"Standard rules."
Professor Crowley stood in the academy's training grounds, morning light casting long shadows across the grass. The copper circles beneath their feet had seen countless duels, worn smooth by generations of students.
Around them, crystalline pillars humd softly, ready to contain any wayward spells.
"No lethal spells, no strikes to vital points. Basic enhancent and defensive arts only - nothing beyond second-year curriculum." His voice carried across the field. "Rember - you are mages of Xerkes. Honor that."
The usual chatter from the stone benches had died away. Even the birds seed to have gone quiet.
Duels always had that effect. For so reason.
Adom studied Karion across the circle. The other boy's hands were steady, his stance balanced - no swagger. Just focus.
The copper circles began to glow as both drew power. Around them, the crystal pillars humd, barrier spells shimring into place.
"This counts for ten percent of your finals," Crowley said. "Rember - the mont you step outside your circle, the duel begins. Victory by yield, incapacitation, or ring-out." He looked between them. "Ready?"
The silence deepened.
Neither boy moved.
Neither blinked.
Crowley raised his hand and let it hung in the air, suspended between one mont and the next.
And then it fell.
"Fight!"
Adom wove a barrier - no gestures, just pure intent shaped by will. A heartbeat later, Karion's force bolt crashed against it, bright and violent.
Fighting another mage was like playing three gas of chess at once while running a marathon. Every spell cost mana. Every defense needed maintenance. Every mont required complete awareness - of your reserves, your opponent's stance, the dozen possible counterspells you might need in the next breath.
Adom let his barrier fade and launched three quick bolts of his own. Karion deflected two, dodged the third, his hands tracing the standard defensive forms. Those precious half-seconds of gesture-weaving gave Adom the opening he needed. He layered a subtle binding spell beneath his next attack - basic second-year magic, but perfectly tid.
Karion saw the obvious strike coming. He didn't notice the trap until his shield spell snagged on the binding, destabilizing both. His recovery was fast, but Adom was already moving, pressing the advantage with a series of precise, mana-efficient strikes.
This was the core of magical combat - not raw power, but the interplay of technique and timing. Every spell was a commitnt of energy. Every defense had its blind spots. Victory went to the mage who could think three moves ahead while executing the current one perfectly.
Karion switched tactics, abandoning complex shields for quick deflections. Smart - less mana drain, more mobility. But Adom had anticipated this. He wove his attacks into patterns, each spell forcing specific responses, gradually limiting Karion's options. Like a net slowly tightening.
But lately, these pure magical duels had started feeling... sterile. Adom couldn't quite place when the restlessness had begun. Was it puberty increasing rashness as Professor Mirwen had so diplomatically suggested? Or maybe after everything he'd been through, he'd simply developed a deep, personal appreciation for solving his problems with a well-placed punch to the face.
The cause did not matter that much. He liked it that way.
Adom began closing the distance, weaving his spells tighter, shorter. More personal.
Karion noticed.
A grin spread across his face. He understood.
Karion Dimitri, heir to the Dimitri Barony in the northern reaches of Sundar. They weren't friends, barely spoke outside of classes, but everyone knew of his family. The Dimitris were an old bloodline, notorious for their unique approach to magic. While most noble houses focused on pure spellcraft, the Dimitris had maintained their warrior-mage traditions for generations, blending physical combat with magical theory.
The boys t in the middle of the arena. Adom's barrier deflected a force bolt while his left hook sliced through where Karion's head had been a mont before. The other boy moved like water, his counter-spell flowing into an elbow strike that Adom barely blocked.
This was better. This was alive. More challenging. Pure spell-weaving? Adom clearly had the edge there. But here, in this dance of fist and force, technique and timing? Here, Karion was in his elent.
Magic crackled between punches. Basic spells woven in split seconds, defensive barriers snapping up and down between exchanges. Adom's straight right connected, backed by just enough force magic to make it sting. Karion answered with a sweep enhanced by montum spells.
The adrenaline sang in Adom's blood. This wasn't just about mana managent anymore - it was about reading muscles, anticipating strikes, feeling the flow of combat in bone and breath. Their spells beca shorter, sharper, integrated into their movents. A barrier flash-ford to cover a dodge. A force push disguised by a feint.
