” he said, a flicker in his eyes betraying just how much hope he had for this one. Deep down, he felt it was the one that suited him best after all.

  Eve gave a knowing nod.

  “Kinetic Magika isn’t like the others you’ve tried so far. There aren’t free particles drifting in the air for you to grab onto. It lives inside things—within matter. Every object, living or not, carries kinetic potential: stored force, vibration, mass waiting to move.”

  Hope leaned in slightly.

  “So I can’t just pull at little sparks and float ‘em around?”

  “Not with this one,” Eve said. “You have to feel the object's weight, the tension in its stillness. Imagine what it wants to do—how it would move if nothing held it still. Then guide that potential. Think of it like nudging something that's already teetering on the edge.”

  Hope grabbed his spear and placed it on his chair.

  He crouched beside it, narrowing his eyes.

  Ok. No dots. No glow. No dancing lights in the air. Just him and the weapon.

  He placed a hand above the shaft, hovering just a finger’s breadth away, and reached out with his Magika—not searching the space around it, but focusing on the object itself. He concentrated on its balance, its center, its readiness to shift. He imagined the weight behind the steel tip, the tension in the haft.

  Come on…

  He grit his teeth, focused harder, letting his Magia seep not into the air, but into the spear—probing, coaxing.

  He could feel something there. A coiled potential. A resting pressure, like a heartbeat under the skin of the world.

  He pulled.

  The spear twitched.

  He pulled again, pushing more energy into the force he imagined inside it.

  It lifted—half an inch—then dropped like a stone.

  Again.

  This time it shook more, rattled slightly across the cushioned chair, but eventually settled with a dull thud.

  The mental strain hit him hard, sharper and heavier than he expected. It felt like those early days, back when he first started using Magia.

  Shit... why’s it so damn hard?

  ??Kinetic Handling (Level 1)

  You feel the tension in stillness—and the power waiting to be unchained.

  ? 5% reduction in mental strain when manipulating Kinetic Magika.

  ? +1% to Magia while in the presence of Kinetic Magika (only the highest applicable Magika Handling effect applies at once).

  Hope sighed, disappointment sinking deeper with this one. He’d really been looking forward to it—something about Kinetic just felt right. But now? The effort it’d take to push this thing to level 7 would be ridiculous. Weeks of nonstop grind, and worse, no hunting during that time unless he wanted people asking why his level wasn’t going up.

  Dammit.

  That damn Progress Gate couldn’t have come at a worse time.

  He exhaled slowly, steadying his breath. Worst case, he’d figure something out. Maybe grab a few potions to ease the mental strain and just hammer at it full time—until either his skull cracked or the skill leveled.

  But before diving into that madness, he still had a few more options left to test. Worst case? He could always fall back on Heat Magika, already sitting at level 4.

  “Alright… ehm, let’s go to the next, I guess. The complex one—Spacetime, right?”

  Eve gave a slight nod, folding her hands neatly in her lap as her eyes flicked to the side—like she was choosing her words carefully.

  “Yes. Spacetime. It’s not easy to explain… but I’ll try.”

  She shifted her posture just a bit, then continued.

  “You know how gravity pulls things down, right?” she began. “Well, that’s not exactly true. It only feels like a pull. What’s really happening is that space itself is bent around heavy things—like a hill in a flat surface—and objects fall into that bend.”

  Hope frowned, squinting at her.

  “Okay, imagine you place a heavy stone on a cloth stretched tight. The stone sags the cloth. Now roll a marble across it—it curves toward the stone, not because something grabbed it, but because the surface is warped. That’s gravity. And that bending doesn’t just affect where you go—it also affects time.”

  She tapped two fingers together lightly.

  “Time ticks slower near stronger gravity. Which means—space and time are not separate. They’re one thing. A fabric. That’s why it’s called Spacetime.”

  Hope opened his mouth. Closed it. Rubbed his brow with a low grunt.

  “Right. So Magika messin’ with that can… what, bend the cloth?”

  “Exactly,” Eve said, steady as ever. “But think small. You’re not folding the world—you’re nudging the surface of reality. At first, all you can really do is add tiny dips and bumps in the spacetime fabric.”

  She paused, letting the idea settle.

  “Those dips? They change how stuff moves through space. Like… you’re not making something heavier, but you’re bending the space under it—so it feels heavier. Same with motion. A tiny warp slows movement just slightly, like dragging through thicker air. Even light bends if the space is curved enough.”

  Hope frowned, blinking at the explanation. Then slowly nodded, skeptical but intrigued.

  “Alright… didn’t get much, but sounds cool. Let’s give it a go.”

  He rolled his shoulders. “So… how do I find this one?”

  Eve gave a small smile.

  “That… well, that’s a good question, Hope.”

  Hope raised an eyebrow. “Huh? What do you mean?”

  Eve tilted her head slightly, eyes half-lidded in thought. “Spacetime Magika’s a curious case. Unlike most types, it doesn’t have a clear signature. No distinct dots. Nothing you can lock onto. It’s not bound to a single moment in time like the others. When you try to sense it, it slips—like it never wanted to be noticed in the first place.”

  Hope squinted. “So what, it hides?”

  “In a way. But Magika isn’t sentient. It doesn’t hide by will. It’s just... woven into spacetime itself. It might be here—only it’s not now. Or it might be now, but not here.”

  He crossed his arms with a slow sigh. “That sounds annoyingly vague.”

  Eve nodded. “It is. I can’t offer much help with this one, Hope. But maybe… try not to look for it. Try to feel what holds everything together. Not the objects, not the elements. Try to feel what connects them. Feel beyond what your eyes tell you. Beyond the three physical dimensions. Let your mind drift and see what happens.”

  Hope was about to ask what those three physical dimensions were but… well, whatever. He had little hope for this one.

  Still, since it was a question of feel and he couldn’t see it, he decided to close his eyes.

  He let his thoughts settle. Then, slowly, he started expanding his senses—not toward the Magika, not the dots, not the wind or the ground. He tried to feel the space itself. Everything. All around him.

  He reached past sound, smell, and heat. He focused on whatever held it all together. That fabric beneath the world.

  But… what was it?

  He shifted focus. Thought different. Approached it sideways.

  Time passed and he was about to give up but then—

  Something.

  A pull.

  Wait… gravity?

  No. Not pulling. Not exactly.

  It was…

  Hope’s eyes snapped open.

  “Eve… why… why is the world twisted?”

  “The—Hope?”

  His eyes widened. His heart froze. The world around him warped, bent, like it was all sliding down some invisible slope.

  He felt it—everything falling. Small things bent gently. Larger ones, deeper.

  He swayed, dizzy. A spike of pressure cracked behind his eyes like a hammer.

  He fell to his knees, teeth gritted, a scream of pain tearing from his throat.

  Somewhere, Eve called out—but the sound was distant. Muffled.

  She saw him bleeding through the nose and reached out to steady him.

  But her hand couldn’t touch him.

  The space around Hope… was bent.