Two hours bled away under the rising sun. The courtyard heated, dew dried, and Gaius’s shadow shrank as he loomed over them like a grumpy statue.

Nothing had changed.

Ludger kept his palms in the soil until his fingers were gritty, his spiritual core thrumming like a caged animal. He could feel the mana running through the ground—slow, dense, heavy—but every time he tried to adjust his own flow to match it, the rhythm slipped away like sand through his fingers. He shifted his breathing, tried again, slowed his pulse. Same result.

Across from him, Viola was sweating, jaw locked but eyes still burning with stubborn excitement. She had the look of someone convinced that if she just pressed harder, the world would finally yield.

Luna stayed standing a little farther back, arms folded, gaze flicking between them and Gaius. Not bored—calculating.

Ludger’s shoulders twitched. Great. Two hours of kneeling like a tree hugging hippie and I’m still out of tune. This is less training and more a bad joke.

Gaius finally snorted, a sound like a rockslide in his throat. “Good. You’re finally starting to notice how hard it is. Welcome to earth magic, brats. Feeling isn’t the same as becoming.”

The old man crouched just enough to drive the point home, his boots grinding into the dirt. “You keep at it until your mana gets heavy on its own. Then—and only then—the ground starts to move for you.”

Ludger blew out a slow breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. His core pulsed again, steady but alien, waiting for the right note he couldn’t quite hit.

Ludger flexed his fingers in the soil, grit biting under his nails. The rhythm still refused to click; the ground’s mana rolled beneath his palms like a slow drumbeat he couldn’t follow. Sweat beaded down his temple. This isn’t working. I’m just sitting here like an idiot while Viola burns holes in the dirt with her eyes.

He forced his breathing steady and let his mind wander through what he actually knew. Earth magic wasn’t just about throwing rocks or making walls. Reinforcing beams in old mines, stabilizing tunnels, hardening weapons and armor. Support first, destruction later.

That thought sparked. Reinforcing meant adding weight, density, stability. Mining meant breaking bonds but also understanding where they were. Not just mimicking the ground’s mana, but understanding its purpose.

Ludger shifted his focus, his mana pulsing slower, heavier. He pictured a tunnel roof held up by pillars of stone; pictured his mana thickening like packed clay, not flowing like sand. He let the image spread from his chest to his arms, down into his palms.

The earth felt different under his hands now—not lighter, not yet responsive, but closer. A faint drag on his mana instead of a slippery slide. His breath caught. That’s…something.

Above him, Gaius grunted but said nothing, just watching. Viola’s brows furrowed deeper, sensing her little brother had found a new gear. Luna’s eyes narrowed slightly, the only sign she’d noticed too.

Ludger pressed down harder, not with force but with weight, chasing that subtle shift. For the first time since dawn, it felt less like praying to Mother Earth and more like speaking to her.

Ludger kept refining the picture in his head, layer by layer. Not just pillars now but the whole tunnel system—the beams, the walls, the compressed veins of ore under pressure. His mana grew heavier, slower, shaping itself into something dense and patient. He breathed with it, let it settle in his bones.

The courtyard was silent except for a stray crow. Even Viola had stopped muttering and was just staring, sweat on her brow.

Then the ground twitched. A faint tremor ran up through Ludger’s palms, subtle but unmistakable. He locked onto it, sharpening his mental image further, thickening the “pillar” of his mana until it matched the drag of the soil exactly.

A ridge of earth rose in front of him—just a handspan at first, then higher, like a small mound pushing up from under the flagstones. Dust spilled off its sides.

Gaius’s eyes went wide, the first real crack in his stony expression. “Well I’ll be—”

Viola’s jaw dropped. “He actually—!”

Ludger’s concentration wavered. The image slipped. The mound froze halfway and then slumped back with a soft crumble. He let out a sharp grunt of annoyance, shoulders sagging. “Tch.” Not exactly the spectacular pillar he’d imagined.

But then the air shimmered faintly around him, and a translucent blue notification flickered across his vision:

Class Unlocked: Geomancer Lv.1 – Bonus per Level: +6 INT, +3 WIS

Skill Acquired: Earth Manipulation Lv.1 — allows the user to draw and shape soil and stone as though molding clay. Increase in levels make the manipulation more efficient.

Ludger blinked at it, then at the mound of dirt. Not a perfect success, but at least he’d gotten something solid out of the morning. He wiped his hands on his trousers and smirked faintly to himself. “Guess praying to Mother Earth paid off.”

