The moment Kyota stepped through the portal, the change was suffocating.
Gone was the stillness of the wind realm. This new world was dry, cracked, and unbearably vast. A blazing sun loomed above, unmoving in a sky that felt too wide, too empty. The ground beneath his boots crumbled like baked clay, sharp rocks jutting from the sand like bones trying to escape the earth's crust. The heat hit him first—then the silence.
Only the wind spoke here, and it carried no comfort—just dust and heat.
The wizard and Yuki stood at the edge of the portal behind him. Nestled into a nearby cliffside was a small stone cottage, its windows shielded with thick cloth and enchantments humming faintly. That would be their shelter. Kyota, however, had no such comfort.
"This is your Earth," the wizard said simply. "You won't find stability unless you earn it."
Kyota gave a silent nod, then stepped forward. The sun bore down mercilessly.
Day 1
He began by digging into the cracked terrain with his bare hands, shaping a circle to meditate in. The earth didn't budge easily—every handful of soil was a battle. It scraped his knuckles raw, but he continued. Sweat poured off him, soaking his clothes, sticking them to his back and chest. He focused his mana inward, trying to feel the pulse of the element beneath him.
But the earth didn't welcome him.
There was no gentle invitation, no rhythm to tune into. It was indifferent. Cold beneath the heat. It made no effort to acknowledge his presence.
Day 2
The storm came without warning.
One moment, he was meditating in the harsh sun; the next, a wall of sand rose on the horizon, darkening the sky. Kyota barely had time to brace himself.
The storm hit like a monster.
Razor-sharp grains of sand tore at his skin, drawing blood from his arms, legs, and face. He covered his eyes, but it seeped through every opening—stinging, biting, relentless. His clothes were shredded, his skin welted, and pain consumed every breath. Yet he refused to flee.
From the shelter, Yuki watched with trembling hands. She wanted to run to him—but the wizard stopped her.
"He has to endure this. Earth doesn't yield to the weak."
Day 3
Wounds covered him now—gashes across his back, legs stiff with dried blood, and lips cracked open from the heat.
Still, Kyota trained.
He tried to force mana into the ground, to mold it, break it, or command it. But the harder he pushed, the more it resisted. The earth trembled faintly, then settled—mocking him with its silence.
Frustration clawed at him. He slammed his fists into the ground, screaming, "Why won't you answer me!?"
No reply. Just the burning wind and an uncaring sun.
Day 4
The night brought cold, and with it, his body nearly gave in.
He lay shivering on a flat rock, bleeding and frostbitten. He could barely form words. His mana flickered like a candle caught in the wind. But as dawn came and the sun rose once more, something in him refused to die.
He stood up, staggering, dragging one foot behind the other.
He began to listen—not command.
Instead of trying to force the earth to obey, he pressed his hands to the ground and closed his eyes. Let the pain go. Let the noise fade. Let his will soften. He tried to feel what the earth was trying to say.
And for the briefest moment, he heard it:
A heartbeat. Slow. Ancient. Patient.
Day 5
That heartbeat became his rhythm.
Every breath matched its beat. Every movement aligned with the pulse. His mana shifted—not explosive like fire, not fluid like water or drifting like wind—but still, yet massive. Like a mountain preparing to rise.
He began to move boulders with subtle gestures—just enough to cause vibrations. The earth began to stir beneath him, not violently, but curiously.
From the cottage, the wizard observed.
"He's learning," he murmured.
Yuki clasped her hands tightly. "But he's still hurt…"
"He's endured worse. This is where he decides what kind of man he'll be."
Day 6
Kyota began walking barefoot across fields of shattered stone, each step slicing his feet. But he didn't flinch.
The pain had dulled.
Now it was just part of the process. He focused on building a connection—not as a master of the earth, but as a partner. Earth didn't need control—it demanded respect. Weight. Presence. Stillness.
That night, under the pale stars, he sat in silence—his hands buried in the ground, listening.
The ground pulsed. And for the first time, it answered.
Day 7
He stood at the edge of a canyon. His body trembled, every injury screaming. But his spirit was calm.
The final trial was waiting—he had to move the canyon walls and rise with the earth. Do not dominate it. Rise with it.
He closed his eyes, grounded his breath, and lowered his stance.
"Let's move together," he whispered.
He reached deep—not just into his mana, but into the essence of the land beneath. And the land responded.
Rocks shifted.
The canyon trembled.
A ring of earth cracked beneath him, rising, lifting his body ten feet into the air like a pedestal of stone. Dust and light spiraled upward as his body glowed in a dull brown aura—strong, stable, unmoving.
His eyes flashed gold for a second. Then faded.
It was done.
As he collapsed onto the hot sand, Yuki came rushing from the cottage, falling to her knees beside him.
"You're insane," she said, hugging his broken body.
He chuckled weakly. "Didn't have a choice."
The wizard arrived, examining the cracked ground and Kyota's glowing scars.
"You didn't crush the earth. You carried it. That's the lesson."
Kyota nodded slowly. "Four down."
Yuki looked up. "Only one remains."
He exhaled and clenched his battered fists. "Lightning…"
The wizard smirked.
"Brace yourself. Lightning isn't forgiving."
Kyota smiled and said " Let the lightning be unforgiving that won't change the fact me giving up. I will rise."