The healer's voice followed Arthur out the door.
"Two weeks, Mr Reinhart. Two weeks since your last visit, and here you are again with a twisted ankle." She stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "At this rate, I should just reserve a bed for you permanently."
Arthur paused at the threshold. "The ankle's fine now, though, right?"
"Because I healed it. Again." Her expression was somewhere between exasperated and resigned. "You're young. Your body can take abuse. But that doesn't mean it should. Keep pushing yourself this hard, and you'll break something I can't fix."
"I'll be more careful."
"You said that last time."
Arthur didn't have a good response to that, so he just nodded and left.
The walk back to his dorm was quiet. Late afternoon sun slanted through the trees lining the pathways. More students were on campus now than a week ago. The dining hall actually had a line at dinner. The quiet period was definitely ending.
Arthur reached his dorm and climbed the stairs. His room was exactly as he'd left it. He sat down at his desk and stared at the wall.
Five weeks. Five weeks until the academy year officially starts. Five weeks until Lloyd Ashford arrived and the story kicked into gear.
Five weeks to get as strong as possible.
'Okay. What do I actually need to focus on?'
Upper Apprentice. That was the goal. Break through one more sub-tier before classes start. Ambitious, considering most people spent months at each stage, but Arthur didn't have the luxury of taking it slow.
Thunder Blade Style needed serious work. The Second Form was kicking his ass. He could manage the first four movements cleanly now, but the fifth made him feel like he had two left feet, and the sixth might as well have been written in a different language.
Lightning Bolt was sitting at 74% mastery. So close to the threshold where efficiency spiked and mana cost dropped. Just a few more percentage points.
Spark Shield was further behind at 58%, but improving. The barrier actually held multiple impacts now instead of shattering on the first hit.
And then there was Kinetic Assimilation. Zero percent mastery. He could activate it, absorb a hit and release a pathetic shockwave that barely moved papers on his desk. That was it. The skill had potential; he could feel it, but unlocking that potential would take time he wasn't sure he had.
'Five weeks to get to Upper Apprentice. Five weeks to not be completely embarrassed when the Blessed Generation shows up. Five weeks to figure out how not to die.'
Arthur stood up from his desk.
Enough planning. Time to actually do the work.
One week later, Arthur was in the outdoor training grounds trying not to kill anyone with his own incompetence.
The outdoor grounds were behind the main training centre. Open space with reinforced targets, practice dummies, and marked circles for sparring. A few second-years were using the far end. Arthur had claimed a section near the middle.
The problem wasn't casting Lightning Bolt. Arthur could do that fine. Stand still, focus, construct the formula, and release the spell. Easy.
The problem was doing it while moving.
Practitioners with high spell mastery could cast while fighting. Dodging, attacking, and moving at full speed while throwing spells like it was nothing. But most of Arthur's mastery wasn't really his. It was borrowed from the original Arthur's training, and that training had been sloppy. Half-hearted practice drills where you stood in one spot and fired at stationary targets.
Now Arthur was trying to actually use the spell in combat conditions, and his body kept forgetting how.
He ran forward. Three steps. The Lightning Bolt formula assembled in his mind while his legs moved. Mana channelled through his pathways.
Arthur thrust his palm forward while still in motion.
The spell destabilised immediately.
Lightning erupted from his hand, but it was wrong. The bolt went wide, crackling wildly. It veered left and slammed into the ground ten feet away from his target in a burst of yellow electricity.
'Fantastic. My enemies will be terrified of my ability to electrocute random patches of dirt.'
Arthur stopped and caught his breath. Fifteenth attempt. Fifteen failures.
The issue was divided attention. Running meant watching where you were going, maintaining balance, and not tripping over your own feet. Casting meant holding a complex mathematical formula in your head while channelling mana through specific pathways. Trying to do both meant doing both badly.
'Lloyd made this look easy. Multiple elements, casting while fighting, probably doing backflips and solving equations at the same time just to show off.'
Arthur shook his head. Comparing himself to a protagonist with four affinities and a secret cheat system wasn't productive. It was just depressing.
He reset. Took position. Tried again.
Ran forward. Formula assembled. Mana channelled.
Release.
The Lightning Bolt fired wildly. The electricity twisted midair, arced past his target, past the practice dummy, and slammed into the ground near the edge of the training area.
Right next to someone's foot.
Arthur's stomach dropped.
A guy, maybe his age, jumped back, eyes wide. Dark hair, athletic build, holding a spear. He'd been practising near the edge of Arthur's section.
"What the hell?!" The guy's voice came out sharp.
"Sorry!" Arthur called immediately. "Spell went wide; I didn't mean to get that close to you."
"Didn't mean to?" The guy walked toward Arthur, spear still in hand. Not threatening, but definitely not happy. "That was maybe three feet from my leg!"
"I know, and I'm sorry. I was practising mobile casting, and the spell destabilised. It won't happen again."
"Mobile casting?" The guy's expression shifted from angry to incredulous. "You're trying advanced techniques when you can't even control where the damn thing goes?"
Arthur's frustration, already simmering from fifteen failed attempts, flared hotter. "Yeah, well, that's kind of the point of practice. You do it until you get better at it."
"Practise somewhere that isn't next to other people!"
"You're the one who set up right at the edge of my training area! This whole section is open use!"
"Yeah, and I'm not throwing lightning around like I'm trying to start a forest fire!" The guy gestured with his spear for emphasis. "From what I can feel of your mana, you're what, a middle apprentice? And you're already trying to cast while moving? That's how you get yourself or someone else killed!"
That stung more than it should have. Arthur took a breath, trying to keep his temper in check. "Look. I said I'm sorry. I'll be more careful. I'll move to a different section if it makes you feel safer."
"Safer?" The guy's laugh had an edge to it. "I don't need to feel safer. I need you to stop trying techniques you clearly aren't ready for before you hurt someone."
Something in Arthur's chest twisted. The words hit a nerve he didn't know was exposed.
"You don't know what I'm ready for," Arthur said, his voice coming out colder than he intended.
"I know you almost hit me with a spell you can't control. That's enough."
"It wasn't even close to hitting you."
"Three feet!"
"Three feet is plenty of space! Maybe you should work on your spatial awareness instead of complaining!"
They were ten feet apart now. The guy's grip on his spear had shifted slightly. Not threatening, but ready. Arthur's hand had drifted toward his practice sword without him consciously deciding to move it.
The guy stared at him for a long moment. Then his expression changed. Not quite a smile, but something sharper.
"You know what? Let's settle this properly." He gestured toward one of the marked sparring circles nearby. "You think you're good enough to cast while fighting? Prove it. Right here, right now."
Arthur should have walked away. De-escalated. Been the bigger person.
"Fine," he heard himself say instead. "Let's do it."
"Good." The guy spun his spear once, testing the balance. "First to land a clean hit wins. No lethal strikes, obviously. Spells and skills are fair game."
They moved to the nearest sparring circle. The second-years at the far end glanced over but didn't comment. Sparring matches happened constantly out here.
Arthur drew his practice sword. The familiar weight settled into his hand.
The guy took a position across from him and planted his spear. "Name's Ren, by the way. Ren Caldwell. Figure I should at least know who I'm about to embarrass."
"Arthur Reinhart." Arthur settled into his opening stance. "And we'll see who embarrasses whom."
Ren grinned. It wasn't a friendly expression. "Looking forward to it."
They faced each other across the circle.
The sparring match was about to begin.