Just one spell, for now. (Exposition & possible skill tree?)

The full pale moon, alien yet soothing, lights the sparse town outskirts. Aside from the rocks and stray tuft of straw like grass, it is empty.

Ema has brought a few rods of metal and a board, pocked with burns, along with the pair of you. She asks you to wait as she sets it up as a target about 20 meters away.

Thankfully the clothes provided by the townsfolk is warm and soft, not exactly what you would expect from Orcs. The wind is high and cold, you feel it as you might notice the weather through a window. You KNOW its cold but it does nothing to you.

Ema returns and begins to explain magic theory.

Every individual, human and non, is born with a set amount of Mana.

This Mana is what is used when magic cast.

It will replenish over time and with rest, although there are ways to restore it faster, there are NO WAYS to increase your maximum capacity.

Words and chants are used to form the shapes of magic, high level casters can cast with out using words faster once the shape of magic intended is almost muscle memory.

Ema explains that the words used to cast are in the ancient tongue, except that Humans have the ability to cast the same magic using "common" language, the default spoken for humans.

Ema continues with the fact that, while she is not skilled in many magic types, she can teach you at least one type of basic magic.

"This is the weakest form of combat fire magic, known as Brid."

The spell FEELS like you are holding a small weight in your hand, but in your head.

"Huh."

You try to understand this strange phenomenon but the spell is already trickling out your lips as you feel the mana given purpose drifting down your arm.

Muscle memory of thousands of arrows loosed bring your hand upraised and heat blossoms in your palm.

You enjoy this feeling of gently holding the air around this churning flame.

You begin to smile in wonder as you toss it back and forth between your hands.

"Uuhh-hh-h sir?!"

You look up to see her wide eyed and visibly sweating, hands down at her sides as she very, very slowly is backing away.

"I haven't seen anyone be able to freely handle the magic like that, but it is ...ah, that said though, uhm-" she pauses to work out the phrasing.

"There are human sects that believe handling magic like that was a sign of a cursed being."

Oh. Oh well, that goddess did curse you, in seceral ways.

You shrug and ask what do people normally do with the fire, Emma responds by pointing at the far wall, pocked with blast marks.

"They shoot it?" She offered weakly, still stunned and staring at the ball of fire resting in your palm.

You throw it.

You gave it some effort.

Like a pitch.

You remember keenly the high pitched Zzzip noise as a thin streak of smoke shot out and the incandescent boom immediately after.

It felt so light when your rolled it off your fingertips but as soon as it caught free air, it was gone. the windburst as it left you fingertips blows back across your face. Your eyes slam shut as debris and smoke billow out immediately.

The next few minutes are filled with coughing, smoke, and the two of you pulling back aways.

Emma gives you a long look.

What? You ask.

She shakes her head a little and responds.

"I can't figure out what kind of demon you are." You roll your eyes inside and correcr her that you are very much a human.

(You think.)

(Right?)

Regardless,

After finding a much more sparse gorge, you practice slinging bolts of crackling fire.

You decide to head back sleep for the night when you accidentally dropped one near your feet.

You barely remember hitting the sleeping mat in the cool, dark room, filled with pillows and blankets.

Finally, after days in wilderness, is your first night in a real bed.

. . .