Rise of Tyrus

Winter had finally come, the season that Tyrus hated the most, and for good reason.

The biting cold pierced his skin, a relentless assault of a thousand icy needles. Each gust of wind sliced through his threadbare garments, indifferent to their feeble attempt at protection. Memories flooded his mind, nights spent huddled in forsaken shacks, seeking refuge in hollowed-out logs. His breath materialized in the frigid air, a visible reminder to the freezing world that enveloped him.

The wilderness offered no respite, only an endless expanse of white, where snow and ice stretched as far as the eye could see. It was a desolate landscape, devoid of warmth, where survival became a merciless battle. Tyrus's hands, red and blistered, stung as the biting cold numbed his fingers, leaving him devoid of sensation. He dreaded the long, unforgiving hours of darkness, where even the faintest flicker of fire would attract predators lurking in the shadows.

Hunger gnawed at his stomach, more ravenous during winter, as food grew scarce, and the remaining animals were just as desperate as he was. Winter wasn't merely a season of frigid temperatures; it was a bitter reminder of his isolation, an unyielding force that relentlessly tested his resilience, year after year. Nowadays, those days were now echoes. Things were different; he was different.

Inside the library, the scent of smoked wood wafted throughout the room, creating an ambiance that was relaxing and soothing. Pages being flipped alongside the crackling of the fireplace spreading its warmth were the only sounds audible, other than the occasional cough.

The manor's halls had grown cold enough to cause him to shiver, and the snow outside was already piling up at an alarming rate. The sky was a pale gray, the sun's rays struggling to pierce the thick layer of clouds and snow that coated the city.

In the middle of reading The Foundations of Spell-casting, and taking a break from the bestiary, Tyrus' body flinched at a passing thought: When was the last time he practiced magic?

Once those words left his mouth, the answer came to him as he sifted through his memories. Although he occasionally used minor spells for his day-to-day needs, he hardly practiced magic these days. Over twenty days ago was the last time he could remember working on his magic, and that happened when he visited Wildwood.

That was not a good sign. Tyrus was so focused on his sparring sessions and reading that he had forgotten all about the most important thing in the world.

Tyrus stood up from his chair and walked over to the fireplace. He sat himself in front of the dancing flames, allowing the heat to tickle his body, but far enough to not get caught on fire. After taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and entered the Sorcerer Plane.

The first thing he checked was how his branches were coming along. Three of the branches were seeping with mana, while a fourth was still in its early stages. It would take a while until that one filled up and reached the fifth branch.

Tyrus did a bit of digging to uncover the reason behind the presence of a colossal tree in the sorcerer plane, and the explanation he found was quite logical. In a similar way to how a tree begins as a tiny seed and gradually grows, a sorcerer's mana heart also develops over time. As a sorcerer continues to utilize their magic, their mana pool expands, and each branch on the tree symbolizes their capacity for handling mana.

A sorcerer passively or purposely absorbs mana from the air like how a leaf absorbs sunlight. Like leaves gathering energy from the sun and converting it as 'food', a sorcerer's skin functions the same. Blood vessels circulate mana throughout the body, transporting it to wherever the sorcerer chooses. The more mana a sorcerer can store, the better their chances of survival, especially during combat. In a sense, sorcerers truly are like trees. Tyrus found it a funny comparison to think about.

Tyrus shifted his attention to the elements. Fire and light had a slight increase in size. The former was still the size of a candlelight, almost reaching the scope of a torch, and the latter was a tad bit larger than the usual street light at night. The latter was growing faster compared to fire, mainly due to him constantly using it as a source of light ever since he entered the manor.

Regarding his lightning affinity, it was still a campfire of lashing arcs. However, they were more numerous and had grown in volume by a bit. It wasn't much, but the slight increase in power was a pleasant surprise.

The dark element, on the other than, was the most shocking. While a recent addition, it was almost the size of his lightning! Instead of arcs, tendrils swayed, their reach extending outward like tentacles dipped in shadows. This was a puzzling development, especially since he's only used the element once. Just what was the cause for its rapid growth? How come the other elements haven't exhibited the same results?

After the thorough mental check, Tyrus's eyes slowly fluttered open. He shifted his gaze towards his palm. With a mere flicker of concentration, he summoned the dark element, willing it to materialize. In a matter of seconds, ethereal wisps of darkness materialized above his palm. They writhed and coiled; Tyrus could almost feel the cool, tingling sensation of the darkness lick his face.

He waved his hand, and the dark element dispersed. Lightning then manifested, forming a ball of bright blue, lashing arcs that flickered and danced in a mesmerizing display. The ball's surface was uneven, its jagged edges giving the illusion of a sphere. It was like watching a miniature storm, with bolts slithering around.

Tyrus swiftly scattered the crackling lightning and made his way towards the table. He reached out and snatched The Foundations of Spell-casting, a book with a rugged, rich blue cover. The cover displayed a captivating image of a massive hand clasping four spheres that resembled marbles. Each marble was intricately carved with depictions representing the four primary elements.

