Under the blazing gaze of the sun, the market bustled with life. Vendors loudly proclaimed their goods to passersby, each trying to outshine the other. Some displayed small magical beasts in cages, their tiny claws scratching against enchanted bars. Others sold steaming food to those plagued by hunger and thirst. There were stalls lined with jewelry, books, perfumes, and rare materials gathered from distant lands.
Wands and staffs were displayed openly on several stands, which made Iris scratch her temple as she walked along the pavement.
I hope no one gets scammed by those, she thought dryly.
For witches and wizards, wands were not carved—they were formed from one's own bones. A toe or finger had to be cut, a sacrificial spell recited, and only then would a wand manifest. Its design reflected the wielder's power: the stronger the magic, the more intricate the form.
And that was exactly what Iris despised. Not the power—but the sacrifice. The mere thought of cutting into her own flesh made her stomach churn. She could never understand why people chose such a brutal method when other paths to magic existed.
For mages and elementals, however, a staff was essential.
An elemental's staff was born from the element they controlled. Nature wielders could shape a branch or wooden stick into a living staff. Water elementals needed only to dip their hands into a body of water, and a blue scepter would rise from its depths. Earth users climbed mountain peaks. Wind elementals had to face tornadoes—one of the most dangerous and expensive journeys, as it required travel to lands plagued by endless storms. Fire users ventured into raging volcanoes, a task considered the deadliest of all.
Then there were lightning elementals, who had to be struck by lightning itself—an ordeal with a grim fifty-percent chance of death.
Other mages faced even harsher trials. Telekinesis, blood manipulation, shadow control—these powers demanded extreme mental fortitude and often came at deadly costs. Only those with unbreakable minds survived the process.
Which was why the vendor selling wooden "wands" and carved "staffs" was clearly a fraud.
They could not be crafted by hand. They had to be formed by one's own magic.
From the corner of her eye, something shimmered from the sunlight. Iris turned—and her eyes lit up.
Jewels sparkled from a nearby stand, catching the sunlight in a dazzling display. And just like that, her earlier irritation vanished.
Jewels really are the best.
The jeweler noticed her approach and offered a welcoming smile. He was tall and slender, almost unnaturally so, as if his body lacked muscle entirely. His white hair was slicked back neatly, and a monocle rested over one eye. The fact that he operated openly in such a crowded space without fear suggested he was far from ordinary.
But Iris didn't care.
"Good morning, my lady. What may I offer you?" he asked smoothly.
Without sparing him a glance, Iris pointed to a tear-shaped opal—no, not just any opal. A hydrophane opal. It shimmered faintly, absorbing the air's moisture, its colors shifting subtly beneath the light. A delicate silver chain framed it elegantly.
One look, and she was obsessed.
She didn't bother examining the diamonds, quartz, or topaz. Those were beautiful, yes—but nothing compared to the luster and living color of an opal.
But it's not just the surface that was great but so is its ability to make the wearer resistable to heat. If she puts a little bit of mana in it, it will work. That's just how jewels are connected to mages.
Diamonds can make a luminous light, perfect for dark places. And she already have one. Lodestone can be used for navigation but she doesn't need to because she wants to travel without restrictions.
"How much for this one?" she asked.
"An excellent choice. That would be—"
A body slammed against the wall beside the jeweler.
Gasps erupted. The crowd scattered in panic. But the jeweler barely blinked, his eyes calmly tracking the fallen boy.
Coughing up blood, the green-haired boy forced himself upright. His hands glowed an eerie green. Vines were then erupted violently from the cobblestones, twisting and surging toward his opponent.
Across the walkway, a boy with dark blue hair and ocean-colored eyes raised his hands. Water lifted from the fountain, swirling into a massive sphere above him. With a flick, the droplets split, freezing midair into hundreds of razor-sharp icy needles. With a swish of his hand, the ice needles flew towards the green-haired boy.
A burst of shattered frost and splintered wood erupted, sending stalls trembling and coins skittering across the ground.
People screamed and tripped over one another, fleeing as carts overturned and magical debris rained down.
"A fight! Mages are fighting!"
"Call the Royal Guards!"
"Run for your lives!"
The market erupted into chaos. Stalls toppled, carts overturned, and shimmering wares scattered across the cobblestones.
Iris almost been bumped by the rushing crowd but she swiftly move beside the stalls to not get swept by it.
Can't blame those rushing crowds though. When mages fight, it always leads to a very destructible disaster depending on a class.
There were six recognized levels of mages, each capable of catastrophic destruction if pushed to their limits:
Level 1 – Novice
Level 2 – Intermediate — capable of destroying a village
Level 3 – Advanced Mage — a town
Level 4 – Master Mage — a city
Level 5 – Grand Mage — an entire region
Level 6 – Archmage — a country
Mages are very powerful and extreme. If they use their power the wrong way, they will certainly kill hundreds or thousandths of civilians. The best example is these 15 year old boys who fought without regards to their surroundings.
Those idiots. Where's their Master?
"By the way," the jeweler said calmly beside her, as if nothing were happening, "the necklace costs fifteen gold. Would you like to purchase it?"
"What?" Iris blinked in surprise.
She look around her surroundings and was surprised, which she is not surprised to know, but still SURPRISED. The jewels are gone and what remains is a shabby stand.
Her gaze snapped back to the man.
He now held a large black briefcase in one hand and the opal necklace in the other.
"Fifteen golds. Take it or leave it?" He said.
Fifteen golds? That's too much! It could afford her three months expenses for food and lodging! Three months!!!
She hesitated. But she does need it to cross the desert.
Then, with a sigh, she raised her hand. A faint swirl of invisible magic shimmered in the air as a small floating sachet appeared. She took out fifteen gold coins and handed them over. The sachet vanished instantly after she payed.
"Thank you Miss. It's a pleasure doing business with you." He said. When he let go of the necklace, it floated gently beside her as he gave a slight bow and turned to leave.
"I told you, I'm not cheating! What are you so worked up about?"
Iris glanced toward the boys who had just been fighting. The outcome seemed clear—the blue boy had stepped on the green boy, who was lying at his feet.
The crowd had dispersed, and thankfully, no stalls or walls were damaged. Only the ground bore the scars of the fight, riddled with holes—probably the work of the vine boy.
No casualties. I guess it's time for me to go, Iris thought.
"Why you..." The green boy gritted his teeth.
This made Iris stop her tracks. She look back to the boys who caused a very disastrous commotion.
Summoning every ounce of strength, he swung his hands, and vines erupted from the ground. This time, they were black. They lashed toward the blue boy's neck, another was wrapped around both his arms, and lifted him into the air.
The green boy slowly stood, his movements deliberate.
The darkness also crept steadily from the green boy's hand up his arms, stopping just below his elbows. His eyes darkened as well. His veins turn black protruding around his eyes, forming a menacing pattern.
A shiver ran down her spine as she sensed a dangerous aura emanating from him. It's not fear that does this. It's the familiarity from many years ago.