Gaius folded his arms, still staring at the small rise like it had insulted him. “Kid…that’s the first time in years a beginner’s made the ground move in one session.”

Viola was still wide-eyed, fists clenched, already itching to try again. Ludger just rolled his shoulders, hiding the small flicker of pride under a mask of annoyance. The skill was his now—time to break earth magic down and master it step by step.

Ludger sat back on his heels, brushing dirt from his palms. The pulse of the earth still thudded faintly in his chest like an echo. Viola was glaring at the ground, jaw tight, clearly frustrated that nothing was moving for her yet.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice so Gaius wouldn’t bark at them. “You’re trying to shove your mana straight through it, right?”

Viola flicked him a glance. “That’s what he said—‘connect with it.’ I’m trying.”

“Yeah, but you’re treating it like sparring. You’re forcing instead of matching.” He reached out and tapped the patch of earth between them. “Start here. Don’t think of it as an enemy you’re beating into shape. Think of it as a rope you’re grabbing. First feel the weight, then pull.”

She frowned, but kept listening.

“Let your mana spread under your palms first,” Ludger continued. “Slow. Heavy. Like water turning into clay. Once you can feel the ground’s rhythm, reinforce that spot with your own mana. Not everywhere, just the piece you want to move. Pack your mana into it until it’s denser than the rest. Then try to nudge it.”

Viola closed her eyes and followed his instructions, breath steadying.

“And don’t forget to anchor yourself,” he added, his tone calm but precise. “If you’re too light, the earth will just drink your mana. Make yourself heavier first. Breathe slower. Picture it settling in your bones. Only then start shaping.”

She nodded, shoulders relaxing a little, palms sinking deeper into the dirt. For the first time since dawn she wasn’t bracing like she was about to punch someone; she was listening, just as he had.

Ludger gave a small, approving grunt. “Good. Now keep it up until you feel the drag. Once you hit that, you’re halfway there.”

Two more hours crawled by under the punishing sun. The courtyard had gone from cool and damp to a baking oven of stone and grit. Sweat dripped off Viola’s chin, but she stayed crouched, hands pressed into the soil exactly as Ludger had shown her. Every few minutes he murmured another pointer—slowing her breath, tightening the flow at her wrists, picturing the ground’s weight as a shape instead of a color. Each detail came out of him like it had always been there, a quiet, steady stream of corrections.

“Don’t push,” he said softly. “Reinforce first. Make that patch heavier with your mana until it’s like a knot. Then pull on the knot.”

“Anchor your shoulders too. If you’re loose up top, the mana leaks out.”

“Think of your mana as mortar filling a crack. Once it sets, you can shift the whole block.”

Viola followed, eyes shut, her breathing falling into rhythm with his. The patch beneath her palms had darkened, damp and heavy, the beginnings of a response.

A few paces away, Gaius stood with his arms crossed, watching them both. At first he’d been waiting for the inevitable crash—kids blowing themselves out or giving up. But as the minutes rolled into hours, his frown deepened into something else entirely. The boy wasn’t just copying. He was teaching. Explaining resonance and reinforcement in a way that even Gaius, in his younger days, had never put into words.

The old man’s expression went hard and unreadable. How in the hell does a kid pick up my craft in one morning and already teach it back better than I can? He didn’t say it aloud, but the thought sat in his gut like a stone. He’d trained dozens of apprentices over the years, and none of them had ever grasped earth magic this fast—let alone explained it to someone else with such precision.

Viola’s fingers twitched; a small tremor rolled under her hands. Ludger gave her a quiet nod of encouragement, his voice calm and exact, still leading her step by step. From the sidelines, Gaius only watched, serious and silent, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t know he was holding.

Viola’s palms trembled, her lips moving silently as she followed each cue Ludger had drilled into her. The patch of dirt under her hands darkened and then, with a faint grinding sound, swelled upward like dough rising.

A gasp escaped her before she could stop it. The mound grew, pushing higher and higher with each heartbeat, clumps of soil peeling off its sides. Viola’s eyes flew open, glowing with giddy triumph. “I’m doing it—!”

“Don’t—” Ludger started, but she was already pouring more mana into it, the mound bulging wider, lopsided, threatening to slump. Her excitement was feeding it too fast.

He sighed through his nose, then planted one palm to the ground beside him. He let his own mana sink, anchor, and harden. In a smooth, controlled pull, a narrow column of packed earth rose straight up in front of him, climbing steadily until it reached his knees — a solid, clean tower like a miniature watchpost.

