Two more days passed before my wounds healed enough to test my third and likely final spell. I stood in the center of my cave, shaking out both hands and stretching my legs as I felt for any tightness, sore spots, or even the slightest hint of injury. When nothing protested too much, I relaxed and focused on my third and final spell.

Defeating Flynn required me to close the gap, catch him off-balance, and keep him there. As Master Barlow had once said, "A panicked mage is a dead mage," or, in my case, a defeated one. A mobility spell would do everything I needed. Fortunately, I did not need to make one from scratch.

Unfortunately, it was also near-unusable crap, but small steps.

Of my magic, my mobility spell was the sloppiest. I had cast it only once, and it had saved my life, but that did not make it any less of a crude, unreliable trick. I needed to refine that crude thing into something usable, and I would need to do it in just two days.

I reached into my core and pulled a thin stream down both legs and into my feet. The sensation reminded me of learning to write with my off-hand but remained painless.

When my mana settled into place, I held it momentarily before pushing it out as a single, flowing wave. There was a green glow accompanied by a lifting sensation, but both faded after only a second. My feet remained firmly on the ground, and I was left in the same place as I started.

"Hmm," I glanced down and picked up one foot, checking for any changes. When I confirmed the spell had done nothing beyond expending a portion of my reserves, I shrugged and tried again.

For my second attempt, I used more mana and put more force into the "push." The lifting sensation felt stronger and lasted a moment longer, but I remained unmoved. My third and fourth attempts went similarly, and my fifth, sixth, and seventh earned only marginal improvements.

Four hours passed as I tried dozens of variations and permutations. I experimented with mana volume, force, timing, and the angle of my feet. I used short, powerful bursts and long, steady streams. Each produced only tiny changes, and the sum total of my efforts was a brief two-inch "jump" in exchange for about a tenth of my core with each casting.

I would call it progress, but lying to myself seemed a dangerous habit. Much better to make actual progress.

With my core too drained for another attempt, I sat on my bedroll and sighed, rubbing my eyes as I considered the problem. My spell was effectively force magic, the formal name for telekinesis. I was using mana to push myself, which was always a question of power first and foremost. Sure, skill mattered, but at the end of the day, you needed sheer magical muscle in spades. If I had not cast the spell once, I might assume that was my problem.

But I had cast the spell once, and that was with less raw power at my disposal. The flaw was in my execution, not the concept or my mana.

I pulled out a notebook and flipped to the pages where I had copied the basics of varying categories of spellcraft. While I had not planned to make a mobility spell for months, I had already done basic research. There may have been something I had missed that might hold the solution.

Different elements bolstered mobility in unique ways. Earth mages could manipulate dirt and rock, sliding along the ground or gathering it to launch themselves. Water mages manipulated underwater currents to pull or push themselves at high speeds. Fire mages had to use massive bursts to throw themselves about, and lightning mages had no dedicated mobility spells, save for the notable exception of Archmagus Torros.

I thumbed through several pages before finding my entry on wind magic. It was the most detailed of them all, as I had intended to pass along what I uncovered to Leon, and I found myself reading closer.

Wind mobility spells used air currents and pressure to push and pull a mage through the air. One basic spell used a highly compressed blast to propel the caster, letting them jump a dozen feet or more.

That struck a chord, and I remembered my fight in the forest. My first casting had not been a steady, flowing stream or current. No, it was a sudden, explosive push. I had held the mana in place, waiting until the last possible moment, but that compression may have been the trick.

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I forced myself to sit still and refill my core completely rather than jump up the moment I had enough mana. If I was right, I wanted to cast it several times and refine it while it remained fresh in my mind, not wait ten minutes and lose that momentum.

Finally, I was ready. Like before, I stood and pulled mana down to my feet, gathering it in a single mass. But instead of pushing, I held and compressed it, forcing as much as possible.

Soon, I felt the first hints of strain, not on my channels but on my mind. Though my will had been reforged, and I had practiced controlling my Aether in such a way, neither was iron-clad. Yet.

When the first thin wisps of Aether slipped through my grasp, I relaxed and let the energy explode out.

A bright green flash filled the cave, accompanied by a loud whomp. Wind shot past my face as I leaped a half-dozen feet straight up. There was a sensation of weightlessness, my breath caught, and I almost wanted to cheer as I reached the peak of my sudden jump.

Then, gravity reasserted itself, and I fell back to the cave floor.

I stumbled, nearly fell, and caught my balance before straightening up. The entire jump had moved me almost a dozen feet from my starting position, faster than I could ever manage at a full sprint. It also took five seconds and a tenth of my total reserves, but both problems felt workable.

