Chapter 57 :  Whispers of the Spirit Shell

When Curtis  had first set foot upon the frontier, the world had been sweltering in the heart of summer. Now, two moons later, the land had surrendered to the crisp breath of autumn.

The fields, once green and wild, now shimmered with golden grain, waving like the robes of a sun-kissed goddess. The harvest had begun.

Farmers, sleeves rolled and sickles flashing, toiled with fervor beneath the mellow skies. Mercenaries stood watch with sharpened eyes, their vigilance redoubled. For though the threat of aberrant beasts was ever-present, the harvest season was sacred. A single ambush could erase a year’s worth of blood, sweat, and soil.

Curtis , however, was neither farmer nor mercenary. His concerns lay elsewhere. He had returned to the first settlement—for rest, in name if not in truth.

“Are you ready?”

“One moment!”

The church’s backyard, once a cluttered space for kindling and crates, had quietly transformed into a makeshift training ground. Modest in size, yet spacious enough for sparring—as long as its two occupants kept their wits and their weapons tight.

At one end stood Curtis , calm and composed. At the other, Lilia, her flail spinning lazily in her grip as she called out, “Ready!”

“Then let’s begin,” he replied.

Curtis  raised his left hand, extending a single finger toward her. The water spirit at his wrist stirred, then unfurled like a ribbon, wrapping around his palm to form a shimmering gauntlet.

POP.

A sphere of water—no larger than an apricot—burst forth. It made a dainty sound, but its speed made it almost invisible.

THUD.

But Lilia saw it. She always did. Her flail intercepted the orb mid-air, shattering it in a burst of mist.

She gauged the force through the tremor in her arms and gave a firm nod. Curtis  called out, “How was that?”

“Hmm… enough to bruise a rib if it hits a regular person. But as a warning shot? Pretty solid. No need to tweak it further.”

“And if it hits someone like Cheongdong?”

“They’d feel it, sure. Might even flinch if they weren’t ready. But if they’re braced, it’s just a love tap.”

“Understood. Let’s raise the stakes.”

He lifted a second finger.

WHOOM.
The orb this time swelled to the size of a clenched fist.

Lilia smacked it out of the air.

“A little light.”

“I can’t push speed any higher, but how about this?”

SPLASH!

“Hey! Don’t shoot while you’re talking!”

“You blocked it just fine.”

“Well… true. Okay, approved.”

They continued the trial, with Curtis  increasing the water volume with each added finger, and Lilia batting them aside while offering critique.

One finger: a warning.
Two: subduing force.
Three: enough to incapacitate.
Four: a serious threat—even to the likes of a silver-ranked fighter.
Five? That was all-out war.

“I think this classification works well enough for now,” Curtis  said thoughtfully. “Five fingers marks full strength.”

“I kind of want to see what five looks like…”

“Not here. If you block it, fine. If you dodge it, the wall suffers.”

“Ah… good point.”

“Shall we continue? Three fingers next.”

“Bring it on!”

Now the true drill began.

POP! POP! POP! POP!

Bursts of water launched at random intervals, each targeting different parts of her body—shoulder, chest, abdomen, thigh, shin. Everywhere but the head.

THWACK! CLANG! SMASH!

Lilia danced with steel and storm, her flail a blur of controlled destruction. The pairing of agility and a flail might have seemed contradictory, but she proved the exception—graceful and brutal in the same breath.

Soon, the church yard began to resemble a battlefield caught in monsoon. Between volleys, Curtis  would pause, collect the water with a wave of his hand, dry the ground, and resume the storm anew.

From one finger to four, he varied the pressure and speed. If the water grew weaker, the attacks multiplied. Lilia had no time to relax, no rhythm to fall into. Only Curtis , standing calmly with his fingers dancing, had the luxury of ease.

“Progress is smooth today, as expected.”

His gaze flicked to the edge of his vision, where the faint shimmer of his status window tracked every increment of growth. He smiled.

This training had been their joint idea—a shared pact of improvement.

Lilia, having rarely faced a mage in real combat, embraced the chance to learn. Even if the element was limited to water, the experience was invaluable. She could feel herself growing faster, more precise.

And Curtis ? This was his test, too. He restricted himself—no Water Manipulation, only the elemental. Only the spirit.

“I’m sorry for neglecting you, little one.”

He glanced at his left hand and gently patted the spirit with his right. The water twitched in response, rippling happily.

In the beginning, when Curtis  had first stolen the art of Elemental Creation from Redna, he used the spirit as little more than a reservoir—an obedient fountain. He’d have it spray water, then use his manipulation magic to control its direction and speed.

But that had been back when his level was low.

Now, the spirit had grown. It could release blasts on its own—more powerful than before. Not just jets, but orbs, dense and round, like crystal spheres forged from rain.

He wasn’t sure when the shift had occurred—when the spirit learned to fire these globes—but he’d only recently discovered the change.

He’d been too used to thinking of it as a passive tool. A canteen, not a companion.

“If I’d realized sooner, I would’ve used you properly from the start.”

Since that revelation, Curtis  had made a point to nurture it. The training with Lilia was especially effective—it yielded both progress and trust.

[ Elemental Creation – Level 40 ]
[ Progress to next level: 40% ]

And the spirit at his side… purred like a living tide, hungry to grow stronger still.
Curtis exhaled slowly, steadying his breath. He could feel it now—power awakening, reshaping itself. The days ahead would be harsher, the enemies crueler. But with this bond, this clarity… he would not falter. Not again.