Some weeks passed, and true to my word, I settled back into the peaceful monotony of retirement—or so I thought. Sherry had left me alone for a blessedly long stretch, and I began to believe that perhaps she really had accepted my decision.

That illusion was shattered one sunny afternoon when she appeared at my front door with a familiar look of mischief in her eyes. She didn’t even bother knocking, simply waltzed in as if she owned the place, setting off the alarms of my ward.

“Dad,” she began, her tone saccharine sweet, which immediately set off my internal alarms. “I’ve got great news!”

“Sherry, unless that ‘great news’ involves you finding a way to keep intruders out of my ward, I’m not interested.”

“Don’t be so grumpy,” she chided. “You’ll love this. Remember the Problematic Class?”

“Hard to forget,” I muttered. “They’ve only just stopped haunting my dreams.”

“Well,” she continued, ignoring my sarcasm, “they’ve been doing spectacularly since you worked your magic on them. Their performance in practical exams has been top-tier, and their teamwork is miles ahead of what it was. Even the other instructors are impressed.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because,” she said, drawing out the word, “they’ve been selected to represent the academy in the Grand Inter-Academy Tournament!”

I blinked. “The tournament? Sherry, that’s for advanced students and top-tier mages. Those kids barely managed to stop setting themselves on fire two months ago.”

“And now they’re contenders,” she said, grinning. “They’ve improved a lot, Dad. And they owe it all to you.”

I felt a hint of pride, quickly smothered by suspicion. “Alright, out with it. What do you want this time?”

She pouted. “Why do you always assume I want something?”

“Because you always do.”

“Fair,” she conceded. “Okay, fine. The truth is... they need a coach.”

I stared at her, my expression blank. “No.”

“Dad—”

“No.”

“Think about it—”

“I said no.”

She crossed her arms, giving me a hard look. “You’re the only one who knows how to handle them. The tournament is a big deal, and they’re representing the academy you built. Don’t you want to see them succeed?”

“Sherry, I’m retired,” I said firmly. “Coaching a group of overeager teenagers to survive against the best mages their age isn’t exactly restful.”

“It’s just a few weeks,” she pressed. “And you’ll get to travel. The tournament is being held in Starhaven this year. You always said you wanted to visit.”

“Starhaven, huh?” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You really came prepared for this argument, didn’t you?”

She grinned, knowing she’d gained ground. “Come on, Dad. They need you. And admit it—you miss the thrill of it all.”

I sighed, running a hand through my graying hair. She wasn’t entirely wrong. The thought of coaching those kids through the tournament was tempting. Still, I wasn’t about to let her win that easily.

“I’ll think about it,” I said at last.

“That’s all I ask,” she said, standing and planting a quick kiss on my cheek. “You won’t regret it, Dad.”

She left before I could change my mind, and I found myself staring out the window, contemplating her words. The Problematic Class had come a long way, and I couldn’t deny that I felt a certain responsibility for their continued growth.

Still, the idea of getting involved in a tournament of that scale? It was madness.

But then again, madness was a specialty of mine.

Despite my better judgment, I found myself at the academy the very next day. Sherry greeted me with a smug smile, as if she’d known all along I would come. It was infuriating how easily I let her manipulate me.

“Don’t look so grumpy, Dad,” she teased, leading me to the training grounds where the Problematic Class—my little protégés—were already assembled. “This’ll be fun!”

“I highly doubt that,” I grumbled, while following her.

The training grounds were bustling with activity. Spells zipped through the air, wards shimmered, and a few unlucky students were receiving first aid from one of the academy healer. In one corner, the No longer-Problematic Class was huddled together, looking nervous and out of place among the other classes.

“Hello everyone!” Sherry called as we approached. The group turned to face us, their expressions lighting up when they saw me.

“Professor Aldric!” Jace exclaimed, his cocky grin as familiar as ever. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

“I’m only here because your headmistress threatened me with starvation,” I replied dryly. “Now, let’s see what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourselves into.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Mess?” piped up Aaron. “We’ve been practicing!”

“And how many times have you blown something up?” I countered.

He blushed. “...Twice. Maybe three times.”

I sighed. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

They began with a demonstration of their progress, which was better than I’d expected. Jace led the charge with a perfectly executed lightning-bolt, followed by earthly defensive wards from Mira and coordinated elemental attacks from the others. It was rough around the edges, but there was potential.

“Not bad,” I said once they’d finished. “But not good enough to win a tournament. You’re sloppy, your coordination needs work, and your mana efficiency is abysmal.”

They all winced, but no one argued.

“Don’t worry,” I added. “You’ve got me now. I will train you thoroughly.”

....

Training began in earnest the following day. I quickly discovered that while they had improved, their old habits weren’t entirely gone. The twins, Aaron and Elaine, couldn’t stop bickering long enough to sync their fire and wind spells. I decided to train all of them on teamwork.

“Enough!” I barked after a particularly disastrous sparring session. “If you’re going to act like a group of amateurs, we might as well forfeit now.”

They looked at me, chastened but determined.

“Teamwork isn’t just about covering for each other’s mistakes,” I said. “It’s about trusting each other’s strengths. You’re not here to show off; you’re here to win. And if you don’t figure that out soon, you’ll embarrass yourselves—and this academy.”

They gave me sheepish smiles.

“Today we will learn who to combine your strengths to overwhelm your opponents. We’re focusing on elemental combination.”

Elaine raised a hand. “You mean, like... Aaron and me combining fire and wind?”

