Aethyr, panting but standing strong, felt a surge of pride. He had done it—he had endured the impossible.

“What you’ve learned here will save your life,” Alious said. “The leech undead will use Soul Drain to strip you of your mana. But now, you know how to survive without it. Remember—your spirit is your true strength. Mana is a tool, but it’s not everything.”

After grueling psychic and mana-control training, Aethyr had hardened his mind, readying himself for the next stage. A weekend's rest barely rejuvenated him, but he braced for what lay ahead. This time, his teacher was none other than the master sorcerer himself, Grandyr. The legendary wielder of magic stood stoically before him, his expression like carved stone.

Aethyr’s eyes widened in disbelief, feeling the weight of his own apprehension. "Come. Stand there. Arm yourself,” Grandyr commanded, his voice as emotionless as steel.

“Uh… Master?” Aethyr hesitated, confusion clouding his thoughts. He hadn’t been prepared for combat training this soon.

Before he could fully process, a gigantic, blazing javelin materialized from nowhere, hurtling straight for him. Aethyr’s reflexes kicked in, and he narrowly dodged, the flaming spear disintegrating into a cloud of ashes as it missed him. Instantly, he sensed the palpable killing intent radiating from Grandyr. His mind sharpened; he had to stay calm and focus. I need to survive, he thought, panic turning into raw determination. Whatever this is, it's life or death.

Wasting no time, Aethyr channeled wind magic, lightening his body to enhance agility. The room around him roared with power, Grandyr’s conjurations producing amplified sounds that shook the very walls. In a swift, cutting motion, a shard of earth sliced through the air, aiming to decapitate him. Aethyr whipped his collapsible shield forward just in time, absorbing the blow, but before he could catch his breath, a torrent of water materialized, twisting and coiling into a massive sea serpent. With a powerful smack, the water serpent knocked him to the ground, pressing him down as waves threatened to drown him.

Aethyr struggled, thinking fast—water magic was notoriously difficult to counter. But he remembered the acetone vial he carried for cleaning equipment. Snatching it from his pouch, he dumped it into the serpent’s watery mass. The serpent twisted uncontrollably, dissolving as the liquid dispersed the spell’s essence. Grandyr’s eyes narrowed in acknowledgment, yet they remained hard, assessing Aethyr without a hint of mercy.

Regaining his stance, Aethyr realized he could only defend and adapt, trying to make sense of Grandyr’s lethal barrage. But Grandyr was far from done. With a flick of his fingers, he unleashed a spell that fractured reality. Aethyr’s vision blurred, pulling him into a comforting mirage where he was surrounded by friends, family, the warmth of simpler times. He fought against the illusion, the memory of nightmares pulling him back. With a growl of defiance, he broke free from the spell and cast a fortification charm, erecting a ward just in time to deflect a razor-sharp stone spear that Grandyr had launched. The spear struck the shield, but the impact hurled him backward, his body slamming hard against the chamber wall.

“Why, Master?” Aethyr shouted, breathless. “Why are you trying to kill me?”

Grandyr’s face betrayed nothing. “I am a devotee of the holy gods Aetherion, Tyralla, and Valdran—the trinity that governs humankind. You wear their names as your own, a desecration that dishonors them.” His voice echoed coldly. “To align with none is to align against all. The penalty is purging by death. Do not worry. Master Asphir will revive you—a new soul, free of the blasphemy.”

Aethyr’s heart pounded with indignation. “Faith is personal! Everyone is free to choose who to worship—it’s part of freedom!”

Grandyr’s gaze darkened, magic radiating from him with increased intensity. “The only freedom you’ll find is within the bounds of faith.” He raised his staff, signaling that he was far from finished.

If he wants a fight, I’ll give him one, Aethyr thought, steeling himself as his movements turned fluid and instinctual, his footwork light as he prepared to counter.

Master Grandyr released an eruption of earth and fire, transforming the chamber into a chaotic battlefield of scorching heat and relentless strikes. Aethyr weaved through the blasts, summoning his sword and engaging Grandyr in close combat. Their weapons clashed with a force that cracked the floor beneath them, and the chamber reverberated with every blow. Aethyr’s sword glowed with his mana-infused wind magic, each strike laced with bursts of sharp energy.

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Grandyr shifted forms seamlessly; his weapon dissolved from a staff to a spear, then morphed into a spiked shield that he used to bash Aethyr back, slamming him to the ground. Grandyr hurled the shield forward, its spikes elongated like talons. Aethyr parried just in time, thrusting his sword upward and deflecting the shield away, only for Grandyr to summon it back like a boomerang.

