"So....what type am I?"
Richard flicked back to reality, but still looked at me in wonder, his grin grew endlessly big.
"You're the fourth type..."
"That a good or a bad thing.....?"
"Being honest...it may be a bad thing..."
My jaw dropped. I only asked that question to make sure. But I expected him to say it was a good thing.
"Don't fret, it could be a good as well," he tried to quickly save as gloom crept onto my face.
"I only say bad as a precaution. You don't fit into the three types, using their techniques to teach you may be difficult, if not impossible. That being said, it could be the opposite, and all the methods may apply to you. However, as I have never seen abilities like yours before, so I am unsure."
".....ok..."
"For now, it doesn't matter. We're still on basic training, so our goal is to improve your magic capacity and output."
Richard retrieved another orb from his ring.
"This orb and the one I gave you are beginners orbs. Their primary function aside from checking your type. Is to absorb the magic you inject into it."
Richard swapped orbs with me.
"Watch closely,"
Flickers of lightning began flying from Richard's body as he powered up. Then as he injected magic into the orb, his entire body flashed. Fully turning into free-flowing electricity for a split second. No longer man, but intrinsically an element. In that second, the orb cracked then shattered, fragments falling to the floor and his body returned to normalcy.
"By the end of this trip, you must be able to cause that orb to shatter within a minute. Don't worry, I have set its function to absorb only, so you won't turn into a mass of light."
Richard stood up, stretching himself out.
"The orb resets every one minute so if you aren't able to make it shatter you'll have to start from the beginning. If you ever feel too tired to continue, you may rest until you feel refreshed then try again. I will come back to check on you later."
With that, he left, and I was by myself with this magical orb. Well, this should be fun...
-Meanwhile,
Twigs snapped, branches cut and leafs crumbled as three soldiers splintered through the forest. They were some distance from the camp in search of 'Willow's Tears'. It seemed the words of the man named Percival resounded in the mind of their captain. He had instructed several groups of soldiers, such as this one, to go out in search of it. Many were disgruntled, at least the ones who hadn't bear witness. The dead rising? These were tales told to naughty kids, read about in books. They couldn't be anything real, none took it seriously. Dismissing the claims of their fellow soldiers, saying that they must have been mistaken. These three young men were of that camp. For their leader to blindly take the advice of a man, they had never seen before? A man who had coincidentally appeared right when he was needed. It all just seemed a little suspicious. One could imagine their frustrations.
And they weren't your ordinary youths, these three were young nobles. Who had come from luxury homes, chef-cooked foods, fine booze and wine; to this....to being ordered around like servents or dogs. At least according to two of them. Surviving on stale ale and whatever they could catch in the forest wasn't something they were accustomed to. These were predicaments and sentiments felt by almost all the nobles on the trail. It was a wake-up call to some, humiliation to others, even simply torture to a few. Yet, it was a right of passage all young lords had to endure. To feed the idea to their subjects that even they had served their country. A mere act, but such was the importance of image to these nobility. It was why only when they were far from the camp, were their complaints voiced.
"Argh, this grunt work is demeaning. I am no scavenger, damn it."
A lanky, bowl cut young brunet at the group's rear harped on. He was dressed in clean-cut armour engraved with his family's crest. Frustrations clouded his mind as he thoughtlessly chopped down branches in his path; with such overzealous swings of his sword, he would likely tire his arms before long.
"Ha, we've barely stepped out, and you're already wailing," a second voice replied. It belonged to another young man who had long hair reaching his shoulders and wasn't as skinny. Though they shared the same armour, a different family crest was displayed on his.
"Hmph, at least I had the decorum to do it when I left. Ha, you quite nearly yelled at the captain," the lanky man fired back.
The long hair man yawned as he lazily swung his sword, slicing his own way through the bush.
"I was merely reminding him that we weren't his errand boys,"
"Is that what you were doing? Ha,"
"Do the both of you do anything other than whine?" A third voice interceded. The young soldier in front of them finally spoke. He was buzzcut and physically well built. A pendant of a bronze acorn was around his neck. Unlike the other two, he was focused on his task. His movements were diligent and concise, which was why he was gaining distance from them.
"The righteous one speaks again. Why don't you forgo your title already and become a common soldier?" the long hair man mocked. The lanky man chuckled before adding to the fire.
"Maybe he's ignorant of his status? From what I hear of how low the Hartmut family has fallen, he may not know the difference."
The buzzcut soldier remained calm through their taunts, slightly ticking them off.
"What sharp tongues you both have, it is too bad that was the only talent you were born with."
"Tch-,"
A blue light reflected against some trees not far off from them. The buzzcut soldier the first to notice, immediately speeding towards it. The other two also took notice, although at first thinking he was running from them. The light got brighter and brighter until he came upon its source. A tall neon blue flower stemmed out of a tiny mass of earth. It grew alone on its small little island, surrounded by a body of liquid. The substance looked waterlike but was incredibly reflective, almost shimmering. The buzzcut soldier lost himself in the beautiful sight.
His eyes locked onto the flower, wholly forgetting his mission. Its pulsing glow enchanting, forcing him towards it. Each step was no longer his own, his mind blank as he sank slowly into the pond of mysterious liquid. Deeper and deeper. Mere seconds passed before his body from the chin down was encompassed in the substance. It was hard to move in, its thickness multiple times that of water.
Yet, the strain didn't bother him as he stepped to the flower and reached for it. The long hair soldier finally caught up, catching his singular poking, head in the pond. 'Just how deep is that?' was his first thought.
"Just what are you doing Miguel? We were meant to only collect the water."