The crisp, deliberate motion broke through Viola’s frenzy. Her mound wobbled, sagged, and finally settled back into a harmless lump. She blinked at his neat tower and then at him, cheeks flushed, breathing hard.

“Easy,” Ludger said quietly, wiping dust from his fingers. “It’s not about how high you can push it on the first try. It’s about control. Small steps.”

Viola blew out a breath, her excitement tamped down but not gone. “Right… control. Got it.”

Across the courtyard, Gaius stood with his arms folded and a frown carved deep into his face. He wasn’t sure what rattled him more—the girl’s sudden success or the boy’s effortless demonstration of restraint. In all his years teaching earth magic, he’d never seen a child grab it that fast and then rein someone else in like a senior instructor.

Ludger gave his small tower a tap with his boot and let it crumble back into the ground, dusting off his hands. “Alright,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Now let’s do it again, slower. This time, you set the pace.”

Viola nodded, biting back a grin, and pressed her palms to the soil once more.

Gaius had watched enough. He pushed off from the wall and stomped over, boots grinding the dirt, his shadow falling across both of them. “Alright, that’s enough.” His voice was low but carried the edge of a shovel hitting rock. “Kid.” He jerked his chin at Ludger. “Where in the hell did you learn to teach like that?”

Ludger blinked up at him, still kneeling. “Teach?” he said mildly. “I’m just explaining what I’m doing.”

Gaius’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb. You’re breaking down concepts, giving step-by-step cues, pacing her mana. That’s how I’d train an apprentice after months, not hours. Who showed you that?”

Before Ludger could answer, Viola straightened up, brushing dust off her palms. “He did! I mean—uh—he learned it. From a teacher of mine, whom he asked to teach him… on how to teach?.” She looked between Gaius and Ludger, trying to remember how to phrase it. “He… paid someone. To teach him… how to teach.” Her voice wobbled at the end. “I think that’s what you did right, right?”

Ludger gave her a side-eye but didn’t correct her. “Close enough,” he muttered.

Viola chewed her lip. “I—I wondered if I explained it right.” She glanced up at Gaius, half-defiant, half-nervous. “But that’s what he said.”

The old mage stared at them both, a muscle jumping in his jaw. This boy had been in the city less than a month and he was already pulling moves veteran guild instructors couldn’t. Paid someone to teach him how to teach? At his age? Gaius wasn’t sure if he was being lied to or if he’d stumbled into something stranger.

He exhaled through his nose, rough and gravelly. “Hnh. Guess I’ll be the one taking notes, then,” he said at last, and backed off a step, still watching Ludger like a puzzle he hadn’t solved.

Viola, cheeks pink, crouched back down over her patch of earth. “Did I get it right?” she whispered.

Ludger just gave a faint, dry smirk. “Pretty close.” Then he tapped the ground between them. “Now try again.”

Gaius dragged a hand down his face and let out a long, gravelly breath. “Alright, listen up.” His boots thumped against the packed dirt as he moved back to stand over them. “What you’re doing now—feeling the ground, matching it, nudging it—isn’t flashy. It’s the basics. Boring as hell, but it’s what keeps you from cracking your own mana later.”

He jabbed a thick finger at the soil. “You’ll learn the other steps as you go. Reinforcement, shaping, hardening, channeling. Each one builds on the last. You don’t skip ahead. You grind it until it’s instinct, then you move on.”

Ludger sat back on his heels, wiping grit off his palms. “What about creating earth from my own mana?” he asked, eyes narrowing a little. “Like, you did before. Is that possible for us?”

Gaius barked a humorless laugh. “Possible? Sure. For someone who’s spent years drilling every single skill until it’s second nature. That’s not a beginner’s trick; that’s the final technique. You’re talking about conjuring matter, not just moving it. Do that too early and you’ll bleed yourself dry.”

He crouched slightly so they could both see his eyes. “You want that? Then master everything else first. Build up the strength, the control, and the feel. When you can reinforce, shape, harden and channel without thinking about it—when the earth moves with you before you even ask—that’s when you start making your own.”

Ludger held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Understood.”

Viola looked between them, a spark of excitement lighting her exhaustion. “So… basics first. Final technique later.”

“Exactly.” Gaius straightened, his shadow long over the cracked flagstones. “Now get back to it. The earth’s not going to learn you; you’re going to learn it.”

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