Water Control

【Name: Water Control

Description: Manipulates liquids using mana, allowing the user to alter their shape, position, and direction of flow. The total volume of liquid controlled depends on the Magic level, while control precision and range of effect depend on skill proficiency.

Cannot generate liquid out of thin air; can only manipulate existing liquid substances.

Level Cap: Lv5

Learning Requirements: Magic Lv1

Exchange Points: 650】

“Points -650, balance 2,040.”

He had learned alchemy, and he would be able to brew potions sooner or later. But how was he going to use them once they were brewed? He couldn't just throw them by hand every time.

This spell, however, solved that problem perfectly.

Manipulating water currents was just the most basic application. Its true value lay in the fact that it could manipulate any liquid, including alchemical potions.

In the future, no matter what potion he used, he could use Water Control to wrap it in a stable water sphere and deliver it precisely to his target's face from a distance.

As the knowledge was imprinted into his mind, he casually browsed the shop to see if there were any cheap cauldrons and alchemy equipment.

The price of a basic alchemy toolkit wasn't expensive, but when he recalled the scene of Scholar Brandon publicly brewing accelerants in the camp using a large soup pot, he temporarily dismissed the idea.

If a proper scholar could make do with a giant iron pot from the kitchen, he should be fine using a small iron pot. After all, he was only brewing the most basic alchemical potions for now. He could consider professional equipment later when he needed to refine more sophisticated potions.

With 2,040 points remaining, Roger planned to save them for now. He would wait until most of his current skills reached around Lv3 before exchanging them for new ones.

The next morning, Roger found a traveling merchant traveling with the army. He spent some money to buy a small iron pot and several glass bottles, borrowed a bundle of firewood from the cook, and found an empty spot outside the camp. There, he set up a simple stove, placed the pot on it, and lit a fire.

Mercenaries enjoyed relatively high freedom of movement in the camp. As long as they didn't cause trouble publicly, no one usually questioned them.

Once the water in the pot began to bubble finely and the first wisp of white steam rose from the surface, he retrieved his only ten Firekiss Flowers from his system storage and threw them into the pot one by one.

Then, squatting beside the iron pot, he used a sharpened wooden stick to stir the liquid from time to time.

By afternoon, the liquid in the pot had turned deep red, indicating that the accelerant was successfully refined.

Roger took out the glass bottles and ladled the deep red potion into them one by one, filling exactly five bottles.

As for how to handle the Stink Shrooms, he hadn't decided yet.

The knowledge from Alchemy Specialization provided several methods for processing Stink Shrooms, but their spores would release an intense stench once ground, which could easily knock someone unconscious. He planned to find a well-ventilated area on his own some other day to study them slowly.

After putting the accelerant and the iron pot back into his system storage, Roger walked a bit further south.

Practicing Water Control required finding a place with water, and he certainly couldn't bring himself to waste his five newly brewed bottles of accelerant on practice.

Fortunately, not far south of the camp was a small stream. The stream was about two paces wide and shallow enough that the pebbles at the bottom were visible, making it perfect for practicing 【Water Control】.

Focusing his attention on the stream, he attempted to cast the spell.

In the blink of an eye, the stream water slowly floated upward, gathering above Roger's palm into a goose-egg-sized water sphere.

Roger kept his focus on the water sphere and then willed it to fly forward.

The water sphere slowly drifted forward for two to three meters before dropping onto the grass. Roger didn't lose heart. He cast the spell again, condensing a new water sphere, and continued to send it forward. Once he became familiar with the feel, he began practicing speed and accuracy.

After shaping about five or six water spheres, the experience bar for Water Control began to rise. Feeling his mana was more than half depleted, Roger sat on a nearby rock to rest for a bit.

He hadn't walked far before he heard the sound of flowing water again.

Roger found a flat spot by the stream, stood still, and looked down at the flowing water. He concentrated his attention on a small patch of the water's surface, channeled his mana, and attempted to cast Water Control.

In the blink of an eye, the water's surface reacted. A small clump of stream water slowly rose from the creek, breaking free of the surface tension to gather into a goose-egg-sized water sphere about half an arm's length above his palm.

Roger carefully held the water sphere with his mind, feeling the rate of mana consumption.

The consumption was low, similar to maintaining Arcane Hand, well within what he could sustain for a long time.

He focused his attention, controlling the water sphere to fly slowly forward. The water sphere wobbled as it drifted, losing control and splashing onto the grass three meters away.

He condensed a new water sphere from the stream and continued to send it forward.

Once he became slightly more familiar with the feel, Roger began attempting to control the flying speed of the water sphere.

After shaping about twenty more water spheres, the experience bar for Water Control on his status panel quietly climbed to Lv2.

His mana was one-third depleted, but the stability of the water sphere had noticeably improved, no longer wobbling precariously at the slightest acceleration like it did at first.

After recovering some of his mana, he stood up again and walked to the stream to continue practicing Water Control.

By the time dinner rolled around, the experience bar for Water Control had steadily risen to the very top of Lv2, just a hair's breadth away from the next level.

Both his control precision and flight speed had improved significantly compared to when he first exchanged for the skill. The effective range of the water sphere had extended to nearly ten paces. Although it still couldn't compare to an arrow, it was more than enough to harass and kite enemies when paired with Windwalk.

