Time slowly ticked by.
By mentally counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours, Kim Gyeong was able to measure the passage of each day.
Not that he had much else to do.
When he was not keeping track of the dates, he practiced his Ki Control. And when he was not practicing his Ki Control, he found himself engaged in meaningless conversations with C.
Recently, he had added the study of Scripts to his routine.
According to C's explanation, the process of using Scripts was known as "Drifting." It was a branch of Sorcery that revolved around invoking one of the twenty-four divine letters, remnants of a forgotten language, in order to produce an effect. This was the form of Sorcery C herself was proficient in, though she explained that it was exceptionally complex.
The reason lay in the nature of the divine letters themselves. Each one possessed multiple meanings.
For example, let's say one invoked the divine letter Aru.
On its own, Aru could mean beginning, breath, or motion. When used correctly, it could initiate movement where none existed or mark the start of a process that would otherwise remain dormant.
However, intent alone was not enough.
If the invoker's understanding leaned too heavily toward breath, the Script might manifest as a fleeting current of air, harmless and short-lived. If their perception aligned with motion, the same letter could produce a sudden force, capable of knocking an opponent back or propelling the caster forward.
And if the letter was invoked with a flawed or unstable interpretation...
[It backfires.]
Kim Gyeong grimaced. "Backfires how?"
[In every way that matters.]
A Script could collapse in on itself, draining the caster's essence. It could twist into an unintended effect. In extreme cases, the divine letter would reject the invocation, leaving behind backlash severe enough to injure the mind.
That was why Drifting was dangerous.
Unlike structured Sorcery, there were no fixed formulas to rely on. Each use of a Script demanded clarity of thought, precision of intent, and an unwavering grasp of meaning. To misunderstand a single nuance was to gamble with one's own body.
Kim Gyeong let out a slow breath.
"If I'm understanding this correctly, then every letter is basically ambiguous?"
[Precisely,] C replied nonchalantly.
He fell silent, gathering his thoughts. After a few moments, he rubbed at his throbbing temple.
"As expected, it's complicated."
When it came to studying, Kim Gyeong was rather hopeless compared to improvising. It was not that he was stupid or anything of the sort.
Nor was he overwhelmingly smart.
He simply was not good at it.
The term 'Hard-Worker' was the perfect way to describe someone that fell within his category.
Eventually, C spoke, as though this outcome had been within her expectations all along.
[It cannot be helped. In the first place, I never expected you to grasp it in a single sitting.]
"You didn't?"
[Mmm. Do not be disheartened. Sorcery is something most spend the majority of their lives trying to comprehend. Some succeed, and some fail. Either way, unless you plan on staying here any longer, I suggest you completely forget about learning Sorcery and focus on your Ki Control instead.]
"Ah. Guess you're right."
In the end, there was no point forcing what clearly lay beyond his reach.
Sorcery demanded patience and a depth of understanding which he simply did not possess. Even grasping the basics felt like trying to hold water in his hands. No matter how tightly he clenched his fingers, it slipped through all the same.
Ki, on the other hand, was different.
It responded to repetition, to will, to the quiet grind of effort. If he failed, the reason was always clear. His control faltered. His focus wavered. His body lagged behind his intent.
Those were things he could fix.
Gyeong straightened his posture and closed his eyes, letting the faint flow of Ki within him come into focus.
[You learn quickly when to cut your losses.]
"Don't be mistaken. I'm not giving up. Just… choosing my battles."
A moment of silence followed.
Then, the pressure around him shifted and the all-too familiar sensation of being watched intensified.
Finally, C uttered:
[I suppose that, in itself, is a form of wisdom.]
Kim Gyeong did not answer. However, he did smile.
'Let's focus. Remove any and all distractions.'
He exhaled slowly and guided his Ki once more, repeating the same circulation he had practiced countless times before. Again and again, he ran it through his body, smoothing the rough edges, reinforcing fragile pathways.
Time resumed its slow march forward.
And in the darkness where days held no meaning, effort became the only measure that mattered.
