The thing was massive, its slick, leathery hide gleaming dull brown. Bands of muscle rippled down its length as it coiled upward. A gaping maw ringed with jagged teeth opened wide, sand pouring off it. At the centre—an eye slit, narrow, deep-set, and black.
Hope had just landed, boots anchored in the shifting sand, gaze sharp. Without a second thought, he thrust his spear forward.
The tip struck hard against the beast’s outer shell, skidding off useless. Tough bastard.
Hope cursed and ducked low as the worm swung wide, its entire body lurching sideways with surprising speed. The massive mouth snapped shut where his head had been a blink earlier, the force of the snap blasting a wave of hot air and dust past him.
He rolled through the sand, grit filling his mouth and nose, and came up running. Couldn’t afford to trade hits. Not with this big fella.
The ground trembled beneath his feet as the creature dived in.
He could feel it moving under the surface, circling fast.
Hope stopped, crouched low, one hand pressed to the sand.
Listen. Feel it.
The faintest vibration underfoot—there.
He pivoted just as the Sandmaw lunged again, bursting up in a spray of grit, its mouth aimed straight at him.
Hope leapt aside, barely clearing the strike. The worm tore a deep gouge through the dunes, missing him by inches.
Eyes darting, breath ragged, Hope spotted a jagged rock half-buried nearby.
Without slowing, he dashed for it, yanked it free with a grunt, and hurled it with all his strength at the worm’s exposed eye slit.
The rock struck with a sharp crack. The beast reeled back, screeching—a wet, horrible sound that rattled through the air.
Bullseye!
Hope didn’t delay and charged in.
Spear reversed in both hands, he vaulted onto a rising ridge of sand and came down hard. The point slammed into the wounded eye, punching through the soft tissue.
The worm convulsed violently. Hope held on, teeth grit, arms burning as the spear drove deeper. Black fluid spurted up, soaking his hands and arms. The shaft groaned, wood splintering under the strain—then snapped in half with a sharp, cracking pop that echoed through the air.
Hope was thrown off by the inertia, hitting the sand hard. He rolled, coughing, eyes stinging as the creature dove back beneath the surface.
No time to waste.
He quickly recovered and pressed a palm to the sand, tracking it. Not running away, huh.
He stumbled forward, half a spear gripped tight, following the fading vibrations.
The worm’s head thrashed once more, half-buried in the dunes, the ruined eye leaking black gore. Its mouth gaped open, twitching.
With a snarl, Hope leaped and rammed the broken spear point straight through the eye socket. The wood split flesh and burst through the back of the cavity with a sickening crunch.
The worm gave a final, violent shudder—then slumped still, coils sinking slowly into the sand.
Level 23 ? 24
Hope stood there for a moment, chest heaving, sweat stinging his eyes. His spear was done for—half snapped, useless now.
He spat sand and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, boots crunching as he moved closer to the carcass. The worm’s hide was thick, tougher than any beast he’d taken down before. Wouldn’t be easy to cut through.
But… he needed to eat.
With a grunt, he knelt by the corpse and yanked out his broken spear. The jagged half still held sharp enough to cut.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let’s see if you taste as nasty as ya look."
And with that, he started working the stone blade against the thick flesh, carving out whatever he could haul.
After cutting out a good chunk of meat, he looked around. No sticks. No wood.
Should he go back and cook it with fire? … No.
With who knew how many Crawlers waiting to gut him the moment he relaxed, sitting down by a fire was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now.
He glanced at Eve. "Any way we can cook this without wooden sticks?"
"Well… the easiest way is by concentrating Heat Magika."
Magika? Those were the shiny dots in the air, right?
Hope focused, eyes narrowing. The little things came into view again, clearer than before. So… these damn things can actually help with something, huh?
"Ok… how do I do it?"
Eve’s eyes brightened. "You must guide the Heat-aligned sparks. The warmer ones, with a slight red hue. Draw them closer and will them to heat the target."
