“Contrary to popular expectation, dueling is not practical magic in the slightest,” Professor Adams said, a passive spell woven into his FCD projecting his voice outwards. “Many of you may have the vision of magician-against-magician combat being a noble art; an honorable one with strict rules of engagement, chivalry, and orderly arenas.

“Actual magical combat is anything but. Magicians and normals alike shoot at each other, use artillery-type magic and regular artillery to bomb out positions, and they kill. An average magician is part of a unit, and most common military magic is either group-cast artillery or stealth. Drop any pretensions of learning traditional combat spells of old. What need is there for a Flux Bolt when you will be carrying a rifle as often as you are an FCD?”

Will be was pushing it, given that there were already those in the student body here carrying, apparently.

“I dunno,” a languid voice said from the crowd. Lyon Red, Syl recognized. It was the student he’d sat next to at the entrance ceremony. A fellow class 3, despite being a prismatic. “Last I checked, guns can miss. I don’t.”

Black sheep indeed. Even if they did tend towards arrogance, prismatics were still supposed to have some idea of how to compose themselves in public.

“A fair question from a Red,” the professor said, drawing murmurs from the crowd as they craned their necks trying to find the one who’d spoken. “If you could find it in yourself to allow me to finish, practical demonstrations will begin soon after.”

“I look forward to it,” Lyon replied.

Given the distraction, Syl tapped Bianca’s shoulder and signed to her as discreetly as possible.

Gunman here.

She had the good grace to not visibly react to that. The hidden princess signed a simple in return. When?

Syl considered it for a bit. Shouldn’t be a problem. Just be aware.

Thanks, Bianca signed back.

Professor Adams was still speaking. “Everything else being said, you are still all first-years, and some foundation in magician-against-magician combat will occasionally be useful. For political purposes, sadly, dueling has become a critical skill, and there will be times when your residence is broken into and all you have on hand is your magic. As such, this first semester will be designed around training you in the ways of basic magical combat. Some of you will already have experience in this aspect.”

Bianca and Syl shared a silent look at that. You could say that.

“Now, I believe that young master Red here is one of those who has trained in martial magic,” Adams said. “If you would come to the front, please.”

“It wasn’t me,” Bianca whispered to Syl.

There’s still time, he signed back silently. There wasn’t much room for volume modulation with his vocal FCD, and the ambient sound wasn’t high enough that he was comfortable talking at full volume.

Lyon looked every bit as messy as he had before. A shock of bright reddish-brown hair that had somehow grown more unkempt in the week since the entrance ceremony fell across his face. He held two batons, one of which Syl knew was his FCD.

The crowd’s murmurs grew louder as Lyon walked to the front, eyes settling on the class 3 marking on his uniform.

“Does anyone wish to challenge this young man?” Adams asked.

“Thought you said there was going to be a demonstration,” Lyon said. “Something about guns?”

Stop tempting fate, Syl thought. Then again, given the fact that even he couldn’t detect where the guns were spoke to the strength of the stealth spells. Nobody else would have even detected them.

“You’ve been trained in the dueling arts, I presume, and your likely challenger—“

“I volunteer,” another boy said, shooting up in his seat. “Class 1. Trevor Rokho.”

“—and there we have it,” Professor Adams said. “Another one who’s practiced the same. Do refrain from hurting each other, please. You two should both know your rules. First contact wins.”

That was a Red branch family, Syl recognized. Judging from the speed of response and the name… this was probably a family dispute. Something about the boy from the core family ending up in class 3, he was sure.

It wasn’t his place to poke into it, and he didn’t care much anyway. He just watched, keeping an eye out as the two men got onto the platform where Adams had been speaking, starting about twenty meters apart.

“Ready?” the professor asked, eschewing the formal duel statements. After both students nodded, he tapped the ground with his foot. “Begin.”

Trevor shot forward in a blur, using the universally popular movement-type Flash Step spell, a C-class one that greatly enhanced speed in short bursts. His casting time was superb, as to be expected from a class 1.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Lyon leaped, his FCD activating just as quickly. While he was in the air, he swung his baton, forcing Trevor to cancel his spell and redirect backwards. As he landed, a flux circle appeared beneath him, his other baton glowing with magic.

One command word later, that circle transferred from under him to in front of his FCD, blasting out in a colorful spray of flame that enveloped his opponent.

Not accustomed to such violent casting, the students watching gasped, but Trevor had used a simple Shield spell to encase himself, leaving him unharmed.

Lyon was already moving, though, using his own spell as a distraction to trigger another one on both batons, which he slammed into the glimmering force shield—and straight through it, hitting Trevor and knocking him over.

That was the end of the duel.

“Well fought, Lyon. Trevor.” Adams nodded at them both. “This was a perfect showing of the type of magic that excels in a duel.”

The students belatedly started clapping.

“Now,” Adams said. “It’s my turn. For your sake, I will refrain from using any spells above… B-class. Does that sound fair?”

“I can handle more than a B, but sure,” Lyon said cockily. “Same rules?”

“Of course. Now, to demonstrate my point…” the professor reached into his robes, withdrawing a pistol with an orange tip. “A pellet gun. Not harmful. It won’t break the skin, though it will be quite painful.”

