The sky itself swallowed me whole, flinging me through an endless expanse of churning tempests. There was no ground, no sky, no sense of direction—only motion. I was tossed about like a ragdoll in a hurricane.
I was expecting the wind elixir to begin rummaging through my stomach, just like the fire elixir did. I was forced to admit that I’d been underestimating the difference between these strange forces. I felt no pain at all from the insides of my body, the method of attack employed by the wind elixir was entirely different.
Instinctively, I tried to resist, attempting to force control over the chaotic currents. Big mistake. The moment I exerted my will, the winds roared in defiance, tossing me around even faster and more furiously. It was as if they mocked me for daring to shackle them.
I struggled mightily to right myself mid-air, but each movement only sent me spiraling into another gust, another wind elemental force flinging me wherever it pleased.
Control was impossible.
No. Control was the problem itself.
Thanks to my experience with the fire elixir, the force with which I wrestled for control for many days, I knew what I needed to do.
The wind wasn’t something to be commanded. It was something to be understood.
I stopped struggling.
The moment I did, my body no longer fought against the current but flowed with it. The vicious tossing softened—not because the winds had weakened, but because I had ceased resisting.
I closed my eyes.
How do birds fly?
They don’t fight the wind. They ride it. They tilt their wings, adjust their bodies, and use the air as an ally rather than an obstacle that needs to be overcome. Even in storms, they find currents that lift them instead of breaking against them.
I took a deep breath. My body was light. My mind even lighter.
I tilted myself forward and spread my arms to the side in an attempt to adjust the way air passed over me. Instead of forcing a stop, I shifted with the flow.
And just like that, I wasn’t being thrown anymore.
I was gliding.
The wind no longer battered me. I was moving with it, riding the currents like an unseen force had granted me wings.
The first lesson: Wind could not be fought. It had to be embraced.
The Soul Records did remark that I had an unnaturally high affinity for the elements, perhaps my adaptability was helping me right now because I very quickly got the gist of how I could glide across the skies.
Now that I thought about it, the [Mystical Elixir of Awakening], enhanced by the Geim’s secret ingredient, gave me the Elemental Sovereign class. I accredited it to my being a primordial, but now it seemed there was more to it. Likely, I was sporting an outstanding innate affinity for the elements, even among members of my race.
However, I had to admit that despite my success at gliding, I was just getting started in learning about the wind element.
Even as I rode the currents, I still had no real control. I could follow the wind, but what good was that if I had no say in where it led me?
Again, I thought of birds.
They didn’t just drift aimlessly—they made choices. They used subtle shifts in their bodies to redirect, diving into updrafts, twisting against downdrafts, always finding the next current to ride.
I focused on the wind around me.
There were layers to it: some streams rushed violently, others moved in slow, rolling gusts. Instead of treating it as a single force, I had to see it as a network of paths, each one leading to a different destination.
I adjusted my posture again by angling myself downward.
Immediately, I felt a shift. I was dropping faster—not because I was falling, but because I had caught a downdraft. I didn’t allow myself to panic. Instead, I shifted my posture once again by rolling my shoulders back. I felt an updraft and—
*Whoosh*
I was rising.
Not from spellwork. Not from force.
Just… understanding.
I spent what felt like hours experimenting, navigating. The wind wasn’t an obstacle course—it was a pathway with near-infinite routes, and I was learning how to choose my own.
The second lesson: Wind wasn’t chaos. It was choices in motion.
Navigating was one thing, but reacting before the wind hit was another.
I had no problem adjusting when a gust already struck me, but by then, it was too late. A true master of wind wouldn’t react after the fact. He would sense it coming.
I drifted, closing my eyes again. Explore new worlds at My Virtual Library Empire
I focused on the air itself.
There, I noticed the subtlest of shifts. Pressure changes. Whispers of motion.
The wind was alive, moving in patterns. Before a strong gust came, there was a small pull, a brief stillness that warned of its arrival. Before an updraft, the air gathered below.
I trained myself to feel these changes. Not just with my skin but deeper—like an instinct waking up inside me.
Soon, I wasn’t reacting after the winds changed. I was moving before they did.
The third lesson: Wind had a voice, but only those who listened could hear it.
Mastery wasn’t just about understanding wind.
It was about becoming a part of it.
Birds weren’t my only teachers. I had seen insects dancing on the breeze and even how larger beasts such as wyverns rode by the lionkin air cavalry adjusted to strong winds with subtle shifts in their stance. Despite them weighing tons, they gracefully flew in the skies.
The wind was their home, not their tool.
I knew I was on the right track, and thus, I let go of my last reservations.
Hours passed. Then days. Then weeks.
Unlike the fire, which took me months to grasp, the wind accepted me far sooner. Not because it was easier—no, it was just as untamed, just as fierce—but because neither of us tried vying for control.
I soared, dived, and twisted through unseen pathways, flowing from one current to another as if I had always belonged here. The gales no longer tossed me around like a leaf caught in a storm.
I learned to sense the subtlest shifts before they came, to anticipate the rise and fall of the invisible force I rode. Gusts that once sent me hurling uncontrollably now bent to my will—not because I forced them to, but because I moved with them so naturally that the difference between their will and mine blurred.
In time, I didn’t need to think about adjusting. I simply did. The same way birds didn’t consider every flap of their wings, they just flew.
The wind was not my adversary. Nor was it my tool.
If I wanted to go faster, I tilted slightly forward. If I wanted to halt, I found a countercurrent and slipped into it.
And then, for the first time since entering this realm—
I came to a stop.
Not because the winds died down.
But because I had chosen to.
The currents still raged around me, but I wasn’t a prisoner anymore.
I was free.
[Ding!]
[Great understanding of the wind element has been achieved.]
[Due to mastery over the element of wind, structured spell constraints have been rendered obsolete.]
[[Gust] [Air Slash] [Cyclone] [Wind Step] [Wind Cutter Barrage] [Sonic Boom] [Cyclone Kick] [Airwalk] — Removed.]
[[Wind Creation & Manipulation] — Achieved.]
The structured spells I once relied upon had vanished from my arsenal. I no longer needed predefined shapes, pre-packaged invocations because the element of wind was mine to use freely, without limitation.
I exhaled, and the air itself responded. The sky was no longer an endless battlefield of unpredictable forces—it was an extension of me.
I turned my head and saw it.
Beyond the endless expanse of wind lay my next destination: the water quadrant.
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