"Please correct me if I'm wrong, but that makes you... a Black Mage with a Nuclear Elemental Conduit, at the Intermediate Rank?" The lady at the desk held the form in trembling hands, forcing out her words through a strained smile, her voice shaky.

"I... believe that's all correct, yes." Lance confirmed, his gaze shifting between the trembling receptionist and the paperwork in her hands. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, which caused a knot of concern to tighten in his stomach. In the end, he hesitated to voice it.

"I see... would you mind giving me a minute, sir?" she requested, her forced smile growing more fragile by the second. Lance nodded, and she gently lowered the form onto the desk. Then, hurried to the back with a barely controlled pace.

"Is she alright?" Lance asked, his eyes trailing to where she disappeared, fiddling nervously with his staff.

"Yeah. I think she just needs a moment to breathe," Amani replied, massaging his forehead with his titanic hand. "Your qualifications aren't exactly... normal, per se."

"They are not?" Lance blinked, tilting his head slightly, looking almost innocent – an image that contrasted sharply with the nonsensical power he supposedly held.

Amani let out a long sigh. "The nuclear element... it counters all natural forces. It's powerful and dangerous enough that entire schools of study, both ethical and practical, exist just to discuss whether it should even be considered an element. Not to mention, half of its reputation comes from The Fallout Continent, The Atomic Age, and The Nuclear War..."

He peered at Lance between the fingers rubbing his forehead, watching the young mage listen intently. He noticed Lance cringing a little at the mention of The Fallout Continent, and took note of it. Could he be...?

Amani shook his head and continued, his tone steady but wary, "The nuclear element isn’t something most delve into, and those who do often perish, overwhelmed by power beyond their control. But a Nuclear Conduit? Now that something else entirely."

Lance nodded, understanding and echoing the implications behind Amani's words, "Because a Conduit not only grants affinity and resistance to its element, but can also transform neutral elemental spells into its element. I don't necessarily need to develop Nuclear Elemental Spells, since I can just use neutral elemental ones in their stead."

Lance tried to add something else, but was interrupted as Amani heaved a heavy sigh, a hint of fatigue seeping into his expression. "And it's not just that. Tell me, do you know what spells are?"

Lance shook his head. "I know the practise, but I can't explain it in theoretical terms very well." Internally, he added, 'Not in Common Tongue, anyway.'

Amani nodded, and helped put it into words. "Spells are... simply put, structured magic. To cast a spell is to invoke a particular mana assemblage, amplified further by the seven fundamental units. An assemblage that is, by its very nature, limited in what it can do, and hence heavily relies on its seven units, as well as the three formulas you call vocal components, runes, and reagents to achieve greater magnitude."

Amani inhaled a deep breath, and blew out a breath of fresh flames, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly as he continued, "This is why structured spells are also called ‘bounded spells’. But Conduits have the ability to skip this altogether, and cast unstructured spells. And that is what makes Conduits so dangerous."

Lance, despite listening intently, still looked a little confused. "Is being able to skip the vocalisation part that serious?"

Amani chuckled, and explained in a tired tone. "It's not just about that. Structured spells... they are a specific combination of spell components. You add various conditions and effects, and wire them together to complete a spell. They are rigid, and can have minor modifications at best. Unstructured spells, on the other hand, can theoretically do almost anything."

Abruptly, Amani let out a chuckle, which rumbled through the caverns as he added, "A Black Mage on its own is terrifying. And you're a Black Mage with one of the deadliest elements to have ever been recorded, and you're also a Conduit of the said element. I think you gave the poor woman quite the scare." Amani's laughter only grew more boisterous as he saw Lance wince, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"How come you know so much about magic?" Lance asked. His eyes, wide and shimmering with curiosity, bore straight into Amani's glowing ones. "To my knowledge, Giants aren't usually wizards, focusing more on brute strength and their racial prowess. Were you born a Conduit too?"

