The crowd flinched, tremors running through it as I unleashed the first stage of my beast stigma.
Some examiners seemed to even feel a change building in the air, judging by how they shifted their body weight and eyed the arena; seemingly forming an unspoken conclusion themselves.
Master Harghen, on the other hand, seemed no more amused than he had been beforehand.
"So you're a beast tamer—what of it? Is that all? You changed your hair?" He stepped beyond his rapier, shaking his head, his tone measured.
"And here I was, beginning to think things might get interesting. I'm sorry to say, Examinee Crownless, but if that is the extent of your… abilities, then I will have to end this examination here. You say my words of praise are far too indulgent for someone of your stature, and that I don't believe them myself? To that, I say why not? After all, you can't blame me, considering that you've been holding out on me throughout our entire fight. And just when I finally thought things would change… You disappoint me."
I took in a deep breath, unaffected by his words, which, at least this time, seemed to be sincere. Then, stretching my shoulder, I reached for another connection hidden deep within.
Something else I've learned throughout these months spent purely training.
My official breakthrough. "Not so fast, Master Harghen. I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve. I think you'll find this next one in particular to be quite entertaining. You're going to love this, trust me."
My eyes closed for as long as my next inhale lasted, snapping open on the next exhale.
"Voltstance."
Tendrils of blue electricity surged from my body, enveloping it like a living suit of armor.
My senses, which were already tapered to a degree no regular human could ever hope to imitate, grew even sharper… but not in the way you would think.
This spell of mine was only responsible for an increase to my thought speed, movement speed and dexterity—as well as acting as slight defense. It helped to bridge the gap between my enhanced mind brought about from my beast stigma, and my otherwise ordinary body.
It was something I worked on for a long time, the idea coming to me in sparks of inspiration, taking from stories of my past life. But, it also marked another huge point in my journey as a mage.
With this, it meant that I was officially a divergent mage—someone capable of using the advanced tiers of magic. Only currently, mines were only for my two specialities; water and fire magic, respectively.
I was now capable of ice and electricity magic of a relatively high tier, though it's not as if I regularly checked in with a spellbook in order to see.
And with my new silver core, if I had to guess, currently I would be around… the low-mid thresholds of intermediate-level magic?
Of course, that's because it was something that I've always put my best foot forward with. Not to say that I never really tried with swordsmanship, it's just that some things come easier than others naturally.
Besides, my current level of swordsmanship was quite adequate, if I had to say myself.
Enough so that I'd be confident that I could at least hold my own against people of even Saint level. In terms of pure skill, anyways.
I was trained by a king, after all. Who else, if not I, should hold that right?
Still, defeating someone in a fight was vastly different than holding your own. At best, I could survive a few minutes—and that's with the full extent of my abilities.
Sadly enough, I wasn't even the most skilled of swordsmen, either. Ismene was actually a better one than me—before she decided to take up a bow. That girl was talented, though I doubt even she knows…
But it wasn't as if that was my only vice available to me.
At my core, I was a conjurer, after all, and a uniquely creative one at that. And so there was no reason to endeavor as if it was. Merely surviving in a fight would be enough for me.
My creativity and thoughtful planning, as I had learned the very first day I arrived in Testruam, could cover the rest.
"...Interesting," Master Harghen's voice carried through my rapid ensemble of thoughts, bringing me back.
"Now, that's the spirit. Finally, I was starting to get bored of our little sword battle. We're both conjurers… Why don't we start acting like it?"
As he finished, an intense bellow of fire magic exploded from him, sending my hair in a billowing frenzy, and I had to shield my eyes with a thin layer of mana. The snowflakes slowly trickling even seemed to ignite as a pressure rolled over the arena like a wet blanket, stealing the breaths of even those watching in the stands.
So, this is his Intent…
A technique in which a mage exudes mana from their core in large amounts, focusing their intent in attempts to intimidate an opponent.
I'm glad I learned how to do it.
Scorching balls of fire found their place in their air, assembling themselves in a fashion that I never cared to genuinely consider, spellframes vibrating into existence.
…I carefully considered them each, my senses easily able to discern the runes even from far away.
[Ignis + Altus + Duratus + Motus + Velox].