Adom saw the trap a fraction of a second too late. Karion's apparent opening was a lure, his defensive stance a lie. That was when sothing strange occured.
Ti. Ti seed to slow as Adom's body registered what his mind already knew - he'd overcommitted.
The world spun. When his vision cleared, Karion had him locked, position perfect, leverage absolute.
"I yield," Adom managed between heavy breaths.
[[Mana Manipulation] (Magic) has reached level 103!]
[[Boxing Mastery] (Common) has reached level 2!]
The training grounds erupted.
"Did you see that?!"
"Holy- that was incredible!"
"The way they switched from spells to combat-"
"Idiot threw away a perfect advantage-"
"Shut up, that was the best duel we've had all year!"
"Pure Dimitri style right there-"
The second-years were practically falling off the stone benches, their previous silence forgotten in an explosion of excited chatter and wild gestures. A few were already trying to mimic the moves they'd just witnessed, nearly smacking their classmates in the process.
Karion rolled off him, breathing hard, sweat darkening his uniform. He extended a hand down to Adom, who was still trying to rember which way was up.
"That," Karion panted, grinning, "was a proper fight."
Adom looked up at the offered hand, smiled, and grabbed it. As Karion pulled him up, he added, "Though you know you would've won easily if you'd stuck to pure spellwork, right?"
Adom laughed, wiping dirt from his clothes. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, I wanted to see if the stories about Dimitri combat magic were true."
"Speaking of stories," Karion said, rolling his shoulder where one of Adom's enhanced punches had connected, "I always see you in the library. Or used to, anyway. Then the rumors started about you going hunting in the forest preserve..." He gestured at Adom's improved physique. "Guess they weren't just rumors."
"Could've used my glasses though," Adom admitted, squinting slightly. "Pretty sure I missed so good openings there."
"You fight without your-" Karion started before Professor Crowley's voice cut through their conversation.
"If you two are quite finished with your mutual admiration society," he called out "we have three more duels to get through before lunch."
The boys shared a look and quickly moved to clear the arena, but Crowley pulled them aside as the next duel was setting up, speaking low enough that only they could hear.
"Excellent showing, both of you. Mr. Dimitri - 17 out of 20. Clean victory, good form throughout." He turned to Adom. "15 out of 20. Your initial spell work was exceptional, but deliberately abandoning a winning position during an exam..." He shook his head. "Test your limits on your own ti, Mr. Sylla."
"Fifteen?" Adom frowned. He'd expected a deduction for abandoning his advantage, but that seed...
"Not for your tactical choices," Crowley clarified, his voice dropping even lower. "You used Fluid. Just for a fraction of a second, but you did. I don't need to remind you that's forbidden, regardless of your year."
"You can use Fluid?" Karion whispered, eyes wide.
Adom opened his mouth to deny it, then hesitated. That mont when ti had seed to slow... had he unconsciously...?
"We'll discuss this another ti," Crowley said firmly. "Now, back to your seats. Both of you."
The morning's matches continued, the arena's barrier spell humming back to life as Professor Crowley called the next pair.
Around the arena's edges, students and their familiars watched with varying degrees of interest. He felt sothing warm press against his leg. The black cat - still naless, still mysterious - had decided to grace him with its presence. It now allowed him to scratch behind its ears, purring softly.
"That was amazing!" Sam whispered, still wide-eyed from Adom's match. " I an, you lost, but still. When did you learn to-"
"Sanel Harbinsky and Reed Pierce, take your positions!"
Sam's face lost all color.
"Stop panicking," Adom said quietly. "Your spell weaving is good. Just be confident. Good luck."
"...Thanks. I'm gonna need it." Sam muttered as he stepped into the circle, adjusting his robes with trembling hands.
But as soon as Reed launched his first attack - a simple fire spiral that any second-year should be able to counter - Sam's shield crumpled like paper in rain.
Adom winced.
"Match!" Crowley called out. "Pierce, 14/20." He turned to Sam. "Harbinsky, 11/20. Your weaving patterns were correct, but hesitation in combat is fatal. Work on your confidence before the next evaluation."
"...Yes, professor."
Whispers rippled through the crowd. "Two copper on Damus's match?" "Make it three, and I'll take that bet."
