Standing in the center of the room, Lanthim looked around to see the many other persons present. He had noticed before he entered the sparring room. The only two people in the room were his mother and Mynrea. All the rest were using some projection magic. It is an exciting form of magic requiring the user to have a link through mana between their location and where they would like the projection to appear.

Some individuals dressed themselves in long robes, others the dress nobles would wear, and most were in the former. As Lanthim looked at each group, he could tell they were from different academies. In the background, he saw a sigil behind each person that signified the academy they represented. Watching him like hawks, he could feel their questioning gazes. They had no idea why they had to view what many would call a farce, an uninteresting disturbance at any other time.

They had reasons to be here regardless of their feelings concerning the boy. For many, the words in a letter from Litralia Frenost held great weight. She had been a gifted witch since her youth. That time being many years gone now, few of the many academy headmistresses had even been born. Having played her role in the late Imperial unification wars, her position before she married Nedral was of the highest social standing. She was being outshined immensely only by the heads of the Five primary Witch Clans that held the overall social authority in the empire. With such influence, it was almost impossible for them to give up an opportunity to observe what happened next.

Mynrea's presence could have been more evident. Seeing as she never left the summit of the mountain. She was standing with Litralia against the far east wall of the room. The Sparing Room was moderately sized, with a height of about sixteen meters. Its dimensions were around 60 meters, an area built for melee combat. While it did allow for medium-range strikes, the confinement of the lower ceiling meant getting a height advantage over one's opponent was difficult.

By now, Lanthim had moved to an adjoining room, dressing into his training gear, Special clothing designed for intensive combat. At the same time, it comprised a two-piece set of shirts and pants with specifically created and designed magical sequences that would protect him as he trained. The primary and most advantageous sequence placed on them was a spell that completely negated any physical damage from causing him harm. While that is the case, it does not stop the damage caused by slamming one's head against walls. Fighting stone golems that there was no damage once they struck, but when your head is the last thing to hit the wall when you make contact, one learns to be more careful.

Meditating in this silent room, Lanthim began to concentrate the flow of his mana to his center, with the seal on his back still pulling constant amounts of purified mana into itself. He had access to less than the one-hundredth of its original amount. That being as it may, he did not slow his desire to learn and master magic; he could do many different things with the mana he had, and daily, he used it and improved himself. As he continued his meditation, he could sense three individuals were making their way to the sparring room.

'So it will be one of these three, is it I will have to fight?' {Lanthim}

Thought Lanthim to himself, he knew who they were. How could he not? They were the three who had watched over him for all these years.

Softly, there was a knock at the door.

"You may enter Milty." [Lanthim]

As the door opened, it was indeed Milty standing on the other side of the door. Her face bore a sad, almost depressing look to it.

"Young master, everything is prepared. Please return to the sparring room." [Milty]

Leaving the door open for him, Milty waited. Looking up at her, Lanthim could see his mother's plan. This maid did not like it in the slightest. Getting to his feet, all he could do now was find his opponent and defeat whoever it was. Hearing the door close behind, he felt that the safety that had been there was no more all; he felt now an unimaginable pressure coming from the sparring room.

As he turned the corner, he saw the reason why. The other two maids, Felyma and Reiflin, stood taking instructions from their mistresses. Felyma, dressed in her working uniform, stood Silently. However, she had something with her that Lanthim did not expect. A Regalia that he had never seen before, and to his credit, he had seen most that the servant witches had in the estate. Lanthim noticed the design looked like a glove with some gem on it. The gem is heavily condensed mana, shown with a bright blood-red hue, a devastatingly disturbing beauty. Reiflin, however, had no Regalia with her that Lanthim could see looking towards her. His first impression was that she was unlike the other two dressed in her uniform. She seemed to be dressed for combat action rather than work.

'Crap! Not the dragon even; if she is required to use a limiter to fight with me, she will still be on a whole other level.' {Lanthim}

Standing in the center of the room, Lanthim watched as the four women continued to talk among themselves. He could listen to what they were saying. However, other conversations in the room made doing so easier. Sweat forming on his brow. He did not want to get stuck having to fight Reiflin.

"So Reiflin, you understand what we require of you in this fight, correct?" [Mynrea]

Mynrea seemed pleased as she asked this question, looking over to Lanthim, standing alone.

"Yes, mistress, I will ascertain whether the young master has also developed regalia. I will draw out his combat potential from close-quarters combat with him."

Understanding her mission was shown in this answer; Mynrea nodded, eyes still on the boy.

