Days slipped by.

  Arion had grown proficient with Scald Burst, wielding it now for the small necessities that made survival feel almost civilised.

  One leg crossed lazily over the other, he lounged against the cabin’s supporting tree, savouring a fresh brew of hot water cupped in a thick, leaf-shaped bowl he had folded himself.

  Blp. Blop. Blup.

  Beside him, the cabin’s crude cooking pot bubbled merrily, propped on a circle of stones. Inside simmered chunks of fish and chicken freshly retrieved from his makeshift ice chest. His plate—a flat rock lined with thin strips of broad leaves—held neatly cut portions ready to eat.

  Life, against every odd, was looking up.

  He was thriving.

  “Ah~ who needs civilization when you can simply build your own?”

  After finishing his afternoon lunch, stomach pleasantly full, he pushed himself upright with a contented groan.

  “I can’t keep lighting these fires like a caveman, can I?”

  “A power so revolutionary it put us at the top of the food chain—yet here? I’ll sit on its throne.” A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face.

  Combustion is just oxidation in overdrive. If I’m right, Vitalis can speak to Luminary and drop the activation barrier—so I ignite without heat, just a clean electron hand-off. Simpler than rubbing two sticks together, right?

  “Okay… start small. A tiny ember, enough for a campfire. Very easy. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  —— ? —— —— ? —— —— ? ——

  Midday arrived.

  The forest thrummed with life—gentle breezes combed the lush grass into rolling waves, birds darted between branches like feathered gossip. The heat pressed down, generous and unrelenting, scorching in fact… perhaps a little too much.

  Tsss—Fffwhoom!

  “OHH CRAAAAP!”

  Arion stood frozen in utter panic as entire trees erupted into roaring pillars of flame. His face, chest and hands were streaked black like a coal miner. His silver hair stood straight up, fried into a wild scientist’s halo.

  This wasn’t his first failed attempt. But it was his first catastrophic one.

  “Great going, idiot! Burn the bloody place down while you’re at it!”

  He grumbled like an old man who had finally lost the last scrap of sanity.

  Okay, fine. I may have been playing with it… just a little bit.

  As the fire roared higher, he flung himself into motion. Fetching water from the river would have been impossible without losing half the forest in the process. Instead, he snapped his wrist in a sharp arc.

  Grass, flowers and tree bark bloomed white. Ice crystals formed with sharp crackling sounds. Frost raced outward, climbing trunks and branches like, meeting the blaze head-on.

  The collision was cataclysmic.

  Steam exploded like artillery. Ice didn’t simply melt—it detonated, every crystal flashing into superheated vapour under the fire’s breath. Pressure punched outward in visible shockwaves; each burst fed the flames for a heartbeat, then strangled them in the next.

  Arion felt it on his skin—frostbite and sunburn warring at once. A raw, unfiltered war of thermodynamics.

  Seventeen-hundredfold expansion per droplet.

  Pressure hammered bark into glassy shrapnel.

  He watched the spectacle in rapt fascination, as though witnessing it in slow-motion.

  Where others would see destruction, Arion saw beauty—the Leidenfrost effect painting glowing droplets across charred bark like molten glass; glorious thermal-shock fractures splintering wood in perfect fractal patterns; quivering air caught at zero-point equilibrium.

  Ever since he was small, science had been his first love, a passion inherited from his mother. Where people saw ruin, he saw elegance.

  “Hm~ now that gives me a fun idea,” he murmured, tucking the image away for his future self like a dangerous secret.

  “Mother Nature, you beautiful, terrifying bitch,” he muttered, eyes still gleaming at the thermal-shock patterns. “But sadly… Physics has already taken your spot.”

  Bark sizzled and cooled while Arion whispered sweet nothings to the universe.

  When Frost Snap finally won—killing the last pockets of flame—he moved on to the next burning tree and patch of grass, methodically extinguishing his own beautiful disaster.

  —— ? —— —— ? —— —— ? ——

  Drip… drip.

  Condensed steam coated the area, cooling fractured bark with soft pops and sighs.

  Crrk.

  Echoes of miniature explosions lingered in the trees. Smoke and steam mingled into a hazy veil. Black scorched bark fell and exploded against the ground into piles of ashes.

  The crime scene was finally flame-free and cooled enough for Arion to take a well-deserved break.

  He sat among the aftermath, staring at the transformed ground. Burnt surfaces gleamed slick and smooth; frost and ice had fused with them into something surreal—a small biome of black obsidian glass, light glinting off every fused edge like captured starlight.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Mother Nature—I have come to respect your playful attempts to win me over, because damn, this is gorgeous.”

