Oh shit.

Normally, when somebody catches you staring at them, you look away. Look away and pretend to just be staring your way across the room. It’s shameful and no one will buy that, but that’s what generations and generations of peepers have learned as the ultimate technique. But here’s the thing. When you try and do it with an elf?

It just doesn’t work.

Michael did move his eyesight away and focused back on the centaur, on the last students to enter the classroom, on Micah and so on. Yet each time his eyes passed near her general area, he could see out of the corner of his eye that she was still staring at him.

“Hey, Michael? That elf’s staring at you.”

“Mhm. Seems to be a general elven feature by this point.”

Micah laughed, but Michael himself didn’t feel all that amused. It was the grin that the elf sent his way which unsettled him. It wasn’t malicious, but it wasn’t amused either. It was the same grin Michael wore on his face when he played one of his games and he finally got to a boss fight.

“Settle down. Stop murmuring. I said |Attention|!” the centaur shouted.

Instantly, Michael’s eyes snapped to the centaur, his entire body going stiff.

“My name is Battle Professor Nahlil. You are now in what the Gnosis Academy calls ‘Magical Combat Primer’ class. I call my class Battle Magic. And so will you! This is my assistant, Erea. She is an upper year student and will be helping me in teaching you because she is exceptional. And at the end of this year so will you! Or I will make sure that you do not pass on to your second year.”

Michael gulped, but Nahlil’s Skill forced him to look at the elf again. This time she was looking on at the crowd, smiling serenely, not a hint of teeth. She was absurdly pretty, his first impression being correct. Tall, as tall as him almost. Blonde, but with a conspicuous lack of intricate hairwork, like he had seen on most other elves. Only Regitris had free flowing hair, but he compensated with his beard.

Her eyes were something between violet and dark purple. And the weirdest thing, she wasn’t wearing robes. She was wearing a type of leather armor, form fitting, showing off her lithe figure. Michael was starting to think that no one who Nahlil thought of as exceptional preferred form over function.

It was at the end of Nahlil’s speech, right before he felt his eyes being forced to move back to the centaur, when Erea looked at him again, a hint of her grin starting to reappear.

Is this about me being recruited? Or have I pissed her off somehow?

…she’s not Regitris’s niece or something, right?

“Now, I believe in demonstration over mindlessly repeating the same information. A hint of the practicality of what you’ll learn will be a better motivator than any words I could speak to you. And I’m no |Orator|.”

A few laughs here or there, though most students were too frightened of the booming centaur to express any real feelings.

“Who among you know any Spells? Attack Spells, that is.”

Michael thought on what Micah said and kept his hand down. Better to play this close to the chest.

“Oh, don’t give me that!” Nahlil snapped. “You’re all too low-Level to hide anything worth of any real value. |Mass Spell: Truth|. Who among you has any attack Spells?!”

This time a number of hands came up. No more than a dozen, but the centaur looked pleased. He had them speak their Spells out loud, which Michael did appreciate. At least this way they all lost that secret to all others, instead of the professor keeping all thar information to himself.

He didn’t hear too many impressing Spells out there. A lot of |Bolts|, a few |Darts| and very few variants. That is until someone with skin like rock had their turn and graveled.

“|Stone Arrow|”.

Lahlil whistled. As far as Michel understood it, an |Arrow| Spell was generally as superior to a |Dart| Spell, as a |Dart| Spell was superior to |Bolt| one, though of course there were loads of other details to consider. And to have an elemental version of that spell…

“What Level are you?” the professor asked.

The student struggled, but eventually ground out.

“Low-Level, Battle Professor.”

Hacking out a laugh, the centaur continued.

“Good, good. You’ve got spirit. Seen some fighting, have you?”

“Yes, Battle Professor.”

Nodding, he turned to the elf.

“Very well. Erea, take your pick.” He said, before turning back towards them. “This is my demonstration. My assistant will fight a magical battle against one of you of her choosing. The fight will be real. Healing Potions, Mana Potions, Stamina Potions, you get none of those. I will stop the fight, if I deem it has gone on long enough. If you stop, Erea will keep on attacking. So, don’t!”

He crossed his arms and fixed them with a hard stare.

“Make no mistake. This has a purpose. You will see a real fight, under controlled conditions. I will commentate both while the fight is happening and after. You are new, you are green and this is one of the very few ways you all could use to hone your instincts. Learning Spells is useless if you don’t know when and how to use them. Oh, and if whoever gets picked manages to not get knocked out until the end of it, I’ll give you a wand or something.” He added, almost as an afterthought.

He saw everybody straighten up at that, even Micah looking hungrily at the podium.

Wands are good. Noted.

“Erea, take your pick.”

