Zane stood at the edge of the training field, hands in his coat pockets, eyes calmly observing.
The mana pressure blanketed the arena like an invisible ocean. Every movent felt heavy, as if the students were fighting while subrged in deep water. Mana flowed sluggishly, resisting precise control, forcing everyone to rely on instinct rather than technique.
His gaze shifted.
Ron and Lia.
They were already in motion.
Just bodies reinforced with mana.
Ron stepped in first, fists tight, shoulders squared. He threw a straight punch, mana surging through his arm—not sharp, not refined, but dense and forceful.
Lia slipped to the side at the last mont.
Her movent was cleaner, lighter. Even under pressure, her footwork was sharp. She countered with a quick elbow aid at Ron’s ribs, her mana flowing smoothly despite the strain.
Ron blocked—barely.
The impact sent a dull shock through his arms. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, closing the distance. In close combat, his strength showed. Each strike carried weight, forcing Lia to give ground step by step.
But Lia was faster.
She ducked under a wide swing, pivoted, and landed a clean palm strike to Ron’s shoulder. Not powerful—but precise. Ron staggered half a step, surprised.
"Tch..."
He adjusted imdiately.
Ron lowered his stance, using his weight, charging in with short, compact blows. No wasted motion. No hesitation. Lia crossed her arms to guard, boots scraping against the floor as she was pushed back.
Strength versus speed.
Ron’s punches were heavier.
Lia’s counters were quicker.
Neither could overwhelm the other.
Sweat rolled down their faces. Their breathing grew heavier as the mana pressure drained stamina faster than normal. Each movent demanded effort. Each strike burned.
Ron lunged again—Lia spun away.
Lia dashed in—Ron caught her wrist.
For a mont, they were locked together, muscles trembling, mana flaring unevenly.
Zane watched silently.
Equal.
Ron lacked just a bit of speed.
Lia lacked just a bit of raw power.
And that tiny difference was what kept the fight perfectly balanced.
A faint smile tugged at Zane’s lips.
"Good," he murmured.
"This is exactly how it should be."
Zane’s attention shifted.
Jax and Maera.
The mont the signal was given, the contrast between them beca obvious.
Jax moved first—backward.
White mana flared around his body and flowed cleanly into his twin guns. The weapons humd softly as his mana passed through them, the barrels glowing faint blue.
Bang. Bang.
Compressed mana bullets tore through the air, fast and sharp, kicking up bursts of dust where they struck the ground.
Maera didn’t stop.
A red, feral aura exploded around her body, wild and untad. She leaned forward as she ran, claws digging into the floor with every step, each stride cracking the ground beneath her feet.
"Too slow!" she snarled.
Jax clicked his tongue and rolled sideways, the pressure making the movent heavy. He fired again mid-roll, shots angled to restrict her path rather than hit her directly.
Smart.
Maera twisted her body, bullets grazing past her shoulder and tearing through her aura. She felt the sting—but it only made her grin wider.
She pushed harder.
The distance closed rapidly.
Jax slid back, boots scraping, firing in controlled bursts. His aim was precise, not reckless. Every shot was ant to slow, to pressure, to force Maera to react.
Zane watched closely.
Jax gun’s are truly a decent piece.
Due to jax mana being similar to mage..
Jax’s mana didn’t coat his body the way a fighter’s did. Instead, the guns acted as conduits—processing his mage-like mana into raw and Crude mana , it is inefficient... but flexible.
Through his gun he uses thr crude mana as pseudo fighter’s mana for mana reinforcent..
It is wasteful.
And Jax had mana to spare.
Maera lunged.
Jax crossed his arms instinctively, guns raised.
Too late.
Maera crashed into him like a beast unleashed, her knee slamming into his midsection. The impact sent Jax skidding backward, coughing as the pressure crushed the air from his lungs.
"Tch—!"
He recovered fast, planting a foot and firing point-blank.
The blast detonated between them, mana exploding outward.
Maera was thrown back a few ters, boots digging trenches in the floor. Smoke curled from her arms—but she was still standing.
She cracked her neck, eyes glowing.
"Now this is fun."
Jax exhaled slowly, white mana flaring brighter around his guns.
Zane nodded to himself.
The efficiency of conversion of mana through guns was terrible and output requirent was very high.
But—
With Jax’s natural big mana pool and his natural compensating for the weak physical reinforcent due to pseudo fighter’s mana.
"...Not bad at all," Zane muttered.
Across the arena, Maera grinned and rushed forward again.
And Jax raised his guns.
The clash resud—wild red mana against controlled white bullets—neither backing down, neither holding back.
Zane’s smile deepened.
Zane’s gaze shifted away from the fighters and settled on the mages.
His eyes stopped on Selene.
Under the crushing mana pressure, she was kneeling slightly, breath steady, midnight-blue eyes sharp. A magic circle hovered in front of her—thin, precise, slow but stable. Mana trembled around it, resisting her control, yet she held on.
Across from her, her opponent was struggling.
Their circle ford unevenly, lines wavering.
Selene’s fingers moved.
She traced.
The opposing magic circle shuddered—then collapsed, scattering like broken glass.
Her opponent sucked in a breath, forced to start again.
Zane watched for a few seconds longer.
Then—
"Selene," he said.
Her head snapped up. "Yes, Professor?"
"Stop."
The duel froze. Selene blinked, confused, and scratched her cheek lightly.
"Did I do sothing wrong...?"
Zane shook his head.
"No. That’s the problem."
She stiffened.
"You’re far better than the other mage students here," he continued calmly. "This kind of training isn’t challenging you anymore."
Selene’s ears ward slightly.
"T-thank you...?"
"But," Zane added, eyes sharpening, "that just ans you get different training."
Her confusion deepened.
"...Different how, Professor?"
Zane raised a hand.
Snap.
A white magic circle appeared in the air between them.
It wasn’t large—but it was intricate. Layered white runes interlocked in unfamiliar patterns, lines overlapping with near-surgical precision. The structure was elegant... and complex.
Selene’s eyes widened.
Zane spoke evenly.
"You will copy this magic circle."
She swallowed.
"You won’t be able to activate the spell," he continued. "I designed it purely from runic structure. Rune magic is your specialty, right ?"
Selene nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the circle.
"But," Zane said, tone sharpening just a little,
"if you make even one mistake—"
His fingers twitched.
"I will imdiately trace and destroy your circle."
Her breath hitched.
"And you will start over."
The training field felt suddenly much heavier.
Selene clenched her fist, then straightened, resolve burning in her eyes.
"...Understood."
Zane lowered his hand.
"Begin."
The white circle hovered silently.
Selene lifted her fingers—and started drawing.
User Comments
0 comments from readers