Slowly but surely physical combat was reincorporated into Reuben’s training. In a way, they started at the very beginning- running.

The three mile run had returned, but this time it had an added twist. Reuben was no longer merely allowed to dodge and continue running. Now he was forced to strike back at every turn. As rocks pelted his back he would have to try and halt their advances. When the earth trembled, he had to attempt to steady it and prevent pillars from shooting through him. For Now. Greyson held back greatly on his attacks, simply wanting Reuben to get a feeling for using your body and magic at the same time.

Although the pace gradually increased with every successful run, it was still slow work. Already a month had passed and Reuben’s grasp on the spell, “Throw,” was only now somewhere acceptable for Greyson’s standards. He could muster about ten chunks of earth in a minute a little bigger than a fist.

The spell was still constantly tested in various ways. Various targets had been painted on the trees throughout the forest and Reuben had begun running through a gauntlet Greyson had made for him. It consisted of sprinting through a line across trees from one end to the other, with Reuben striking eight different targets as quickly and accurately as possible.

“You were too slow,” Greyson remarked, as Reuben jogged out of the forest, his muscles sore from throwing the rocks as quickly as possible.

Reuben cursed under his breath, and instead replied with, “Fine, I’ll run it again.”

The next time Reuben ran through he opted for speed. He conjured the stones as fast as possible, not slowing his pace for even an instant. They crashed near targets, bounced off branches, or missed the mark entirely.

At the end of this run, Greyson shook his head and declared, “Too inaccurate. Run it again then we can get to sparring.”

Sparring was the highlight of Reuben’s day. By now hand to hand combat had escalated into full scale magical warfare. Both held tight to their poles as they whacked, punched, and tossed as many stones as possible at one another.

Previously Greyson had told him, “In a fight, you have to use everything you have. Magic, a sword, your hands. Everything you can throw at someone, you slam into them with all the force you can muster. When you fight, hold nothing back. Otherwise, you will lose, you will die.”

There were not merely words. Greyson beat and battered the lessons into Reuben. Every rock to his shin, pole to the stomach, fist to the cheek.

“Dead.” Greyson remarked, as Reuben lie winded on the ground, a bit of blood dripping

down his lip. As usual, Greyson would antagonize him by saying, “Why are you still on the ground? What are you doing laying there? Get back up!”

So Reuben would get back up, they would battle once more, they-

“Dead,” Greyson stated, as Reuben kneeled down resisting the urge to vomit after a particularly swift barrage of rocks had collapsed directly into his full stomach.

Of course Reuben refused to give in so easily. While the large gap between the two had become a bottomless pit since magic was fully introduced, Reuben still did everything he could to catch up to the sorcerer and to best him. If nothing else, he strived to push the sorcerer equally harder, and indeed, Greyson was always winded by the end of their fights.

A rock shot through the air, Reuben dodged it. He kicked against Greyson’s shin and the sorcerer growled. A swift slice from the pole and Reuben blocked. The earth ripped open underneath him and he rolled past it, avoiding the sinkhole that attempted to swallow his foot. Reuben conjured his own attacks sending them towards Greyson. One, two, three rocks flying through the air all aimed for Greyson’s head. One simple movement of the sorcerer’s arm and the rocks were flung away letting Greyson attack once more. Over and over they went back and forth.

As they progressed, Greyson always tried to throw more and more at Reuben, to force him to fight harder than last time. While the rock throwing was amusing, it was time to give him something truly formidable.

Beside Greyson a massive form of earth began rising up in the shape of a wave, then all at once it stopped. The form lost shape, falling back to the ground and Greyson let out a deep, pained cough. His body relaxed as he staggered and coughed again.

“Are you okay?” Reuben found himself asking. He set his pole down and began walking towards Greyson.

Greyson wheezed then said, “Damn it! Don’t ever… buy into your enemy letting his guard down. It’ll always be a trick.” After another cough, he said, “Except this time… That’s enough sparring for today. We can go back to working on drilling for your next spell.”

Greyson squatted down and strained as he lifted a massive sphere of earth from the ground and dropped it besides Reuben. He huffed far more than usual, having exerted a good deal of force himself. Reuben wondered if he had simply bit off more than he could chew with that final attempt to drown him in his power.