Fire, elevation, duration, and… a speed-enhanced motion. So, the spells were going to linger in the air for a small period of time before shooting forwards really quickly.
That's good to know.
It wasn't long before I was completely surrounded by stationary magic in a full 360-degrees.
Outwardly, I smirked, but inwardly… I almost felt something akin to fear, or anxiety.
As if, for the first time, defeat was ever possible to me.
I snapped out of it, retrieving my sword and crouching into position.
Fifteen spells total. As much as I hate to admit, this guy… He's strong.
But, I'm not the same person as all that time ago. I've improved by leaps and bounds, too.
"Fine by me," I replied.
His rapier found its way into his hand again, though this time his stance was much different.
Less reserved and passive, more active and eager.
He was ready to spring into action, though not immediately. From the careful look in his eyes, to the bend in his knees.
I could see… no I could feel it.
This second stage in our battle was going to start off with a test—hence the flaming cores.
A way for him to gauge my capabilities at full extent.
Things weren't going to simply go his way, however.
There was a tense lull, and then the explosion of motion signified the beginning of our second round. Like a bell that tolls at midnight.
I dashed forward, instantly crossing half of the distance between us. His eyes widened in surprise, and his spells began their descent.
…They were a second too late, though.
My sword carved a silver arc, connecting against his side and slamming into it with a dire force.
Of course, our blades were both covered in a thin veil of mana that acted as a way to dull the blade's edge, preventing it from actually cutting skin. Though, the process was different from that of an enhancer.
While enhancers could naturally imbue whatever they held, using that as a sort of conduit, conjurers had to focus a thin film of mana around the weapon itself, demanding much more concentration.
Depending on the amount of mana used, the protective layer would either be extremely potent, or simply weak and ineffective, still functioning as a normal weapon, and very much able to deal lethal damage.
When done correctly, however, the result was nearly identical to using a blunt weapon.
Master Harghen let out a grunt, his face scrunching ever-so-slightly as he used the momentum of my swing to spin himself around on his other foot, landing a few feet away, as the falling spells finally drew close enough to draw my attention.
I quickly turned to face them, my arm arcing as my sword lurched into motion, water magic rippling in its tailwind, colliding with the flames.
My body fell into a rhythm as it met with the full force of a Master's spell, sending vibrations trembling through my arms and into my body, but nothing particularly sending me off balance.
One by one, the flaming cores were extinguished, their heat still lingering even after I neared the end of my deadly dance; heart beating rapidly.
I broke into a cold sweat despite the sweltering effects of his spell as I successfully finished, feeling myself relax ever-so-slightly.
That didn't last long, however, as an ominous premonition raised the hairs on my neck.
My body reacted much faster than my mind could ever hope to, even with Voltstance active—though it did bridge the gap by quite a lot.
Pivoting my right foot, I ducked down and lunged off of it, the whistle of his rapier piercing the air still echoing against my ears.
As I turned around, Master Harghen's figure coming into view, I instinctively examined him, considering a realm of possibilities.
From the way his balance was distributed, the space between his legs, his pristine form, all the way up to what direction his eyes were in, and just where would his point of view be limited at the most.
I saw it all, formulating an absolute plan of counterattack in those lingering moments.
…As well as the forming spellframes in the air surrounding him.
He's planning something. I'll attack him before it can manifest!
Time seemed to lurch from its standstill as I brought my sword across a horizon painted just for me, aimed at his torso; particularly the same spot I hit him.
His eyes slowly tracked my movements throughout the process, his body also moving in order to counter, but by then, it was too late. He had put in a little too much weight behind that strike of his, which I intended to exploit.
However… my blade bounced feebly off of an unseen, concentrated current of fire-attribute magic, dealing no damage to the man in question, and exploding on contact, sending my own weapon off balance.
This spell… It's one he already had active! There's another still!?
This realization of mine was a beat too late.
Master Harghen had regained his poise by then, bringing his own weapon around as his spellframes finally materialized.
Maneuvering flexibly, I slipped out from underneath his counter-strike, repositioning myself… but not without receiving some sort of consequence on my own.
Distantly, I registered as a piece of dark clothing fluttered through the air, too focused on the runes.