Sam slumped onto the bench beside Adom, nursing a singed sleeve. "I don't suppose you could-"
"Sam. Let's train together," Adom said imdiately, before Sam could continue.
He'd been watching his friend struggle for weeks now, and sothing in today's match had finally crystallized his decision. Sam had potential - Adom had seen it in their theoretical classes, in the way he could break down complex spell patterns like they were children's puzzles. He just needed soone to believe in him.
And while Adom might not be the most qualified teacher, having learned most of his combat skills from that old street fighting manual and surviving against people who'd thought they could steamroll him... well, sotis the best teachers were the ones who rembered what it was like to struggle.
"Really?" Sam's eyes lit up slightly, though he tried to hide it. "You're not too busy?"
"For you? Don't be ridiculous." And maybe, Adom thought, teaching would force him to better understand the basics he'd been skipping over in his rush to get stronger. It was ti to commit to this properly. "We'll start tomorrow morning."
Several matches blurred past - the usual display of standard academy techniques, nothing remarkable. Then Damus stepped into the arena.
The whispers died. Even Crowley straightened, his scarred face showing keen interest.
Damus moved like his elent was air itself, each gesture flowing into the next. His opponent, a tall girl from the eastern provinces nad Jana, never stood a chance. The fight lasted exactly forty-three seconds.
"Match! Lightbringer. 18/20. Kars. 16/20. Good match." Crowley's announcent was unnecessary. Everyone had known the outco before it began.
Adom watched Damus bow to his defeated opponent, every movent precise, controlled - the hallmark of a true combat mage in training. The mory of their own fight rose unbidden. He'd won that day, yes, but it was pure luck, really - the surprise of the "Shrimp" fighting like a back-alley knife fighter.
The 'Art of Street Fighting' had given him an edge that day, but only because Damus hadn't expected it. Next ti...
He could feel the stares boring into his back, hear the whispers.
"How did that guy even beat Damus?"
"Must've been a fluke."
"Maybe Lightbringer was sick that day?"
"No way he'd lose to soone half his size otherwise."
Adom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. First off, Damus was not that taller than him.
And second, yes, because height was clearly the determining factor in magical combat. These people would probably fall for the sa tricks Damus had, but that wasn't the point.
Adom's fingers drumd against his notebook where he kept track of the Fluid movent exercises.
His current approach - using surprise and cunning to overco superior skill - had worked so far. But sooner or later, he'd face soone who wouldn't give him the luxury of being underestimated. Soone who'd co at him with full force from the start.
The club's schedule flashed through his mind. If he doubled his boxing practice, added extra Fluid control exercises between classes...
*****
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Later that day, after classes...
"You never did tell how you lost your glasses during hunting," Sam said as they walked down the cobblestone streets of Arkhos. Market stalls lined both sides, their colorful awnings fluttering in the early autumn breeze. "How does soone even struggle with a deer that badly?"
"Bold of you to assu it was a deer," Adom said, stepping around a puddle that reflected the city's floating towers. "I tripped over a root and fell into a thorny bush. Not my finest mont."
Sam's skeptical look suggested he wasn't buying it, but he didn't press further.
The fact that Adom had actually spent hours in a magical labyrinth with a grumpy leprechaun doing a series of tests- and sohow erged stronger rather than irreparably traumatized - was probably best left unntioned. He still wasn't entirely sure how Orynth's magic had managed that particular feat of ntal gymnastics.
"The optician's shop should be around this corner," Adom said, pausing at a vendor selling roasted chestnuts. The warm, sweet sll made his stomach growl. "Unless they've moved since the last ti I was here."
Which was about six decades ago.
They turned onto Silver Street, where enchanted lanterns were already starting to glow despite the early hour, their light catching on the various magical implents displayed in shop windows. The optician's sign - a pair of golden spectacles that actually blinked at passersby - creaked gently in the wind.
"At least we won't have to go all the way to the upper district," Sam said, eyeing the floating towers above them. "I hate those sky bridges."
"Not fond of heights?"
"Not fond of bridges that sway in the wind while floating hundreds of feet in the air, no."
The shop bell tinkled as they stepped inside, it slled like polish and old wood.