“You got it, boss,” Lyon replied. “You got your FCD and everything?”

“No magician should ever be caught without their FCD,” Adams said. “Always have one within arm’s reach, even if it’s not your typical casting device.”

He raised a short tablet-like device with all manner of buttons on it. That was a more traditional type of FCD, which was more versatile than many of the more modern specialized ones but couldn’t be preloaded with any spells and would thus be slower to cast.

“Whenever you are ready, young master,” the professor said, pellet pistol in one hand and FCD in the other.

He had scarcely finished his last word when Lyon charged forward, pre-casting a Shield spell in front of him to block the first shot.

“A good idea, using a shield spell,” Lyon said, blinking backward in a flash and avoiding Lyon’s lunge. “But do you have the processes to handle a Flux Bolt, now? Do you have the flux?”

Lyon grinned, FCD glowing again. A bolt of energy shot out from it, snaking between his shields—and it collided with a shield of the professor’s own. Both shattered, rending the spells inert.

“Ah, but now you’ve wasted your flux and your attention.”

His foot tapped the ground again, and the earth under Lyon ruptured, knocking him off balance. Professor Adams fired the pellet pistol once, twice, forcing Lyon to readjust his shields, then cast again, wrapping Lyon’s legs in fast-growing vines.

All it took was one shot in the right place to make it through the shields. Lyon cursed, falling on his ass.

“This is practical magic,” the professor said. “Control the battlefield. Use destruction for a purpose. Any idiot can point a wand at their opponent and try to blow them up. A magician understands that magic is a tool for creating an answer, not the solution itself. Thank you for participating, Lyon.”

“No problem, boss,” the class 3 student said, shaking himself out of the bindings he’d gotten in. Despite his somewhat embarrassing defeat, he didn’t seem too broken up about it. “Thanks for the lesson.”

“The first of many, I should hope,” the professor said. “For today, we will be doing basic sparring. During your time in high school, you should have learned at least some degree of offensive and defensive magic. You will only be permitted to use the following spells: Shield, Flux Stream, and Accelerate. Defense, offense, and movement. That is the core of practical magic, and it is how I will assess which of you have the correct mindset for this class. You will be assigned into pairs based on your practical exam scores, which I personally find to be almost wholly useless but will work as a starting point. Listen carefully, find your partner, and find an empty space in the field. Ten meters of space on either side at least.”

He started calling names as the class devolved into conversations between each other, most of them talking about the two duels that had taken place.

“You didn’t get called after all,” Syl said.

“Thank god for that,” Bianca said. “I would’ve invalidated that entire demonstration.”

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Syl replied. “There are just certain levels of magic where you can worry about it less.”

“Ha!” a boy said from beside him. “Look who’s talking. Tier three shitter’s got dreams? Better pick up a rifle, buddy.”

Syl glanced over to the class 2 student, processed that he wasn’t anybody important, and rolled his eyes. “It’s the first week of class. Shouldn’t you wait until you know someone’s actually weak before you start trying to pick on them?”

“What?”

“Look—“

Syl paused in the middle of his sentence. At the front of the class, Professor Adams had just called for Lyon, and the Red had walked up.

Two of the stealth spells had gone down.

“Bianca,” Syl said urgently, pointing to the front left, about three rows back from where Lyon currently was.

“On it,” she said.

Both of them stood up abruptly and sprinted out of their seats. Syl shoved the would-be bully a little harder than he needed to, then activated his pre-loaded Flash Step, overcharging it and sending himself hurtling forward at blinding speed. Bianca was only a step behind, though she used a significantly flashier warp-type A-class spell, Fiery Rebirth. She disappeared from her original position then reappeared next to Syl, a wave of fire and force bursting out and nearly bowling Syl over.

He was prepared for it, though, and he channeled the momentum into his Flash Step, which he’d started casting while still in the middle of his first one. It was ordinarily wasteful to simulcast like this, but Syl had all the flux he needed. He slammed straight into the first student who’d already gotten halfway through drawing her rifle, knocking her to the ground.

The second one, gun already out, fired at Lyon, but flame snapped into the air and detonated the three-round burst in mid-air. Surrounded in an aura of fire, Bianca walked towards the shooter as the students around him scrambled away.

Syl turned to assist her, then noticed the one on the ground was casting a spell. Not even bothering to look back, he fired the preloaded sequence in his secondary FCD. A crack followed by loose flux particles dissipating into the air told him that he’d shattered her casting device. He started programming another spell sequence as he walked on, trusting that she was no longer a threat.

The only active shooter was focusing on Bianca, who was still snatching his bullets out of the air like she was popping bubbles, but he turned as he heard Syl approaching.

Syl tilted his head, and his eyes glowed violet.

The gunman met his eyes, startled—and then his grip slackened, his senses suddenly forced into Syl’s body.

Binding magic formed around both shooters moments later as Professor Adams finally arrived.

The flame around Bianca died down, as did the spell Syl was using.

“So,” Syl said. “Looks like this year isn’t going to be as calm as we hoped.”