Lee Roy was no ordinary mage. His fire magic alone was powerful enough to earn him a feared reputation, but it didn’t end there, he was strong in other affinities as well, making him a versatile and dangerous opponent. Yet his true ace wasn’t simply the breadth of his magic, but the unique trait that allowed him to lock onto a target and track them relentlessly. Once his magic found you, it didn’t matter how you dodged or weaved; it would eventually find its way to you. Because of this, Lee Roy had never lost a match.
Even against opponents, and even teachers, who were stronger than him in raw power, he had found ways to win. He could throw spells off to the side, slow their speed, curve them around obstacles, or rain them down from unexpected angles. All he needed was time, and eventually, the inevitable would happen: his attacks would land.
But for the first time... his tracking magic had failed him.
He tried to reason with himself, maybe the terrain or the conditions of the arena were somehow interfering, preventing him from hiding his attacks effectively. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t it. He had fought in larger, trickier battlefields before. He had sparred with veteran teachers in confined spaces and still found ways to fool them.
This felt different.
It was as if the Wilton student in front of him had eyes in every direction, like he was seeing the entire battlefield from above. No matter what Lee Roy tried, not a single one of his attacks had so much as grazed his opponent.
A flicker of excitement and irritation crossed his face.
"I guess it’s time for me to fight with real firepower, then!" Lee Roy declared, his voice booming across the arena.
He repeated the sweeping gesture from earlier, raising his arms high. Once again, hundreds of small fireballs burst into existence, scattering outward like embers shaken from a raging inferno. But this time, he didn’t just stand back and control them. His boots pounded against the arena floor as he sprinted forward, heading straight for the center.
Mid-run, he unleashed a high-level wind spell. The rush of air roared outward, grabbing the fireballs and blasting them in all directions. They spun off wildly, whistling through the air, almost as if he intended to set the very stands ablaze before they halted their chaotic flight, hovering ominously along the edges of the arena.
"I’m just buying time," Lee Roy called out, his grin sharp. "Time to cast even more
spells on you!"
Flames coiled and twisted around his forearms, twirling faster and faster until his skin was haloed in searing light. Then, with a sudden lunge, he thrust both hands forward.
A massive torrent of fire exploded forth, the twin jets twisting together into a spiraling inferno that swept across nearly half the battlefield.
But that wasn’t all.
From his earlier wide dispersal, the hovering fireballs suddenly snapped back into motion, converging from every angle toward Liam. It was a two-pronged assault, one that could only be pulled off with Lee Roy’s specific magic. This was the gap between those who merely used their affinities and traits as gimmicks... and those who wove them into true battlecraft.
As the enormous wave of flame barreled toward him and the surrounding fireballs closed in from every direction, Liam knew he had a choice to make.
’He did say I could use whatever it took,’ he thought, narrowing his eyes as his ring began to glow faintly on his finger.
The wand vanished from his hand. In its place, something else materialized, something heavier, sharper, and far deadlier.
Before the match, Liam had made certain of the rules. The ring itself didn’t enhance his abilities, so the judges had allowed its use. And he’d also made sure to clarify another point: he could switch items mid-match, as long as he wasn’t wielding two at once. That meant if the wand went away, something else could take its place.
What took its place now was a weapon that changed the air in the arena the moment it appeared.
A pulse of energy surged outward like a shockwave, and in the blink of an eye, every flame, every single jet of fire, every dancing fireball, was snuffed out. They didn’t even fade; they were erased, reduced to nothing as if they’d never existed. The wind from the swing rushed outward with such force that even those in the crowd flinched and raised their arms against it.
When the air cleared, everyone could see it.
A sword. Long, sharp, and gleaming with an edge so fine it seemed to slice the very light around it. Liam held it loosely in his grip, as if its weight was nothing.
"Was that... wind magic?" a spectator gasped. "He cast it at such a high level that it wiped away all those flames in an instant!"
"It wasn’t just wind magic, look at what’s in his hand!" another shouted. "That’s a sword. He’s... a magic swordsman!"
"And he was already that strong with just magic," someone else murmured, almost in disbelief. "A powerful magic swordsman... I can’t believe it."
The truth was simpler and far more dangerous. Liam’s blade was no ordinary weapon, it was a special artifact, a sword that could cut through anything. Infused with his Qi, one swing was enough to obliterate every threat around him. All it had taken was a single, measured strike as the attacks closed in.
"I was waiting for you to use that," Lee Roy admitted, his voice carrying a strange note of satisfaction. "I was a little worried I wouldn’t be strong enough to make you draw it. I saw you use it on a teacher not too long ago."
Liam didn’t answer with words.
Instead, he surged forward, sword in hand, his movements quick and unrelenting. Lee Roy’s eyes widened slightly before he began casting spell after spell, flinging not just fire but other elemental attacks in rapid succession.
It didn’t matter.
Each one that came close was batted aside or sliced cleanly in half, the sword carving through them like they were no more solid than mist. Liam never slowed, closing the distance with frightening precision until the cold edge of the blade rested against Lee Roy’s neck.
"The reason I didn’t want to use this sword," Liam said evenly, his breath steady despite the rush of battle, "is because I would’ve ended the fight far too quickly."
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