This trip is the perfect chance for an "intensive course" with the Four Greats, far from the limitations of the village. So, I decide to soak up everything I can from these legends.
When night started to fall, after traveling a little over half a day, we set up camp in a clearing deep in the forest, bathed in the glow of a big full moon and next to an idyllic, crystal-clear stream. Showing off their experience, which took them maybe a minute tops, they set up 5 tents matching the colors of the symbol on the carriage door. The one in the middle was bigger, whitish, clearly meant for common use or storing important stuff.
While I'd love to sleep in the one with the big blue L, I figure I'll be bunking in the red G tent. Considering Dad's size, though, we'll be packed in like sardines. Definitely not option B, the brown one—that other giant snores loud enough to wake the dead. And well, the other gray tent... I'd rather not know what he'll be up to.
The camp becomes my open-air classroom. I watch with an intensity that would probably make anyone uncomfortable if they weren't used to a baby's fixed stare (which is basically everyone, but they seem to take it as simple kid curiosity).
Garen (Dad - Fire): I already knew his affinity, but now I feel it up close. When he lights the campfire at night, he doesn't use flint and tinder like a normal villager. He just holds his hand near the dry wood, murmurs something almost inaudible, and FWOOM! A small, controlled flame bursts from his fingers. It's fast, efficient, almost casual. During his morning training (even on vacation, old habits die hard), sometimes the air around him seems to vibrate with heat, and his strikes against a particularly thick tree leave slightly scorched marks. Definitely Fire, but channeled in an incredibly physical and contained way.
Borin (Earth): At first, his "magic" is less obvious. It's just brute strength, right? But then I notice. When he helps secure the tent stakes, he doesn't just hammer them in; he hits them once with his training mace, and they seem to sink into the earth like it's soft butter. When we walk over rocky ground, his steps are incredibly sure-footed, almost like he's glued to the ground. One day, while crossing a stream, a large, slippery rock nearly sends Kael tumbling. The big blond giant, without even looking, stomps hard on the bank, and the rock settles with a dull clunk, becoming stable. I ask him, "Borin... rock... move?" He roars, "Hahaha! The earth listens to its friends, squirt! Just gotta ask firmly!" I try to remember that. Earth: creates a deep, physical connection to the ground beneath his feet.
Lyra (Water): Her magic is elegant and lethal. One afternoon, I watch her practicing with her bow, shooting at pinecones hanging from a distant pine. Some arrows just pin them to the trunk. But others... one hits a pinecone and instantly encases it in a layer of brittle white ice. Cold! Another hits, and the pinecone sizzles, releasing steam. Hot! "Lyra... water cold? Water... hot?" I ask, pointing at the results. She looks at me with her serene eyes. "Water takes many forms, little Lexo. It can soothe, or it can burn. It can flow, or it can freeze. It depends on intent and control." Water, with incredible command over its temperature. Ice and Steam arrows... fascinating.
Kael (Air): His affinity is the closest to mine, and the most elusive. He's fast, yeah, but it's more than that. Sometimes, when I think he's beside me, he suddenly appears behind me without a sound. When we walk through the forest, dry leaves barely crunch under his feet. One day, a sudden gust of wind nearly blows my hat off. Kael, standing a few steps away, holds out his hand, and the wind seems to... calm down around us. "Kael... wind... friend?" I babble. He smiles, that mischievous grin. "The wind's a good ally, little guy. Takes you where you want to go, hides you when you need it, and whispers secrets if you know how to listen." Air. Used for stealth, speed, and maybe perception.
I try to connect these observations to my own 90% core. I feel the inherent warmth (Dad's latent Fire?), the stability (Earth?), the fluidity of my mana (Water?), and of course, my confirmed affinity with Air and Light. Could I also...? The idea is tempting.
Nights around the campfire are my favorite time. I ask for stories. "More! Four Greats!" I demand with my almost-one-year-old baby authority. And surprisingly, they indulge me. They tell about the time they got trapped in the Sand Tombs of Al'Kazzar, and how Kael used the wind to find a hidden exit while Lyra created water out of thin air so they wouldn't die of thirst, Borin held up a collapsing ceiling, and Dad lit the way and burned the giant scorpions harassing them. Their elements weren't just individual powers; they intertwined, complemented each other. They were a real team.
One day, Dad announces, "We're going hunting! Need fresh meat." Mom immediately frowns. "Garen, he's just a baby..."
"He'll be with me, Elara! On my back! And with Lyra tracking and Borin and Kael watching the flanks, he'll be safer than in his crib," Dad argues with a reassuring smile. "Besides, a man needs to learn where his food comes from!"
Mom sighs, but the presence of the others seems to convince her. "Alright. But be very careful."
And off we go! Dad secures me in a modified baby carrier on his back. It's incredibly comfortable. And then, he runs. Not walks, runs! He moves through the forest with surprising agility for his size, leaping over roots, dodging low branches. I burst out laughing, the wind in my face. "Faster, Papa!" I yell. He laughs with me, a deep, happy sound. Meanwhile, the elf glides through the trees like a ghost beside us, pointing out tracks. Borin pushes through thick underbrush with steady steps. Kael seems to disappear and reappear, scouting ahead.
I see Dad's friends watching him run with me on his back. There's a smile on Lyra's face, a grunt of approval from Borin, a glint of amusement in Kael's eyes. It's pride. Pride in their old friend, the legendary warrior who now finds joy in carrying his son on his back during a simple hunt. Dad has matured, not just as a warrior, but as a person, as a father. And they see it.
During a break, while Dad examines some tracks with Lyra, I focus on my core. Still refining, pulling at the natural energy of the forest. The 90% feels more vibrant than ever.