A plump woman with silver-streaked hair looked up from where she was adjusting a pair of floating spectacles with a crystal wand. Her own glasses shifted through different colors as she spoke.
"Welco to Clarity & Craft! I'm Mada Iris- oh my, those are quite the prescription fras you're missing, young man."
Adom blinked. "You can tell?"
"Thirty years of matching eyes to lenses, dear. Your squint has a squint." She gestured at the displays around them. "Now, we have everything from Basic Clarity to our premium Eagle's Vision line. Those let you spot a copper coin from two districts away - though I wouldn't recomnd them unless you fancy constant headaches."
Sam wandered over to a pair that kept splitting into multiple fras and rging back together. "What about these?"
"Ah, the Diplomat's Choice! Shows you what people looked like five minutes ago. Wonderful for catching liars, terrible for avoiding motion sickness."
"Just prescription lenses, please," Adom said hastily. "For reading and distance."
"Sensible choice." Mada Iris pulled out a small golden disk etched with concentric rings of runes. "Hold still, dear. This will map your sight-pattern."
The disk humd softly, runes lighting up as she held it before his eyes. "Interesting... your magical signature is quite unique. Almost like-" She paused, then smiled. "Well, never mind that. Now, fras?"
They went through several options - self-cleaning, unbreakable, ones that adjusted their tint based on lighting. Adom settled on a simple pair with thin silver fras.
"Good choice. Now, the attunent..."
She placed the fras on a velvet cushion and began tracing patterns with her wand. The runes from the disk transferred to the lenses, shrinking until they were nearly invisible, re whispers of light catching the glass.
"The runes will sync with your sight," she explained, "adjusting constantly as you wear them. Try them on."
Adom put them on. The world snapped into focus.
"They're great. But..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the monocle - Riddler's Bane. "Would there be any way to integrate this into the new glasses?"
Mada Iris took the monocle carefully, her own color-shifting glasses flickering rapidly as she examined it. Her eyes widened slightly. "This is... my word, this is quite the artifact you have here, young man," she said in a lower voice, glancing at Sam who was thoroughly distracted by a display of smoke-lens spectacles.
"Can it be done?"
"Done? I could do it right now." Her eyes sparkled with professional excitent. "Give a few minutes in my workshop."
They heard various sounds from the back room - gentle chiming, a few whispered chants for so reason, what might have been crystal being carefully worked. When she erged, she held a pair of glasses that looked almost identical to the simple silver fras Adom had chosen, but with an almost imperceptible sheen to the right lens.
"I've layered your prescription over the artifact's lens, and changed its form to better adapt to the pair," she explained quietly, "maintaining its original properties while adding the clarity you need. The enchantnt shouldn't be affected at all - in fact, the prescription layer might even help focus its effects more precisely. Quite remarkable craftsmanship in this piece, by the way. Haven't seen work like this in decades..."
"Perfect," Adom said, then frowned. "Though for combat training..."
"Say no more." Mada Iris produced a thin enchanted cord. "Dwarvish style talweave. Flexible but unbreakable. Might save your nose in a fight. And they are thin enough to be almost invisible."
As she attached the cord, she added with a wink, "Oh, and I've thrown in a little extra protection charm - no charge. Impact resistance and stabilization enchantnt. Even if you take a hit to the face or they get jostled about, they'll stay put and keep working. Can't have a young mage losing his sight in the middle of a scrap, can we?"
"That's incredibly generous, thank you," Adom said, genuinely surprised by the unexpected kindness. "I really appreciate it."
"Think nothing of it, dear. Just promise you'll be careful out there."
Sam peered at a pair of specs that seed to be made of living smoke.
"Don't even think about it," Adom told him. "Those probably show you your own future or sothing equally headache-inducing."
"Ghost Glimpse model," Mada Iris confird cheerfully. "Very popular with spirit diums and temple diviners. Quite the marvel for ceremonial work - though I always advise custors to use them sparingly. The ethereal plane can be... overwhelming for beginners." She adjusted her own color-shifting glasses with pride. "We do have a modified version that's gentler on the senses, if you're interested in divination work."
Sam's eyes lit up for a mont before Adom shook his head. "Maybe another ti. We should head back before afternoon classes."