Hope squinted. The dots were all… just dots. Some brighter, some faint, but red? He frowned.
"Uh… they all look the same to me."
"They aren’t," Eve replied, voice gentle. "Focus. Feel their warmth. They respond to intent."
Intent? Warmth?
Hope calmed his head and tried harder. Stared more carefully this time. But… all he saw was a damn swarm of glittery bugs floatin’ about.
"Nothin’s happenin’, Eve," he muttered.
"Perhaps… imagine drawing the warmth toward the meat," Eve suggested. "Picture it burning slowly."
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
He gave her a look. "Burnin’ it I can picture. But these things? I can’t even tell what’s what. Aligned, will, intent… no clue what you’re sayin’."
Eve hesitated, then smiled faintly. "All right. Think of it like this… imagine you’re reaching out—not with your hands, but like when you listen real close to steps in the sand. Same kind of sensing. Try to ‘listen’ to the motes."
Hope blinked. "Uh… what’s a ‘mote’?"
"The dots," she said patiently.
"Then just say dots."
Eve exhaled through her nose, nodding. "Fine. Listen to the dots. Let your mind sense which ones feel… warmer. Pull those."
Hope tried again. Closed his eyes. Ears tuned like when he hunted, feelin’ the ground. But this wasn’t the ground. It was the damn air. He opened one eye—still no damn clue.
Minutes dragged, but he still couldn’t get a feel for them.
Then, Eve straightened a little, thinking. "Perhaps… don’t look at them. Keep your eyes closed. Think about heat, the kind that stings your skin when you stand too close to a flame. Focus on that feeling. Then… reach for it."
Hope frowned. Well… it was worth a try.
He shut his eyes, no peeking this time, and imagined when he was cooking the Grathen meat back then. Sweet smell, juicy flavour… wait, not that. The fire. Yeah. Okay. So… skin prickling, air wavy with heat.
For a while there was nothing. Then—something flickered.
There was a faint… tug. Like a thread he hadn’t noticed before, humming faint in the air around him.
He frowned deeper, grip tightening on the half-broken spear in his lap. He kept his eyes shut. Didn’t dare break it now.
Carefully, like inching toward a half-buried trap, he reached for that tug. Not with his hands—just… feelin’ it, like Eve had said.
And when he did, a tiny spark answered.
Faint, weak as hell, but there.
It also felt slightly warm. He tried focusing on it, getting it closer toward the meat, making it move. And… it did. The damn dot moved!
He kept going, guiding it till it reached the slab of bloodied meat on the sand. And then… what now?
Hope opened his eyes, but was immediately surprised by the message prompts that popped before him.
??Magika Sensing (Level 2)
Magika leaves fingerprints on the world. You’ve learned to spot the smudges.
? 10% increase in Magika perception.
Passive Skill Unlocked:
- Heat Handling
Feat Achieved:
- First Flow
??Heat Handling (Level 1)
You’ve begun to feel the weight of heat in the air—and how to shift it.
? 5% reduction in mental strain when manipulating Heat Magika.
? +1% to Magia while in the presence of Heat Magika (only the highest applicable Magika Handling effect applies at once).
?? First Flow
Your first grasp of Magika leaves a mark. The mind begins to adapt to unseen currents.
? +10 Magia permanently.
Well, that’s quite the load, ain’t it?
I don’t feel any tiny bit stronger, though… but—
He focused on the sparks in the air and noticed he could now see them just a bit clearer than before. So it’s that, huh?
"I got a bunch of new prompts," he said, glancing at Eve.
"So you managed to do it?"
"Kind of." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway, can you help me translate all this—"
Hope used the tip of his broken spear and slowly wrote the prompts out in the sand, line by line. Eve knelt beside him, eyes calm and patient.
Together, they went through the words he didn’t understand. Eve explained what each meant, how they linked, and what the overall skill did.