  Arion flirted shamelessly with his imagination as he scanned the marble-obsidian wonderland he had definitely not caused. It was the beauty of exact causality: perfect synergy of reactions aligned on a microscopic level, blooming into something almost sacred.

  Magic? Or simply the universe showing off in the hands of a slightly insane scientist-mage.

  “Ehhh—but anyway, this spot is perfect for messing around with fire! As long as it stays contained and I don’t accidentally invent an insanely strong blowtorch spell, I should be good.”

  Attempt number… seven, was it?

  …

  With fresh firewood gathered and arranged in the centre of the scar of fire and ice, he sat down and tried again—this time using everything he had learned.

  So Luminary Essence wasn’t what I thought. It doesn’t behave like the elements I kept comparing it to. It’s more like permission—a barrier of entry.

  My Vitalis acts as the key, letting Luminary skip the usual thermodynamic steps.

  That’s why reactions here don’t need fuel; they borrow order directly from Essence—but only if granted access.

  “This is something unlike anything I’ve learned or seen in my past life. I can’t just make assumptions or build hypotheses so easily with such an unknown variable—and an important one at that. There’s no room for error.”

  He stared at his open hand, dusted in black ash.

  “The only reason I can bend physics here is because Luminary Essence allows it. If I don’t respect it, it’ll come back at me without mercy.”

  I have to be careful not to overlook this anymore—with experiments or exploration—or either I or progress will collapse under idealistic stubbornness.

  “Who knows… if it weren’t for you, Mom, I’d still be one of those grumpy old farts back home, claiming their truth was the only one—and I’d have fried myself in this forsaken world.”

  He let out a quiet chuckle and went back to work.

  —— ? —— —— ? —— —— ? ——

  “Okay, this time. For sure… definitely.”

  “It’s all about redox potential. Give or take one electron too many, and the reaction either dies or detonates—in my face… again—for the third time.”

  He flexed his fingers, joints still stiff from the last burn.

  Oxidation and reduction—electron exchange. Simple in theory, catastrophic in practice, as the charred trees could attest.

  This time he timed the Vitalis pulse with a sharp snap of his fingers. The sound cracked through the air like a switch being thrown—friction and pressure forming the perfect ignition cue.

  “Redox Spark,” he whispered. “Ignition on command.”

  Welcome to the family, little buddy.

  A bead of orange light flared at his fingertip—not a flame, just a spark, tiny and trembling. It hissed once, then Arion touched the dry wood pile before him.

  Flame. Fire made by his hands, born from himself and the essence of the world. A strange, satisfied warmth bloomed in his chest as he watched the flames dance with hunger.

  “Ignition,” he muttered, half proud. “A micro-reaction. Just an ember—controlled, stable… and not on fire this time.”

  But it’s exactly that—just a cute little ember. I can’t settle with that. I’ve got chicken to fry!

  He glanced at his pile of dry, half-burnt sticks with an unimpressed expression.

  “No, this won’t do!” He tossed them aside as if his earlier accomplishment had made him too good for them now.

  “No life is great without good food! I can’t keep using an uneven firepit and a few dry sticks.”

  What I need is a sustained thermodynamic reaction. No combustion this time—just continuous energy output. Manageable. Stable. Ideally… edible.

  He opened his hand, fingers and thumb flared wide. Eyes closed, he began pulsing Vitalis through his arm, hand and fingertips while making slight twisting movements with his wrist, as though spinning an invisible disc.

  Vitalis pulsed in perfect rhythm with his heartbeat—one beat per breath—while his wrist movements stayed perfectly synchronised.

  He held the rhythm until he felt it settle. Then, for the briefest heartbeat, a faint orange hue hummed visibly above his fingers before vanishing.

  Whrrr.

  Time stretched. Arion remained kneeling, hand open, patience in full supply.

  The orange heat grew brighter, more alive, lingering longer each time until it took shape—a swirling coil spinning atop his fingers.

  Vhm-Vhm-Vhm.

  “Well, it’s more of an improvement compared to our new Redox Spark spell, but the hard part is sustaining and holding its consistency.”

  To compensate, he shaped the coil further, compressing it, then opening his hand wide. The coil flattened and widened, inviting Luminary Essence to even it out and bring consistency.

  Now it resembled a steady energy ring. The only remaining issue was feeding it more essence through precise Vitalis control without disturbing—

  Vhhhmm—

  But before he could finish the thought, his eyes widened in disbelief.

