—Celia—

  Celia cast the [max perception] enchantment on herself for the fight, world slowing to a crawl. It was so effective that when she said, “Begin,” the word took four seconds to complete.

  Despite that—Celia didn’t see Kalas move. He disappeared. Just like that—disappeared.

  Then the air warped in front of Balphoa, and Kalas flew out of nowhere, delivering an upward-sweeping kick to her former student’s midriff. The strike was like a water hammer, launching Balphoa twenty feet until his back hit the invisible barrier, lighting up half the dome in a dark orange gradient. The impact left visible cracks on the ward, sparking immediate concern for what had happened to Balphoa’s body before it plunged to the stage, lighting the tiles green on contact as the healing array activated. It was a dazzling light show that left Celia in a state of baffled horror, a single dumb word looping in her mind:

  What?

  —Kalas—

  That kick summed things up, so far as I was concerned. I made sure the ward was doing an adequate job at healing Balphoa, then glanced at the Codex screen in the corner of my eye. On the Active Spell screen, the words “Blink Step” had been grayed out, indicating the spell was no longer active. It seemed excessive, given the current aftermath, so I read the description to remind myself of its power.

  Blink Step

  Type: Physical (Spatial)

  Rank: Garnet

  Description: Spatial Magic that allows casters to teleport between sections of a battlefield.

  Warning: activating this in the wrong location can kill you. It’s recommended that the caster only teleport to somewhere they can see.

  I suppose it is a garnet, I thought, rubbing my head. But it just seems so… necessary.

  It really did. How could someone dodge large spells if they couldn’t move fast enough? It just didn’t make sense to me. Then again, normal people didn't fight Sleya Gramley. Perhaps normal people only needed two legs and a good acceleration enchantment to escape destruction—but I doubted it. Any spell could become large with enough juice, and Balphoa was oozing aura at mythril. An adamantine would certainly bring a storm. It was just so confusing.

  “I hate that expression,” Balphoa said as he stood, cracking his neck. “It’s like you’re confused by how weak I am.”

  I turned to Celia, taking note of her partially traumatized expression before turning back to him. “How weak you are?” I laughed. “I’m shocked that you’ve recovered already.”

  “Yeah… me, too, actually. It’s probably just adrenaline.”

  “It is. So you should sit down.”

  “Nah, there’s no way. It’s been a long time since someone’s knocked some sense into me. I can’t pass up the opportunity.”

  I turned to Celia and lowered my bottom lip, giving her an expression that conveyed something between “yikes” and “what do I do?”

  Only then did Balphoa see the apprehensive terror etched onto her face. He winced and turned back to me. “Can we… fight without whatever the hell you just did?”

  “Wouldn’t think of it,” I said, making sure her tense expression was easing up. “I’d actually like to fight you with basic enchantments, if that’s okay. See how far I can take it while you’re using your full force.”

  Balphoa frowned. “Basic enchantments? Are you sayin’ you’re so skilled you can overcome devastating magic with just some enchantments?”

  “No. I’ll use spells, but only if I need them. I also have my barrier up, and no offense, but nothing you throw can break it.”

  “Gah…” He rolled his entire neck dramatically, running his fingers through his hair afterward. “It’s like I’ve lost already. That sucks, but…” His lips slowly curled into a grin. “The thought about fighting to kill gets my blood boilin’. I’ve never got to do it.”

  “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

  He smirked. “Shall we?”

  I smiled. “Sure.”

  He assumed a strange position and began chanting the names of transfiguration runes. “Coria mogamina eias ai pamanta...” To my surprise, his body responded. His arms bulged, and a red, ethereal snake summoned from his navel, coiling around his body.

  Transfiguration, huh?

  Transfiguration was somewhere between spiritmancy and martial arts. The mage fused with a spirit, and then made the spirit’s ethereal form an extension of their body. It was the same magic I used to obtain wings for flight. It was one of my favorite studies, and I couldn’t wait to see how he used it.

  “You gonna get going or what?” he asked.

  “Just watchin’,” I said. “But let’s do this.”

  My Codex updated in the corner of my eye as I flash-cast basic enchantments:

  Active Spells

  Haste [Enchantment]

  Shael Skin [Enchantment]

  Perception [Enchantment]

  Fortification [Enchantment]

  …

  My body glowed in a rainbow assortment of colors before fading away.