“Michael.” She said, not even pretending to think about it.

You’re kidding… even her voice is song like.

Nahlil startled somewhat, clearly expecting a different decision. He fixed her with an inquisitive gaze, but finally snorted.

“Fine. You, lad. Come here.”

Michael stood up and walked in front of the centaur. Nahlil himself positioned him so that he stood face to face with the elf. To his left Micah and the others were watching.

“This fight will last however long I wish it to last.” Nahlil boomed. “So don’t drag it out. That being said, this is a lecture, not an exhibition match. The sooner you both show what I mean the others to see, the sooner this fight ends. Now. |Barrier of the Arena|. |Mass Spell: Selective Hearing|. |Area Spell: Mana-Rich Environment|.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Erea stopped staring at Michael after hearing that last spell and frowned instead at Nahlil, who just grinned and shrugged.

Oh, how I wish I could understand all the subtext at play here.

“Ready!” Nahlil shouted.

Wait, what? I don’t even have a plan!

“Three, two, one…”

Shit, think, shit!

“…Begin!”

He didn’t even have time to think as he dove to the ground. His hands were over his head, looking to block out any Spell fire. Yet… nothing came.

“Newbies always do that.” Erea laughed happily. “Wait until after I’ve attacked to dodge, alright? Like this. |Light Arrow Swarm|.”

Michael tried using his Barrier spell, but when it got hit, it shattered like glass.

“Oh, a |Barrier| Spell. Yeah, don’t bother. Not unless you know a better variant. Now, again. |Light Arrow Swarm|.”

A spray of luminescent arrows attacked Michael, but he found out that they were actually weaker than Regitris’ |Bolts|. It seemed that the caster had as much say in the power of the attack as the Spell itself. He still got tagged pretty roughly, the arrows not outright impaling him, but certainly scoring a few wounds.

“Argh! I think Nahlil’s going to be pretty mad if this show ends in just a few seconds!”

“Eh, he’ll stop me when he doesn’t see what he likes. Now, less talking, more taking a beating. |Earth Dart|. |Earth Dart|. No, not that way. |Water Wall|. |Fire Dart|. Hah! You’re supposed to dodge those!” she laughed.

Michael, now sporting a busted lip and a burned calf, was glaring daggers at her. A quick look told him that Nahlil was busy pontificating to the students though he couldn’t hear him or them.

“Look, have I done something to offend you? Or… is this about Regitris?”

“Why… would it be about Regitris?” she asked, actually sounding surprised.

“I don’t know. Why else would you come at me like this?”

“Like this? Oh, you think I’m being mean now?” she grinned. “Well then, allow me to rectify that. |Haste|. |Earth Armor|. |Flash|!”

A sudden bursting light made his vision go away and by the time he got it back, the first punch hit him in the jaw. He didn’t black out and even managed to remain on his feet, but then the second hit him in the stomach, followed by what felt like a kick to the sides.

He opened his eyes and saw her, sitting not even three feet away from him, rearing back for another punch. Now, Michael might not have been much of a fighter, but he played enough fighting games that even he could see her guard was sloppy, arm too low and to the side.

Fine. You want it to be a fight, it’s a fight.

He shot forward, one arm already raised to block the incoming punch and socketed her in the nose. Or at least… tried too. He saw her eyes open in disbelief, but at the very last second, she leaned back, under his punch and shouted.

“|Stone Orb|”

Something that felt like a wrecking ball hit him in the stomach and blasted him away, landing him on his back. For a few seconds, all he could do was struggle to breathe and try not to throw up.

“Too harsh, Erea.” Nahlil’s voice sounded.

“Noted. Sorry.”

Michael got up and saw the elf staring at him, with just a little bit of guilt.

“Nice move. Then again, if you can’t take a boulder to the chest, why do it in the first place?” she grinned, though her grin was less wide this time around.

She had a layer of packed dirt encompassing the better part of her body, looking like a half-elf, half-golem.

But she’s fast, even with the extra weight. Too fast.

“Be honest with me.” Michael said. “Would my Spell even pass through that armor?”

“I mean… maybe. Guess we’ll never know.” She smiled, teasing.

Busted lip, burned leg and a couple of broken ribs. The list kept getting longer and longer.

Fine.

“|Flame Bolt|.” He shouted, as he dashed forward.

She dodged it easily, but the second Spell was on the trail of the first.

“|Flame Bolt|, |Flame Bolt|, |Flame Bolt|.”

He was getting tired. But his Skill told him that there was mana all round him. If he could just take it.

“|Flame Bolt|.” He shouted, finally reaching punching distance, only for Erea to dash backwards. “|Flame Bolt|!”