Amani chuckled wryly. "I wish. No, I am just like any other Giant. Giants don't exactly have an education system like humans do, so I spent a long time in a library when I first left my homeland."

Lance tilted his head to the side, his eyes scanning the giant from head to toe. The thirteen feet giant shrunk a little under his seemingly judgemental gaze, shifting his weight to one foot as he turned his gaze away.

"Aren't... libraries usually made of wood? And books made of paper?" Lance asked abruptly, his question throwing Amani off. A little stupefied from the whiplash, he answered, "Uh, yes, they are. Most of them, at least. Why?"

"Well, how come you didn't burn them when you went to the library?" Lance verbalized the root of his confusion, leaving Amani a little speechless.

"That's what you were concerned about?" The giant exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yeah? I mean, I am also a little worried that reading human sized books were bad for your eyes, but mainly just that." Lance answered with a sheepish grin, scratching his ear as he did so. "Why, was there something I missed?"

"N– no, it's just... never mind." Amani sighed, a little exhausted for no apparent reason. "I... us Fire Giants have the ability to control if our flames burn things." Pausing for a second, he added, "At least, the flame that is connected to our body."

Lance's eyes widened. "Does that mean if I touched your hair right now, it wouldn't actually burn me?" Amani nodded, prompting Lance to add, "Can I touch it, then?"

"...huh?"

"Your hair, I mean. Can I touch it?"

Amani froze for a few seconds, as if trying to process his words. But then, as he looked at the tiny human's hope-filled eyes, he found himself unable to say no. Slowly, he got on one knee, letting his glamour, fiery hair cascade down like the magnificent vines of a banyan.

Slowly, Lance reached out to one of the strands, and gripped it in his hands, making Amani twitch a little. "Woah... It's so soft, but it goes firm when I squeeze it." Lance gave the large strands of hair a few more squeezes towards their end, as if milking a cow. He couldn't grab it well near the scalp, as midway through, the hair strands were thick enough to not fit in his grasp.

Then, Lance let go, and Amani stood back on his feet, a little embarrassed. As he watches Lance look at his hands that were squeezing his hair a few moments prior, he couldn't help but cough, bringing Lance's attention back onto him.

"As you just saw," he tried to change the topic, "Your hands did not burn, nor do they have any semblance of ash or smoke on them. Right now, I am consciously choosing not to burn anything." Lance listened with a fascinated interest, nodding occasionally along his words.

"That's an awesome ability!" Lance exclaimed. "It's so hard for me to use my spells because of how badly it can contaminate the environment. In fact, I am pretty sure I have more spells to contain the effects of my nuclear spells than I have any actual nuclear spells!"

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Lance complained about the backdraws of his powers, making Amani chuckle dryly. If this wasn't the definition of suffering from success, what was?

Lance continued to fawn over this ability. "It would be so much easier if I had your ability. Just, make everything not affect anything. One and done. Just use it and it's over. No need for clean up."

"Is cleaning up that much of a drag?" Amani asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

Lance nodded vigorously. "It really is! You need to treat your target so he doesn't die a horrible death. You need to treat the contaminated air, the contaminated soil, and the contaminated water as well!" Energetically, he listed off all the chores that came with his spells.

"You need to treat everything produced by solid, liquid, and gas spells, you need to cleanse the lingering effect of energy spells, you need to dispose of anything that is affected too strongly to clean up in a short time, and so much more." Lance ranted on and on about the several necessary steps that followed the use of his spells.

The more he talked, the more Amani felt a chill down his spine. The sheer ridiculous amount of measures to treat and contain the aftermath implies that the threat posed by his actual nuclear spells must be even more ridiculous.

How ridiculous is that?

Soon, their conversation came to a halt, with Lance being cut off in the middle of his rant, for the desk lady had returned, her skin slightly damp with sweat and cheeks flushed, but mostly composed. Or at least, she tried to appear so.

Lance noted that her pendant was now tucked inside her suit. 'Was she afraid I would rob her?' Lance felt both speechless and amused at the thought.

