Chapter 15 — Experiments Beneath Sky and Stone
The early morning forest was quiet.
Not silent—never truly silent—but hushed in the way only dawn could manage. Wind whispered through bare branches, carrying the scent of frost and sap, while Rowan's boots pressed softly into the thin layer of snow beneath him.
He stood still in the clearing, axe in hand, eyes closed.Breathing slow.
He could feel it now—clearly.
Mana.
It drifted through the air like invisible dust, faintly tingling against his skin, alive and waiting. No longer something distant or abstract. It was there, responding to him.
His grip tightened around the axe handle.
And then—
A memory flickered.
---
Last night.
Bang!
The hut door had slammed open with a bang, Rowan nearly tripping over the wooden stool inside as excitement sent him stumbling forward.
"Mom! Dad! Look what I've just learned!"
His mother jolted awake with a startled groan, hair a tangled mess as she sat up.
"Rowan? What happened? Are you hurt?"
Only then did it hit him—he'd burst in during the dead of night.
Rowan froze, cheeks heating as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Ah… sorry, Ma. Papa. I got a little carried away. It's nothing, really. I shouldn't have woken you."
He turned toward the door, embarrassed—
"Wait, Rowan."
His father's voice stopped him.
Rowan turned back. His father was sitting on the edge of the bed, tired eyes gentle rather than annoyed.
"You said you learned something," he said calmly. "Didn't you? Show us."
Rowan blinked.
Now that he looked properly, he saw it—the faint smile on his mother's lips despite her sleepiness, the curiosity glowing in his father's eyes.
That familiar, comforting affection spread through the room.
Rowan's lips twitched into a shy smile.
"Yes, Father."
---
Minutes later, the three of them stood outside beneath silver moonlight.
Snow crunched softly as Rowan stepped forward, stopping before an old stump. He gripped his axe with both hands, parents watching from a short distance away, shawls pulled tight against the cold.watching their son in quiet curiosity.
Rowan took a deep breath and steadied his stance — the same one his father had taught him for years, when he first started learning about chopping wood.
Stable. Balanced. Honest.
He breathed in.
'Feel the mana…'
He focused, feeling the mana, the warmth gathering at his fingertips, flowing into the axe's handle.
His eyes snapped open.
"FIRE!"
The blade erupted.
Flames raced along its edge as Rowan swung down, a blazing crescent tearing through the night and slamming into a tree across the clearing.
BOOM.
The trunk exploded into burning fragments. Embers scattered like stars, the air glowing orange as wood turned to drifting ash.
Rowan exhaled slowly, breath fogging.
When he turned, his father stood frozen—eyes wide, mouth slightly open.
"Son…" His voice trembled. "What kind of magic was that?"
"Where did you learn it?"
Rowan grinned, chest swelling with pride.
"I made it myself. I just… combined your axe technique with magic."
His father's gaze drifted to his own old axe resting by the door.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
"Never thought someone could cast magic with an axe…"
Then he looked back at Rowan—standing in the fading glow of embers—and smiled broadly.
"You're incredible, son. Truly incredible."
With a booming laugh, he lifted Rowan into a crushing hug. Rowan laughed too, cheeks burning.
'Combining my axe technique with magic...' his father thought. 'You really are something, boy.'
His mother joined them, eyes glistening.
"That was beautiful, Rowan," she whispered. "You looked like a hero from the old tales."
They stayed like that for a long moment—warmth clashing against cold, pride burning brighter than fire.
---
Now—
Rowan stood in that same clearing.
Morning mist curled around his boots. The snow was lighter, the world quieter.
He gripped his axe.
Feel the mana… gather it… focus it.
His eyes opened, steady and bright.
"FIRE!"
He swung the axe in a wide arc..
A crescent of flame erupted—larger than before—roaring through the clearing and tearing through three trees in a single sweep. They fell one after another, flames licking bark before fading into smoke.
"Hm…" Rowan muttered, studying the axe. "I can launch it farther now."
He lowered the weapon, thoughtful.
"But… is fire magic enough?"
Eldric's voice echoed in his mind—lazy, half-drunk, yet strangely precise.
Feel the mana. Gather the particles. Imagine the shape—no, the sensation. What you know best.
Another memory surfaced—words from that strange man during training.
If you want to understand fire, go near fire. Water—go to a lake. Wind—find where it runs wild.
Rowan grinned.
"Looks like it's time for experiments."
He twirled the axe once, weight familiar and comforting.
"Alright," he smirked. "Let's see what else you can do, my… axe— I mean, my stick—ah—wand. My wand."
The trees rustled as if answering his challenge, the faint shimmer of mana in the air beginning to stir again.
---
An hour later, the sound of rushing water reached him.
Rowan pushed through brush and branches until a wide waterfall came into view, white foam crashing against stone. Sunlight refracted through the mist, scattering faint rainbows across wet rock.
"Now this... this is a perfect place for experiments," he muttered, looking around. "Trees, water, and fresh air."
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the crisp scent of nature. Then, gripping his axe with both hands, he thought aloud.
"Alright… all this time, I've only been using fire magic. So—"
His gaze drifted to the waterfall.
"Guess it's time to try water."
He planted his feet, raised the axe, and closed his eyes again.
Feel the mana… gather the particles… imagine the shape you want to give them.
He pictured the things he knew — the taste of water when he drank it, its coolness on his skin when he bathed, the sound of droplets, the calm that came with it.
Rowan opened his eyes.
"Let's do this.
He swung his axe downward in the familiar motion of chopping wood.
For a split second, nothing.
