Xander faced Dhomyn, adopting a wide stance he hadn’t used since his foundation had been shattered - the Stance of Gathering Storms. With his feet spread out beyond the width of his shoulders, slightly crouched, and his hands held up to be on the level of his chest and spread as wide as his feet, it was utterly impractical if they had been fighting. He was wide open, and a halfway competent opponent could take advantage of the imbalance this stance offered to direct forward assaults. But the Stance of Gathering Storms wasn’t meant for fighting. It was meant to make ardor flow as symmetrical as possible, perfect for balancing the mixture needed for techniques.
Dhomyn went in a different direction, his stance more of a battle pose, right foot forward and pointed at Xander, left foot back and angled for better balance. It still left him vulnerable to attacks from the side, but far better equipped if Xander lunged at him, at the cost of not being as effective for his ardor flow. His right hand was up and facing Xander, the fingers curled into a claw, and the left was held against his chest.
“You look like you’re getting ready to strike,” Xander said quietly, trying to tune out the other students and just focus on Dhomyn.
“I’m considering it,” The ogreblooded growled. “But Master Rokyn would likely not permit it. I just want to be ready for you.”
Xander’s eyes narrowed. He forced fire ardor though his channels, cycling it directly up from his foundation. Without a core to ground the flow in, he had to weave it back through his foundation, but it was low risk. “What offense have I given you, Dhomyn? We’ve barely met, and you seem to already hate me, yet you know nothing about me.”
Dhomyn’s clothes started to flutter slightly, as if he was standing in a light breeze rising up from the ground. So he was cycling too, not just staring their and glaring at Xander. “I know your type,” Dhomyn said in that same low growl. “Reckless. Impulsive. You act before you think. You’re going to shatter your foundation again within a month, probably through repeating the same stupidity that caused you to shatter it in the first place.”
“You know nothing,” Xander said. “And don’t you dare assume you know what happened to me.”
Dhomyn spat, and if not for Master Rokyn’s presence, Xander would have challenged the other for the insult right then and there. Keep your eyes clear, Xander told himself. Dhomyn was trying to get a rise out of him. He was trying to anger Xander so much he’d make a mistake. Xander wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I know your type,” Dhomyn repeated, his mind already clearly made up. “I just wonder if they’ll need to use this ring to resurrect me when you fail, or you.”
Xander didn’t respond. He focused on his breathing, forcing himself to calm the wildfire that was burning at him. Channeling fire ardor while getting angry was dangerous. The element was a wild, fierce one, and it would feed his fury if Xander allowed it. He would soon be expected to keep himself controlled while containing a demon - he had to be able to prevent a few barbs from breaking his concentration.
Once he’d regained his focus, Xander clenched his right hand into a fist, and pressed the fingers together on the left into an outward facing palm. Xander’s right hand was dominant, so he would bring in ardor through his left, and gather it together in his right. The simple change in how he held his hands redirected his flow, forcing it into the clenched fist. He could feel it gathering, a hot lump of molten fury. Xander wouldn’t need to worry about the time component yet, that came when the technique was released. Space, weight, and flow - those were all handled during formation.
Space and weight were easy to handle. He had to form this technique to be both direct and strong, which just meant narrowing the point where the technique would form. He couldn’t just form it on his palm, that would be too broad for direct. Instead, he formed it on the spot in the center of his palm where the lifelines intersected, known as the central grounding point. It was the easiest anchor for a direct technique that came from the palm. A strong weight was accomplished by forcing the ardor to flow in layers that collapsed in on themselves, like folding steel. There was a limit to how many folds he could manage while the ardor was still inside his hand - additional folds, like what Chandra had used for that massive attack, would need to take place outside of his body. At Ivory, she could likely manage seven or eight internal folds. At Stone, Xander could handle three before it would start burning him from the inside. He went for the full three he could manage. Two might not be enough to manage a strong weight, even at his low rank.
The air around Xanders fist started to ripple like waves of heat distorting the air over a slab of black stone that had been left too long in the sun.
Across from him, Dhomyn was taking a different tactic, folding the flame ardor between his curled fingers, forming a visible ball of fire. He could get to four folds that way, but Xander questioned the viability. Sure, it was safer for Dhomyn, but it would be even harder to direct the flow when it was already outside. If he wanted to learn the technique in a single session, Xander would have to take risks. Dhomyn was too cautious for that.
Reluctantly, Xander had to admit that Dhomyn’s barb about his recklessness might have some merit. But this risk would, at worst, result in a scorched palm, not that horror that Dhomyn implied.
Outside of Xander’s focus, there was a woosh of flame, followed by a shriek of pain. Master Rokyn sighed heavily. “I didn’t think I had to say this, but apparently I do. Your partner is there to provide feedback on how your technique is forming. They are not there to set on fire, Cadon. You’ll be fine, Aesler, the skin isn’t even blackening, but Cadon, do try and avoid setting her on fire again. And Xander, Dhomyn? You’re supposed to be working together, not glowering at each other. I’m sure you’re both very stoic and manly, but this is training.”
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Xander flushed a bit at the chastisement, and Dhomyn’s glower deepened. “You’re making it harder for yourself with the external flame,” Xander said, trying to provide some feedback as he focused on his flame. “Flow will be harder to control.”
“You’re going to burn your hand off,” Dhomyn said. “Stones can’t manage four folds internally.” Although it was advice, it had the smug satisfaction of an “I told you so.”