An intense pain spread from my ankle, forced against the backdrop of my mind.
[Glacius + Duratus + Motus + Velox]
[Crystalline Barrage]
Crystals of ice manifested themselves in the air behind him, shooting forth with nearly the speed of a bullet. With my enhanced senses and speed, I was able to react on the spot, jumping out of the way of the first round of barrages.
…Except that wasn't it. He lingered for a second, a smirk impressioned upon his lips, before he declared, "Not so fast!"
The spellframes suddenly shifted, the ice crystals curving in a manner that allowed them to reach me still.
I landed nearby, releasing an intense gust of wind that I'd summoned while falling, sending them off track.
Then, I used the second spell to dash towards him, summoning a shroud of pure ice around my sword. [Rime Blade.]
He did the same, flames encasing his own as he met my sword in a beautiful spectacle of fire and ice that reeked of fierce ingenuity. They struggled against one another like crashing tides, pushing and pulling in equal parts.
I swiped, ducked, pivoted, and parried—all to the best of my abilities.
And the tendrils of electricity crackling around me all took their turns lashing out at him, though they didn't do very much other than make him wince occasionally.
My reaction time was much faster, making it easier for me to perceive his own attacks and notice patterns that, otherwise, my mind would've been too preoccupied to consider, alongside allowing me brief insight into his own battle art.
Where he put his weight, how he reacted to certain attacks, how much space he occupied, and how he used it to his advantage to get leverage for his rapier, all sorts of things like that, which were all essential to forming one.
It was much more visible to me now that we had slightly and very briefly resigned our roles of conjurers, allowing our weapons to speak for us, for the most part.
Also… his feelings that went into each strike and reaction.
How he felt when he attacked, what he considered when he dodged. Stuff like that.
My own understanding was still nascent, after all, only being planted in the beginning of this examination, but it was blossoming, nonetheless.
While I couldn't determine the nuances driving his motivation, nor unravel the layered webs of his desires, emotions, and ambitions—nor did I pretend to, those were still out of reach to me—each clash lent me fleeting glimpses.
I was able to sense the brief, elusive impressions that only seeped through during the heat of battle—like the sparks of steel that flew whenever our swords collided, momentarily illuminating the space between us without ever revealing the whole; just those lingering strays that couldn't be put into words.
A clash between two people was nothing but a conversation, after all, and swordsmanship was merely the most efficient way to convey your feelings when words failed.
But deep down, I felt that with enough experience I could.
And I ached to reach that level of skill, to where you could fully understand your opponent just by clashing. To reach an unspoken understanding with another person, revealed in the most pure, faithful way that words couldn't poison.
…Perhaps that alone was what I yearned for the most.
Eventually our swords broke apart, and we returned to ourselves.
Immediately, I stomped my foot, extending my arms outwards, and conjuring a partial [Ice Encasement] around us both. Thick walls of ice materialized with us in the center, the ceiling forming a dome.
The chilly mist emanating from it seemed to dim his flames, if only by a nigh-imperceptible hue, and I could see his eyes flickering warily.
I didn't build upon the rest of that spell, knowing that it would drain a chunk of my mana reserves, but also because I hadn't the space or time for it yet.
Instead, I stuck to what I knew, at least theoretically—something I'd been practicing for a while in hopes of testing out one day.
An unspoken question lingered on his tongue as he met my gaze, and I spoke before he did, smirking all the way, my tone light.
"Ah, this? It's nothing really, just something I've been wanting to try out. But oh, don't worry, you're in my domain now, so… I'll make sure to take good care of you."
Spellframes materialized, and projectiles flew—my own Crystalline Barrage.
Master Harghen's eyes widened as he summoned a scorching wall of flames to counter it.
The moment the two met, the world exploded into a rush of hissing steam that billowed between us, a fog rolling across the shattered stones at our feet. And suddenly… the world went silent.
My vision narrowed as the scalding hot steam brushed against my skin, burning my lungs, and I conjured a thin sheet of ice across the exposed parts of my body.
Crap… I can't see through all of this…
For a brief moment, I considered a myriad of possibilities, most of which included getting ambushed through the steam from any direction.
Which was bad on its own, but it wasn't as if I needed to simply sit here and take it.
