“Wait, do you have some kind of mana regeion skill?” Finn asked, his curiosity rekindled.

  “Nope, almost all my skills are bat-oriented,” Yukha said.

  “I’m a Water Warrior, and I have focused my attributes on stitution and Strength. I have been fighting like a warrior my whole life, even before I received the system, so naturally, that’s the css I picked.”

  “A Water Warrior?” Finn asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Yukha’s massive frame, coupled with the heavy armor he wore, certainly fit the image of a warrior. But water? That seemed off. When Finn thought of warriors, he imagione or Fire affinities—something solid, forceful. Water felt more suited fes or Cleriot someone charging into battle.

  “Yes. It’s a great css,” Yukha replied, nodding fidently.

  “But when I imagine a warrior,” Finn said hesitantly, “I think of Stone or Fire—something more… offensive. Water just feels different.”

  Yukha paused, his expression thoughtful. He rubbed his with his rge hand, as if trying to piece together Finn’s perspective. “I ’t seem to grasp what you mean, Finn. Water and being a Warrior seem perfectly natural to me.”

  Finn blinked, fused by Yukha’s rea. How could he not uand? And then it hit him—of course.

  He isn’t from Earth. He has no cept logic.

  “Besides,” Yukha said, breaking Finn’s train of thought, “I am also a natural when it es to water.”

  He raised his hand, and as Finn watched, a small sphere of water formed in the air above Yukha’s palm. It grew steadily, pulsing with a faint energy, before Yukha ched his fist, and the water dissolved into thin air, vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?” Finn asked.

  “You didn’t ask,” Yukha replied.

  “Fair enough,” Finn said, shaking his head with a wry smile.

  “Now it’s your turn, Finn,” Yukha said, crossing his arms. His tone was firm, almost like a challenge. “You said you were a natural with fire, did you not? Show me what you got.”

  "And do not use your Fireball skill. Just summon fire like you did before you got here."

  Fiated. When he had used his power earlier, it was in the heat of the moment—desperation to escape the burning house. Now, without that surge of adrenaline, he didn’t feel as fident.

  After all, the fire had almost killed him twice. And the times he'd lost trol of it haunted him.

  His hand instinctively moved to his scar, as though it could somehow guide him, point him toward the right path. Yet, all he felt beh his fingers was its rough, uneven surface—a reminder, not a pass.

  "What are you waiting for?" Yukha’s voiapped him out of his thoughts.

  He was right. There was no time to wait. No time for his mind to heal, no time to let the trauma fade. If he wao survive, he o trol it now.

  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. He focused, letting his mind drift back, searg for the memories from his childhood.

  The memory of when he first discovered his power came to him clearly. He remembered the small ember appearing on a sheet of paper, slowly ing it. Then, the times he experimented—setting fire to more papers, pieces of wood, and random objects he found. Even small critters hadn’t been spared. He could vividly recall the heat, the acrid smell, and the way the fmes moved—red, alive, and stantly shifting.

  As he focused on the memory, something stirred deep inside him. It was hard to describe, but it felt as though a hidden part of him—an unseen mouth—had opened. Wheapped into it, he felt a burniion deep within.

  He opened his eyes and exhaled from this imagined mouth. A flicker of fme, about the size of a small rock, sparked to life above his hand.

  The sensation was stra familiar, as if the fire came from within him, much like how air flowed from his lungs. Ba Earth, it had been different. The fmes he summoned felt distant and disected, like a tool he was borrowing. But here, the fire felt natural, like a part of him he had always known.

  The small fme hovered above his palm, its steady red glow warming his skin. It wasn’t searing or dangerous; it was f, almost soothing.

  “You really are a natural,” Yukha said, his wide eyes fixed on the fme. At fire too. That’s something you don’t see often.”

  “Is it really that rare?” Finn asked, his gaze still on the fme.

  “Very. Even fire specialists are unon,” Yukha expined. “It’s a difficult element to master. Wind, stone, and water are all around us, easy to draw from. But fire… it has to be ignited first, and it’s easily extinguished. Not to mention, it’s dangerous. An unskilled user easily hurt themselves.

  "Fire’s not much use defensively, either. It’s not dense enough to block attacks. The only way fire defend is if it’s hot enough to burn anything it touches instantly. But that level of heat could just as easily harm the user. Few are willing to take that risk.”

  Yukha g the fme again. “Fire naturals are even rarer. In my 300 years, I’ve only seen four or five of them. Even iower, I imagine very few people choose fire as their specialty. Other elements are just easier to use.”