Roger withdrew his mana, patted his sleeves which had been dampened by the splashing stream, and turned to walk back to the camp.

By the time he returned to the camp, the campfires had already been lit, and the bland scent of stew and toasted dry rations drifted through the air. As Roger was about to head toward his tent, he ran straight into Knight Stine.

The knight seemed to have just come from the direction of Baron Raymond's tent.

“I heard you went into the forest again and discovered a goblin nest there.”

Roger did not say much, merely nodding in response.

“I see.” Stine's expression remained unchanged, but he paused for several seconds before continuing, “Lord Raymond will launch an attack on the forest soon. The specific time will be formally delivered to you by a messenger. Until then, be prepared to set out at any moment.”

He paused again, his lips parting slightly as if he had more to say, but in the end, he simply pursed his lips, turned, and walked away.

In front of his tent, Irene was standing at the entrance, waiting. Hearing footsteps approaching, she looked up.

“I have something to discuss with you,” she said, getting straight to the point upon seeing Roger return.

Why does everyone want to talk to me? Roger grumbled inwardly.

First, the knight had hesitated, and now she was waiting at his tent door. What was wrong with these people today? Every single one of them looked like they had something bottled up inside.

Showing no outward emotion, he simply nodded to Irene, lifted the tent flap, and stepped aside to gesture for her to enter.

Irene followed Roger into the tent, letting the flap fall behind her to shut out the noise of the camp outside.

Roger pulled a wooden stool from the corner and placed it in front of Irene, while he retreated to sit on the edge of his bedding, leaving about two paces of distance between them.

“So, what is it?”

Taking advantage of the brief pause, Roger quickly and naturally swept his gaze over Irene.

None of her exposed skin showed any distorted tattoos, bone chains, or any ornaments associated with cultists.

Then again, how could a mole blatantly wear something that would expose their identity? Roger thought self-deprecatingly.

Now, everyone looked like a mole, yet no one did. He mocked himself, fearing that if this went on, he would turn himself into a paranoid wreck.

Irene did not notice his scrutiny.

Sitting on the stool, she folded her hands over her knees and remained silent for a few seconds before speaking. “I plan to go back into that forest to take a look, and I want to invite you to come with me this time.”

“And your reason?”

“I suddenly thought of two suspicious points.” Irene leaned forward slightly, her emerald eyes staring straight at Roger.

“First, when we first stationed here, the scouts who went to reconnoiter the forest reported that they found no trace of goblins.”

“But later, when we went in to investigate, that knight and the mage were attacked by goblins. Goblins can't just appear out of thin air. The scouts either missed them, or there's another reason.”

She paused, observing Roger's reaction. Roger's expression didn't change in the slightest; he merely nodded slightly, gesturing for her to continue.

“Second, the goblins retreated right after wounding that knight. You saw the situation back then. Given the nature of goblins, they wouldn't easily let go of prey they already had in their grasp—unless the retreat wasn't their own decision.”

Roger had already thought of these two points. Furthermore, after venturing deep into the forest alone, the conclusion he had reached was that there was a cultist mole within the noble coalition.

For instance, the scout who delivered the false report, and the goblins' sudden 'mercy' was likely also ordered by an insider.

There were probably even more moles hiding in the shadows.

However, he had no intention of sharing his thoughts directly. Even if Irene acted very open and upright, she couldn't be completely cleared of suspicion.

Until he was absolutely certain, he could only trust anyone halfway.

If this keeps up, it's going to turn into a spy thriller... Roger grumbled internally, but on the surface, he acted nonchalant.

“I don't think that's necessary. Now that those goblins have discovered human tracks, they've likely tightened their security. There might even be mutated variants with extraordinary power among them. It's still too dangerous for just the two of us.”

Irene shook her head, pressing further into the suspicion she had raised.

“Have you ever thought about why the goblins spared the knight and the mage next door, when one was injured and the other lacked close-combat capabilities?”

Roger met her gaze. “Are you saying those two are suspicious?”

“Not necessarily, but there's a high probability.” Irene's gaze did not waver in the slightest.

She had clearly mulled over this possibility repeatedly, rather than bringing it up on a whim.

“Then why ask me?” Roger approached from a different angle.

“Because in this entire camp, you're the one I'm most familiar with,” Irene replied almost without hesitation.

Roger thought that was complete nonsense.

If this mercenary girl trusted people unconditionally just because they were familiar, she would have died many times over by now.

It was far more likely that she either couldn't rule him out as a suspect yet and wanted to test him through a joint operation, or she had already confirmed that others were untrustworthy and could only partner with someone relatively less suspicious.

After weighing his options, Roger decided not to accept the proposal for now.

With the mole in the shadows and everyone being a suspect, venturing deep into the forest alone with anyone was not a wise move.

Thus, he politely declined Irene's offer. “I've exerted myself quite a bit today. How about we talk about it next time?”

Irene could clearly tell he had reservations, so she did not push. She simply unbuckled her bracers, rolled up her sleeves, and extended her wrist and forearm toward Roger.

There were no cultist tattoos or any other suspicious marks on them.

Afterward, she bid Roger farewell and turned to leave.