“What is this for?” Reuben asked, looking down at the torso sized chunk of stone and dirt ripped from the ground in front of him. He didn’t want to pry further into the sorcerer’s wellbeing, it would just upset him further.

After a small wheeze, Greyson replied, “The next spell you’re going to learn is called wall. It’s essentially lifting a giant wall of earth in front of you and using it to shield yourself from attacks. If you’re going to survive in real duels you’ll have to have a handful of defensive and offensive spells. Someone who over-specializes leaves themselves very vulnerable. ”

Reuben was stunned and asked, “Shouldn’t you have taught me a defensive spell alongside throw from the beginning? It feels like this left me very vulnerable to attacks.”

Rolling his eyes, Greyson said, “How do you expect to be able to learn a spell like this if you weren’t even able to control a few rocks? I had to teach you throw before I could even think of teaching you this. Now quit whining and get to pushing the damn rock around.”

Submitting to the logic of Greyson’s argument, Reuben stayed silent and instead focused on the hefty stone in front of him. He felt his own energy rising up within him and pushed his arms forward. He focused on shooting the rock away from him as far as possible, but it felt like he was suddenly slammed into a wall instead. He physically recoiled from a sudden pain in his body, falling down as if something had been dropped on top of him.

As always, Greyson looked disappointed. He waved his arm and the rock cracked, leaving the sides to split off. Now it was about the size of a torso and a half. He said, “Try that instead.”

While Reuben had gotten used to having to downsize before the trial even began, he was growing tired of it. Tired of Greyson’s disappointment. Well not this time. This time he was going to impress that cocky natural born prodigy of a teacher. Refusing to back down, he instead pushed his hand forward and the rock slowly trembled, then cracked, then finally broke apart and fell down.

Satisfied with his demonstration, Reuben turned to Greyson and said, “Did I say to make it smaller?”

There was a twinkle in Greyson’s eye as he said, “No I suppose you didn’t.” The twinkle soon faded as he said, “I’m sure you’ll have no issue pulling your own chunks out from the ground for you to push around then.”

“You’re damn right I won’t,” Reuben snapped back. He shot his hands down and focused, clung to the earth below him. He felt that same push against him like he was being slammed between two walls, and this time he pushed against it hard with everything he had. He refused to back down, refusing to be overwhelmed. His teeth clenched together as a chunk of rock was ripped from the ground.

As he kept it there at chest high, he knew he wasn’t done. He knew Greyson wasn’t impressed. Neither was he by that small chunk he pulled out. So unleashing one last wave of strength, he ripped out another similarly sized piece, and smashed the two together. He waited a few moments, breathing heavily, then ripped one final piece out of the ground. By now he had a boulder in front of himself that was about half his height and likely weighed the same.

“Took you long enough,” Greyson remarked. “You know the drill. Start pushing it around the field.”

So Reuben pushed against the rock both physically and magically, and slowly it began inching forward bit by bit. With every scoot forward Reuben felt his muscles ache and his vision slowly starting to dance with black spots.

Finally it became too much and Reuben slid down to his knees, breathing heavily and blinking stars from his vision. He looked across the rock to see how far he had pushed it.

Seven inches. He had scooted it seven inches.

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Greyson looked as well, but rather than critique, he just offered, “I’ll get some food from the bag.”

As always, food seemed to be a magic of its own. Slowly Reuben was revitalized and felt capable of conquering any boulder regardless of size. Still, he had learned by now to not be too hasty and instead decided to continue some discussions on his mind.

“Aside from you, who is clearly some natural born amazing genius, does everyone progress at this pace?” Reuben asked. He idly waved a small pebble between his fingers then sent it flying a few feet away.

Greyson scoffed and ignored the jest altogether by asking, “Progress? All you’ve done is go from throwing pebbles to some decent sized rocks. I would hardly say you’ve made it anywhere yet.” He was quiet for a moment then said, “Still, it depends a lot.”

“Why’s that?” Reuben asked, summoning another pebble then shooting it towards the air. He had begun to find minor manipulation like that almost completely effortless.

“Most people treat sorcery as some race you sprint through halfway then give up and go home.. Most people can progress quickly. They go from throwing pebbles, to rocks, to small boulders surprisingly fast.” He wouldn’t admit that Reuben still was making exceptional progress given his feeble beginnings.

