Earthbending surprised me.
Not because it was difficult—
—but because it wasn't.
Most benders struggled with earth because it demanded stubbornness. Immovability. A refusal to yield. For monks, scholars, and pacifists, that mindset was unnatural.
For me, it was effortless.
I didn't push the earth.
I decided.
From the moment I stepped into the training chamber Wan Shi Tong provided—its stone floor ancient and dense—I could feel the element waiting. Earth didn't flow like water or respond like fire. It endured.
So did I.
I planted my feet and grounded myself completely, not emotionally but structurally—aligning my chi with the solidity beneath me. The Sharingan revealed fault lines, pressure points, stress distributions within the stone.
Earth wasn't rigid.
It was honest.
The moment I moved, the ground answered.
Stone rose cleanly from the floor, shaping itself without resistance. I practiced basic forms first—strikes, lifts, barriers—but quickly progressed beyond them. I learned how to shift terrain without destabilizing it, how to redirect force through the ground instead of opposing it.
Within weeks, I no longer trained earthbending.
I used it.
Walls formed instantly at my will. Platforms carried me without effort. Stone armor assembled itself piece by piece, perfectly balanced and efficient.
One month.
That was all it took to develop a strong, reliable grasp—far faster than water, far faster than air.
Because earth didn't require flexibility or surrender.
It required certainty.
And I had that in abundance.
With all four elements now firmly under my control, I changed my focus.
Mastery was no longer the goal.
Integration was.
I began refining each element simultaneously—cycling through them daily, analyzing how they interacted at both the physical and spiritual levels. Fire fed air. Air sharpened water. Water softened earth. Earth stabilized fire.
I experimented endlessly.
Fire compressed through air for long-range precision. Water guided through earth channels for subterranean manipulation. Air cushions layered over stone for mobile fortifications.
Each element stopped being separate.
They became components.
Systems.
Tools.
I wasn't an Avatar bound by tradition or instinct.
I was an architect.
And now that I understood every material at my disposal, it was time to begin building something entirely new.
Somewhere deep within the Spirit World, Raava stirred uneasily.
Balance had noticed me.