"So strong."
Ron's eyes gleamed as he stared at the deep scar gouged into the ground.
The attack was nowhere near the level of a swordsman's flying slash, nor did it rival CP9's Rankyaku. Yet the destructive power was undeniable. It was equivalent to a burly man of hundreds of pounds swinging a massive greatsword with all his might.
And because it was wind magic, the Wind Blade traveled faster than sword energy, its speed sharp and lethal, making it incredibly difficult to dodge.
Ron studied the mark for a long while before recalling the System's notification. With a thought, he summoned the panel once more.
In the Class System, beside the wind rune, a new line of text had appeared.
[Mastered: First-Tier Wind Magic – Wind Blade]
"So if there's first-tier magic, there should be second-tier… then third… How do I obtain them? Do I need to gather enough Achievement Points and draw again?"
Ron frowned in thought. That did not feel right. When he first drew, the runes had been of the four basic elements: wind, water, fire, and earth. That meant his draw had locked him into the wind path itself. But then why had his rune only given him a single first-tier spell?
Where were the higher tiers?
His attention caught on a small question mark icon beside "Wind Blade." He focused on it, and the panel flashed, expanding into a detailed explanation.
[You have mastered Wind Element Basic Magic.]
[Wind Magic is one of the four basic elemental systems. It contains five tiers.]
[Tier One requires a single rune. Tier Two requires three runes in combination. Tier Three requires nine runes. Tier Four requires twenty-seven runes. Tier Five requires eighty-one runes, forming a perfect magic array.]
[In addition to the base rune, there exist eight derivative runes. They are subtle variations born from the original, and can only be discovered by the host's own exploration.]
Ron's lips curled slightly as understanding dawned. Nine in total, base plus eight derivatives. Mastery of the wind element meant building these runes and combining them into higher arrays.
Tier Two magic demanded three runes. Which three? The System offered no clue. Perhaps only a handful of combinations would yield a true spell. The rest would collapse into failure.
"Derivative runes…"
He shook his head. That was for later. Right now he could barely handle Wind Blade. One casting consumed a third of his Spirit. Dreaming of higher tiers was pointless.
He needed to first master this blade of wind until it was second nature. Only then would he have the foundation to push forward.
The Wind Blade might be first-tier, but it was no mere trick. Against ordinary pirates worth a few million Berries, the blade would kill outright if it struck unguarded. Even if they braced themselves, many would struggle to resist. The speed alone made it deadly.
Of course, it had flaws.
The casting was slow. Too slow.
To form the rune in his mind, he needed nearly ten seconds of focus, eyes closed in meditation. That was more than enough time for an enemy to crush him.
No, mastery meant shortening that time to a heartbeat. He had to be able to unleash the blade within one or two seconds, eyes wide open, in the heat of combat.
With a clear goal, Ron trained relentlessly.
This time he cast into the open air instead of the ground. The scars on the floor would only invite suspicion if seen by the Fishmen.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Each time drained his Spirit completely, forcing him into meditation to recover before starting again.
Slowly, something changed. His control grew smoother, his rune faster. Spirit was spent more efficiently. He realized that much of his earlier exhaustion had been wasted on flawed construction. As his rune grew refined, less energy was lost.
Even more, he noticed something subtle. The order in which the lines of the rune were drawn changed the results. Precision determined efficiency. Efficiency decided power.
"Details decide victory."
Ron repeated the phrase in his mind, tasting its weight.
Yes. Magic was not brute force. It was knowledge, precision, the perfect alignment of spirit and will. Unlike swordsmanship or martial arts that relied on raw strength, magic demanded mastery of the finest details.
By the time the morning sun climbed high, Ron had repeated his training countless times.
Nami emerged twice. Once to fetch paper for her charts, and once more to cook. She even placed a plate before him, her eyes sharp as she declared the cost.
"One thousand Berries. Lunch fee."
Ron almost choked.
Still, he ate. But afterward, he sighed and spoke seriously. "From now on, I'll cook."
It was not only the extortionate fee. Nami's cooking was… edible. Nothing more. Ron was no Sanji, but he was confident he could at least prepare something proper.
For her sake. And for his own. Nutrition was training fuel. He would need every drop of strength to sharpen body and mind.
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