…That's it!
The cogs in my mind shifted, bringing me a new perspective on the situation, and I swept my hand, gathering the residual traces of water hidden within the mist, shaping them into razor-sharp points.
I waited for a sign of my opponent before releasing them, eyes quickly scanning the arena.
Damn it. The mist is too thick for even me to see through.
Wait. Unless… maybe… if I concentrate, then—
"Fire ball!" The words roared, and I spun on my heel, meeting a giant ball of flames face-to-face.
My mind worked quickly to solve the solution, plan at the ready, mana tingling as it grew closer and closer, before…
"Combust!"
It exploded.
The waves of heat rolled over me, and I was sent crashing against the arena floor, scraping parts of my hands and feeling them already begin to bleed and bruise.
Coupled that with the throbbing pain from my ankle that still held its place in the backdrop of my mind—forcing it to the front with the rest now—and, while not particularly lethal or deadly, made a combo that would definitely affect my ability to fight.
Ah, that hurts…. Just when could he do that, damn it?!
I forced myself up, recovering relatively quickly, a burning irritating the skin on my palms.
There was no time for reprieve, however, as he was already beginning to make his way towards me, spellframes materializing.
Ignis, Parvus, Densus, Duratus… Fire, concentrated, dense, duration. Just what is it?
Wait. Could it be...!
Quickly grabbing my sword, which rested not too far from me, I released my spell, swiping my arm.
Blades of condensed water droplets shot forward in varying motions; unpredictable staccato bursts.
His eyes scanned the arena and he brought his rapier around in order to defend himself, catching on.
The first batch went for his chest, being met with his blade and dispersing, meanwhile the other two nicked at his ankles and knees, respectively.
So, I'm a bit spiteful, so what?
Bastard…
He ducked, parried, and sidestepped, allowing the trails of flame emitting from his sword to promptly evaporate them, never allowing a single one to collide with him.
…Or at least, that was, until a certain lingering one managed to connect right as he turned around to continue his stride.
Which was odd, to say the least.
Not only did that final one look entirely different—as if it wasn't even meant to do very much damage, at most simply result in a minor sting—but it was also composed of something entirely different as well.
Regular water magic.
Nothing shaped from residual water droplets. There was a finite difference, but it was a difference, nonetheless.
And as such, Master Harghen didn't expect it, only noticing it at the last possible second.
Immediately as it hit, a burst of a thin, concentrated and unseen plating of fire-attribute magic exploded outwards, protecting him.
It was an invisible armor—the one that had almost led me to a grave situation, earlier.
I smirked, seeing this.
So, I was correct.
It's a one-time thing, and something he has to also manually conjure up every time—dispersing whenever he receives any type of damage or interaction.
As for the details, like what interactions qualify as "danger", we'll call it, I'm unsure of, but it was important information, nonetheless.
That's what the spellframes from a moment ago meant.
An annoyed scowl creased the lines of his face, and I felt his frustration from here.
In the next second, his eyes met mine, and he began his dash once more.
I sprinted at him, body and bones aching, but a renewed vigor lighting me forth—ribbons of electricity trailing my sword.
I unleashed them in the form of a projectile right before our blades met, but he sidestepped it and it hit the barrier surrounding us instead.
It fell into a brief undulating motion to accommodate for the intensity of the spell, struggling to disperse it for a split second; not the first of our spells to wear down the barrier, and most certainly not the last.
Flames flared from his rapier in an elegant crescent swing, and the biting chill of my conjured frost met the sweltering force of his attacks, an elemental war being waged at close quarters.
The pinnacle of what a close-range conjurer's battle should be like.
Our swords rang into a sustained note..
The arena's stone began to crack underneath our feet, shards spinning out where water froze and refroze, where spells met and interacted, and where blades clangored and clashed.
Absolute battle clarity had overcome me, and my mind was razor-sharp, planning defenses and counter-attacks in mere instances.
This is it… Flow state.
Every movement came to me on instinct, my sword and magic feeling less like trained actions, and more like something that's always existed with me as extensions of myself.
By now my Ice Encasement had already dissipated, as well as the mist, leaving a particularly thick puddle of water to cover a decent portion of the arena, which was currently where we were fighting.