Then — whoosh — water burst to life along the blade's arc, forming a shimmering crescent that sliced through the air.
Rowan blinked. "Whoa."
He swung again — this time with more intent.
A crescent of water shot forward, slamming into a group of trees.
CRASH.
The trees toppled one after another, the clean cuts gleaming wet under the morning sun.
He jogged forward, examining the smooth, watery marks left on the trunks.
"Wow…" he grinned. "I wonder how many trees I can cut with this?"
He turned the axe in his hands, thoughtful.
"Okay, now… what else is there besides fire and water?"
He squinted, trying to recall.
"Ah, right — what did the Vice Master say again?"
He mimicked Eldric's drawl.
"There are five elements—Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, Thunder."
Rowan frowned, pouting slightly.
"I'd love to try thunder… but I don't even know what thunder feels like."
He glanced at the ground.
"Hmm. Earth… I do know soil and rocks."
He tapped his chin, thinking. "Or maybe…"
His eyes lifted toward the rushing waterfall. The breeze brushed his hair, gentle and alive.
"Wind," he said, smiling. "Alright, let's try it."
He tightened his grip, inhaled sharply, and with a playful shout—
"Hai-ya!"
He swung his axe but —
'Huh.' nothing happened.
"Uh... Yeah I first need to understand the wind to use wind magic. Ok so." Rowan closes his eyes and starts recalling every wind that he remembers.
The wind that he breaths, the wind that's brushing against his skin and...
'If you want to understand wind then go to a place where wind runs wild.'
Recalling the words of that guy Rowan remembers the wildest wind that he has encountered. His snowy town always had cold winds running wild but...
He remembers the day when his father had suddenly gotten sick and he had gone for medicine Chopping and carrying woods in that snow Strom.
Recalling that day, A shiver ran down his spine as he try to remember the sensation of the cold wild merciless wind of that day.
Rowan gets into his posture shoulders relaxed legs parted. Taking a deep breath Rowan swings his axe.
"Wind."
A faint blue cresent arc formes around his swing as it hits the tree infront of him.
"Now I can use wind too."Rowan exclaimed raising his hands.
Then he looked at the tree which he had hit with his magic. The tree was standing still as if nothing happened. Only the place where the arc had hit had a faint blue and white particles around it.
'Huh.' Rowan muttered. 'It didn't cut through.'
Rowan looked at the tree then at his axe. The fire and water spell that he had used had cut through the tree but the wind spell that he used didn't.
"i thought that the more intense sensation of the elemental I recall and understand the more powerful the spell would be."
Afterall that's what Eldric had told him. but now looking at the tree that was standing tall.
"Tch, looks like this spell isn't that powerful." Rowan came to a decision.
"ok then let's focus on fire and water only."
Rowan raises his axe and starts swinging it again.
"Hai ya ha."
--
One Month Later — Darve Dojo
The dojo backyard buzzed with energy. Students lined up on either side of the training ground, their chatter filling the air. The towering figure of the Dojo Master sitting on his chair at the center, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk.
"Magic," a deep voice boomed, shaking the walls, "is like an art. And when you teach art, you must be serious and disciplined. Do you understand?"
Vice Master Eldric — face red, body trembling — was currently being sat on by the Dojo Master of the Darve City dojo master Garrick Devian.
"Yes, Master, I'm listening!" he squeaked, voice muffled under the man's weight.
The old master's voice rumbled like thunder.
"And I gave you the responsibility to look after this dojo and its students while I was away."
He leaned heavier, the floor creaking beneath them.
"So tell me, what exactly were you doing when I wasn't here?"
Eldric's eyes darted around desperately.
"I—I was taking care of everything, Master! I swear! I was just inspecting the backyard when you arrived!"
The pressure increased.
"Liar," the Master grumbled. "You were probably out drinking again, treating this dojo like your vacation house!"
'Damn old man,' Eldric cursed internally, 'why would you have to come back early… and why are you using me as a chair?! Sit on the wooden one like a normal person!'
The master looked at the training backyard and asked, "and what happened to mana trees of the dojo."
Master Garrick asked in a threatening voice
"one tree looks missing... I'm sure you know how valuable they are."
Eldric's face became red because of the pressure of weight.
'damn that dolt.'
Out loud, he forced a strained smile.
"I'm sorry, Master! I promise it won't happen again!"
The Master's brow twitched.
"Didn't you say that last time too?"
"Yes, but this time it's a— uh— pinky promise!"
Eldric lifted his pinky finger pleading for mercy.
After a long, dangerous silence, the Master finally stood up.
Thud.
Eldric collapsed face-first onto the grass floor with a loud thud face buried on grass, gasping for air but the smell of dirt were filing his nose instead. He quickly lifted his head up breathing intensely.
Master Garrick walked to his chair — the actual one — and sat down with a huff.
"You'd better keep your word this time."
"Yes, Master…"Eldric groaned weakly, still sprawled on the ground.
The Master nodded, arms crossed.
"Now listen — today is the day of the dojo competition. The winner will receive a recommendation letter and qualify for the entrance exam of the Grand Aetherion Academy."
His eyes scanned the students of the dojo sitting with confident eyes and back straight on the backyard each one looked prepared for the competition. "Is everyone here?"
"Yes, Master!" the students shouted in unison.
Another voice rang out from the doorway — calm and familiar.
"Yes, Master."
Every head turned.
Eldric's eyes went wide as he slowly lifted his head.
His jaw dropped.
'Wait… that voice— that dolt—?!'
The Master's brow lifted slightly as the figure stepped into the light.
---
Chapter Ends