Unawakened: Rise of the Divine Archmage

Chapter 7: Ignition

Chapter 7: The Library Encounter

Ezra Mohr stepped out into the bright morning sunlight, a new fire burning in his chest.

Ezra could not stop his mind from racing.

"Which elemental affinity will show itself first?" he wondered.

After ten minutes of brisk walking, Ezra arrived at the heavy wooden doors of the town library.

He took a deep breath, pushed the doors open, and stepped inside.

The air inside the library smelled of aged paper, dried ink, and polished cedar. Sunlight filtered through the tall stained-glass windows, casting long beams across towering shelves.

Ezra walked deeper into the back aisles where the magic manuals were kept.

He skimmed his fingers along the dusty spines of the books, reading titles in quick succession. Most volumes covered standard theory.

Finally, two thick tomes caught his eye.

The first was titled Introduction to the Use of Fire Magic. The second was a thin, leather-bound volume titled Basic Pyromancy Incantations.

Ezra pulled both books from the shelf and carried them to an empty wooden desk in the far corner of the room.

He did not have the money to borrow books for home study. If he wanted to learn, he had to memorize everything right here.

Ezra opened the first book and began reading each paragraph with total concentration.

Next, he opened the incantation manual.

Ezra studied the hand seals, the finger positions, and the chants used to channel fire through the body.

He had considered reading about lightning magic earlier, but the beginner guide for lightning had terrified him.

Fire was dangerous too, but it was a risk Ezra was willing to take.

For hours, Ezra sat motionless at the desk.

By the time he closed the second book, the entire theory of basic fire magic was carved into his mind.

Ezra returned the books to their shelves and walked toward the exit. He could not test the spells inside town, but tomorrow he would head into the open plains and try to spark his first flame.

He pushed the library doors open and stepped into the cool evening air.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of orange and violet.

"Hey, weakling!"

A harsh, arrogant voice shattered the peaceful silence of the street.

Ezra stopped in his tracks. A sharp twitch pulled at the corner of his eye.

He turned around slowly, recognizing the voice instantly.

Standing on the cobblestone pathway with his arms crossed was Quentin Sharpe.

Quentin wore a fine linen tunic, the mark of a boy born into a comfortable merchant family. A smug, mocking grin sat on his face as he looked Ezra up and down.

"What are you doing creeping around the library, Ezra?" Quentin asked, his tone dripping with condescension.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, keeping his expression neutral. "The library is open to everyone."

"Yeah, anyone with a brain," Quentin laughed, looking to the street as if expecting applause. "But magic texts are meant for actual mages. Not for useless trash like you."

Ezra let out a quiet sigh. He looked at Quentin with calm, steady eyes.

"If only you knew," Ezra muttered softly.

"What did you say?" Quentin snapped, his face instantly turning red with anger.

Quentin's loud yelling drew the attention of several passing adults.

A few merchants and laborers stopped to watch the commotion. But as soon as they saw Ezra Mohr standing opposite Quentin Sharpe, they shook their heads and kept walking.

"Why would I bother cursing you under my breath?" Ezra said, a subtle smirk forming on his lips. "When you were already born cursed with that face."

Quentin's jaw dropped in disbelief.

A thick vein bulged on Quentin's forehead, throbbing violently against his pale skin.

"You're dead meat," Quentin hissed through clenched teeth. "You're perfect target practice for my new spell."

Quentin widened his stance. He thrust his right arm forward, keeping his palm turned downward toward the ground.

He gathered mana into his forearm, flicked his wrist upward with a sharp snap, and shouted the activation chant.

"Estravos!"

A sudden gust of swirling air erupted from Quentin's palm.

The invisible gale cut across the short distance with a loud, tearing whistle. Before Ezra could sidestep, the blast of air slammed into him.

The force lifted him off his feet, tossing him backward through the air. He crashed hard against the dirt road, skidding several feet before coming to a stop of a shop wall.

Pain flared across his ribs. Ezra coughed, clutching his bruised chest as dust settled around him.

Heavy footsteps approached.

Quentin walked over, looking down at Ezra with a sneer.

"Do you see the gap between us now?" Quentin mocked, dusting off his sleeves. "You'll always be dirt beneath my boots."

Quentin turned his back, preparing to walk away.

"Hey, Quentin," Ezra called out from the dirt.

Quentin stopped and turned his head, looking back over his shoulder with an irritated scowl.

Ezra pushed himself off the ground and stood up. He brushed the dust from his trousers.

Then, Ezra looked Quentin straight in the eye and raised his right hand.

He extended his arm forward, turned his palm toward the dirt, and formed the exact hand seal Quentin had just used.

Quentin froze.

His smug expression vanished in an instant. His eyes widened in absolute shock.

"How does he know that stance?" Quentin thought in terror. "Is he about to cast Estravos? That's not possible. He has no mana core!"

Ezra held the stance for one tense second, letting Quentin sweat.

Then, Ezra brought his hands together in front of his chest and bowed deeply.

"Thank you for teaching me such a valuable lesson," Ezra said with complete calm. "I promise I will never forget it."

Quentin stood frozen, his brain struggling to process the mock submission.

When he realized Ezra had just played with his mind, Quentin's face flushed with deep embarrassment.

"Pathetic clown," Quentin spat, trying to save face. "Keep groveling like the dog you are."

Quentin turned around and stormed off down the avenue, his boots clicking furiously against the cobblestones.

The street grew quiet once again.

Ezra leaned back against the stone wall, rubbing the sore spot on his ribs. The wind blast had stung, but it had not broken any bones.

Suddenly, a strange warmth bloomed deep inside his chest.

His newly formed mana core began to vibrate.

The shock of Quentin's wind strike had stimulated Ezra's internal pathways. The ambient mana in the air began to swirl rapidly, pulled into Ezra's chest like a rising flame.

Ezra looked down at his right hand. Tiny invisible currents of heat rippled across his skin.

A slow, cold smile spread across Ezra's face.

He knew the hand seals. He knew the incantations. And now, he had the power.

Tomorrow, Quentin Sharpe would learn what real magic looked like.