"Are you comfortable with sharing your place of origin?" The lady asked with crescent eyes and a polite smile, continuing on as if nothing happened.

"I... would prefer not to." Lance scratched the bridge of his nose, fidgeting nervously. Amani glanced at him, recalling an earlier reaction of his.

After a few more questions, it was Amani's turn to register. His presence was intimidating, but he wasn’t quite as overwhelming as Lance. A Giant from the Fire Domain, with more than just a few racial abilities. No mage, but he didn’t need to be. He needed no tools; for his body itself was a weapon.

Once Amani was finished, they waited next for a while so the centre could provide the dedicated supplies for the assignment. There wasn't much else to do... or at least, there shouldn't have been.

Sadly, uninvited guests did not care for invitations, and many-a-times, they loved to throw a tantrum or two.

"What!? What do you mean this assignment is taken? It's still hung on the Display Unit!" A man’s voice erupted from the desk. He towered over the poor receptionist, his hands clawing into the counter as he roared.

"I– I am sorry sir, bu- but the assignment was just accepted moments ago. The assignment notice will be taken down as soon as the volunteers get their supplies." The lady quickly stammered out her words as fast as she could, her voice laced with a tremor.

The man growled in annoyance, prompting her to quickly add on, "You could ask to join the volunteers team, perhaps? They are waiting right next to us."

Slowly, the man straightened his arched back, withdrawing his hands from the table as he turned to look at Amani and Lance at the side, both of whom were already staring at him.

He was striking, with long auburn hair cascading to his shoulders, sharp cheekbones, and a square jaw. His brows were dense but perfectly shaped, and his eyes – one blue, one black – stared intensely at them. He wore a black robe with occasional stripes of cyan, carved in the form of arcane symbols.

"Hello. Would you like to join our team?" Lance offered his hand with a cheerful smile, but the man only scoffed in response.

"That would mean sharing the pay with you. Besides, how did you even get this assignment? You’re barely an adult by human standards." His tone was laced with suspicion as he eyed Lance up and down, making his shrink back a little under the menacing gaze.

"Moreover, you need to work your way up to accept Red Plaques. There's a reason this desk has an empty queue. Have you even completed enough lower-ranked assignments?" the man continued, pressing Lance with every word. The latter stepped back, overwhelmed by the man’s domineering demeanor.

"He's an intermediate Black Mage with a Conduit, and he has my recommendation." Amani cut the man off, stepping in front of Lance as he spoke, his voice carrying the momentum of a volcano. "He is allowed to be here," Amani finished off with a rumbling growl.

"...what?" The man exclaimed, as if in disbelief. His gaze snapped towards the lady at the desk. "You are letting a barely-grown human brat take this quest because of... what, his class, and nepotism?"

"I– that's not it, sir. I mean, there's more to it, but I can't reveal it to you due to volunteer confidentiality issues..." The lady tried to interject, but her voice lost confidence and volume the more she spoke. Indeed, though she spoke the truth, it sounded too much like a badly thought-out lie.

"You..." The man's voice was ripe with disbelief, evident in his widened eyes and pointed finger. He looked a little comedic, albeit a little tragic given the situation.

That was until the disbelief slowly morphed into something else. Something more... primal.

"All this time... I have been working my blood off to get to this place... and you get here for what? Because you have a high-ranking buddy?" The man's eyes turned into slits, and immediately, everyone with no exception in the cavern felt a chill up their spine.

"You... a godforsaken human child..." The man's voice suddenly dropped several octaves, the enunciation of his syllables and sibilants sounding much harder than they should, making Lance's eyes widen.

'There's no way.'

The strange accent grated against everyone's eardrums, the harshness far beyond anything a nail on a chalkboard could imitate, confirming Lance's suspicions.

'This... is bad. This is very, very bad.'

He took a step toward Lance, and tendrils of lightning began coiling around his arms, neck, and shoulders, filling the air with a peculiar smell of ozone, an acidic vapour tailing behind.

