“I've recently started to teach Azcheron about the world. He is taking a keen interest in the legends and heroes of the continent, acting like the child he should be. Today I told him about the great men of our time. Of course, he very much enjoyed my telling of the great battles of Roharl the Dragon Slayer, or of the sorceress Karia leading armies against hordes of demons. I even told him about Oscar, though I really hope he'll never try to meet him. That guy has a bad reputation.

I'm not so arrogant that I'd try to include my own name among these famous ones, but I wanted to explain him the origins of my title. Strangely enough he didn't seem to believe or enjoy the tales of Anton, Lord of the Storm, as much as I hoped. It was awkward.

-Anton's diary, 2nd journey to the island”

* * *

Azcheron

It was around this time that Azcheron's notoriety regarding his peculiar status was eclipsed by the rumours of his talent as a mage – and it did not happen as he had planned.

Not that it mattered in the end. But it was an unexpected turn of event for him. Anton definitely was full of surprises. He was a calculating bastard of course, like Azcheron, but he was also a real friend.

Anton had arranged for a very special meeting. Three people were standing in the middle of one of the Academy's courtyard covered in snow.

Anton Vardt did nothing to hide the smirk on his face. Azcheron did nothing to hide the huge grin he was wearing either. Because the third person present was none other than Roharl, the Empire's greatest wizard.

Roharl, nicknamed the Dragon Slayer for obvious reasons, was also a professor at the Academy. He was in charge of an advanced course opened only to a handful of talented elite students – magical warfare and fighting.

It seemed he had easily agreed to meet Azcheron at Anton's request, as himself was, supposedly, also interested in the boy. After all, he had known Azcheron's mother years ago, when she came to the continent.

She had been Roharl's disciple, even if that was for a short time. She had told Azcheron about him, about his strength. Of course, now that he was finally facing him, there was one thing Azcheron wanted to do above all.

“So you're Ariama's kid, eh ? She and Anton told me about you. You became the Saint at seven, surpassing you mother and making Anton's mouth gaping.”

Roharl was a hairy, intimidating man with a bulky frame. He glared at Azcheron with his penetrating eyes, almost hidden under thick, frowning eyebrows and long black hair falling on his shoulder.

If I had not been told who he was, I would have though he was a gladiator or a barbarian...

“Don't look at the boy like that, I don't want you scaring him,” Anton jokingly said.

“That's my normal face, you old bastard.” Roharl didn't seem to care that he was almost as old as Anton, even if he didn't look like it.

He does appear scary, though. Let us not anger him unnecessarily.

“It's an immense pleasure to meet you, lord Roharl.”

“Oh, 'lord', you say. You're more polite than I thought. I expected a rude shout as a form of salutation, with you being a Rahal and whatnot.”

“I can do that if you want. I just figured that with the many enemies I plan on making, I'd rather avoid you being among them.”

“Hehehe. Alright then, show me that you're a proper Saint. My ears are ready.”

As Azcheron crossed his arms and took a deep breath, Anton was about to open his mouth, probably to voice an objection. But Azcheron didn't let him.

“GREETINGS, ROHARL THE DRAGON SLAYER ! I, AZCHERON THE RAHAL SAINT, CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL !”

If the few people in the immediate vicinity of the courtyard weren't caring for what was happening before, they were now.

“HAHAHA ! That's the spirit, kid ! Let's face off then, son of Ariama !”

Anton had an expression that seem to mean 'I expected this but I think now I regret it'. Azcheron's heart was racing, which was quite the rare occurrence. He was going to witness the might of Roharl, the mage, at first hand.

“I know I just made a grandiose claim but I'd still appreciate if we avoided killing each other.”

Roharl scratched his bearded chin. “Hmm, I see what you mean. Then should we agree on a few rules while we're at it ?”

“Yes. So, no lethal use of magic. A hit on the face or the torso means loss ?”

“Indeed. And, we should avoid destroying the Academy.” Roharl waved his hand toward the buildings.

Anton interjected. “Were you planning on casting magical bombardments or something ?”

“No time limit or restrictions on magic and movement, other than that ?” Azcheron inquired, ignoring the old professor.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I think it's fine like that. No killing each other or the onlookers, no destroying the place. The rest is up to us.”

“Anton, could you shoo away or at least ask these people to step back a bit ? Fifty meters should do.”

“Fif-?!... Urg, fine. Be careful, boys, I don't want to have a mess to clean up after that.”

I won't get to see his most famous magic, the Void Lance, but then if I did it would be the last thing I see. I'd have to be something like a dragon to hope survive such a thing. Then again... he does use that spell to kill them.

It was a spell that Azcheron couldn't comprehend. He did somehow understand the idea behind it – basically throwing vacuum at someone, whatever that meant – but he had no idea how it worked nor how one could cast it. Roharl apparently didn't use a chant for this spell, and so no one could hope to reproduce it without knowing its inner-workings.

Idiots believed it was some kind of wind magic, and non-idiots were losing sleep over the unfathomable nature of the spell.

Good thing he only fights dragons nowadays. Maybe he can't find a challenge worthy of himself anymore within the other races. But Roharl isn't the kind of magician that simply depends on raw magical strength and overpowered spells. I can't afford to joke around even if it's just a spar.

“Ready ?” the bulky mage asked.

Azcheron nodded. A second after, he couldn't see Roharl.

Illusion magic right off the bat ?