“You don’t need four folds to hit strong,” Xander said, trying to maintain the placid state of focus.
“It’s not about strength. The more condensed the ardor is, the easier the flow is to control.”
“Not for an element as volatile as flame. It will fight you harder with that density.”
“Ah,” Master Rokyn said, suddenly appearing at their side. “It seems I was unclear. I said provide feedback, not try to prove how much smarter you are. Both your arguments have merit. Dhomyn, Xander is correct that a fully external flame will be harder to maintain a bound flow. Xander, Dhomyn is correct that that four folds will make it easier to maintain a bound flow. Now, given that you are both correct on that one aspect, what do you think the solution is?”
Xander and Dhomyn glared for a moment longer, but at least Dhomyn looked like he was thinking. Xander’s mind was working furiously as well. They came to the solution at about the same time, it seemed. Xander closed his left hand into a fist, forcing the ardor to flow normally again. Dhomyn started to cycle, reabsorbing his external flame. “Partial internal flow, partial external flow,” Xander said.
“Two inside, two outside,” Dhomyn said a moment later. “Three internal and one external will create an imbalance.”
Xander tried to make his counter point sound as unargumentative as possible to avoid inflaming the other. “Three internal will aid in flow control.”
“You want to try three internal with a claw hand stance?” Dhomyn asked.
“Not a claw hand. Goat horns.” Xander said.
Dhomyn considered for a moment. “That’s going to make balancing the folds difficult.” At least this sounded less like Dhomyn thought he was a fool.
“Then don’t balance the folds until you release the technique. Shove the internal through the external when you release.”
Dhomyn considered. “You’re not wrong. But if you do that, why not lense the external fold?”
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Xander said, a smile spreading on his lips. He’d forgotten how much he loved discussing the nuance of technique formation, and when Dhomyn wasn’t trying to murder Xander with a glare, he looked like he’d be a fun partner for a detailed discussion. Dhomyn looked pleased at the praise, right up until he remembered he’d decided to hate Xander for what, to Xander, seemed like fairly weak reasons, and then the ogreblooded’s gaze settled into a glare.
It was something, at least. Both of them changed the position of their right hand, lowering the middle two digits to press into the central gathering point on the palm while leaving the pinky and index finger upraised and curved forward. Master Rokyn nodded approvingly and watched. Xander’s ardor responded to the flow change, returning to gather in his palm. He forced the three folds again, trying not to rush. Once he’d mastered this technique, he’d be able to do it in an instant without the complicated hand motions. His ardor would respond to his intent. For now, however, the motions and slow progression were necessary to lay a good foundation.
Once the three folds had been achieved, Xander let some of the ardor leak up to his outstretched fingers, and forced it out so it would form between the two digits. A bright point of light formed in the air, and Xander could feel the heat both inside and outside his hand. However, instead of allowing it to remain in a point, Xander started to spin the ardor, a miniature spiral forming. He didn’t spin it fast enough to form a ring. If he had chain ardor accumulated, he could have used that to make a ring, since it was of a different affinity than flame, but fire to fire would force the ring to expand. A lens was exactly what they both needed. The hardest part was forcing the spinning disk to develop a bulge in the center. Xander pressed against it, sweat beading on his brow. All the while, he imagined a narrow channel forming from his palm to the lens and a few inches beyond.
The inner disk developed the divot he needed. Xander threw his hand up, almost in unison with Dhomyn, and released the technique. The three folds in his palm rushed outwards to collide into the lens, where it was collapsed by the bulge into a narrower, bound flow. Instead of producing a torrent of flame, it produced a narrow stream. That stream buffeted against the channel Xander had formed in his mind at the same time the force Jettison the Broken Flame created pushed back against Xanders arm.
For a glorious, beautiful instant, Xander held a jet of flame above his palm.
It only lasted for a second. After that, the forces at work shattered Xander’s temporary channel, and the flame went from bound to free, shifting from a narrow jet to a wide blaze that winked out once it had consumed all the ardor. Dhomyn’s flame did the same, and Xander couldn’t tell which had broken first.
New Technique Unlocked! Jettison the Broken Flame (Novice Level)
The notification brought a smile to Xander’s face, and Master Rokyn clapped his hands together. “Excellent. See what you can accomplish together? I expect great things from both of you if you do.” He glanced at both their faces and his gaze hardened. “Or, I suppose, you could try to make this petty dislike into the kind of rivalry that drives you both to great heights. If you want to go that route, please make sure to file a formal rivalry declaration. Just understand I will not tolerate either of you engaging in petty competitions. Either formally declare rivalry, or work together.”
“Where do I file?” Dhomyn asked, and Xander sighed. It wasn’t surprising, and a formal rival would be beneficial in some ways. But still, he’d hoped to avoid that.
Master Rokyn’s face smoothed. “Delightful. I’ll take you myself - after class. Xander, will you be filing as well?”
“Of course,” Xander said. He had very little taste for it, but failing to respond in kind would result in lost face. It had been months since he’d last had to worry about that, but...now that he was in an Academy, Xander wouldn’t take that risk. Loss of face could mean teachers offering less help, and with only a month to tame a demon, Xander couldn’t afford that.
“Delightful. Simply delightful. Then resume your practice for now. I want you both able to maintain a five second jet by the end of class, or to have completely depleted your ardor reserves and need to start cycling. Nothing else will do.”
Xander nodded and started again.