Lance gripped his staff tightly, the emerald gem in the sceptre pulsing with a soft green light. Amani’s skin began to crack even deeper, revealing glowing magma beneath as the crimson glow emanating from him intensified. The receptionist had already ducked under the desk, quietly praying.

And yet... nothing happened.

Clenching his fist together tightly, the man inhaled a deep breath, stretching his lungs, before loosening those fists, releasing his breath, and letting his chest fall back into place. Strangely enough, his exhale was unnervingly warm, charged with faint electricity—something only Amani noticed, sensitive to the changes in heat.

Now calm, the man's gaze locked back onto Lance, making him swallow. His next words, however, completely threw Lance off.

"Fight me."

"...what?" Lance asked, not sure if he heard him right.

"Fight me." The man repeated. "I don’t believe you’re capable or qualified for this mission. Prove me wrong. If I win, I’ll replace you. If I lose, I’ll join you."

"...and what happens if I say no?"

"In that case, I will sue you and the management for unfair hiring practises." The man spoke bluntly, stunning everyone in the room. The man did not forget to shoot a nasty glare at the lady behind the desk, who simply bit down on her lip, stifled a squeal, and tried to hide her face beneath the desk.

Lance stared at him, processing the words. Then, surprising everyone, he nodded. "Okay. Let’s fight."

The man blinked, taken aback, but quickly recovered, a smirk forming on his face. "Good. Ma'am, set us up for a match."

The receptionist, previously stunned into silence, quickly snapped out of it and squeaked out a confirmation.

"You... are you confident you can win?" Amani asked Lance, unsure. The latter, however, only shrugged. "Not really, but it's not like I can afford a lawyer."

Amani groaned, palming his face, his deep growl reverberating through the room. A few bouts of laughter were heard from the people around them, who had gathered to see the commotion.

"Astrape Svante and Lance Fallout, you will be escorted to your waiting rooms by dedicated Rangers. Please respect them and our rules. Best of luck in your duel." The lady's voice, though shaky earlier, now rang with surprising professionalism. Clearly, she had practised this speech many times over.

Soon, a short man dressed in green clothing showed up, and approached Lance and Amani. His voice brimmed with energy as he spoke through his long, white, and spiky thicket he called a beard. "Greetings, my friend! My name is Ariador, and I will be your escort today. Now then, which one of you is Lance?"

And then, without waiting for an answer, he twirled on his heel, turning around, his hands interlocked by his fingers behind his back. "Oh, no matter. You may take one companion with you to the waiting room. Come along!"

The short man laughed loudly as he spoke, while Amani and Lance looked at him with a strange gaze. The man barely reached Lance's hips in size, while Lance himself barely reached Amani's hips in size. Standing next to the giant, the man looked absolutely tiny.

"Are you... a dwarf?" Lance asked curiously, to which the man turned back around and grinned.

"Why, yes my friend! I am a dwarf, the most compact form of love and energy!" The man laughed boisterously, his voice far louder than Amani's, despite their stature stating otherwise.

"In any case, let me guide you into the Arena. You haven't fought yet, have you? Oh, let me tell you all about the wonderful arena, the hype of the audience, the betting system, and all the glory..." The dwarf kept talking, while the pair quietly walked alongside him into the dark hallway on the left of the desk, soon disappearing.

"Man, he's a loud one, isn't he?" Another man dressed in green commented, fixing his green cap. It seemed green was part of the ranger uniform. His voice attracted Astrape's attention, who had been watching the fading figure of his foe-to-be.

"My name is Bridget Crafts, and I will be your escort for today. Let me lead you to your room, and tell me if you need anything." The man bowed with a practised grace. Astrape hummed in approval, and walked into the hallway on the right without wasting words, Bridget following closely behind.

As both parties left, the lady at the desk finally heaved a sigh of relief, untucking and clutching her pendant in her left hand.

Really, she did not get paid nearly enough for this job.