A few days after his encounter with Dew, Jim stood in the sand arena in the line of overachievers who already knew the mage shield spell, just like he did. Just like last time, Kyros had announced that starting today, he would graduate to combat magic 2 whichever group of three proved themselves today.

  The requirements to be considered for advancement were being able to replace 30 plates a minute in the hexagonal shield and using two magic missiles at once. These were two requirements Jim already fulfilled. Now he just needed to be in the last batch of three students who survived the assault.

  There were only 12 people lined up: those who had known the hexagonal variant before, and those who had quickly learned.

  'Bang!' A crash resounded through the colosseum, and the first plate shattered.

  'Bang,' the next.

  And so it continued, Kyros cycling through the students like a scythe through trees, at least that’s what Jim thought what scythes were for. In the third round, the first two people got eliminated, two of the newbies who’d only recently shifted to the hexagon variant and who weren’t capable of spinning the shield at a good speed yet.

  Jim considered himself quite capable at defending, something that a professor had once told him was to do with his very well-developed self-preservation instinct, so he’d primarily worked on magic missile the past three days. That and the mana control exercise for becoming a third circle mage, which had not been making much progress.

  A bomb smashed against one of Jim’s plates, the hole quickly covered up by another hexagon as the construct kept rotating.

  Another student went down, shortening the time between assaults. Nine left meant that at Kyros’ pace, everyone was getting hit by one magic missile every six or so seconds.

  “Bang, bang, bang, bang!” The students strained against the assault, and several, including Jim, got unlucky when a few magic missiles impacted the hexagons at a meeting point, eliminating two or three of them at once. The mishap caused another two students to get eliminated.

  Jim refused to budge. The fact that Evergreen, the smug asshole, and Waterflower, the annoying bitch were still part of the rotation motivated him more than any class advancement could. Although, the fact that Waterflower was eliminated next almost brought him to ruin as the self-satisfied smirk on his face disrupted his concentration.

  Soon, there were only four students left: Jim, Evergreen, his prodigious orphan lackey Herus and Chemirk, one of the top students of the academy and this year’s prince.

  Kyros slowly intensified his barrage as he noticed that the last four students were made of different mettle, although Jim was loath to compare himself to Herus. The time between magic missiles shrunk down to what had already been less than a second to what must have been less than half a second.

  Evergreen and Chemirk weren’t struggling too much, likely having been taught by the best tutors money and influence could buy from early childhood.

  Herus, meanwhile, was struggling, as was befitting of his station. Here Jim chose to ignore the sweat running down his own brow and the shaking of his brain as it fought to rotate the shield and create new plates more quickly.

  It was after a few more seconds that Kyros stopped his assault, however and shrugged his massive arms.

  “I think that’s it, we’ll determine the winner from whoever ranks in the top three for the magic missile showing,” he decided. He looked the four of them up and down, noted the shaking of their hands and nodded approvingly. “Remember, a mage can’t help anyone if they’re dead. Protect yourself first.” He then clapped his hands together and formed his own hexagonal shield.

  “Now your job is to attack me. I think I’ll disqualify whoever is doing the least damage. If you can’t sustain a barrage for a minute, then you’re also out.” He tilted his bald head curiously for a second, before shrugging again.

  At the instructor's words, all four students, but one, formed two magic missiles either above their shoulders or in front of themselves. The only exception was Evergreen, who formed three, the asshole.

  “Begin!” Kyros announced suddenly, his shield starting to spin. All four students shot their missiles, Jim taking joy in the fact that Herus’ were weaker than his.

  Ignoring that, of course, all nine missiles dissipated uselessly against the Kyros’ hexagon shield of which the hexagons were so small and which was spinning so rapidly that it looked like any other bubble shield.

  Jim couldn’t even see the holes their missiles had created, and could only conclude that Kyros had replaced the hexagons while he’d blinked, or that their magic missiles weren’t even powerful enough to break a single hexagon.

