Few weeks later
The first rays of sunlight pierced the tall, arched windows of the academy’s training hall, casting long, golden beams of light across the stone floor. Aleron stood in the middle of the room, his hands clenched around the wooden practice sword, feeling the weight of the weapon in his grip. It was his first swordsmanship class, and despite his nerves, he couldn’t ignore the fire that burned inside him. Today was the beginning of a new chapter, a day when he would prove himself, not just to his teachers, but to himself.
The academy’s courtyard had been buzzing with energy earlier, students practicing spells in the open air, others battling in mock duels. Now, the swordsman’s class had gathered in the spacious hall—a long, wide chamber filled with racks of weapons, training dummies, and even a few suits of armor. At the far end of the room stood an imposing figure: Master Roderic, one of the academy’s finest sword instructors.
Roderic was a tall, muscular man with a deep, gravelly voice and an aura of unyielding discipline. He had trained some of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, and his reputation for pushing his students to their limits was well known. As Aleron’s eyes met the master’s piercing gaze, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over him. Swordsmanship wasn’t his strongest suit, but he had chosen it because it was essential. All students at the academy were required to study three subjects, and Aleron had chosen magic, swordsmanship, and hand-to-hand combat. The decision had been made with purpose—he wanted to be a complete warrior, not just a mage.
“Form up!” Master Roderic’s voice boomed, cutting through Aleron’s thoughts. The other students quickly fell into line, and Aleron did the same, trying to mimic their confident stances. He had seen his fellow students practicing in the courtyard, and they moved with the ease and grace of seasoned fighters. It would take time before he could move like them, he knew that, but he was determined to catch up.
“Today, we’ll focus on the fundamentals,” Roderic said, his voice steady and authoritative. “The most important thing to remember, no matter what weapon you wield, is control. You are not just learning to fight; you are learning to think ahead, to anticipate the enemy’s movements before they make them. A sword is an extension of your will. You must command it, or it will control you.”
Aleron swallowed, gripping his sword tightly. He felt the weight of his decision more than ever. This class was going to push him further than he had ever been pushed, and there was no turning back now.
“Everyone pair up,” Roderic instructed. “We’re starting with basic stances. Aleron, you’ll work with Lyanna.”
Aleron looked up to see a girl approaching from the opposite side of the room. She was taller than most, with short black hair and an air of quiet confidence about her. Lyanna’s eyes locked onto his, and she gave him a nod.
“I’m Lyanna,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Let’s get to it.”
Aleron nodded, trying to match her composure. As the students paired off, Roderic walked among them, observing their form, offering corrections, and occasionally barking out orders. Lyanna moved with the precision of someone who had been training for years, her posture flawless. Aleron did his best to follow her lead, mimicking her stances, trying to keep up with her movements.
It wasn’t long before his arms began to ache, and his grip on the sword felt slippery with sweat. Lyanna’s strikes were fast and controlled, each one coming with an intensity that made him feel like he was lagging behind. She didn’t say much, but there was a quiet understanding between them, as though she could tell how hard he was pushing himself.
“You’re improving,” Lyanna said after a particularly clumsy swing. “Your grip is too tight. Relax your hand. Let the sword move with you.”
Aleron nodded, trying to focus on his breathing. “Thanks,” he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t the first time he had been told to relax. In magic, he had learned to release his tension, to let the flow of energy pass through him. Perhaps, he thought, the same could be true for swordsmanship.
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Master Roderic circled the room, occasionally pausing to offer individual guidance. When he reached Aleron, he gave a slight nod of approval, though his face remained stoic.
“You have the potential,” Roderic said gruffly. “But you need more than just raw talent. A sword is not for everyone, Aleron. You must commit yourself, or you’ll never be more than a beginner.”
Aleron’s heart raced. Master Roderic’s words stung, but they also spurred him on. He wasn’t going to let this class define him. He wouldn’t be just another student; he was going to excel, to become someone who could wield both sword and magic with equal mastery.