Everything else became irrelevant.
Fire, Metal, Wood, Earth, and Water.
Six years had already passed since he entered the white world.
During that time, he had devoted himself to improving his control over the Five Elements that composed the Universal Aether. At his current level, he could no longer be called a beginner or a novice. Yet he was not a Master either.
Still, the distance between him and true mastery was closing at an alarming rate.
Fire for strength. Metal for sharpness. Wood for healing. Earth for defense. Water for emotion.
He had already mastered the individual flow of each element. But that alone was not enough.
If he wished to achieve his goal of wielding all five simultaneously, then he needed to learn how to control at least two of them at once.
That, of course, was far easier said than done.
Five Elements.
Each possessed its own unique flow and temperament. Attempting to force them together was like trying to align currents that naturally resisted one another.
In that sense, progress was not a matter of force, but of harmony.
Fire surged forward, violent and impatient. Metal remained rigid and precise, unwilling to bend. Wood flowed gently, adapting to pressure rather than resisting it. Earth was slow and immovable, demanding stability above all else. Water, meanwhile, shifted endlessly, sensitive to even the slightest disturbance of emotion.
Trying to command two at once exposed the contradictions between them.
When Fire and Metal were drawn together, his Ki flared too sharply and imperfections began to form. Fire sought release, while Metal demanded restraint. The result was instability, power without balance.
Wood and Earth fared little better. Wood wished to grow and expand, but Earth resisted excess, enforcing limits. The moment he pushed them into the same circulation, his Ki grew sluggish, weighed down by opposing instincts.
Water was the most troublesome of all.
It responded not to structure, but to state of mind. A fleeting thought, or a stray emotion, and its flow would waver. When paired with any other element, Water magnified the imperfections, turning minor lapses into critical failures.
Again and again, Kim Gyeong failed.
His Ki twisted, clashed, or dispersed before it could settle. Sometimes the backlash left his spirit body aching from the strain. Other times, it was his mind that felt strained, his thoughts blurring as the conflicting flows unraveled his focus.
Yet he did not stop.
Each failure revealed something new. A moment where Fire surged too early. An instant where Earth anchored too deeply. A breath taken too fast for Water to follow.
Little by little, he began to adjust.
He stopped trying to dominate the elements and instead listened to them, allowing one to lead while the other followed.
It was slow. Painfully so.
But for the first time, two currents did not immediately repel one another.
They brushed past each other.
From there, his progress became absurdly fast compared to his earlier struggles. Where before he had advanced at a snail's pace, now it felt as though he had finally found the correct rhythm.
The elements no longer fought him at every turn.
Fire learned to wait. Metal learned to yield. Wood learned when to stop growing. Earth learned when to give way. Water learned to remain still.
It was not that their nature had changed, but that his approach had.
Instead of forcing two elements into a single circulation, he began to layer them. One formed the foundation while the other moved along its contours, never crossing paths directly, yet never straying too far apart.
Fire tempered by Earth. Strength anchored by stability.
Metal guided by Water. Sharpness refined through flow.
Wood supported by Earth. Growth bound by structure.
Each pairing revealed its own logic.
Failures still occurred, but they no longer felt chaotic. When his Ki faltered, it did so predictably. The backlash was controlled. The strain familiar.
Days passed. Then weeks. Before he realized it, four more years had slipped by, bringing his time in the Death Canopy to ten years in total.
He did not celebrate.
He simply moved on.
Three elements followed soon after.
The moment he attempted it, the pressure nearly crushed him. His Ki surged violently, threatening to tear itself apart.
Fire. Earth. Water.
Strength, stability, and emotion.
For a heartbeat, everything wavered.
Then the flows aligned.
The turbulence faded, replaced by a deep, resonant stillness that spread throughout his spirit body. The strain remained, but it was manageable.
Kim Gyeong exhaled slowly.
He had crossed another threshold.
Somewhere in the white world, unseen and unheard, C watched in silence.
For the first time since his training began, her presence carried something unfamiliar, yet faintly recognizable.
It was...