  It was here again where Savant blood proved superior to Mitelos mud as Jim formed his next two magic missiles faster than the scholarship boy. A full one second faster at that! Not that it helped any against the instructor's shield, but the man was a professor, so his skills didn’t grate as much.

  Jim did start sweating, however, as with every second, the timeframe that Herus’ missiles were forming after his started to lessen. He could only watch from his periphery, desperately attacking, as the boy’s missiles increased in strength, speed and formation at a visible rate.

  Naturally, the boy would never surpass Jim, as he was always just halving the distance between them, but nevertheless Jim tried even harder, bringing up all the emotions he could. Magic was a mathematical skill enforced by muscle memory and will, but emotion was a big part of will. And Jim had a lot of emotion, especially as he distinctly remembered attending Kyros’ class for an entire semester and suffering from his bullshit.

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  So, he did what was natural in this moment where he needed to eke out whatever he could. Muster up all the hate he could. The instructor’s disgustingly muscled torso and arms, his leather pants, which hinted at a peasant background. His stupid smirk and the annoying fact that none of their combined magic missiles had yet to make a visible difference.

  All that spite, annoyance, and the hate from the future, where the man had denigrated Jim and Lebowski’s efforts, pushed them to their limits at the end of the academic year. It all flowed through him and into the magic missiles, strengthening them and increasing the speed at which they formed.

  Yet despite all this, Herus was still gaining on Jim, just at a slower rate.

  The only thing that could save him now was…

  Kyros flexed his shield; all the miniscule hexagons it was made out of shot outwards, dispelling any errant magic missiles coming the man’s way. The mana dissolved into force halfway towards the four students and staggered them a bit, disrupting any new formation attempts.

  As the four gathered themselves, only Herus did so slovenly with panting breaths and a masochistic smile of enjoyment that Kyros pointed at the Mitelos boy.

  “You’re out,” the man declared with a nod. “You’re more talented than the other guy, but your improvement came too late,” he said, pointing to Jim.

  Jim drew himself to his full impressive height with an affronted face and was just about to say something, but the instructors continued.

  “Tomorrow, you three will show up at Combat Magic 2. I’ll tell the instructor about your advancement after this class. Practice your foundations today until class ends or leave now, I don’t care anymore,” he announced before turning around and going to the much larger group of students struggling to even form the spells, let alone use them.

  Jim stood there gloatingly as he let the success wash over him. It was inevitable, of course, but such was life. The winners won and the losers lost.

  “Good job!” Herus told the group as he slinked off to his corner and practised the skills nature hadn’t granted him by birth.

  “Go dive off a roof!” Jim replied enthusiastically and happily started walking out of the arena. He didn’t want to show it, but he was spent. Even if he had needed the practice, continuing would only lead him to exhaustion, which would have impacted his performance tomorrow.

  As he was about to exit, he was stopped in his tracks by Evergreen putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “How did you do it?” the boy asked with narrow eyes. “You could barely summon a light last year, and now you’re suddenly in the top ten in combat class?” he asked.

  Jim shook off the boy’s hand. “Respectfully,” he sneered, “some of us have a thing called talent, maybe you’ve heard of it.”

  Evergreen gave an empty laugh. “I guess we’ll see that during the next few days. Combat Magic 2 is a big step up from Combat Magic 1. It’s not just what you need to graduate anymore, maybe survive an arrow or two; it’s a class that makes you excel. If it didn’t…” he trailed off before shaking his head. “Then they’d never suffer that abomination teaching it.”

  A flush of red ran up Jim's face. “I most certainly can deflect an arrow, thank you very much!” he exclaimed and hurried away, affronted that someone had brought it up. “I can deflect a dozen arrows, actually. No, a thousand. A million, even!”

  -/-

  The day passed in a pleasant haze of pride, Jim having decided that to celebrate his grand victory, he should do so in the arms of one of the girls at the red lantern. To stay in touch with his more industrious side, which needed to be aware on the morrow to unveil his full potential, he only drank one bottle of wine instead of his usual two.