"Of course, of course," Mada Iris said, wrapping up their purchase. "But do co back if you're curious about our specialized collections. A young mage never knows when alternative perspectives might co in handy."
They walked back through the market, Adom occasionally tilting his head just to marvel at how crisp everything looked. It had only been a few days without his glasses, but he'd sohow forgotten just how clear the world could be. The floating towers weren't just vague shapes anymore, and he could actually read the market signs without squinting himself a headache.
With a subtle thought, he activated the artifact's power in his right lens - the world shifted, mana particles dancing through the air like dust in sunlight. Another thought, and they vanished, leaving just the crystal-clear normal vision. Perfect. The integration was seamless.
"We're getting those chestnuts," he declared, already veering toward the vendor they'd passed earlier. Now he could properly see the steam rising from the roasting pan, the way the shells had split to reveal the golden-brown nuts inside. "I can actually see how perfectly roasted they are now."
Sam laughed. "Is this going to be a thing? You rediscovering everything with working eyes?"
"Absolutely." Adom bought a paper cone full of hot chestnuts, sharing them as they walked. The warmth seeped through his gloves, and the sweet, nutty taste was exactly as good as the sll had promised.
The rest of the day unfolded normally - afternoon classes, training with the club, the usual chaos of academy life - except now Adom could actually see what he was doing. The round silver fras settled on his nose like they'd always belonged there, and if anyone noticed the nearly invisible cord keeping them secure, they didn't ntion it.
But as the last class wrapped up, Adom wasn't ready to call it a day.
"Hey," he caught Sam's sleeve as they left the lecture hall. "Co to the pitch with ?"
Sam clutched his books closer, eyeing the darkening sky like it might bite. "Now? It's cold out there. And dinner-"
"Won't take long. Besides," Adom grinned, "you can't hide in the library forever."
"I don't hide," Sam muttered, but fell into step beside him anyway. "I strategically avoid situations where people might set on fire."
"That's why we're going now. No one around to see you practice."
"Oh, wonderful. So when I freeze to death, no one will find my body until spring." Sam hugged himself tighter. "You know, my father says everyone in this school is basically a walking disaster waiting to happen. One bad day, one slip in control..." He gestured vaguely. "Boom."
"That rarely happens."
"But it happens. Rember last year? When that fifth-year lost control during exam week? Three people in the infirmary." Sam's voice dropped. "As my father says, better safe than sorry when everyone around you can accidentally kill you with a sneeze."
Adom stayed quiet for a mont. He couldn't exactly argue with that.
He'd seen enough training accidents to know how quickly things could go wrong.
He glanced at his friend, understanding the weight behind those words.
Sam ca from a long line of rchants - generations of non-mages who'd never had to worry about accidentally setting things on fire or freezing them solid. Then Sam had awakened at eight, the stone turning silver for him when the seekers ca.
The first mage in his family's history.
No one had been prepared for what that ant, least of all Sam himself. That devastating loss of control, his sister being injured and his mother still lying comatose in a healing ward three regions away... The monthly letters Sam wrote, knowing she might never read them.
Like all awakened mages, he'd had no choice but to learn control - it was imperial law, and simple necessity.
No wonder his father's protective instincts had transford into constant cautioning against the dangers of magic. Better safe than sorry had beco the family motto, even as they supported Sam's education from afar. After all, what rchant father knew how to raise a mage child safely?
Sam wasn't a coward - cowards didn't spend extra hours in the library learning theory, didn't push themselves to understand every aspect of magic they could. Cowards didn't keep trying, keep studying, keep pushing forward despite their fears.
That sa caution that kept Sam safe, though, was also holding him back from reaching his full potential.
"That's why we're doing this," Adom finally said, gentler than usual. "So next ti soone loses control, you'll be ready."
The krozball pitch stretched out before them, vast and empty in the deepening dusk. The black cat padded after them, settling on the sidelines like a tiny spectator.
"Seriously though, what are we doing out here?" Sam rubbed his arms. "In case you hadn't noticed, it's cold as a frost giant's-"
"Learning," Adom said, feeling his Fluid stir, warming him from within. "Rember what you said about eastern focusing techniques? Ti to put theory into practice."
