“Catalyst, a substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change, or a person or thing that precipitates an event.”

Oxford Languages

Maybe, I would be both, something that increased people's rate of growth as well as someone who precipitated change. “What’s a catalyst?” I could make an educated guess but wanted my suspicions confirmed.

“A catalyst? Well, they are rumoured to be people who enable the growth of others, either through helping improve their skills, stats or levels. No one knows for sure the why or the how of it exactly. Whether it is because they go on to achieve great things and the system recognises any input into their growth as having a greater effect on the world or simply their presence enables others to succeed. Experience can be weighted differently sometimes and life isn’t always fair. Anyway, they are very few and very far in between.” He explained in more detail than he had ever before.

“What does this mean for me?” surprised by his unusually verbose reply. Was this going to make a difference to our plan to stay hidden away? All his time away from the family repelled by the level of anger my mother had levelled at him had possibly, maybe, made him reconsider a few things. But then again maybe not.

“Only that you will be more than just special one day.” He sighed almost despondent about the fact. “It is said that the founders of the eight major compass kingdoms were catalysts. Ponente, Maestro, Tramontana, Greco, Levante, Scirocco, Ostro and Libeccio were all built on the skills, stats and levels of their kings. At least you don’t seem to have developed an elemental talent, yet.” He added sardonically. “Although maybe they didn’t gain theirs until they were older. Who knows it is lost in the annals of history,” he added as he rubbed his forehead.

“What’s an elemental talent?” I quizzed that sounded exciting would be cool to be a catalyst if I could get one of those. I imagined myself controlling the four elements. So far I had managed to shape them to an extent, change them for a purpose but so far it had seemed to be along the basis of a force or energy applied or removed from a system supplied by my mana. The thermodynamics or mechanics of mana so to speak. My rudimentary understanding of these subjects seemed to have been helping me gain skills or improve them based on applications of Newton's laws about how energy and force functioned. However controlling an element by thought alone would surely be far easier, efficient and effective.

“Separate from skills and the magic you can create with your mana the Royal families of each Kingdom all have an elemental talent that flows in their bloodline and ii is inherited by their descendants. It is part of what separates the Royals from the nobility although there has been some intermingling among them. The Royal Family of Ponente has power over and the ability to call on the element of Water. The Royal Family of Maestro can control and fashion Wood. The Royals of Tramontana control Earth while the Royal family of Grecco can control metal. Levante Royals call and control fire. Scirocco can call on lightning though it is questionable if anyone can ever truly control that element. Ostro can call and control the air while those of Libeccio control and shape the element of ice.” He continued his explanation of the world around us.

While I wanted to argue that half of those weren’t elements at all, we literally came from different worlds and one world’s truth might be another world’s falsehood. Who was I to disagree? I didn’t know enough to argue. I was simply happy to hear more about the wider world and confused by grandfather's capitulation to my questioning. Still learning about the wider world, it seemed suspiciously well organised. Did location provide an elemental affinity?

“Will I awaken water?” fascinated with the idea of another hidden option within the system available only to those born of royalty and making the leap of logic that if we were in Ponente then water would be the element.

“Who knows? Hopefully not, but if you did you would probably be adopted into the Royal family so let’s try and avoid that if possible Kai. I’m happy . . .” he paused, “I’m content here and would hate to have to relocate again. Besides, there isn’t much further we could go and still be connected to humanity.” He answered. “But the point is that even without trying you were always going to change Wester Ponente even without trying as those around you would have grown and levelled more. Indeed an unambitious catalyst could easily raise a village to a town, or a town to a city simply through growing up and living there. Now that you are ‘Lord of the Isle’ so to speak the changes will only be that much greater.” He grimaced as he turned to consider the hidden caldera. While I was excited by the possibilities and opportunities to change the world around me, he was cautious and concerned. “Time to go home,” he muttered.

As we made our way back down the mountain my brain continued to boil over with ideas. I was still excited about the potential the island afforded. My own little kingdom, a once and future king maybe. King under the mountain. Hall of the Mountain King, I played the song in my head as we descended, imagining how winding stairs could be built up the side of the mountain, or a simple straight stairway. This could be called the Compass Caldera of . . . Atlantis? Probably best not to go with mythical place names just in case there was another reincarnated person knocking around somewhere.

As we got to a particularly steep part of the mountain on the way down I was pulled from my pondering as grandfather, almost casually asked, “Ready to fly?” before he pulled back his arm as if to throw me off the mountain.

“Stop!” I cried and surprisingly enough he actually did as his arm froze in the split-second before he would have launched me off the mountainside.

He lowered his arm, and although he seemed angry with it or himself for listening to me or angry with me for calling out, a moment later calm, he asked curiously, “Why not? You survived a far higher fall with less warning. Be good training for you."

As I glared up at him, “Because . . . I’ll . . . go . . . splat!” I practically screamed. “I thought you weren’t going to do this anymore. You . . . promised . . . Mother!” I shouted as I crossed my arms and stared daggers at him.

“Just wanted to see this flight or falling skill in action. You were never in any danger, this time.” He raised his shoulders placatingly. “Surviving your last fall would have definitely been worth the experience as well ensured you should unlock clarity when your system unlocks even if it gained you nothing else but it might have given a skill like featherfall," he explained his position referring back to my more literal and nearly figurative terminal fall. "There’s no better teaching method than practical application my teachers always told me. We learn best by doing and the system rewards us more if the straits are dire.” He continued to explain his reasoning. "Besides I could have caught you if you actually looked like you were failing to fly or falling too quickly. But training when you know I can catch you will gain you less experience if you know there is no danger to it." he placated possibly concerned I would be telling tales later to a certain someone.

"That makes no sense," I whispered to myself. Why should the perception of an action change the reward for the act itself if the act wasn't changed as well? Surprised, both by him explaining in greater detail as well as the fact that he actually listened to little baby me I shook a little as the adrenaline left my system.

"Hmm?" he queried my whispered words.

Hesitantly, I slowly answered, “Too low.” answering his earlier question. I explained in more detail, “Need to be higher.” Looking at the craggy ground he had been thinking about throwing me off I had quickly realised I wouldn’t have the time to build up enough speed for the fake flight suit to catch enough air with and I would have probably made it no further than the craggy cliffs below rather than getting far enough to land on the water.

“Surely it’s more dangerous the higher you are.” contemplated grandfather.

“Yes and no.” I was hardly going to try and explain aerodynamics to my grandfather but with the slow speed of being thrown and this angle, I’d probably hit the ground before I had enough speed for my wings to catch the air. That was if I was even able to be quick enough to form the wings I needed before hitting the ground anyway. What I really needed was a way to make a decent paraglider. Now that would give me enough lift to actually go up instead of simply falling if I could find the right thermals. Then again with a proper fabric wing, I could probably give myself enough magical lift through my skill gale to properly fly. Why spend effort manipulating a material when I could get my mother to build me a proper one somehow? Although that would be difficult to explain how I knew that. I wondered at what age Leonardo Da Vinci started.

It was strange that he had actually listened to me asking him to stop, rather than simply throwing me off. But thinking back on it, I had never really asked him to stop before. Had I ever simply called out and told him to stop before, maybe I should have or would have if I'd known he would listen. Although maybe he never would have done so before all my mothers yelling.

"So shall we go and find somewhere higher?" he asked.