'I understand that this child is special, but why would such a little thing like this draw my Mistress down from the mountain?' {Reiflin}

Thinking this to herself, Reiflin made her way towards the center of the room.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I will say this now, Reiflin. I had hoped that it would not be you I would fight." [Lanthim]

The little boy said as his opponent drew closer.

"Just a small demonstration for all these good headmistresses who have come today to see you, young one. Give a good show, and you will marry well when you are older."

Mynrea seemed more excited by seeing him fight than the rest, but that didn't matter now.

Both looked at each other briefly before settling into their respective stances. Evaluating the dragon maid opponent, Lanthim knew that his troubles began and ended with Reiflin's greater reach and height. Lanthim stood just short of Four feet Five inches. A foot shorter than his target and her age gave endless combat experience, more even than himself, who had a whole other life of thirty-seven years to fall back on.

Suddenly, Lanthim's brief moment of analysis ended. Reiflin's strike was not slow but to Lanthim. It seemed that she was intentionally giving him a handicap logically given. She did not wish to harm him while still getting the results she was required to get. The strike had been a jab towards Lanthim's lower abdomen from her right fist; the impact would be almost unavoidable. As her fist made its way, the boy's stance did not change like a stone. He presented himself for the strike. Then, at the moment before contact, a strange sensation filled Reiflin. Her feet had that instance come right off the ground, and she was almost twenty feet from her original position.

Looking back, she could not recollect what had happened in that instance. Thinking it over to herself, it made no sense. Yes, Lanthim could have deflected the strike, but to throw her this distance with so little effort. Preparing for another strike, Reiflin took up her stance again.

'I will up my speed a little more. I guess there might be more to this boy than I originally thought.' {Reiflin}

She thought to herself as she prepared for her next strike. However, it was Lanthim that struck first this time.

He had taken no stance and been in her sight before she understood what had happened.

'Did he just disappear?'

The strike came immediately after a thunderous, crushing kick to her left side sent her flying. This time, she was not stopping. Hitting the south wall with tremendous force, the impact on the flat surface causes large cracks. There was little pain that she could feel even though the blow was powerful. She had used body reinforcement magic just before being hit. Even with that, the distance that she had covered was astounding. She had thought that if he were able to land a strike on her, it would be something that would only be a slight irritant.

Lanthim stood alone in the center of the room. His previous attack had been successful. With distance now between him and Reiflin, he could take the time to purify more mana. Seeing the confusion on Reiflin's face after she hit the wall, Lanthim began to draw natural mana. In the previous attack, he had used almost all of his mana. He used an advanced movement spell to increase his speed. He also added a sequence that decreased his body's overall mass, increasing his overall speed. So when he struck, it seemed to her that he had disappeared in the end, though it would not have worked if she had not intentionally held back from the beginning.

'Okay, cats out of the bag, and I will likely be taking a big hit here.' {Lanthim}

Training his eye onto Reiflin, he settled himself. Her face looked calm, almost uninterested in what had happened. Reaching out with all his might, Lanthim could feel a difference in the mana she was emitting.

'Damn, incantation-less magic is a real pain.'

After thinking this to himself, Reiflin vanished from his sight. She was faster than he had been when he had launched his attack earlier. However, he would not allow himself to be defeated because he needed to prepare. Slowly feeling for changes in the way the natural mana reacts to beings that interact with it. He could sense her movements even though she moved faster than he could see. He was not moving from where he was quickly moving, his arms closer to his body. He would attempt to deflect the strike. Hopefully, he would have the timing right to land it perfectly.

From behind came Reiflin. The attack would land from above towards his left shoulder. Feeling the range, Lanthim pivoted right and low for this one moment. He used most of his mana again. However, he continued through the motion.

"Strike fear into my enemy's......Lyrinmos Tevila"

Lanthim, as he brought his strike into contact with his target on his right and left hands, formed the magical sequences or tattoos that constituted the regalia.

"He is far beyond any self-taught witch I have ever met." [Lanthim]

Spoke, Mynrea and Litralia watched as Lanthim landed his final strike.

"For a male who should not be able to manipulate mana, this combat level should not even be possible." [Mynrea]

Reiflin, this time, was not moved. However, she did look to have taken considerable damage.

"I think our friends for the academies have seen enough as well. It might be dangerous to allow them to continue." [Litralia]

Litralia spoke now, looking at the many personages that were watching. Many seemed to need words of what they were seeing. Some talked about his young age; others just watched in silence.

'Now, let's see if anything positive will come of this.' {Mynrea}

She thought to herself, still watching with a smile.