The return trip to my camp was more productive. With the immediate 'test' over, my survival instincts kicked back in. I spotted a cluster of ripe, red berries that looked safe and gathered a handful. A little further on, I found a fallen tree with plenty of dry, dead branches and loaded my arms with firewood.
Back at my makeshift shelter, I dropped the wood as dusk settled, the +50 RP replaying like a trophy in my memory. I ate the berries, the taste of a small, confusing victory in my mouth. My first experiment was a success, but the data was a mess.
This game was far more complex than I thought. I lay down on my lumpy bed of branches, the night spent wrestling with questions, trying to turn a confusing event into a clean, replicable formula. The next school day was tomorrow.
The morning light filtering through my leafy roof was a rude awakening. My back complained loudly from its night on a bed of lumpy branches, and every muscle I owned was staging a protest. But the physical discomfort was a dull background noise compared to the bright, beautiful number glowing in the corner of my vision.
Resonance Power (RP): 51
That single point I woke up with and the fifty from my encounter with Lia. It was the first real asset I'd acquired in this world. It was time to figure out exactly what it could buy me.
I sat up, ignoring my aching body, and focused on the system UI, mentally poking and prodding at it. New tabs, previously greyed out, were now accessible. One was labeled 'Resonance Amplitude.' I opened it.
A diagnostic panel appeared, showing a breakdown of this body's innate magical talent. It was, in a word, pathetic.
[ HOST RESONANCE AMPLITUDE ]
FIRE: 3 / 100
WATER: 4 / 100
EARTH: 2 / 100
WIND: 3 / 100
The memories of the original Einz confirmed it: he was a laughingstock because his resonance was spread thinly across every element, resulting in a pitifully low aptitude in all of them. He was a jack of all trades, and a master of absolutely none.
Beneath the diagnostic, the system offered two options.
Option 1: Invest RP. Permanently increase a chosen element's Resonance Amplitude. The cost was significant: 5 RP for a permanent +1 boost.
Option 2: Resonance Abilities. Temporarily "rent" spells and skills by paying an RP cost per use.
My mind instantly went to work. The Resonance Abilities were a tempting option—a quick fix that could be the saving grace in an emergency. But for someone with almost no power to their name, spending precious RP on a one-time skill would be terrible resource management. It was a luxury I couldn't afford. The smart play, the only play for someone starting from nothing, was to invest in the base stats. A permanent upgrade.
I decided to go all-in. Spreading my points around would be a repeat of the original Einz's mistake. Water was already my highest (and I use that term loosely) stat, and it was the most versatile—offense, defense, utility. It was the only logical choice.
With the cold precision of a gamer spending a rare upgrade token, I navigated the menu and dumped all 50 of my hard-earned points into Water Resonance without a second's hesitation.
[ Confirm Investment: 50 RP -> +10 Water Amplitude? ]
[ Y / N ]
I confirmed. The number in my vision plummeted to a lonely 1 RP, but the diagnostic panel updated with a far more satisfying result.
WATER: 14 / 100
It was still a pitifully low number but it was more than triple what I'd started with.
I had to test it. I crawled out of my makeshift shelter and walked to the edge of the stream. The original Einz had read every theory book on basic magic available in the academy; he knew the incantations, the hand signs, the precise way to draw in worldly resonance. He just never had the juice to make it work.
I, however, now had a little bit more juice.
I held out a hand, mimicking the diagrams from the books, and focused,connecting with the water in the stream. I expected a weak trickle, a slight improvement at best.
Instead, a fist-sized ball of churning, pressurized water formed in my palm. It felt dense, powerful. With a flick of my wrist, I sent it flying. It slammed into a nearby tree with a wet crack, stripping a chunk of bark clean off.
I stared at my hand, then at the damaged tree. A slow, sharp grin—the kind a predator gets when it first tests its claws—tugged at my lips. The path from zero to something had just been paved.
With the experiment over, it was time to prepare for class. I used the stream to wash the dirt and sweat from my face, the water feeling strangely responsive to my presence. I changed out of my ruined clothes and into the stiff, formal academy uniform from my bag: a crisp white shirt and a perfectly tailored black blazer.
Looking at my reflection in the stream, I almost looked like a real student. A real person of value.
It was time to go to class.