He planted his feet shoulder-width apart and drew in a deep breath. The cold air filled his lungs, sharp and crisp. As he exhaled, a thin wisp of vapor curled upward. Another breath in, slower this ti, deeper.
The Fluid responded, thrumming beneath his skin like a second heartbeat.
Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Is this the part where you reveal you've secretly been a breathing expert all along?" When Adom didn't respond, he turned to their feline observer. "Any idea what he's doing?"
"ow."
"Thanks. Very helpful."
With each asured breath, more vapor spiraled around Adom.
The autumn chill bit deeper than it should, especially this early in the season. Sothing in his chest tightened - not from the cold, but from mory. The year 847 had ended just like this, hadn't it? The sa unseasonable chill that everyone had laughed off as a quirk of weather. No one had thought to question it until years later, when that Necromancer rose from the northern wastes.
But Adom was too weak to do anything about that now. Too far away. And who would believe him anyway, based on nothing but unusual weather? No, he just had to focus on the task at hand.
One final exhale and...
The warmth that had been building beneath Adom's skin suddenly erupted, rushing through every vessel and pathway in his body. Blue Fluid burst from within, wreathing him in light that rippled like water yet moved like fla.
His breath caught – not from effort, but from the sheer euphoria flooding his system. Every nerve sang, every sense sharpened. The autumn chill that had been biting at him monts ago beca nothing more than a gentle caress.
Power. Pure, intoxicating power thrumd through him, settling into his bones like it had always belonged there.
"FLUID?!" Sam stumbled backward, the blue light reflecting off his glasses. "You manifested actual Fluid?! How did– when did you–"
Adom couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. It wasn't the first ti, but the rush of manifesting Fluid never got old – that perfect mont when everything clicked into place and the world beca sharper, brighter, more real sohow.
His body felt lighter yet stronger, as if gravity itself had loosened its hold.
"This," he said, "is what we're going to learn."
Adom rolled his shoulders. His joints cracked satisfyingly as he stretched, the sound crisp in his heightened awareness. He bounced on his toes, luxuriating in how responsive his body felt.
"So what emotion did it for you?" Sam asked, watching him warm up. "Everyone says it's different. Anger, joy, desperation..."
"Spite."
Sam fell quiet for a mont. Then: "You know what? That's totally like you."
Adom paused mid-stretch. "You think I've always been like that?"
"There were signs." Sam adjusted his glasses, speaking in that matter-of-fact way of his. "Like when Instructor Brown from our first year said you'd never master basic shielding, and you spent three weeks perfecting it just to demonstrate it in front of the whole class. Or that ti when Drew said morizing runic sequences was pointless, so you learned the entire Third Codex by heart just to correct him every ti he misquoted it. Oh, and rember when Helena said your handwriting was atrocious? You spent two months practicing calligraphy until yours was better than hers."
Adom blinked. He didn't rember any of those monts from his actual childhood – his first childhood. These were mories from this life, this version of him. But hearing them laid out like that...
"You just..." Sam waved a hand vaguely, "get this look in your eyes sotis. Like soone told you 'no' and you decided that was personally offensive."
Adom let out a laugh that was maybe a touch too self-conscious, suddenly aware of how that look Sam described might be playing across his face right now.
"Well, since you're such an expert on my personality..." He rolled his wrists. "Want to help figure this out? All those eastern scrolls you've been hoarding in your room, all those theories about Fluid manipulation – we could test them." The Fluid flickered slightly, betraying his still-tenuous control. "I an, I can barely keep it stable, but..."
Sam's eyes lit up behind his glasses. He was already reaching for the notebook that seed permanently attached to his robes. "Wait, you an – all those treatises about emotional resonance and energy pathways? The ridian theory from the Jade Scrolls?"
"Exactly." Adom grinned. "And maybe watching might help you find your own trigger. You've got the theory down better than anyone – probably better than most of the instructors."
"I've been studying the way Fluid manifest differently in each person," Sam was already scribbling. "The scrolls say it's like a fingerprint – unique to each individual.Let's start by the basics, Breathing.?"
The black cat, which had been dozing, suddenly perked up its ears, golden eyes fixing on the blue light dancing around Adom.