“But then they plateau. They hit a wall of sorts. Most don’t make it past that point. They give up, content with what they have, and who could blame them, right? They’re already more powerful then any non sorcerer alive. Besides, those that do continue soon find another wall even higher, even more difficult to get through. It takes even longer to get past it with even less progress after that and longer after the next. Just dwindling returns for more and more effort.”

Reuben cut in, “So then the strongest sorcerers, how do they make it so far?”

Greyson answered, “Some get lucky. Start off with a lot of magical power, spend their

whole life blasting through their training. Mastering spell after spell. Others… they find ways around the wall. If they get to a point where they can’t throw bigger rocks, they throw sharper ones, faster ones. They get creative.”

Taking note of everything he was being told, Reuben muttered to himself “Hmm… Then that’s what I’ll have to do.”

“There is one other thing as well. A little- cheat, for sorcerers. Fighting, truly fighting for one’s life. That’s the biggest way to improve. Each time you’re forced to defend your soul, it strengthens it unlike anything else could. It comes back stronger, as do your magical abilities,” Greyson said in a serious tone.

Reuben summed up, “So constant practice, starting from a young age with immense talent, not getting complacent, and fighting for your life. That’s what makes the greatest sorcerers?”

“Exactly. Speaking of constant practice-” Greyson said, gesturing towards the thick rock sitting a few feet from them.

Soon enough Reuben was back on the field pushing the rock as much as he could. Five inches here, seven there, being nearly on the brink of collapse there. It was going to be an exhausting drill.

As the days went on and inches turned into one foot, then two, Greyson had more things to add right away. He could never let Reuben get too comfortable.

“Watch me,” he instructed. He reached into the ground and pushed it upwards. Rather than ripping out a chunk of earth to be used for throwing, he instead conjured a thick wall of dirt and rock in front of him, holding it in place.

The wall collapsed as Greyson turned his back. He continued, “You're going to work on forming a wall. It’s the same as ripping a chunk out of the ground except now you have to focus on how tightly you cling to it. Ease into it, lift it slowly. Maintain the shape.”

Right away Reuben delved into the drill, or perhaps at this point it could be considered the spell. He reached down and felt the earth, slowly lifting it towards him. As he did he felt himself pushing down on the rock on all sides, keeping it together. It pushed up further and further, finally stopping at his knees as his stamina gave out. It was a bit wider than him, and about as thick as a finger.

Greyson looked at it, then slammed his foot through it, shattering it instantly. He turned

and said, “Definitely going to want to keep working on that one.”

Scowling, Reuben reached down and began summoning another wall of earth. He began lifting it and-

There was a loud crack as Greyson smashed his knee against it and sent the lopsided monument of dirt tumbling down to the earth it had come from. He sighed and said, “Let’s give that another try. Hurry up.”

The next time Reuben lifted it, he did everything he could to hold it together as it stayed in front of him, refusing to let it break for even an instant. This time when Greyson went to attack it, he found that his foot merely went through a small hole in the wall rather than bringing it crumbling down.

Reuben met his eyes with a smug expression, feeling like he had won on some level. Greyson just shrugged and sent a rock crashing through the side of it, deconstructing the wall once again.

“Asshole.” Reuben muttered.

As weeks went by, everything began blurring together. Run, drill, spar. Slowly he was improving more and more, and the battles between him and his mentor were becoming fiercer.

A rock sailed towards Reuben and he lifted a flimsy misshapen shield of stone in front of himself. The rock collided into it, shattering both the shield and the projectile. Reuben considered that a success.

Of course Greyson was always happy to prove how feeble his mediocre attempt was, and immediately hurled three more rocks forward. Reuben hastily began trying to create another wall.

The first one struck, destroying both itself and the wall. Reuben had to deflect the second one by sending it away, and was forced to dodge the third one. Of course the moment he dodged, Greyson was on top of him.

Their poles met once again, and they began slamming the wood back and forth trying to get the upper hand. Between slashes they would hurl dirt and stone at one another. Greyson went to flick away one of Reuben’s rocks he had aimed at his side, but seemed unable to conjure enough strength to halt the blow. The rock hit his side and he fell to his knees.

If that was all it took to take Greyson out, Reuben would have had him beat weeks ago. He looked at Greyson and saw his face was red and dripping with sweat. He was panting, and his hands were trembling.

