Chapter 123: Left Unsatisfied

Ciaran stood before a mirror made out of ice. What was once a fat belly had turned into muscle, but after his incident, he was now only skin and bones. He looked at his naked body and sighed, all that work, and he was nothing more than a stick figure now.

"I will regain my mass later, now I have a Storm to tame." He said as he took in the world's mana. This time he did not take in a hint of Dyrta's version of his element, only its mana. Once inside his soul, he infused it with his Storm and observed the changes.

The world's mana had enriched and strengthened his element, but it made its devouring ability much weaker.

From that, he could guess what he had to focus on. Now it was just a matter of practice, recovery, and experimentation. There was just one small problem, he couldn't get back to the outer region.

Sure the big and powerful beast would leave him alone, but as he was right now, even a Rank One could kill him if it tried hard enough.

He would eventually recover, but he had waited almost a month on his little experiment, and there were only five more before Diana came back. He had to speed things along, or he would fall even further behind.

"No choice but to eat then." He said as he took out the Rank Five jerky. His body could barely digest it, but he had a plan. He took in the world mana around him and fused it with his Storm, then he used the end product to enhance his teeth and his digestion system.

With the devouring properties of his element, he hypothesized that he should be able to get the nourishment he needed to recover faster. He was right, but the growth of his body was unnatural, quick, and unpleasant.

The pain was the least of his worries. At this point he was so used to it, he didn't even consider it a side effect. The problem was that his growth spur brought with it a lot of itching, both internal and external. From his organs down to his pinky tow, every part of his body itched.

He gritted his teeth, mostly because that scratched their itch, and bared with it. He went over more than six hundred kilograms (thirteen hundred and twenty-two pounds) of meat in a week. The itching was unbearable and the hole the bear dug up was getting filled, but at the end of it, the boy was back to his peak condition.

As a result of all that, he had better control over his element, at least in terms of body infusion. His spell work was still not satisfactory enough for him, but he had hit a wall in both fields.

"Nothing left but to go for a field mission." He said, as he cleansed himself of the smell, and put on his mask. It was time to test out his newfound power.

He planned to scout out the outer zone and find himself a weak team, one that had a single Mage in it. He had no delusions he could handle a team on his own, but there were other ways to deal with them.

His plans got modified when he found a group fighting for their lives with a familiar pack of wolves. This group was made of three Mages, one Rank Four Warrior, and fifteen Rank Threes. It was by far one of the most formidable groups the Hunters had, but now only a couple of them was left.

Only one of the Mages had survived, and two of the Threes. Ciaran didn't waste time, he took off his mask and took the image of Ciaran Clades, then he dashed to the Alpha.

"Let me have the Mage, I want to try to kill him myself. I will pay his weight in Rank five meat, seasoned and all." He started bargaining. The wolf didn't really care and took the deal, but she said that the man would die today, no matter what.

They had questioned her rule over this territory and now they would pay the ultimate price, every last one of them.

The wolves tore apart the remaining members, and only the Mage was left.

"Hey, I made a deal with them, we fight and the survivor gets to live. No need to thank me." Ciaran said.

The man didn't question, or belittle the boy, he just prepared his vines and send them to the boy.

'Nature magic, haven't seen one of those, not really anyway.' Ciaran thought excitedly.

The Mage didn't hold anything back, he used the full power of his soul. He began to chant a series of runic words while holding out his hand towards the boy. As he continues to chant, a faint green aura began to surround his hand, and vines and roots slowly emerge from the ground around him. The plants seemed to bend to his will as if responding to his every command.

The man's eyes narrow in concentration as he focuses his energy on the target, and the vines and roots begin to slither and crawl toward their intended victim. They move with a purpose, seeking out any exposed skin or openings in the enemy's armor. As the plants made contact with the enemy, they began to tighten around them, squeezing with a force that felt almost suffocating.

Ciaran struggled and thrashes, but the druid's spell was too powerful. The vines and roots continued to constrict, cutting off the enemy's air supply and crushing his bones. Finally, with a final burst of energy, the plants crushed their enemy.

The man slowly lowers his hand, a look of satisfaction on his face. His spell has been successful, and his enemy has been defeated by the power of his Nature.

"Was that it? That was the best you could do? Wipe that dumb smile off your face you fake bastard, let me show you what REAL magic is like." He heard the wind scream at him, but in the next moment, he knew it was no wind, it was a whole Storm.

Ciaran had allowed the Nature Mage to do as he pleased, so he could gauge where he stood on the ladder, but this was just pathetic. The vines were strong, but he could feel that it was Dyrta's version of Nature, not anything unique. There was not a whiff of intent in this magic, and as such, it could not teach the boy anything.

He was furious.

"Is this what I strive for? This unimaginative, dull, lifeless magic? Hell no! Let me show you, you fake ass bastard. See what you should have been!" He yelled and the world seemed to echo his words.

He didn't allow his element to take control, he was too angry for that. He had no idea why he felt so much rage at the incompetence shown in front of him, but he couldn't be satisfied until it was gone.

The Storm Mage raised his hands towards the sky, calling forth the power of the elements. Dark clouds gathered above him, crackling with energy as they swirled and coalesced into a massive storm system. The wind picked up, whipping his hair and clothes around him, and lightning struck the ground around him with deafening thunder.

Ciaran wasn't thinking straight, nor did he have any control over the lightning magic, but he wanted to go all out. His Storm was more than happy to oblige, and so it gave him a slight boost.

As he focused his will, the Storm Mage directed the swirling vortex toward the imbecile. The tornado began to descend, tearing up the earth beneath it and hurling debris and rocks with incredible force. The hurricane raged around him, its winds strong enough to uproot trees and crush the surrounding rocks.

The Nature Mage wanted to protect himself by placing a barrier made out of enchanted greenery between himself and his impending doom. He tried, but the Storm just blew past it as if it was nothing more than dirt.

The Storm Mage's eyes glowed with the intensity of his magic as he continued to manipulate the Storm. He guided the tornado towards his enemy, ripping him apart along with anything in its path, and then channeled the hurricane to amplify its destructive force. The winds picked up, howling with a deafening roar, and the rain began to pour down in sheets.

Despite the ferocity of the boy and his element, the other Mage managed to hold on for a couple of seconds. When the winds finally calmed down, he cast one last look at his killer. There was fear in his eyes, but also worship.

Mages were fanatical beings by nature. Seeing someone so young, and so proficient in magic brought the middle-aged Mage great shame, but also great pride. He was ashamed of his lack of understanding, the boy's words hurt him more than any storm ever could. And yet the pride he felt as a magical practitioner was growing with each of his limited breaths.

The boy was a calamity among monsters. A prodigy among geniuses, and he had been of service to this anomaly. Just the fact his death might mean something to Ciaran was enough to comfort the man in his last moments.

With one final breath, he used his last remaining power to have vines lift him up, so he could look the boy in the eyes.

'Glory to you, and great progress on your way.' Ciaran heard his final thoughts, as the man died with his eyes wide open, and a smile on his face.