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Chapter VI, Part III

Levelling her wand at Thomas, Lilith yelled out, "Aer gaoth!" Devastating blasts of wind shot out from the tip of her silvery implement, like pellucid cannonballs, ripping through the air as they buffeted the man head-on. Yet, as the powerful torrents collided with his figure, they dispersed harmlessly, ruffling his shirt but doing no more harm than a playful breeze. "Aer gaoth, aer gaoth, aer gaoth!" Stubbornly, she persisted in her salvo, advancing with every gust that made contact.

"Ah... but now that she's out of charms, she has to resort to her spells anyway. That's one heck of a trade-off to consider," Thomas observed, tapping his chin. "I doubt she has the mana..."

While the dossier on the halfling documented a mere handful of her battles, one thing stayed consistent throughout, and that was her tenacity. Like a cornered rat, Lilith fought with a ferocity that far exceeded her stature and was not one to back down—not in the face of overwhelming odds, not when outmatched, and most certainly not when underestimated. Her plans may have failed, but her determination never wavered.

"Aer gaoth... aer gaoth..."

Eventually, the halfling's attacks came fewer and farther between. Eyes bloodshot, complexion pale, and movement sluggish, Lilith was experiencing the early stages of mana fatigue; the aura she commanded had weakened considerably, and her arm could barely lift the wand in her grip. Her fusillade of wind scarcely constituted a breeze. Tottering over to the man, she was one more spell away from passing out.

"H-hey, Lilith..." Recognising the undying fire in her eyes, a clear sign she wasn't going to let up, Thomas reached out to her. "I-it's fine, you know? You don't have to push yourself this hard! H-how about this: let's call it a tie, okay?"

"Don't... patronise me..." She growled. "I'm going to beat you... for sure... aer... gaoth..."

With one final burst of air, the halfling toppled backwards, only to be caught by her elven friend before hitting the ground. "You did good, Lily," Nia said, crouching to hold her from behind.

"Nia..." Lilith murmured, unconscious.

"I'll take over from here now, alright? Just rest your head."

Gretchen jogged over to them from the rock, a look of stupefaction on her green visage. "H-holy crap Nia, you got here faster than a speeding bullet! How did you—?"

"Gretch, take care of Lily for me, will you?"

Sensing the smoulder beneath her calm and collected exterior, the orc timidly nodded, cradling the small girl in her arms as she retreated to the rock and took cover behind it. And Nia rose to her feet and directed her attention to the man—the atmosphere shifted palpably. A leftover breeze from Lilith's stream of attacks whirled about; strands of grass danced around Nia as she stared at Thomas with sharp, impenetrable eyes.

"I-is she going to be okay?" Concerned by Lilith's condition, the man's gaze lingered on her before she disappeared from sight.

"She'll be fine. It's nothing some sleep won't fix."

"Thank goodness..."

"More importantly, I believe it's my turn to face you, is it not?"

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"Oh, before we do that, though, we ought to relocate to an area that isn't damaged, don't you think? The ground's hardly even." Thomas pointed to the destruction left behind by the halfling.

"There's no need for that. It's already fixed."

Raising an eyebrow at her statement, the man chuckled. "Come now, you know that isn't true! I mean, just look at this place—!"

And Thomas' breath hitched in his throat. Miraculously, the damaged field had been restored to its original state. Traces of what had transpired between the man and the halfling—the spikes of ice, the glow of cinders, the scorch marks from thunderbolts—had all vanished in the blink of an eye; holes and craters smoothed over as if they had never been. As the regenerated grass swayed in the wind, questions filled the man's head.

"What in the world just happened? What did she do? How did she do that? I didn't hear an incantation! Did she use a rune? But she had no staff or wand! How did she activate it? She couldn't have made a rune here that fast anyway! Is she a geomancer like Gretchen, at the very least?"

His brain buzzed with ideas, but he was unable to comprehend the inner workings of the spell she'd cast. Out of the problem magi, Nia was no doubt the one most shrouded in mystery. Strangely, a significant portion of her dossier was blotted out—labelled confidential. One thing that was for certain, though, was that the elf was the strongest of the three in both mana reserves and spell output. On the other hand, her area of speciality was harder to define.

Never once did she engage in combat with the professors or other students. That, or the records were stricken. Either way, no one had witnessed her use magicks in a traditional sense, at least not to its fullest. Instead, Nia's abilities seemed to operate in subtle, almost imperceptible ways—powers that were difficult to understand, let alone track. Often, she was seen influencing the environment with a mere glance or mild gesture, but no one could pin down the exact nature of her Gift.

Seeing it firsthand, however, it was almost as if reality itself bent to the elf's whims.

"Are you ready, then?" Nia interrupted his rumination, lips curved into a soft smile.

A drop of sweat ran down his temple, and Thomas nervously inclined his head. "Y... yeah, your hour starts now."

"I see. Then, for starters..." Slender digit tracing the contour of her delicate chin, the elf tilted her head slightly. "How about this?" And in one swift motion, she swiped her finger downward.

A crack splintered between the man's feet, and before he could react, the ground vibrated and split open. Thomas stumbled, arms flailing, but lost his footing and plunged toward the deepening chasm. Instincts kicking in, he clung to a rock that jutted out from the side, seconds away from death. Like the gaping maw of a voracious beast, the fissure threatened to swallow him whole. And below him, magma roiled and bubbled as it pooled into the crevasse.

"C-crap!" Thomas exclaimed, clambering out of the abyss.

"Does that not count as you getting knocked off your feet?" Nia asked with a hint of amusement.

Jumping to his feet, the man squared up, assuming a defensive stance. "I haven't landed flat on my ass, have I?"

"Touché..."

With a flick of her wrist, the air seemed to distort before her, and a tiny spinning vortex swirled into existence. At her command, the mere dust devil hurtled toward Thomas and swelled into a soaring tornado. To no one's surprise, the winds failed to dislodge him from his spot; he was as impervious to the violent cyclone as he was to the other spells. And the elf, confirming this phenomenon with her own magicks, closed her hand into a fist, scattering the whirlwind.

"As expected, the ward you have in place is quite effective against direct spells. But is it truly that boundless, I wonder?" Hands against the small of her back, she gracefully spun around. "Just how much can you endure?"

An arc of half a dozen masses materialised above her: one of sludgy earth, one of crystal-clear water, one of turbulent winds, one of searing flames, one of brilliant radiance, and one of viscous miasma. Swivelling her head, she locked eyes with the man, a twinkle in her violet irises.

"Uh oh..." Realising his chances of winning had slimmed dramatically, the man braced himself for what was to come.