The training ground had grown quiet by the time the mage stepped forward.
He was the last of the three instructors, the most curious of all. His robe shimmered with embroidered runes of status—sigils that spoke of a long life studying flame, storm, and soul. His name was Master Yelrin, an Archmage once whispered to have turned aside a siege with a single storm wall.
Yet today, he bowed before an 11-year-old boy.
"Adept tier only," Hector said, respectfully. "We keep it fair."
Yelrin raised a brow, amused. "Of course."
Victoria, still on the marble bench, folded her hands in her lap again. Her gaze, unblinking, followed Hector's every motion.
She had seen him handle runes with impossible precision.
She had watched him dance between blades with ghostlike grace.
But magic—magic was where most prodigies failed. Magic was untamed. Raw. Emotion and knowledge forged into will.
Let's see what you do, she thought, heart quietly thudding.
Yelrin began the spell in a casual stance—arm outstretched, fingers tracing a well-worn gesture. A sphere of fire formed in the air before his palm, its light flickering with adept control. The heat rose, radiant but contained. He was careful. Calculated.
Then, just as he was about to release the fireball—
Puff.
The flame vanished.
There was no clash of mana.
No opposing force.
It simply ceased to exist.
Yelrin blinked.
"...What?"
Hector tilted his head. His voice came like a breeze. "Do you know how fire exists?"
Yelrin said nothing.
Hector continued. "We conjure it through intent. Through our feeling of fire. But in reality, fire is the rapid oxidation of a fuel. A combustion that releases heat and light. In magic, mana is our fuel. But fire still obeys laws—laws of physics, laws of reality."
He raised a single finger. "I removed the oxygen from the air around your fingertip. That was the spell. Nothing grand. Just... removal."
Yelrin's jaw tightened.
Victoria leaned forward.
He... what?
Hector spoke again. "There was an assassin-mage once, centuries ago. Killed his targets without a mark. No trace. All he did was remove the oxygen around their face until they passed. Nobody understood it then. They feared him like death itself."
He took a step closer to the mage. "It's not that I'm stronger. We're both at adept tier. But magic isn't just about strength. It's about how you think."
Yelrin lowered his hand, staring at his fingers.
He had never considered fire in that way.
Not truly.
Victoria felt a cold thrill ripple through her. She had studied magic for years. She had seen alternate selves use it in thousands of ways.
But this?
This wasn't magic.
This was knowledge. Refined through time.
Yelrin exhaled, slowly.
"You frighten me, boy."
Hector smiled faintly. "I frighten myself, sometimes."
The mage shook his head. "Then let's change the rules. A duel of minds. No more casting. Just theory. A spell for a spell. I give you one. You give me a counter."
Victoria's heart skipped.
Word duels.
Only archmages, sages, or philosophers dared to participate in such battles. Words, knowledge, logic, theory. A battle of wits.
Yelrin narrowed his eyes. "Very well. I'll begin. A binding of flame—to trap an enemy within a spinning wheel of fire."
Hector answered instantly. "A wind burst spell that redirects the flame's momentum in a spiral until it collapses inward. Starve the wheel by feeding it itself."
"A chain lightning curse, aimed at your heart."
"Redirect with a mana sink on the right palm—drain the current before it finishes. Use iron in the ground to bleed the charge."
"A mind fog incantation, to scatter memory."
"Counter-chime. Rhythm magic. Anchor the mind with emotional pulses—heartbeat frequency resonance."
Yelrin faltered.
Victoria gasped silently.
He knows rhythm magic? she thought, stunned. That's ancient. Forbidden in most towers.
But Hector wasn't finished.
He stepped forward. "My turn. A displacement curse that traps a soul five seconds behind its body."
Yelrin blinked. "Counter with—"
But he paused.
He didn't know.
Victoria did.
She felt it in her gut.
He didn't have the answer.
"...Impossible," Yelrin whispered.
Hector bowed politely. "That's alright. I had help. 3,390 of them."
Yelrin stared at him, the truth dawning on his face. The dreams. The knowledge. The impossible spells.
And the fear.
This boy isn't normal, he thought. He's not just brilliant. He's... layered. Alive in ways others aren't.
Victoria stood up. She could barely sit anymore.
Her fingers trembled slightly. Not from fear.
From understanding.
She walked across the training field as Yelrin bowed in quiet defeat.
"You won't need me anymore," he said. "Not for teaching. Maybe for learning. But not for testing."
Hector nodded. "Thank you for respecting the terms."
Yelrin turned and walked away, head spinning.
Victoria reached Hector as the breeze settled again.
She didn't speak immediately.
He didn't either.
Finally, she said softly, "You didn't have to do it that way."
He looked at her.
"I know."
"You wanted to scare him."
He nodded.
"Why?"
Hector exhaled. His ember eyes flickered with something distant.
"Because they keep looking at me like I'm a child. A prince. A scholar. A curiosity."
He turned to her fully.
"But none of them see the war I'm preparing for."
Victoria stepped closer. Her hand brushed his.
"I see it."
He smiled gently. "That's why I don't need to scare you."
She blushed, looking away.
"Come on," she said, brushing off invisible dust from his robe. "Let's go get lunch."
He chuckled. "Only if you don't spar me afterwards."
"No promises."
And they walked off together, leaving behind three instructors who now truly understood:
This wasn't about a prince.
This wasn't about magic.
It was about two souls...
And what they would do to protect the world they had only just begun to remember.