“Exactly,” I replied, pointing at her. “But it’s not just about throwing spells together and hoping for the best. Combination requires timing, precision, and—” I shot a pointed look at Aaron and Elaine. “—getting along.”

Aaron scoffed, folding his arms. “I can handle it if she doesn’t blow my fire out like last time.”

Elaine rolled her eyes. “Maybe if your fire wasn’t so wimpy—”

“Enough!” I snapped, cutting off their bickering. “You’re partners, not enemies. Get into position.”

The twins moved to the center of the field. Aaron conjured a ball of fire, its edges crackling with untamed energy. Elaine countered with a swirl of wind, her movements graceful as she shaped the current around her.

“Now,” I instructed, “merge them. Elaine, contain the fire. Aaron, match her rhythm.”

Aaron flung the fireball into Elaine’s wind. The result was an immediate disaster—a sudden explosion that sent both of them on their asses. The rest of the class ducked for cover, coughing as smoke filled the air.

“Brilliant,” I said dryly, stepping through the haze. “If the goal was to create chaos, you’ve mastered it.”

Aaron groaned, sitting up. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“Of course it is,” I said, helping him to his feet. “This isn’t supposed to be easy. Try again. And this time, communicate. Talk to each other before you start throwing mana around.”

The twins exchanged a reluctant glance, then nodded. This time, as Aaron ignited his fire, Elaine whispered, “Lower the heat a bit—I need something stable.”

Aaron adjusted the flame, and Elaine carefully wrapped it in her wind. Slowly, the fireball began to spin, growing into a swirling orb of fire and air.

“Good,” I said, nodding. “Now launch it at the target.”

With a combined effort, they sent the orb hurtling toward a dummy at the far end of the field. The explosion was controlled, the target reduced to ash.

“Finally,” Aaron muttered, wiping his brow.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” I said. “Do it ten more times without messing up.”

Their groans were music to my ears.

Meanwhile, Jace and Mira managed to combine their spells flawlessly on their second try.

“You two know the drill,” I said, gesturing toward a reinforced training dummy. “Let’s see if you can coordinate without blowing yourselves up.”

“Piece of cake,” Jace said, his trademark smirk firmly in place.

Mira glanced at him, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know… What if I mess up?”

“You won’t,” Jace said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “You’ve got this, Mira. Just do your thing.”

She bit her lip, nodding slowly. “Alright. I’ll try.”

I suppressed a sigh but didn’t intervene. If Jace’s encouragement kept her from overthinking, so be it.

“Focus,” I said, pulling their attention back to the task.

Jace fired a bolt of lightning toward Mira’s earth pillar. For a split second, she froze, but then she inhaled deeply, her hands moving with fluid precision. The stone reshaped itself, carving grooves to channel the electricity. The lightning raced along the pathways, charging the stone with energy before striking the dummy dead center.

The resulting explosion was controlled but devastating, reducing the dummy to a pile of ash and debris.

Mira blinked, surprised at the success. “Did… Did it work?”

Jace laughed, clapping her on the back. “Worked? Mira, that was perfect! You’re a natural.”

Her cheeks turned pink, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks, Jace. But… it could’ve been better. The grooves weren’t evenly spaced.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Jace said, grinning. “We’ll get it even better next time. You’ve already nailed the hard part.”

I stepped in, arms crossed. “It was a strong first attempt, but Mira’s right—there’s room for improvement. Jace, you’re putting too much power into your lightning. Mira’s stonework does half the job for you, so adjust your output.”

Jace nodded. “Got it. Mira, ready for round two?”

She hesitated, glancing between him and the scorched training dummy. Then, emboldened by his enthusiasm, she gave a determined nod. “Let’s do it.”

The pair repeated the maneuver, refining their technique with each attempt. By the fifth try, their combination attack was not only precise but also significantly less taxing on their mana reserves.

“Now we’re talking,” I said, nodding in approval. “You’re making progress. Keep this up, and you might actually stand a chance.”

Aaron, watching from the sidelines, muttered, “Show-offs.”

Elaine elbowed him, smirking. “Maybe if you didn’t argue with me so much, we could be show-offs too.”

Aaron scowled but didn’t respond, his competitive streak clearly ignited.

For the next several hours, I kept them at it. Again and again, they practiced controlling their magic, combining it seamlessly, and making sure that the fire and wind were more than just raw power. They had to think strategically, anticipate the results, and adjust on the fly.

By the end of the day, both Aaron and Elaine were exhausted. Their faces were flushed, their clothes singed from minor burns. But they had made noticeable progress.

I walked over to them, arms crossed, studying their results. The final fireball they conjured was more controlled, precise, and powerful than the first. Their movements were synchronized—no bickering, no clashing.

“Good work. This is what teamwork actually looks like,” I said, giving them a nod of approval.

Elaine wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and grinned. “I guess we made some progress.”

Aaron chuckled, wiping his hand over his face. “Yeah, we did. High-five?”

Elaine blinked in surprise, then smirked. “Don’t push your luck,” she said, but she raised her hand anyway. Their palms met in a tentative high-five, a rare moment of camaraderie between the two.

“See?” I said, folding my arms. “You don’t always have to be at each other’s throats to get results.”

Aaron grinned. “Don’t get used to it, Professor. It’s just today.”

Elaine rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

“You’ve learned to read each other’s signals, adjust on the fly. But there’s still one thing you need to work on.” I added.

“What’s that?” Elaine asked, cocking her head.

“Your timing,” I replied. “You’re both strong. Very strong. But if you don’t time your spells perfectly, even the most powerful combination can fall apart. You need to build a rhythm.”