Glancing at the direction of the footprints in the thin layer of snow, he turned just in time to dodge a lightning bolt aimed at his face. No time to create a magical protection when you had no idea from what type of attack and from what direction you had to defend. Dodging was the best course of action most of the time.

As he was losing his balance, Azcheron quickly casted a small but very hot fireball toward the ground. Upon contact with the snow, it created a cloud of smoke and vapor that gave him enough time to steady his footing and immediately step aside. It all happened in an instant, and Azcheron knew that if he hadn't acted that fast, he would have lost.

Another lightning projectile flew out of the smoke, passing him by half a meter, confirming his thoughts.

Azcheron casted a series of magic missiles – just strong enough to knock his opponent away – while side stepping around the smokescreen. He couldn't really see Roharl anyway because checking the ground for footprints would take too long, so the smoke worked in his favour.

Roharl, as the experienced mage he was, must have understood that since he promptly created a small whirlwind to clear the cloud.

Azcheron could still not see him. Then suddenly the ground became slippery. The snow was now smooth solid ice and Azcheron had to slow down to avoid falling. As he prepared another fireball to melt the ice and grant him cover, he heard a buzzing sound coming from behind.

He instinctively dove and saw a volley of electric bolts flying above him. Someone screamed and there was a small thud. It must have hit one of the onlookers.

But he didn't have time to think about that. He glanced at the direction the bolts came from but as he expected Roharl was, again, nowhere to be seen.

How does he run around on this ice and not slip ?! Did he enchant his feet or something ?

Azcheron took a second to prepare his next magic. Fire erupted everywhere from under the ice, exploding and dissolving it and producing another, larger, cloud. He could have profited of the already frozen ground combined with a large ice spell to try and immobilize Roharl, but he would have been hindered the same way, and the fire spell had two positive consequences – melting the ice that stopped him from moving freely, and creating smoke that was an advantage almost only to him.

He then used magic to enhance his hearing. The sizzling of the melting became louder, but among the noise he could distinguish the faint sound of footsteps.

Coming from the left. Very close now. Then it stopped.

Azcheron jumped to the side as a enormous magic missile crashed on the spot he previously was.

Can he see me through the smoke ? Or hear me ? He was close when he casted that spell, at least.

Getting up and moving again, away from Roharl's supposed location, Azcheron casted a series of lightning arcs toward it, but made the trajectory into wide curve, as to fake his own location.

The smoke is still dense enough to hide me, so it's unlikely he saw from where I casted my spell... The lightning should have either hit or missed by now. If he still comes in my direction, it means he can hear me somehow even when I don't move.

As if answering his thoughts, Roharl spoke.

“I can hear your breathing and heartbeat, kid. Should have used sound magic to hide yourself, not to find me.”

Reflexively throwing a large magic missile where the voice came from, Azcheron immediately realized his mistake. He didn't have to wait for the smoke dissipate to know that Roharl was not in that direction.

From the side, a punch came.

The fist hit him in the face, blasting him away as if he was a rag doll.

“I win.”

Indeed. Had Roharl been using a weapon, or casted a lethal spell instead of punching him, Azcheron would have died.

“I should have known that a guy talking about sound magic and hiding would not reveal his location by speaking,” Azcheron said as he got up, massaging his cheek, although his whole body was hurting because of his spectacular fall.

The smoke was gone now, and he could see Roharl standing, arms crossed against his chest, a wide grin plastered on his bearded face.

“Hehehe. It's a neat ploy, eh ? I thought it'd be fun to do that since you tried to trick me the same way with your electric arcs.”

“I feel like I made a beginner mistake.”

“Nay. You acted on pure reflex, in the middle of a mind battle. Can't help it. I'm impressed you actually lasted this long. I understand now why your mother felt dejected when she compared herself to you, and she wasn't a weakling.”

As whispers and murmurs started to circulate among the mass of spectators – it seemed that the duel had attracted many curious people – Anton approached Azcheron and Roharl.

“So, what did you think of him ? I wasn't lying, was I ?”

“If anything I'd say you made me underestimate him. For a kid who supposedly knows nothing of the world, he has surprisingly good fighting instincts. He makes good use of his environment and takes quick and interesting decisions when faced with an imminent threat. He has the wits and skills necessary to use raw mana the right way.”

Azcheron kept silent. The taste of defeat stopped him from appreciating Roharl's praising assessment of the fight.

A punch. I was beaten in a magic fight with a damn punch.

And Roharl's punch packed power. His bulky body was not for show. Azcheron could guess that the man had elevated the art of fighting with magic by incorporating martial arts and weapon wielding.

In place of being a spellblade, a warrior using magic, he was more of a mage who would use physical force as a boon.

As the sounds of Anton and Roharl talking and the whispers of the spectators became background noise, Azcheron pondered on what he learned from this spar.

It was a good lesson. He still had a lot to do if he wanted to catch up to the Dragon Slayer. He had not expected that man to be smarter than him when it came to using raw mana and non-lethal magic in unconventional ways.

“Don't look so down, kid. We've got a lifetime of experience between us. And who knows, if it was a fight to the death without any restriction, it may have turned out differently.”

“Right. The fight would have lasted three seconds instead because I would have died immediately. I'd be overwhelmed by sheer magic power.”

“Hehehe. It takes at least that to slay dragons, trust me.”

I don't doubt it.

And so, Azcheron met and fought the Empire's strongest mage two weeks after arriving at the Academy.

The word would spread soon enough.