"Oh, getting interested, are we?" Adom smiled at their feline observer. "Just watch – we're about to put on quite a show."
"I found my breath pattern, by the way. I can ditate." Adom said casually, still stretching.
Sam nearly dropped his notebook. "What? Already? It takes years to find yours among hundreds of thousands of possibilities! Even masters spend decades helping people find their individual patterns. How did you–"
"Accident, really." Adom shrugged, turning to face the practice pitch. His Fluid rippled with each controlled breath. "The spite got it started, but emotion alone isn't enough to maintain it. You know what they say – Fluid can only be optimized in a strong body. I need to work on control, on the physical aspect."
Sam was practically vibrating with excitent now, pushing his glasses up his nose repeatedly. "This is incredible! We could docunt your progress, map your pattern, study how it develops with– wait." He pulled out a fresh page. "What are we going to try first?"
"Well," Adom rolled his shoulders one last ti, then turned to Sam with a slight smile. "You're going to shoot ."
"...what?"
"Shoot . With fireball spells. Or wind arrows. Anything. Your choice."
"Have you lost your mind?"
"No? I am completely sane."
"Adom..." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "There are dozens of safer ways to test Fluid control. We could start with basic resistance exercises, or energy circulation paths, or–"
"Boring."
"–or asure your Fluid's response to controlled stimuli–"
"Still boring."
"–or docunt its natural flow patterns–"
"Sam." Adom's Fluid pulsed slightly with his impatience. "I need real pressure. Real stakes. How am I supposed to learn control if I'm just standing there doing breathing exercises?"
"By not dying?" Sam threw his hands up. "Look, even if – and that's a big if – I agreed to this madness, my accuracy with offensive spells is terrible. I could actually hurt you."
"Perfect! That makes it even more motivating."
Sam stared at his friend for a long mont. "You know, when I imagined helping with your training, I was thinking more along the lines of taking notes and offering theoretical insights. Not... attempted murder."
"It's not murder if I ask for it," Adom said cheerfully. "Co on, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Do you want that list alphabetically or by severity of bodily harm?"
"Look, it's not just about testing limits. Fluid enhances reflexes, right? But I need to learn how to gauge that enhancent, how to control it under pressure. I can't do that with theoretical exercises." Adom's Fluid swirled more steadily now, matching his more serious tone. "Right now, I either can't access it at all, or it cos out too strong. I need to find the middle ground, and for that..."
"...you need dynamic stimulus," Sam finished reluctantly, his academic side starting to see the logic. "And the threat response would create more realistic conditions for control practice."
"Exactly. Besides, if I'm going to lose control, better do it here with you than in the middle of a battle."
"You're going to be in battles?"
"Don't mind that." Adom waved his hand dismissively, and before Sam could press further, he continued, "You know enough theory to spot if sothing's going wrong, and you're too cautious to actually hit with anything dangerous."
Sam adjusted his glasses, clearly wavering. "The principle is sound, but... You do realize you're asking to break about fifteen different academy safety protocols?"
"Seventeen, actually. I counted." Adom grinned. "Think of it as a practical research opportunity."
"Hmm."
"So, are you in or are we doing this the boring way?" Adom asked, already settling into a ready stance.
Sam sighed heavily, Taking off his robe despite the cold. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this. If anyone asks, I was coerced."
"That's the spirit!"
"And we're starting with the weakest possible spells."
"Fine, fine."
"And if I see anything – anything – looking unstable, we stop imdiately."
"Yes, Professor."
"And–"
"Sam," Adom interrupted, his Fluid beginning to stir more actively. "Stop stalling and shoot ."
"Okay, I'm weaving the spell now," Sam announced, raising his hand with exaggerated slowness.
Adom rolled his eyes. "You know, the point of combat training is that I'm not supposed to know exactly when you're going to– OW!"
[-1 Life Force]
A small burst of wind caught him in the shoulder, making him stumble back a step. Sam's mouth twitched. "You were saying?"
"That," Adom said, rubbing his shoulder, "was actually pretty good."
"Theory isn't everything." Sam readied another spell, looking slightly more confident. "Ready?"
This ti, Adom didn't answer, but his Fluid began to move with more purpose.
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