The Archmage's Second Act

Chapter 4: Basic Combat for Archmages

Chapter 4: Basic Combat for Archmages

The training grounds of Arcanis Academy were a sprawling expanse of scorched earth and reinforced stone, designed to withstand the blunders of three hundred overeager teenagers. As the morning mist burned off, Professor Virelia Magestone stood at the center of the arena, her arms crossed over a leather breastplate that looked as though it had survived several dragon breaths.

"Listen up, you lot! Magic isn't just about glowing orbs and fancy speeches in the Colosseum," Virelia barked, her voice carrying across the field like a crack of thunder. "If you can’t move your feet while moving your mana, you’re just a very expensive target. Today, we focus on foundational kinetic redirection. Watch."

She didn't use a staff. With a sharp, sudden stomp of her boot, the ground groaned. A slab of granite the size of a dinner table tore itself from the earth, spinning in mid-air before slamming into a practice dummy fifty yards away.

"Whoa," a boy standing next to Eldrion whispered, his eyes wide. "Did you see the density on that? She didn't even chant."

"It’s basic earth-shaping, Caedmon," Eldrion replied, leaning lazily against a weapon rack. "She’s just using the natural ley line pressure under the arena. It’s efficient, but predictable."

Caedmon Spellvale, a lanky boy with unruly red hair and a tunic that was perpetually tucked in wrong, turned to stare at him. "Predictable? Eldrion, she just launched a mountain at a haystack. And what do you mean 'ley line pressure'? We haven't even had the Theory of Geotics class yet."

Eldrion blinked, realizing he’d let his internal monologue leak out again. "I... uh, I read about it. In a book. One of the dusty ones."

"You and your books," Caedmon laughed, punching Eldrion’s shoulder. "Well, try not to get 'efficiently' crushed today, alright? I heard what happened at the testing. Everyone's calling you the 'Orb-Breaker.' Half the class thinks you’re a secret genius, and the other half thinks you’re a walking jinx."

"I’m leaning toward jinx," Eldrion muttered. "It’s safer that way."

"Alright! Pair up!" Virelia commanded, waving her hand to clear the dust. "One attacker, one defender. Attackers, use basic Rank 0 stinging jinxes or light kinetic pushes. Defenders, I want to see footwork and basic mana-shrouding. If I see anyone using a Rank 2 spell, you’ll be scrubbing the owlery for a month! Move!"

Caedmon immediately grabbed Eldrion’s arm. "You're with me, Orb-Breaker. I promise not to hit your face. Your family's already broke; we can't afford the medical bills for a nose job."

"Your concern is touching, Caedmon," Eldrion said, walking to a designated sparring circle. "Just try to actually aim this time. Last week you almost took out a passing hawk."

"Hey, that bird was looking at me funny!" Caedmon retorted, taking a combat stance. He began to cycle his mana, his hands glowing with a faint, flickering orange light. "Ready? I’m coming at you!"

"Go for it," Eldrion said.

He stood there, feet shoulder-width apart, looking remarkably defenseless. Internally, his mind was screaming. Okay, footwork. I need to look slow. My soul wants to glide, but my body needs to stumble. Keep the mana output under five percent. No, three percent. If I move too fast, Virelia will notice the muscle memory.

"Fire!" Caedmon yelled, throwing a palm forward.

A small bolt of orange energy—a standard Stinging Flash—zipped toward Eldrion’s chest.

In Eldrion’s vision, the spell moved like a snail crawling through molasses. He could see the structural flaws in the mana weave, the way the heat was dissipating at the edges. He could have swiped it away with a finger. Instead, he waited until the last possible microsecond, tripped over his own heels, and fell sideways into the dirt.

The bolt whistled over his head.

"Missed me!" Eldrion called out from the ground, spitting out a bit of sand.

"Whoa, lucky break!" Caedmon laughed, already preparing another shot. "You looked like a drunk goat, Eldrion! Stand up!"

"I'm working on it!" Eldrion scrambled to his feet, trying to look as clumsy as possible. That was too close. I almost countered it with a Phase-Shift. Focus, Eldrion. Be the puddle. Be the weak, pathetic puddle.

"Here comes another one! Double shot!" Caedmon fired two more bolts in quick succession.

Eldrion did a frantic, awkward hop to the left, then a panicked duck to the right. To any observer, he looked like a panicked civilian caught in a crossfire. To himself, he felt like an actor in a very bad play.

"You're surprisingly hard to hit for a guy who can't stand straight!" Caedmon shouted, getting into the rhythm. "Let's see you handle a curved shot!"

Caedmon twisted his wrist, sending a shimmering arc of mana toward Eldrion’s flank.

Eldrion went to 'slip' again, but his foot caught a real rock in the sand. He actually stumbled this time. His instinct, honed by a century of near-death encounters, took over. As he fell, his hand shot out reflexively.

He didn't mean to do it. It was a cellular response.