  “Alright…” Balphoa said. “Let’s do this!” He launched from his position, closing the distance in a clock's tick. As he readied his punch, a colossal serpent's head formed around his fist, preparing to bite me.

  I dodged, but the snake moved on its own, veering left toward me while his fist continued straight.

  I dodged again and then charged him, jumping and weaving and rolling as the serpent enlarged and crashed down around me, thrashing its head like a whip.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The stage shook, forcing me to cast [airwalk] to maintain balance as Balphoa attacked me. He was in perfect sync with his spirit, using it to kite me while he personally struck from blind spots.

  Despite his skill, he still couldn’t touch me.

  “Damn, I didn't think I'd need to use a spell,” he said. “But you won't… stay… still!”

  He stopped and chanted, casting the stage in an eerie ambient glow. Frost swirled around us, and then a hurricane of ice shards crashed down upon me. It was an impressive move, a sign that he had trust in my skill—and his ability to hold back.

  That said…

  He’s not using a barrier, I thought, letting my aura barrier block the ice blades. I should use a fire spell.

  The moment I thought that, I imagined a fire lance crashing at his feet, rapidly converting the ice into pressurized steam. The cloud would blast his eyes, sending him crashing and screaming to the ground.

  No… he’ll definitely stop fighting if that happens, I thought.

  A ward couldn’t heal trauma, and boiling eyes were the definition of trauma.

  “Stop debating!” Balphoa roared. He pulled back his fist and prepared a variation of [razor wind] with ice blades. He threw the punch, and a blizzard crashed into me.

  The attack was huge, making it impossible to dodge on the tiny stage, so I threw a wind blade to cut through it.

  That wasn’t the best move.

  Balphoa’s attack was so blinding that no one could see through it without a seeing spell active. He hadn’t activated one until his last spell ended—so he didn’t notice my wind blade until it was too late to dodge. It hit him head-on, sending him crashing across the stage.

  I groaned when it happened, wiping my face from forehead to chin. I meant to hold back, but there were so many variables I wasn’t accustomed to. Beasts had natural aura barriers in Riaka; all entities used seeing spells. Trying to adjust to people who didn’t use either was a conscious process—and no one could adapt that quickly. At least, I couldn’t. I wasn’t even sure what else to look for. To them, I was alien—but the same was true in reverse.

  Balphoa staggered to his feet, saying, “Damn… what a hit,” before re-assuming a fighting stance, but Celia screamed, “Bal! Sit down!” making him put his hands down.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, words hazy. “In the real world, you don’t just get to sit down when…” His body swayed, and when he looked down, he saw that the wind blade had sheared through his chest from shoulder to hip, and there was a corkscrew pattern of blood streaks across the stage's ice-streaked tiles. He lost over two liters of blood—a dangerous level. “Damn kid…” he muttered. “You didn’t hold back.”

  I rubbed my head, feeling guilty when he fell and hit the ground.

  Celia summoned water above Balphoa as the stage healed him, slapping his cheeks as she did it. “Wake up! You need to drink!”

  The three-layer ward healed his body, but it didn’t replace his blood.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, dropping to my haunches beside her. “I’ll take care of this.” I traced a sigil on his chest with his own blood. The sigil lit white, and the blood on the snowy tiles rose in the air, swirling above his body before sucking into a hole I had stabbed into him.

  Color returned to Balphoa’s face; the opposite happened to Celia. Blood drained from her entire body, leaving her cheeks blotchy white over rosy patches, like wine frozen in ice. If I didn't know better, I would've thought the two performed a blood transfusion. It was a glorious reaction—one I yearned to bask in. Unfortunately, her terror hadn't broken, giving way to the relieved delight and dramatic awe I so desperately craved. She just stared at him, chest rising and falling as she checked his body for more wounds, and it all just kinda made me feel guilty for hurting him in the first place.

  “Are you… alright?” I asked, restraining the sarcasm my subconscious stuffed into my voice box.

  “Yeah. I… think.” She looked into my eyes. “Did you… clean his blood?”

  “No need. The sigil only picks up blood.”