Grandyr countered with elemental mastery, conjuring boulders suspended in fire, earth fragments glistening with lethal sharpness. He hurled these forward, only for Aethyr to shatter each one with quick, precise slashes. Streams of ice formed, shooting forward like frozen spears, and Aethyr deflected them with his shield. But before he could recover, Grandyr manipulated water, shaping it into a tidal wave that surged across the floor. Aethyr braced himself, countering with wind magic to stay grounded as he sliced through the wave, but its force still sent him staggering.

Through relentless strikes, Aethyr was able to push Grandyr back, catching glimpses of the sorcerer’s look of grudging respect. With every blow, Aethyr’s resilience grew, his mastery of equilibrium magic allowing him to transfer strength and stamina as needed. His life force burned low, strengthening his arms and shoulders, amplifying his strikes to rival those of a minotaur. Potions replenished his mana reserves, ensuring he could continue.

For the first time, Grandyr appeared challenged, his movements forced into a defensive rhythm as he deflected Aethyr’s barrage of strikes, fire, and wind-laced attacks. Aethyr’s stamina and precision continued to rise, and his attacks grew in complexity, blending elemental magic and raw combat skill to press the master back. But Grandyr held his ground with sheer mastery, parrying each blow even as Aethyr's strikes forced him closer to the chamber’s edges.

To be continued...

After a fierce exchange, Aethyr's unyielding assault had forced Master Grandyr back, pinning the master against the training room’s wall. Aethyr's breathing was labored, his mind racing as he realized that Grandyr wouldn’t relent until Aethyr proved his resolve to stop him.

With a grim look, Grandyr raised his hands, summoning an ancient magic Aethyr had only read about in forbidden tomes. Shadows coalesced around him, twisting until they formed into the shape of a towering, hooded figure—a manifestation of Death Bringer, an entity feared even by the most seasoned sorcerers. The dark giant hovered ominously, tendrils of shadow swirling around it as it locked onto Aethyr. With a simple gesture, it cast Soul Trap.

Instantly, Aethyr felt his life force drain away. He gasped, a sharp pain tearing through his chest as blood trickled from his mouth. His body turned icy, his vision blurred, and the world spun around him. Desperately, he glanced at his status, his heart sinking as he saw his health, mana, stamina, and strength all reduced to one. Only his agility and dexterity remained high—3000 each.

Think, Aethyr, think. He pushed through the pain, mentally grasping for a solution. His mind flickered back to the equilibrium spell, Alternation, a technique designed for balance. But this time, he would use it to hack his own stats, redistributing agility and dexterity to replenish his mana, stamina, and strength. Focusing through the haze, he twisted the spell, manipulating it like clockwork, turning invisible gears and recalibrating each stat with pinpoint precision, channeling agility and dexterity back into his depleted reserves. With every rotation of the spell, his vitality returned bit by bit until he felt strength surge back through his limbs.

When he finally staggered to his feet, a flash of shock crossed Grandyr’s face. The master had believed him defeated. But Aethyr was far from finished.

Raising his arms, Aethyr channeled every ounce of his restored mana into a spell he’d never attempted at full power. The room crackled as his energy called forth a titanic storm, lightning flickering through the air. With a roar, he unleashed a torrent of electricity, summoning the most potent lightning spell he’d ever cast. The blinding bolt tore through the room, exploding against Grandyr’s defenses, scattering shards of the master’s protective barrier like splinters. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the walls, leaving massive cracks in the supposedly indestructible stone, each one bursting outward from the center of the blast.

Grandyr shielded himself with a spell of his own, but even his formidable defenses buckled under the force. The searing lightning scorched his robes and burned deep marks onto his hands, singeing his flesh and leaving a faint but undeniable scar.

Aethyr fell to his knees, exhausted, his breath ragged as he looked up to see his master standing, robes charred, his face impassive yet marked with a glimmer of something new: respect.

Grandyr’s gaze softened ever so slightly, and he inclined his head. "Congratulations, Aethyr. You have resolved the conflict within yourself. In choosing to fight for what is right, even at the cost of all else, you have earned my acknowledgment." He extended a hand, lifting Aethyr to his feet. “Aethyrvald Spellsword Whitemane, you are henceforth recognized as one of the strongest wizards of our order.”