Despite that, I could not help but smile as I resettled into my starting position and prepared to cast the spell again.

When my core ran dry again, I returned to the mining camp and started my search for any guards. There was one last thing I had put off for as long as possible, waiting until I had healed enough.

I did not expect to become a master of shield combat in just two days, but I could at least gain some familiarity. A tool without training was less of an advantage and more of a weight around one's ankle. Moreover, I had not exercised in over a week, and Sigmund would have my head if he suspected me of laziness.

The mine's guards were not trained experts, but they practiced at least somewhat regularly. I found a group of four eating lunch, and it took me just a few seconds and a handful of silver coins to convince them their time was better spent elsewhere.

Soon, I was holding up my shield and spear, moving through basic blocks and steps with more clumsiness than I had in months. The weight on my arm was unfamiliar, pulling my strikes and movements off just a hair, but it revealed several interesting nuances that had been lost on me until now.

I had always considered shields as armor and nothing else. They were tools to block arrows, sword strikes, and the like, and nothing else. The guards, however, noted that they were just as much a weapon.

"No one's eager t' keep swingin' with a broken nose," one of them commented as he mimed a shield bash.

I committed their words to memory and practiced with as much precision as possible, but ultimately, the exercise was for one goal. I planned to use the shield and protect one, maybe two charges. I would consider the training time well spent as long as it accomplished that goal.

As demanding as my training was and as little as I rested that week, the results spoke for themselves. Nearly every aspect of my magic had noticeably jumped forward. I could cast my mobility spell, which I tentatively named Force Step, in around two seconds. My armor was growing stronger and more efficient by the day.

Offensively, I had what I called a "Mana Edge" enchantment. It had grown more refined with each iteration and could slice through stone, though I had used nearly all of my enchanting materials for the effort. The downside was that a spear lasted about fifteen seconds before breaking, but that was why I would carry three into my duel.

Lastly, every aspect of my mana, from control and reserves to sensory abilities, felt more advanced. I had practiced the last as much as possible to compensate for any blinding strikes, but that remained a serious risk. There was one trick I had tested just in case, but hopefully, I would be fine without it.

There were a hundred flaws, areas for future research, and experiments to conduct to stress test every bit of my magic, but it was about as good as I could expect in a week. And the plain, hard truth was that it was not enough.

Flynn Sion had nearly every advantage. I doubted he would be my superior in martial skill, and he would not have any magical equipment, but in every other regard, I was behind. His mana was comparably strong, his reserves deeper, his control greater, and his arsenal of spells likely far beyond mine.

So, as I lay on my bedroll the night before my final day of preparation, I tried to think. I considered every method of attack, every angle, every weakness or shortcut, and found none. My style was unusual, and surprise and unorthodoxy might sway a close battle. But an unwinnable one? Not so much.

Drinking more Aether water could bolster my stamina but worsen lingering instabilities, which was more harmful than anything. Picking up another spell beyond my existing three would take too much time.

Alchemy was useless, as potions and elixirs were forbidden in traditional Ferren duels. Mages did not like the idea that foes could drink their weight in gold, restoring stamina and defeating a more skilled adversary. Sure, it was true outside of the ring that wealth and opportunity informed power, but nobles liked to pretend otherwise.

Traps and sabotage were both forbidden as dishonorable and cowardly. Some mages had gotten away with them over the centuries, but I doubted I would be so lucky. More than that, the chosen location for our duel was a noble estate, and I would bet my life they had protective enchantments.

Lastly, I focused on enchanting. I had leaned on it once and now returned to it, searching for other tricks. My spear's enchantment was workable but stagnant without guidance from a master or more knowledge. I had considered other enchantments but did not have experience with non-metal materials.

If I could enchant my boots, my cloak, or my shield, maybe I could again sidestep some of my shortcomings, but-

I sat up on the bed and stood, walking to the pack hidden in the corner of the room, buried beneath a dirty cloth and half-rotted wooden crate. Over the last few days, I have been hiding my valuables and sleeping with a spear in range, just in case. Plenty of miners would love to rob a mage, and it was better to be safe than dead. Or worse, destitute.

Rowen could not provide much armor but had found me heavy, protective boots in my size and a pair of splinted vambraces. The former were fine, but the latter drew my attention. I turned them over in my hands and examined their construction, noting the thin metal strips laid along their outer edge.

Initially, they were a "better than nothing" request, but now I realized the vambraces might provide one final trick. After all, what kind of mage went into battle without a contingency or two?

Finally, with remarkably little fanfare, the day of our duel arrived. Win or lose, this entire damned mess would soon be over.