  On his way to the brothel and back, he avoided all side-streets and stuck to the main roads without fault, even if that cost him a lot of time.

  His abstinence permitted him to wake up bright and early on the following day and quickly make his way to the academy, at the entrance of which he paused as he saw a blue-haired girl waiting for him at the gates.

  He narrowed his eyes and tried to step past her, only for her to block his path. He went to the left, she went to the left, he went to the right, she went to the right. He jumped, she jumped.

  “Ha, idiot, made you jump,” Jim gloated, at which Waterflower sputtered and ran red in the face.

  “I came to give you this,” the girl said with gritted teeth and showed a large piece of parchment in his face.

  “I already have enough parchment,” Jim squawked. “Are you implying my family can’t afford it?”

  The girl gave him a deadpan glare. “Open it,” she said with a long-suffering sigh.

  Jim did as commanded, only to roll his eyes. “It has words on it, thanks,” he said sarcastically.

  Waterflower palmed her face and slowly ran her fingers down her features. “It’s a list of electives available. You didn’t receive it yesterday because you didn’t get permission to take an elective from the start-of-year exam, but by graduating Combat Magic 1 early. Professor Kyros asked me to give it to you. He forgot.”

  The Savant paused and stroked his chin. He had been meaning to take Divination, actually. The thing with thieves was that while he was talented and charismatic enough to defeat any that he faced in open combat, most of them avoided honourable duels by principle of not having any honour.

  Divination potentially held the answer to finding any ruffians he encountered in the future and delivering swift justice. That dodgy detective he’d hired twice now could cast the rituals, so he was sure that he would surpass him and be doing much more impressive things within the month.

  “I have been meaning to take Divination, actually,” Jim muttered thoughtfully before remembering something. “Perhaps next time, I wouldn't want to join a class late.”

  Dew opened her mouth.

  “It would be discouraging for the others seeing me catch up to their superior starting position so easily.”

  Dew closed her mouth.

  “The first classes of the electives start tomorrow, actually. Only the mandatory Combat Magic classes and the fundamentals of first year start at the beginning of the week. It is a combat-focused academy after all; it takes precedence.”

  Jim nodded with a satisfied look on his face. “Then I shall grace them with my presence.”

  “I also wanted to warn you,” Dew started, before stopping as she watched Jim narrow his eyes and take a step back at the words.

  “You have no authority over me,” Jim told her brusquely.

  Dew stared at him before shaking her head. “I wanted to warn you about the instructor, Quatzel.”

  “What about him?” Jim asked with a frown. “He can’t be worse than Kyros.” Kyros was a slave driver.

  Dew gave him a queer look. “How would you know? You’ve only had two lessons with him.”

  “He dresses like a brute, for one.”

  “Regardless of his fashion sense,” Dew hissed through gritted teeth. “It wouldn’t sit right with me not to warn you, so you better listen. Quatzel doesn’t teach here voluntarily, and he’s certainly not a good man, if you can even call him such. Learn from him, but don’t interact with him outside of class.”

  Jim almost looked serious at the warning, nodding his head. But inside, he was seething.

  It was very obvious what was happening.

  Both Evergreen and Waterflower, scions of old mage clans woven into the aristocratic tapestry of Rotto for centuries now, were trying to prevent his eventual rise.

  He didn't know much about Quatzel, other than the fact that he was a lich and a former separatist, but no he was more sure than ever that the creature would be important somehow, which was why Waterflower was trying to prevent him from meeting with him.

  Thankfully his parents had taught him how to deal with two-faced deceivers like this. He gave Dew a fake smile. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll be careful,” he said.

  After a scrutinising look, Dew eventually nodded and left.

  Meeting the instructor of Combat Magic 2 had just been bumped up on Jim’s priority list.

  100th Run (Ending soon!)