  “Three hundred years?” Finn asked, startled. His surprise made the fme flicker slightly.

  “Yes, orcs live for about five hundred years on average,” Yukha said with a small grin. “That makes me an old man. But enough about me—try infusing more mana into that fme. It’s a rare sight, and I want to see what else you do.”

  Finn wao ask Yukha how to infuse mana, but as he turned his focus back to the fme, the answer came to him instinctively. It was as though the fme was ected to him by invisible veins, and his mana was like a liquid flowing through them—fuel for the fire.

  He carefully let the mana flow, and the fme responded, growing steadily until it was the size of a basketball. Satisfied, Finn stopped the flow, and the fme stopped growing.

  “Now, try trolling it. Make it move around,” Yukha suggested.

  Finn focused again on the fire, surprised at how deeply he could feel it. It wasn’t just a visual thing—it was as though the fme was aension of his body, ected to him in a way that he could se mentally. When he willed it to move, it obeyed. Up, dow, right—the fme followed his ands.

  It was so much easier than ba Earth. Back then, trolling fire had felt like pushing through thick fog or moving uer, slow and clumsy, like struggling to move in a dream. But here, the e was clear and smooth, with no obstru.

  That didn’t mean it erfect. The fireball sometimes overshot where he wa to go or stopped short, but it was still far easier to manipute than before. Finn moved it around, weaving it through the air, almost mesmerized by the way it danced.

  “It’s like it has a life of its own,” he murmured.

  “Impressive,” Yukha said, his eyes following the fme. “How long have you been training with it?”

  “Not long,” Finn admitted. “When I was younger, I experimented a bit—burning paper, wood, random things. But I didn’t try to trol it muot like this. Back then, it felt… sluggish. Like there was something blog me.”

  “Blog you?” Yukha raised a brow.

  Finn he memory of that desperate night fshing in his mind. “Yeah. When I was trapped in a burning house, I tried to summon fire to break through a wall. But it moved so slowly, like I was dragging it through mud. If I’d had this level of trol back then…” He trailed off, his chest tightening.

  I could’ve escaped. I could’ve made the fire bigger and faster. Maybe things would’ve been different.

  Yukha’s voiapped him back to reality. “That makes this even more impressive,” he said. “For someoh so little experience, your trol is remarkable. My theory proves true again: the system must have optimized your body to unlock its potential. Still, even with that, this level of skill for a beginner is rare. I might have uimated you, Finn.” A grin spread across Yukha’s face. “Now I’m even more excited. Training you iower is going to be fun.”

  “Training me?” Finn looked at him curiously. “You’re not just apanying me—yoing to traioo? Isn’t that a bit much?”

  “I told you earlier, did I not?” Yukha chuckled. “I have no grand ambitions iower. I’ve lived long enough, and there’s nothi for me to prove. Helping a friend grow stronger seems like a worthwhile use of my time.”

  “Friend?” Fied, blinking in surprise.

  “What?” Yukha teased, raising a brow. “Do you not wish to be my friend?”

  “Of course I do!” Finn said quickly.

  “Then it’s settled. I look forward t with you iower, my friend,” Yukha said, extending a hand.

  Finn shook it firmly. “Looking forward to it too… friend.”

  The warmth in his chest surprised him. Having an orc as a frie surreal. Moments ago, he’d only seen Yukha as a potential ally. Now, with the word firmed, it made him feel wele—a part of something bigger. It gave him a burst of motivation to move forward.

  But as Finn opened his mouth to speak again, a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him. His knees buckled, and the fme he was trolling fizzled out. He barely registered Yukha catg him before he colpsed.

  “You must have drained all your mana,” Yukha said, chug as he steadied Finn.

  Finn g his status. Sure enough, his mana bar was empty: 0/50, the blue color pletely gone.

  “Here,” Yukha said, handing him a small bottle filled with a shimmering blue liquid.

  Finn took it with trembling hands, surprised by how easy it was to open the cap despite his weakness. He tilted it bad drank, expeg something bitter or medial.

  Instead, he was hit with a cold, minty sweethat reminded him of those sugared bottled waters ba Earth, the ones he drank for dehydration when he had a fever. The potion’s effects were almost immediate—like a refreshing wind rushing through his veins, washing away his fatigue. Within moments, he felt steady again.

  He g his status: 52/52, the mana bar filled to the brim with glowing blue.

  “This is amazing,” Finhed, taking deep, steadying breaths.

  “That,” Yukha said with a grin, “is the effect of a high-level mana potion.”