It wasn't long before more parts of the arena floor cracked under our relentless assaults, bigger cracks beginning to creep outwards, splitting beneath the ice slicks and scorch marks.
With each missed spell—which we were going back-and-forth with—it only worsened, and soon, even the barrier that separated us from the onlookers began to flicker, pulsing with excess energy as our strays ricocheted, wavering with each explosive clash.
At the corners of my vision, I distantly registered the expressions of the examiners who sat up sharply their alcoves, exchanging urgent glances; their quiet panic felt, rather than heard.
…At least for others who didn't possess senses as sharp as my own.
I heard every word, every syllable, every enunciation clearly as if there wasn't a barrage of magic spells clashing right next to me. It was only a matter of whether or not I decided to split my focus to hear, or continue absorbed in my battle.
Well that, and whether or not I possessed the mental capacity to register both events at the same time whilst remembering.
Sadly, I didn't.
But I heard just enough to get the picture.
"Lady Nuela! We must hurry!"
"That barrier... It won't last much longer!"
"Everyone, prepare to reinforce it with your mana! We'll only have a short window to do so. Sir Mandel, please access the control panel."
"Damn it, just what the hell is that guy doing…? Why must he always go to such lengths!? Just who even is this examinee?!"
It was only when a stray fragment of my ice struck at the edge of the barrier and sent a pulse of cold through the stands that they promptly sprang into action.
It shimmered briefly during the lull in our strikes—a coordinated, conscious effort, I'm sure, as a way to basically recalibrate it without it taking any damage during the process—before it suddenly became more defined, dense, and opaque.
The next spell that collided with it dissipated in a hiss of sparks.
Thankfully, it was just in time.
My mana had dipped low from the use of divergent magic, beneath a comfortable amount, and my body was fatigued beyond anything ever before, my muscles twitching, even.
A silver core didn't matter much if I was consuming the mana at an extreme rate…
Had I still been a bronze, I'd have suffered from backlash much earlier.
Master Harghen's flames had seemed to dull, as well, though they still cast ghostly shadows over the ruined stones. But though his magic waned, if only by a bit, the look in his eyes didn't by a tiny amount. He seemed thoroughly entertained and amused.
And I had to admit… so was I.
He stepped forward, sending a spiral of flames that I countered by conjuring a reflective arc of ice.
The fire split around the shield, half going above it, and half gouging a furrow into the stones at our feet, and when it was over, I counter-attacked, falling into a seamless motion of movements that worked with one another, not against.
He danced around each strike lightly, getting in a few counter hits now that my body began to tire, my pained ankle catching up to me.
Each movement of his was reserved, wasting no energy, and so I endeavored to do the same, mirroring him. A lot easier said than done, though I already possessed this skill, just not to the same extent as him.
Sensing an opportunity, I let electricity snake down my arms and into the water puddle we stood on, drawing arcs between droplets, and making the arena flash with blue-white sparks.
Master Harghen caught on, jumping clear as the burst went out, and onto a safe section of the arena. Tiredly, I did the same, keeping a great distance between us.
We stood amidst the ruin, floor scorched, scarred, and marked, residual heats and cold lingering in the air, and unusual, indescribable scents assaulting our senses.
My lungs were inflamed as I landed, unwilling to allow my poise and demeanor to diminish because of it. I was a prince, after all, and I would show it.
He seemed to catch on to this, his eyes tracing my movements and outlining my figure, curiosity lined within them.
I met him with a dire look of my own, communicating something silently. Intrigue, confusion, and slight reluctance all reflected back at me, slowly giving way to a gradual acceptance and understanding. It was time for the final bout.
One last attack that would officially put an end to this.
It wouldn't be the last reserves of my power, no, but it would be the last amount of it that I could afford to spend. Which was already quite close to the end itself.
I inhaled a deep breath, letting go of everything that held on to me up until this point.
The pain, the results, the experience, the feelings—everything that I could.
Except for my connection to the mana. For a brief moment I looked up, taking in the sight of the chilly winter atmosphere.
The sky was a pale wash of pastel colors; blue-gray with a streak of sunlight coming through it, soft and heavy. Snowflakes drifted down, catching the light and reflecting it beautifully into fractures, like feathers released from invisible wings.