His fingers snapped in a specific, intricate pattern. A tiny, almost invisible ripple of violet light hissed from his fingertips.

Null-Void Snap.

The incoming orange arc didn't just dissipate; it folded in on itself and vanished into a microscopic black point before winking out of existence. The sound it made was like a needle pricking a balloon—silent, yet piercing.

The training ground went quiet. Caedmon froze, his hands still raised. Professor Virelia, who had been correcting another student’s posture, turned her head so fast her neck cracked.

"Uh," Caedmon said, blinking. "Where did my spell go?"

"You... you missed?" Eldrion suggested, his heart hammering against his ribs. Damn it! Why did I use a void-interfering counter on a stinging jinx?

"I didn't miss," Caedmon said, walking over to where the spell had vanished. "It didn't hit the ground. It didn't hit the shield. It just... stopped existing. Eldrion, what did you do?"

"I fell!" Eldrion insisted, waving his arms frantically. "I fell and I think I sneezed? Maybe the sneeze blew it away? My mana is very unstable, remember? The Headmistress said so!"

Virelia Magestone was suddenly there, her shadow looming over them. She looked at the patch of air where the spell had vanished, then at Eldrion’s trembling hands.

"A sneeze," she said flatly. "You sneezed away a focused kinetic arc."

"It was a very powerful sneeze, Professor," Eldrion said, trying to look as small as possible. "Allergies. The sand, you know?"

Virelia leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "Mysthaven, I’ve seen a lot of things in my time. I’ve seen mages boil oceans and knights shatter mountains. But I have never seen a Rank 0 student 'sneeze' a spell out of reality. That looked suspiciously like a High-Tier negation."

"I don't even know what that is!" Eldrion lied, his voice going up an octave. "I’m a Grade 0.5! I’m practically a muggle with a fancy last name!"

"Right," Virelia said, though her hand moved to the hilt of her training sword. "Caedmon, go join the others. Class is dismissed for the day. Except for you, Mysthaven. Go to the infirmary and have them check your 'allergies.' I want a full report from the healer."

"Yes, Professor! Right away!" Eldrion didn't wait. He grabbed his bag and sprinted toward the exit, not looking back.

As he reached the edge of the grounds, a cold, familiar voice drifted from the shadows of the arched walkway.

"That was a very interesting 'sneeze', Eldrion."

Eldrion stopped. Arabelle Moonwyn was leaning against a pillar, her silver hair shimmering in the afternoon light. She was holding a small crystal rod—a mana-recording device.

"Don't start, Arabelle," Eldrion sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I’m having a very long day."

"I watched the whole thing," she said, stepping into his path. Her icy blue eyes were fixed on his. "The way you moved before you 'tripped.' Your center of gravity never shifted. You were baiting him. And that counter... it wasn't a sneeze. It was a Void-Snap. Only the Inquisition's elite hunters are taught that technique."

"Maybe I'm just a natural talent," Eldrion joked weakly.

"Stop lying," Arabelle hissed, moving closer until he could smell the winter lilies again. "The sickly boy who couldn't light a candle? He doesn't exist. I don't know who you are or what you're hiding, but I’m going to find out."

"Is there a point to this, or are you just here to critique my acting?" Eldrion asked, his voice losing its boyish tremor and becoming cold, hard, and ancient.

Arabelle flinched, just for a second. The shift in his aura was like stepping from a warm room into a blizzard.

"Tonight," she said, regaining her composure. "The old dueling hall behind the library. Midnight."

Eldrion raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me on a date? Because I’m a bit busy with my existential dread."

"A duel," she countered, her hand tightening on her pendant. "Private. No professors. No recordings. Just us. If you win, I’ll stop following you. I’ll even help you keep your 'secret' from Wandfall."

"And if I lose?"

"Then you tell me the truth," she said. "About who you really are. About how a sixteen-year-old boy knows magic that should have been lost during the Age of Ash."

Eldrion looked at her for a long time. He could see the determination in her eyes. She was the same Arabelle he remembered—stubborn, brilliant, and dangerously curious. If he didn't deal with this now, she would become a permanent thorn in his side.

"Midnight," Eldrion said, his voice a low whisper. "But don't say I didn't warn you, Arabelle. Some secrets are kept for a reason."

"I'm not afraid of you, Mysthaven," she said, though the slight tremble in her fingers suggested otherwise.

"You should be," Eldrion said, flashing her a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "I’m a very scary sneeze."

He walked past her, his mind already calculating. He couldn't kill her, and he couldn't let her expose him. He had to show her just enough to satisfy her, but not enough to reveal the monster lurking beneath his skin.

As he disappeared into the hallway, Arabelle stayed behind, looking down at her mana-recorder. The device was vibrating. The needle had pinned itself to the maximum reading the moment Eldrion had walked past her.

"Grade 0.5?" she whispered to herself, her face pale. "You’re a liar, Eldrion Mysthaven. You’re a beautiful, terrifying liar."