He was casting continuously, no giving her time to return fire. After all, if you speak, then you could breathe and the elf needed all the breaths she had to dodge out of the way of Michael’s uninterrupted stream of attacks. Between Spells he even noticed that the elf’s earth armor was not covering her entirely. Not anymore. Now her hair was beginning to be left out.

Come on. Just a little more. Don’t give out now.

His Mana Pool was protesting, but he just had to take one more step. She almost had her back to the wall. No more space to run. If only he could take the mana drifting all around him.

“|Flame Bolt|.” He shouted, a small flicker of flame manifesting in front of his hand.

“|Flame Bolt|!” he shouted again, but this time, nothing came.

“Ha. You know, I think my armor could have held out against a few more of those. Long enough for me to knock you out, anyway.” Erea said, face becoming visible again. “But you know, why risk it? Now, I think it’s time for-“

“Oh, come on!” Michael shouted.

The elf stopped her speech, looking surprised at being interrupted.

“Just work you stupid… ARGH! I can feel it all around me, I can have it, I just… just… just work!” he shouted and felt something inside himself crack.

|Class Level Raised: Mage|

|Class Level: 5|

|New Skill: Lesser Mana Absorption|

Michael’s eyes snapped open. For a second, he was fearful of her hearing that. He could feel his Mana Pool replenishing itself from all the mana around him, magical energy pouring into him. And as long as he stood in this room, it would keep pouring. Sure, the elf had the same advantage. But she liked to gloat, it seems. And all he had to do was never stop.

The next few moments happened as if he was in a haze. He laughed and cast, as if he was in a dream. Spell after Spell after Spell he shot out, faster than the elf could dodge. After the first few Spells hit her armor and made it harden, she lost her speed. Erea tried losing it, getting out of her armor, but Michael laughingly cast more bolts, frying what exposed pieces of Skin he saw.

His eyes felt wet and he tasted iron, but still he advanced. All this magic, casting this quickly, it was exhilarating.

He heard shouts from her, a commanding voice speaking out. He didn’t know how it happened, but he found himself standing on top of her, his feet pinning her arms to the side, while the elf was on her back. Her armor had completely solidified, cracked open in many places. Her face had singe marks.

She was furious, but also… afraid? She was shouting at him, but he couldn’t hear her. His heartbeat was pounding on his eardrums to loudly for him to hear anything else.

He felt the field of mana around himself disappear, but that was ok. He still had his reserves. He could still end her.

Wait… end her?

Why was he thinking that? Why… oh wow. He really… did a number on her. He remembered fragmented pieces of information. He remembered how good it felt to cast that much magic, how good it felt to watch his magic… burn.

Right. Another detrimental magical effect discovered. Mindfuckery. Great.

“Get off of me! You think that just because you made that big splash at the testing, you’re all that? I’m a real battle mage! You just got lucky! Then and now.” She yelled upwards at him.

“…was that what all this was about?” he heard himself asking.

“’All this’? ‘All this’? Fuck you! You’re just a lucky idiot, there are others here who trained for years and don’t get as much attention as you do. You… you…”

She stopped as she saw him aim both his hand directly at her exposed face. One thing was for sure. She was the most temperamental elf he had ever met.

“You are going to surrender.” Michel said, knowing that there was no way of beating her now, not if she managed to get back up.

“Me? Surrender to you? You’re mad and stupid.”

Maybe, but I at least pay attention.

And while his first fight with an elf had been more of an exercise in futility, he did walk away from that having learned something.

“You’re going to surrender because you’re not the first elf I’ve met. And the first one taught me something. Taught me how to cast Spells far above my Level, far above Nahlil’s Level.”

“Bullshit.” She spat out, but there was fear in her eyes.

“No? Then watch this. I will enunciate very, very slowly. Just so that you have time to give up before I make a hole where your head used to be. Or do you think Regitris picked me without good reason?” he smiled, as maliciously as he could. “Don’t bother using Defensive Spells. They’re useless against this. Listen closely to your demise. Greater Light Lan-“

“I give up! Stop!” she shrieked, eyes wide and struggling to get away from him.

Michael smiled, nodded and walked away from her, while she reapplied her armor in haste as well as a couple more shielding Spells. But that’s the thing. The lesson he learned from Regitris?

Shouting out a Spell doesn’t mean using it.

He noticed that the wider barrier Spell was down, as was the one silencing the students. Nahlil himself looked at him with a curious expression, both disapproving and amused.

“So…” he eloquently started. “You mentioned that if I ended the fight without getting knocked out, I’d get a wand. What do I get if I win?”

A moment of silence followed his question, before Micah started to laugh and the other students erupted in either laughter of their own or cheers.

|Spell Received: Flame Dart|