The lesson continued for hours, with Aleron’s arms growing heavy and his legs beginning to tremble. But he pushed through. He could feel the fire inside him, the spark that made him want to fight back against the weariness, against the doubt creeping in.
By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Aleron’s body was aching, but there was a sense of accomplishment in his chest. He had survived the first swordsmanship class. But it wasn’t enough—he knew that much.
“Tomorrow, we work on footwork,” Roderic said, his voice carrying through the room. “Be prepared.”
As the students began to disperse, Aleron felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Lyanna standing behind him, her face unreadable.
“You did well today,” she said, her tone unexpectedly warm. “You’re not a natural, but you’ve got the heart for it.”
Aleron smiled, though it was a tired, exhausted smile. “Thanks. I just… I need to keep pushing.”
Lyanna gave him a nod, then turned to leave, her black hair swaying with each step. Aleron watched her go, feeling the weight of his own ambitions pressing down on him.
As he gathered his things and left the swordsmanship hall, his thoughts shifted to his next class—magic. Today, they were scheduled to work on an advanced version of Levitas Minor, the levitation spell he had first learned the day before. He couldn’t help but wonder what new magic he would encounter.
The magic classroom was a large, circular chamber, its walls lined with shelves of ancient tomes, vials filled with glowing liquids, and strange artifacts that hummed with arcane power. Professor Kaelan stood at the front of the room, his dark robes flowing around him as he prepared for the day’s lesson. His eyes flicked over the students, his gaze sharp, as if he were assessing each one of them in a single glance.
“Today, we go beyond simple levitation,” Kaelan said, his voice deep and commanding. “We will learn to control the very essence of air itself.”
Aleron felt a shiver of excitement rush through him. This was it—the next step in his magical education. He had always been fascinated by the concept of manipulating the elements, of bending the very fabric of reality to one’s will. But the power he felt when he used magic—whether it was levitating an object or shaping it with his mind—was always just the beginning. There was more to discover. And he was determined to learn it all.
Kaelan raised his hand, and the room fell silent. With a single motion, he conjured a small ball of light above his palm. It flickered and shifted, swirling in the air before coming to rest above his head.
“This is a simple air orb,” Kaelan said, his voice steady. “It is a basic construct, but one that requires finesse. You must focus your energy, your will, and shape the air around you into something tangible.”
Aleron’s mind raced. This was new territory. Magic was already difficult to grasp, but shaping something as intangible as air was a challenge he hadn’t anticipated.
“Begin,” Kaelan said, and the room came alive with the sound of murmured incantations as the students began to practice. Aleron closed his eyes, reaching deep into himself, feeling the flow of energy within him. He concentrated, envisioning the air around him moving, swirling, becoming a part of his command.
For a few moments, nothing happened. But as he focused harder, he felt a subtle shift in the air. A flicker of energy stirred beneath his skin. Aleron whispered the incantation under his breath.
“Ventus Orbis.”
Nothing. He tried again, his focus narrowing.
“Ventus Orbis.”
This time, he felt it. A faint ripple in the air, a small disturbance above his palm. Slowly, a ball of wind began to form. It was small, no bigger than a fist, but it was there, dancing above his hand.
Aleron’s heart raced with excitement. He had done it.
But before he could fully celebrate, the ball of wind flickered and vanished, leaving him with nothing but the feeling of a lost connection.
----------------------------------------
At that moment, a loud crash echoed from the far side of the room.
“Look out!” someone shouted.
Aleron’s head snapped up, and his eyes widened as he saw one of the students—
Lorin—flailing on the ground, his arms flung outward.
Above him was a massive whirlwind, spinning wildly out of control, tearing through the air like a violent storm. It was growing larger with each passing second, pulling books off shelves and scattering papers into the air.
“Master Kaelan!” Aleron shouted, but the professor was already moving, his hands raised, attempting to stabilize the chaotic magic. But the wind was too powerful, too erratic.
With a roar, the whirlwind ripped free of Lorin’s control, hurtling toward the class with a destructive force.
TO BE CONTINUED………