  “Sigil… So that magic really was…” Celia trailed off into a strange trance. It seemed that Celia had seen sigils somewhere, but she couldn’t remember where. Or, she couldn’t believe that she saw one used for healing. I’m not sure what it was, but it seemed significant. “Well, you pass, obviously,” she said, breaking out of that trance. “We’ll issue you a platinum license in a few days. You'd usually have to pay for the insignia, but we'll take care of that. Beyond that, you'll have to wait a bit to move up. The Requia exam is a few weeks out, and we still don't know if we can get you in. So until we do, you'll still need permits to use magic within the city.”

  My stomach dropped like a trap door, leaving my intestines hanging above a pool of raw disappointment.

  “I understand… as for the ‘Requia’… what is that? You said it was for the upper ranks, but people treat it like a title.”

  “That’s because it is. Once you reach mythril, you'll enter the magical nobility.”

  “Nobility? Hold up. If I have to become a noble, I can't apply.”

  Celia stood and patted off her dress, still breathing hard. “And why not?”

  “Because I’ve been tasked with finding the source and cure of the miasma epidemic. I can’t get involved in politics or settle down anywhere.”

  “Wait… that’s why you’re here? Why? Don’t you live in the woods?”

  I felt cool chills when her confused eyes suddenly widened, indicating that she had figured it out. The miasma didn’t affect the wilderness; if I truly lived in a purely isolated cabin in the woods, I wouldn’t have any cause for concern. But I did, indicating I lived in an agrarian society—which made sense, considering that Sleya Gramley—my teacher—led thousands of mages away in a legendary migration.

  Good thing I extended that soul pact, I thought nervously. If I hadn't made a separate pact to reveal Sleya's name, Celia would be free to connect my master's existence with us living near crops, thereby exposing Riaka without ever mentioning my ranks. It was now clear that if I wanted to protect Riaka's existence, I had to protect my master's name first.

  Celia saw my discomfort and said, “Don't worry, I won't press for more. That said…” Her eyes drifted away. “You do know that the entire world is trying to cure the blight epidemic, right?”

  I nodded faintly. “Yeah. I'm sure. That said, my master and I are clearly not normal. If I bring back crude solutions, we can refine them.”

  “If that’s true…” Celia’s eyes widened. “Come with me, I have something to show you.”

  “What about him?” I asked about Balphoa.

  “You two can play later. This is a lot more important.”

  I nodded and followed her out of the gym, down a hall, and into a room locked with multiple wards and physical locks. Inside was an elaborate library—the first I had seen in the outside world.

  “This is our spell repository,” she explained. “Each one of these books is a grimoire. It has a chant, description, usage examples, and a section on its lore, both real and mythical. I’m sure you just need the chant.” She smiled strangely, her eyes fading before she looked at me. “Is that fair to say?”

  “Chant as in… what Balphoa was just doing?”

  She frowned. “Yes?”

  “Huh… Well, if I’m supposed to know how to do that…” I flashed her a disarming smile. “I don’t.”

  I didn’t think Celia could look any more shocked, but I was wrong. There were layers of bafflement, and while my blood demonstration was a proper shock, this one wasn’t far behind. Her face looked lost and almost angry, demanding a “gotcha!” moment. It never came.

  “To clarify, I learned spells through… other means,” I said. “I’m willing to discuss them later, but for now…”

  “Right…” Celia broke eye contact and pulled a thin leather-bound book from a shelf. “Well, we use chants to learn. Would you like to learn how to read them?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Great… Here’s the one that I was talking about.” She handed me the grimoire. “If you hadn’t noticed, we don’t have any crop fields. All of our crops come by railway from Kaligo, a country about five hundred miles south of here. I cannot comment or speculate on the means by which Kaligo grows their crops—that’s something you can only learn there, if you’re invited. That said, I can say that about five years before they obtained success with growing crops, they sent this grimoire all across the country, asking the guilds to hand it out for free.”

  I opened the cover. The description on the first page read:

  Name: Material Reinforcement

  Type: Spell (Healing)

  Rank: Emerald

  Description: A persistent spell that fixes a person or object’s blueprint to make it resistant to change. If the target is wounded, the spell will attempt to rebuild the body to its original state.

  Note: This spell has been proliferated among guilds free of charge and may be given to any and all adventurers and practitioners for a nominal fee.