  The convection loop had become self-stabilising—heat rising, cooling, falling back into its own core.

  A miniature reactor built from air and Luminary Essence, cycling energy instead of losing it.

  A self-sustaining, tiny Luminary reactor…

  He burst into hysterical, joyous laughter.

  “A self-feeding Luminary loop with tiny Vitalis control. Essentially a micro-fusion cycle…”

  He laughed again, tears forming. “I built a reactor… to cook lunch.”

  “Buhahaha!” Now crying with additional snot.

  “S-somewhere, my physics professor just spontaneously combusted.”

  He continued laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of his life—the things he was casually manipulating were pipe dreams in his previous world. Yet here he was, literally bending reality.

  And all for the sake of a decent fry-up.

  —— ? —— —— ? —— —— ? ——

  It didn’t take long before Arion tested his new “reactor” by making some proper fried chicken—literally just fried chicken, because he still had nothing else to add.

  The coil spun steadily now, a soft orange disc of heat hovering a few inches above the ground. The air shimmered around it, quiet and deceptively calm.

  “You can be called Heat Coil!” he grinned, addressing the humming disc like an old friend.

  Vhhhmm!

  “I know, I know—it doesn’t express your magnificence, but I’m already reaching my naming quota for today.”

  Alright. Controlled. Sustainable. Stable.

  He nodded to himself.

  Next step—practical application.

  “Cooking~!” He cheered and clapped like an excited schoolgirl in cookery class.

  Arion glanced at the flattest stone he could find nearby. It wasn’t perfect, but close enough to “pan-shaped” by wilderness standards. He set it gently above the coil.

  The moment it crossed the heat boundary, the disc reacted. The Luminary field flared, overcompensating for the sudden mass.

  FWAP!

  The rock plate jittered once—then shot sideways like it had been punched by a god.

  It whistled through the clearing and slammed into a tree. Bark exploded. The stone shattered into dust.

  Arion crouched there, blinking, hair blown back from the sudden pressure wave.

  “…Okay. So the spin has a bit of a kick.” He coughed once, trying to look scholarly rather than terrified.

  Note to self: don’t place objects directly into a rotational heat field unless you enjoy lethal flying cookware.

  He looked at the still-humming coil, mildly offended by how smug it seemed.

  “Right. Let's try this again, in a more safer approach.”

  He rebuilt the coil, flattening it into a thinner, slower loop.

  Then propped up the stone plate above the coil with other stones, so neither was in contact. The heat seeped gradually into the base of the stone.

  A soft red glow spread across its surface—gradual, controlled.

  “Perfect,” he said, finally smiling. “Hot-plate mode. Civilisation, achieved.”

  He paused, then sighed.

  “Mom would be proud. Or horrified. Probably both.” He said, laughing under his breath.

  Arion sat there, chin propped on his hand after the long session, simply staring at the humming disc in front of him.

  Achieving something humans had barely managed in his old world. And yet, even now, it felt strangely meaningless. He had already failed once. None of this would ever make up for that.

  He raised his head and regarded the little reactor.

  Well, at least you’re behaving yourself, Mr Little Disk with the power of a reactor.

  —— ? —— —— ? —— —— ? ——

  Redox Spark

  Thermodynamics

  Description:

  A pinch of tinder glows red.

  Vitalis lowers the ignition threshold, while Luminary channels electron transfer.

  On Earth, kindling requires ~300–400°C to ignite.

  Here, the spark forms at room temperature because Luminary shifts reaction energetics.

  Science:

  Combustion normally requires overcoming an activation energy barrier (E?).

  Luminary Essence collapses E? to near zero, allowing molecular bonds to break spontaneously.

  In Layman Terms:

  I can light a fire without friction or heat.

  Vitalis cheats chemistry—it makes things burn because they want to, not because they should.

  Maxim:

  “Lower the hill, and the fire climbs itself.”

  Heat Coil

  Thermodynamics

  Description:

  Vitalis spins Luminary Essence into a stable spiral, sustaining a self-feeding convection loop.

  Pots warm evenly; forges glow steadily.

  On Earth, turbulence ruins uniform heating.

  Here, Luminary suppresses instability, maintaining equilibrium across the flow.

  Science:

  Controlled convection loop without hotspots—a continuous thermal vortex maintained by Vitalis pressure and Essence resonance.

  In Layman Terms:

  I built a tiny reactor that keeps itself spinning.

  Maxim:

  “Great for cooking, terrible for anything you value near it.”