A gust of wind stirred, too, carrying with it hints of pine, smoke, chill, and everything else that my nose was now receptive enough to pick up on, but I was not knowledgeable enough to discern.
The calm was relaxing, vivid, and brilliant—a brief moment of respite that I needed.
The sky…
It's quite beautiful today.
Exhaling, I drew on more reserves of my mana, transmuting the particles with my will.
The air seemed to thrum with a living pulse as tendrils of electricity surged around me with newly renewed vigor—eating away at a large chunk of my reserves.
It would leave me with just enough to still fight an extra battle, though, if needed… which was most likely needed.
I concentrated all of it to a singular point—my right hand. My sword retreated into my ring in a whirlwind of sparks.
"Thunderclaw," I whispered.
A moment later, Master Harghen released a similarly concentrated type of spell, one that concentrated all of his flames into a film around his sword, only this time it was much more of a grand sight. Inferno heatwaves spilled forth, and I felt a bead of sweat roll down my neck.
We crouched… and then exploded into motion.
All of this happened within the span of ten seconds, as we quickly crossed the distance between us, eyes locked on each other.
…For a second, it felt as if we had both resigned ourselves to tragic fates with these spells—as if we had gotten too caught up in the rank examination and, instead, treated each other as actual opponents.
As we grew closer to each other, we struck with determination… but never hit each other.
…What?
I suddenly found myself restricted in an encasing of earth-attribute magic, unable to move as my right arm was thrown off balance and impeccably frozen over—in a way that seemed to dim out my own spell.
Four figures flashed between us, two moving to my side, the others to his.
In a split instance, we were both trapped and bounded in a combination of spells, eyes widening with realization as our spells fizzled out due to the perfect counters.
"This examination has gone on long enough," a commanding voice cut through. "You both forget yourselves."
Time seemed to lurch to an abrupt halt as the stands let out the breaths they'd been holding, relief and anxiety spilling over the crowds.
I looked up and was met with the fierce gazes of the examiners, silent and unyielding. Like they'd come to judge me at my lowest moment.
…Except they weren't aimed at me. I could only see the backs of the two in front of me, meanwhile the others seemed to have to use extra force in order to contain Master Harghen.
He struggled in vain as their frustrated, disdainful voices rang out.
"Damn bastard."
"You seriously screwed up this time…"
"You would dare to use such an attack?!"
"Despicable. I didn't think you to be the type, Master Harghen."
Soon, a graceful figure stepped in between them, finding her space naturally.
Her voice rose, parting through the tension like a knife.
"Master Hargen. Examine Crownless," she began, meeting both of our gazes, "Do forgive me, but I believe this to be a most crucial moment to intrude on. This rank examination—if you could even call it that—has gone too far. And while it is expected of the examinee to present their utmost strength and abilities, so that we may accurately gauge their ranking, it is not in our policy to go to such lengths as an examiner."
Lady Nuela's words landed with utmost precision, like a blade that never missed. I could see his expression falter at this, regret washing over him, as well as various bubbling emotions.
"You have broken and disregarded many of the rules put into play by the Adventurer's Guild and Association, putting not only the life of the onlookers into danger, but also that of our examinee. And for this, you will be delivered a swift punishment. Dismissed."
She glanced at the other examiner restraining him, nodding her head. "Take him away."
They threw some type of cuffs on his hands as they righted him, escorting him out of the arena.
…As he left, wordlessly, he shot one last glance at me, layered with indescribable emotion.
One that reeked of pure, despicable hatred and resentment. I shuddered slightly. My life was… in danger? I… I hadn't even known. …Maybe I did, but I didn't care enough? And why am I the subject of such a hateful state...?
As these thoughts filtered through my mind, struggling with the sudden escalation of events, I belatedly realized I was no longer restrained, and Lady Nuela turned to me, bringing me back to reality.
"Examine Crownless." Her soft yet stern eyes fell on me as I released the connection to my active beast stigma, my long hair retreating into itself.
"For your splendid showcase of abilities and combat, being capable of even matching up to a Master of the Adventurer's Guild, you have been assigned as a B-rank adventurer. Congratulations… ."
The crowd broke into a roar.