This was becoming a common theme for how their sparring sessions were ending. The more Reuben put out, the quicker Greyson was getting exhausted.

“Do you need a moment…?” Reuben asked. He was slowly beginning to worry more about the health of the sorcerer.

Greyson coughed and said in a shrill voice, “I’m fine, damn it. That rock just got me pretty good. A few hours of you drilling and I’ll be fine. Just fine.”

“No you won’t,” Reuben counterred. It was such an obvious lie he couldn’t help but say something against it. He wasn’t stupid. He continued, “You’re looking worse and worse every time we spar, and you’re submitting quicker. What the hell is going on?”

By now Greyson was forcing himself back up, and waved off the question. Reuben wasn’t willing to let himself be ignored and he once again demanded, “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m getting old, damn it!” Greyson snarled. “I’ve already told you sorcerers age faster than normal people, especially the more they use magic. Well I’ve used magic a hell of a lot more than most, and I’ve been using it more in one day of your training than I used to in a week.”

Somehow Reuben had failed to notice the obvious signs of aging. Greyson seemed at least ten years older than when they had first met. His hair had become more faded, with a faint outline of grayness spreading through his whole scalp. His skin seemed thinner and his eyes looked eternally tired.

“Is this going to kill you?” Reuben asked, dumbstruck by the condition Greyson had let himself get into.

“Who knows, maybe,” Greyson said, nonchalantly. He began walking past Reuben towards the field they used for drills. “Are you coming or not, boy?”

Reuben shouted out, “Why the hell are you doing this then? Why would you use up your own life for me? If you had told me that at the beginning then I… I… wouldn’t have made you do all of this.”

Greyson let out a hysterical laugh. It was a few seconds before he contained himself. He

turned back and asked, “Would you? Would you have really? Do you know how much effort, how much time I wasted trying to get you to leave me alone? Like hell you would have given a damn. You would have dug up my corpse and shaken it for lessons.”

A cold chill seemed to come over Reuben. Would he have cared? Would he have demanded Greyson train him either way? Would he have accepted him dying? Would he… Could he accept it now?

“Your silence says it all, boy,” Greyson interjected. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to shed any tears over your heartlessness. I really don’t care about that sort of thing. No, all that matters to me right now is you quit your whimpering and start working on your damn spells!”

Again Reuben demanded, “Why? Why are you training me if it’ll kill you?”

“Why?” Greyson asked, his lip cracking open with the question. He looked towards the sky as if lost in something only he could see. He asked again, “Why? Because I want to see what you can do. If you want to make up for me wasting my life training you, be something great, Reuben. Make my time worth it, especially since so far, I’ve really been regretting the years I’ve shed for you.”

The words were haunting. Greyson was accepting his own death if it meant Reuben amounting to something, something worth the sorcerer’s time. It was almost too much to grasp. The withering going on within Greyson all for him to be something great? Something he could pride himself in? What choice did he have? No, that was just it. He had never had any choice.

“I’m not going to fail,” Reuben declared. “I keep telling you that, and I’ll show it too. I’m going to become the strongest. Not for you, not for anyone else. For myself.”

Yet as he said that, he had to resist trembling. The weight of his dream suddenly felt so much heavier as another person’s life was tossed against it. Would this be another death caused by his actions?

If he was impressed or moved by Reuben’s admission, Greyson didn’t show it. He just gestured to the field and said, “Then let’s get back to the spells you’ve been learning.”

“No,” Reuben replied. As much as he wanted to continue like everything was normal, he couldn’t. He couldn’t continue letting Greyson die for him. Something had to change.

Greyson looked offended. He asked, “What do you mean no?”

“I mean things have to change,” Reuben replied. “I want you to take me back to the barracks so I can practice using magic to fight the soldiers. You and I both know I’m capable of that, and you wanted me to continue my physical training there.”

There was a silence in the air as Greyson paused and considered the statement. At last he replied, “Alright. We can continue your training over there. I see no issue with it.”

“Then let’s quit wasting time and get going,” Reuben replied. He turned and began moving back to town, and a moment later Greyson was following behind him.

Waste. It was a word that hung around Reuben as they walked back. He wouldn’t- couldn’t be a waste. He was going to prove to Greyson that his training was paying off, and they were heading towards the perfect place to prove it.