Tyrus casually flipped through the pages, his eyes quickly scanning the lines of text that provided basic knowledge about magic and spell-casting. It was all familiar information to him - the customary explanation of mana and its connection to its sources, the origins of Elemental Sorcerers, and various other tidbits. Thanks to Blue Dawn and Selena, he had already gained a solid understanding of these concepts.

He kept on skipping through sections such as the dangers of magic, famous sorcerers, and affinities until he stumbled upon one that caught his interest: advanced techniques. Tyrus halted there because the term 'silent casting' grabbed his attention, causing him to slow down and read carefully.

Silent casting, often regarded as a symbol of true mastery, enables sorcerers to perform spells without the need for verbal incantations. This technique requires adept concentration since the absence of spoken words eliminates a crucial means of controlling mana.

Many beginner sorcerers encounter difficulty when attempting silent casting, especially when dealing with volatile elements like fire. The instability arises from their internal struggle to maintain control without the grounding effect of spoken words. Only through rigorous mental discipline and extensive practice can sorcerers gain the precision necessary for silent casting.

The main challenge of silent casting lies in finding the right balance between intent and control. Any fluctuation in thoughts or emotions can disrupt the spell, leading to weakened effects or unintended consequences. However, with practice, experienced sorcerers can enhance their focus, allowing them to channel their element with the same strength and accuracy as if they were speaking aloud.

It is believed that a true silent caster's magic becomes an effortless extension of their will, flowing as smoothly as breathing. Silent casting elements such as earth and water are marginally easier than elements such as fire and air , which have a higher degree of volatility. Silent casting is a challenging skill to master and is not recommended for beginners.

"Especially when dealing with destructive elements like fire?" Tyrus mumbled.

If he read everything right, then that meant there were elements that were easier to control than others, and fire was one of the most difficult ones to do so. Elder Treant mentioned that the lightning element was a subcategory of fire. Putting together the pieces, that meant that lightning probably fell under the "destructive element" category, the same as fire.

So, that basically meant that his primary affinity was more difficult to control compared to elements like water and earth. However, Elder Treant also mentioned that if a primary affinity fell under a common element, there was no need for extensive training to use it. Don't these statements counter each other, or was there something significant that he overlooked?

"That can't be right... I can visualize and use lightning just fine, and I haven't been training it for too long. Maybe I can solve this problem if I give it some more time."

The book explicitly mentioned that silent casting was not recommended for beginners, and Tyrus was nothing more than an amateur when it came to magic. However, he wasn't willing to put this matter to rest yet. After what he's been through and the power he brought forth in each of his fights with only silent casting, he had the right to confidently say that the problems that arise from the technique didn't apply to him.

When it came to silent casting, there was little room for error. Exceeding the appropriate amount of mana in spells would drain the mana heart faster than it could replenish.

Insufficient mana, on the other hand, would result in the spell not functioning as intended, causing it to weaken. Too little mana weakened the spell, while an excess of mana put the sorcerer at risk of injury, death, or mana deficiency. If a spell were to backfire or become unstable, the sorcerer would suffer the consequences of the spell itself.

Monitoring the output of mana was a constant necessity, as sorcerers had to regularly keep track of their usage. Silent casting demanded more effort than regular casting, but Tyrus believed that the advantages outweighed the risks. After all, taking risks was an essential part of the magical pursuit. Spell-casting with incantations was a safety net, while silent casting was the real deal.

"How should I train my magic?" he wondered.

The main thing he did whenever he trained his magic was to summon lightning through his hands and let it sit there until his mana heart was less than half empty. This was to prevent him from burning himself out and control his mana usage for each spell he used. Knowing how much mana to use for a Lightning Bolt and Dual Shot was a pretty handy skill to learn. This allowed him to fine-tune and use multiple lightning spells.

"Lightning Bolt, Dual Shot, Thunder Stun, Lightning Snare are the ones I use the most. Should I keep experimenting with those main four and increase their effectiveness, or should I find something new to discover?"

Tyrus leaned back in his chair, rocking back and forth as he stared at the window. He watched the snowflakes fall while mulling over his next move.

"...No, I should keep improving what I already have. I need to increase Lightning Bolt and Dual Shot's power. That earth spirit gave us trouble because our spells were too weak. Thunder Stun and Lightning Snare as well so that I can immobilize creatures quicker and faster."

Just for a moment, Tyrus completely forgot about the other elements. His mana reservoir was so limited that he couldn't possibly train his magic using all four of them without risking mana deficiency every single day. It made perfect sense why Elemental Sorcerers tended to focus most of their attention on their primary affinity rather than the others. It was like attempting to dig four holes with just one shovel, as opposed to focusing on digging just one hole.

After some more thinking, a thought occurred to him: what if he focused on one element per day? Sure it would mean his primary affinities progress will slow down, but his control of the others would improve. There may come another time where one element is more effective than others.

Lightning on the first day, then fire, light, and then... dark. As much as the element worried him, simply ignoring it when it did help them win against the spirit wasn't wise. So long as he practiced it in secret and no one else knew he possessed the element under his arsenal, everything would be alright.

Blue light burst over his palm, and Tyrus peered eagerly.

"Might as well start now."