Water.
Formless. Penetrative. Dominating.
Yuna squinted at the first poetic lines of the elemental theory book like it had personally offended her by trying too hard.
• Water is formless but penetrates all.
Okay, philosopher-chan, calm down. She was here to figure out how to use element in combat, not attend a spoken-word poetry session. Yuna sighed dramatically, internally rolling her eyes as she kept reading.
She hated vague, abstract concepts like this. Sure, water could seep into every nook and cranny of a crevice—great for dramatic metaphors—but how exactly was that supposed to help her in a real combat situation?
This time around, Yuna wanted to focus on defense which she reserves for earth element. She already had her fire for offense and wind for mobility. As for water… well, she wasn't exactly sure yet—but she did know one thing: she definitely didn't want it to be another offensive ability.
• Water is soft, yet can chip away even a mountain.
Yeah, in about five hundred years, maybe. Sure, go ahead and throw that mountain into a time-lapse video—very impressive. But she was aiming for instant …ugh…she don't know, but definitely not erosion by patience. Who had the time? Not her.
• Formless and takes the shape of its container.
Yuna made a face.
"Wow," she muttered under her breath, "incredible insight, Sherlock. It's not like I didn't know that from, you know… existing."
This wasn't going well.
She was here, trying to find a way to weaponize water like the genius war tactician she obviously wasn't, and this book was just out here waxing lyrical like a love-struck bard. Still, she kept reading, squinting at the next section, looking for anything—anything—that could translate into a cool, flashy, lazy form of using her water element.
And then, she saw it.
• Water dominates all that lands on its body.
Oho? Now that was promising. Yuna raised an eyebrow. Dominates, huh? Now we're talking. The deep sea popped into her mind—the kind of place where the pressure alone could crush your dreams, not to mention your bones.
"Big Ocean Mommy energy," she deadpanned in her head, nodding.
And the book wasn't done.
• The most domineering of the natural elements is water.
"Spicy," Yuna whispered, lips twitching. "So you're telling me water is that girl."
Then came the shortest line yet—just two words, but they hit her like a revelation.
• Water dissolves.
Pause. Blink. Brain reboot.
Now that she could work with.
Dissolving… that was kind of cool. Melting away incoming attacks, maybe? A defense that didn't block or resist but just ate whatever touched it? It was weird. Unusual. Inconvenient for literally anyone fighting her. In other words—perfect.
But wait. Hold the elemental horses. Mana wasn't a physical object—it was energy. How do you "dissolve" energy? Did you just… splash it really aggressively? Hit it with water and hope for the best?
Yeah, no. She needed more than hope and wishful splashing.
The scientific part of her brain—which sadly still existed despite her best efforts to kill it with fire—intervened.
"Energy doesn't dissolve. You need a different angle." Yuna mutters under breathe.
Ugh. Right. Magic world. Logic was more of a polite suggestion here anyway.
Well… there was one method she knew that was delightfully unscientific and completely chaotic: naming her element. That's the unscientific way she learns in using her elementals ability.
She didn't understand the deeper reasoning behind it—she just knew, almost instinctively..
It had worked with her fire ability, which she'd called Nami fire, having the ability of Proliferation—because it multiplied and spread like gossip in a dormitory.
But naming was no joke. Once a name was set, it defined the rules. The behavior. The power. It was like writing your own fantasy trope into existence.
She wasn't about to rush into naming her water ability with something generic like "Dissolve" or "Soak n' Splash." No, she needed a name that captured the essence of what she wanted—something dramatic, something cool, something that screamed: "Idissolve your attacks because I'm tired and can't be bothered to dodge."
She flipped the page again. Her eyes scanned the lines for keywords she could mold into a concept.
Formless? Useless for defense.
Penetration? Ew. No thank you.
Dissolution? Kinda limiting.
Domination? Spicy. She liked it.
Although Yuna had initially reserved the earth element for defense, water now felt more fitting—calmer, more composed, and oddly elegant when it came to defensive potential.
Yuna mind wandered back to those fantasy tales—how authors always imprisoned the ancient horrors and cursed gods in the ocean. Why? Probably because it sounded dramatic. But also because the ocean traps. It dominates. It swallows.
If she could turn her water ability into something like that…
Not a wall. Not a shield. But a suffocating field of dominance.
You hit it, and it hits back by dissolving your attack and drowning your hope.
"Nice," Yuna thought, satisfied. "Sexy. Subtle. Vicious."
Just then, Professor Veyne strolled into the classroom, breaking her deeply important mental monologue.
Yuna quietly shut the book. She wasn't done yet—not even close.
After class, she'd head to the lake behind the academy. It was time for some very scientifically-inaccurate but magically-hopeful experimentation.
Because really—if she had to suffer through another poetic metaphor about water's deep emotional journey, she might just stick her head in the lake for real.
…..
Professor Veyne picked up a piece of chalk and neatly wrote on the board: "Evigheden First Examination." Beneath it, he added the date.
As soon as he set the chalk down, a student shot up their hand.
"Professor, what do we get if we score high?"
"Resources," Veyne replied curtly.
"What kind of resources?" the student pressed, curiosity now shared by the rest of the class.
"It depends. You'll find out when the time comes." His tone shut down any hope of further details.
"Okay then… how's the exam going to be conducted?" someone else asked.
"Twenty percent written. Eighty percent physical."
A wave of mixed reactions followed.
"Whew, thank goodness—it's not all theory," one student exhaled with relief.
"Ugh, but I'm terrible at anything physical," another groaned.
Yuna let out a soft groan of her own, slumping slightly in her seat.
She wasn't particularly strong in either. Written or physical, both were equally bothersome.
What a pain.