A vast hall carved from black obsidian rose before him, its walls etched with the sigils of the five classic elements: Metal, Water, Wood, Fire, and Earth. As usual, the Wood pillar was on fire.
A stray spark from the Fire pillar had ignited it again.
"Not again!" an elder shrieked. "Douse it with water, someone! And make it quick, the herb tea break is in ten minutes!"
The Earth pillar elder rolled his eyes. "You fool, the boy can't even cast a Metal spell to forge a bucket."
Another voice piped in, dripping with sarcasm. "Then just cup the water in your hands. I'm sure your palms can withstand boiling sap."
A collective sigh swept through the chamber as a minor geyser of amber ash sputtered harmlessly to the floor. From the back, a younger voice called out, "Next time, bring marshmallows!"
The air in the Ritual Chamber pulsed with latent energy, a low hum that whispered secrets to those attuned to it. In the center of the floor lay an ornate rune circle, each line glowing softly in its element's hue. Invoketus stepped forward, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The council elders, draped in starlight-threaded cloaks, perched on raised platforms around him, their ancient gazes boring into him like a cold wind.
This was it. Today, he would finally awaken his abilities and join the legendary Invoke-bearers. The process was sacred: by drawing upon each elemental current, an Invoker was meant to weave them into a single, intertwined essence. A fusion that granted the Clan their power to reshape reality itself.
He planted his feet in the center of the circle. Closing his eyes, he reached inward, calling to the elements as he had practiced a thousand times in his mind.
Metal—cold, precise, unyielding.Water—fluid, serene, adaptable.Wood—vibrant, growing, alive.Fire—fierce, consuming, passionate.Earth—steady, enduring, strong.
He called, and in the vast, silent space where his power should have been, he found… nothing. Not a single spark. No metallic ring, no rush of water, no whisper of leaves, no flicker of flame, no hint of stone. Only emptiness.
Silence descended upon the chamber as the runes at his feet dimmed. The elders exchanged heavy, regretful looks.
"He is barren of the classic elements," intoned the First Elder, her voice as frosty as dew on steel. A nearby elder facepalmed so hard his ornate helmet clanged.
Shame, hot and sharp, surged through Invoketus. He'd studied the Rite in secret for years, memorized every gesture and chant, yet his soul refused to answer the call.
The Second Elder's hand trembled where it gripped his staff. "We have failed him," he murmured, his eyes downcast. "But the law is absolute. He must go to the Outbounds."
The First Elder produced a comically large wooden stamp, slammed it down on a scroll with a loud thump, and bellowed, "BANISHED! Next!"
Before Invoketus could protest, guards seized his arms, dragging him from the circle and past the still-sputtering Wood pillar. He barely had time to register what was happening before he was thrown into a dim holding cell. The iron door slammed shut, its echo rattling in the stale, damp air.
He pressed his palms against the rough, cold stone. "Hello? Water? A little caffeine, maybe?" His own voice echoed back: Caffeine…
He slumped to the floor, defeated. He rummaged through his pockets and found only a crumpled snack wrapper. "Great. Banished with half a stale biscuit. Just perfect."
Then, as despair began to set in, a strange shimmer flickered in the back of his mind. A new kind of power, completely alien, thundered into his consciousness. It wasn't a call to the elements, but a voice.
"Chemistry."
He felt the faint, bizarre imprint of a mental tome—Chemistry: The Central Science, 15th Edition—embed itself in his thoughts. Pride swelled unexpectedly. Fifteen editions? This has to be mega-powerful. Grandpa Elder's bad jokes have fewer volumes.
He tried to peek at a spell, to grasp a rune. Instead, his mind's eye was filled with a blocky grid of strange symbols and numbers. Was it some arcane table of power? A grocery list in a dead tongue? It had zero resemblance to the elemental sigils he knew.
"A pop-up ad in my head," he grumbled. "Just what I needed."
Then, another flicker. Words formed like glowing ink behind his eyes.
Skill Unlocked: Textbook Access — Chapter 1.1 "The Study of Chemistry"
A mental loading bar appeared in his thoughts, pulsing with a faint, unfamiliar magic.
[■■■□□□□□□□] 30% "Loading Arcane Knowledge: Chemistry, 15th Edition…"
Invoketus sighed. This was useless garbage. But as he stared at the damp stone wall, a strange new thought bubbled up, unbidden. H₂O…
This might just save his hide—if he could ever figure out what any of it meant.