Hope leaned in, eyes flicking between the sand and her mouth as she spoke. He focused hard through the short reading lesson, trying to catch the patterns in the words—how each letter was shaped, how they sounded together, which ones he recognized, and which appeared often.
He was getting the hang of it… slowly. But hell, it was still a long road ahead.
When they finished, Hope leaned back on his hands and stared at the words a while longer.
"So… how many of these Magika types are out there?"
Eve folded her hands neatly in her lap. "As far as I know, there are twelve."
Hope snorted. "Twelve, huh. Figures. Can’t ever make this stuff simple."
Eve gave a faint smile. "Each Magika type governs a distinct aspect of the world. Proper mastery requires discipline—and understanding."
"Right. Discipline," he muttered, a crooked grin pulling at his mouth. "Gonna be a problem there."
Eve glanced at him with a soft smile. "You seem capable of learning when properly motivated."
Hope gave a low chuckle. "Well, hunger’s a hell of a motivator."
"I see…" Eve inclined her head slightly. "So, going deeper into your question, the twelve types are typically divided into four broad classes: Matter, Energy, Forces, and Meta."
Hope scratched the side of his head, with no idea what half those words meant—but not in the mood, nor much interested in a long explanation either. "A–lright…"
She continued. "Matter types include Earth, Water, and Air."
Hope’s eyes lit up. "Water? So can I make water usin’ Magika?!"
"Well… in a sense… yes."
"Holy shit, Eve. Why didn’t you tell me that before! Damn, if I can make water outta nothin’, then like… I’ll never be thirsty again, right?!"
Eve gave a small, amused smile. "It is not quite that simple. To generate enough water to drink at your level, you will need a certain concentration of Water Magika in the environment—one that may not always be present. Also, manipulating Magika can be quite mentally draining, and—"
"Let’s stop there, Eve. So simple answer is—yeah, possible, but I can’t do it yet. Right?"
Eve hesitated for a moment, but then nodded.
"Gotcha. So let’s get back to cookin’ the meat, yeah. I’m more than a bit hungry, and I’d like to wrap this up before havin’ to throw my next slab of cooked meat to deflect a rock aimed at my head," he chuckled.
"What about the other types of Magika? Are you not interested?"
"I am… kind of, but not now, yeah. So, I guess to cook the meat I need like… more than one of those heat dots? Like, how many?"
Eve tilted her head, thoughtful. "At your current level… as many as you can gather. The key is to guide them to the meat and observe how it heats. It will teach you much about both the process and your control."
Hope nodded slowly. "Right. Grab the red dots, warm the meat. Sounds simple."
He shut his eyes again and focused. The faint threads tugged at him once more. He reached, tried pulling more this time.
It worked—slowly. Only two or three at once. He pushed ’em toward the meat. And… he touched the meat. Felt… warmer? But hell, could be imagining this shit.
He kept going, tried to push more. Two more. Three more. Kept touching the meat but fuck cooking—at best it was sweatin’ a little. Hell, maybe that sweat was fat… or his own damn hand.
These dots are a scam!
He shook his head. Okay. Let’s not complain yet. He kept going.
More and more and—
Suddenly a fuzz hit his head.
He pressed a hand against his skull as a sharp headache slammed into him. What the—
Is it the damn heat? In any case, he wasn’t in the mood to keep up this useless cooking trick.
"Hey Eve, gotta wrap this up. Shit ain’t workin’ and I got a bit of a headache."
"Oh, that’s because of the mental strain when—"
"Yeah, yeah, we’ll talk later, ’kay?"
Before Eve could reply, Hope grabbed the slab, wiped the sand off quick, and bit straight in.
He chewed, grimacing but not stopping. "Much quicker and easier. And… doesn’t taste that bad anyway," he muttered through a mouthful, blood dripping down his jaw.
Eve watched, her expression unreadable.
"Wanna try? It’s decent."
Eve remained silent for a moment, then simply shook her head. "I believe I will pass."