Vel sat cross-legged in the dirt, leaning against a wooden fence post while Celia drank from her waterskin. The afternoon sun turned the packed earth into a dusty arena.
His fingers twitched as he navigated his interface panels discreetly. The spell window appeared, showing the incantation for [Light's Blessing].
"You're being awfully quiet," Celia said, lowering her waterskin and wiping her mouth.
"Just catching my breath," Vel replied casually, studying the spell's details. A faint smile crossed his face at the memory of Landre using him as her test subject, eager to showcase her progress while he endured her magic's tingling sensations.
The spell showed improved resistance to dark elements, but the mana cost made him wince. He noted the incantation—"Sanctus Lumire Aeghis"—differed from Landre's whispered prayers that achieved the same result.
Apparently pushing his mana limits, casting spells until exhaustion set in can improve your mana pool lik muscle. Yet, progress felt agonizingly slow.
"Ready for another round?" Celia asked, brushing dirt from her practice clothes.
"Give me another minute," Vel replied, still absorbed in the spell's details. The contrast between Landre's divine magic and his systematic spellcasting intrigued him. Same result, different methods. There had to be a way to optimize this...
Vel furrowed his brow, mentally mapping out the sigils from the spell's magic circle. The intricate patterns glowed softly in his mind, each representing a vital function.
The first sigil pulsed with energy. Amplification. It could increase the caster's light resistance. He envisioned how it might enhance his defenses against shadowy attacks, a crucial asset in a world where darkness lurked around every corner.
The second sigil radiated warmth, representing the light attribute. It served as a conduit for all things bright and pure, channeling Shizka's grace into the spell.
Lastly, he focused on the mitigation sigil. Its purpose clicked into place like a piece of an intricate puzzle. This one would absorb and soften incoming dark attacks, reducing their impact significantly.
He tried to translate these components into something only he could understand—
enhance(caster.resistance.light, spell_level)
It felt so simple yet profoundly powerful. He visualized it clearly:
If(incoming_attack.element is element.dark): mitigate(incoming_attack, spell_level).
"Hey! If we don't get back to practice soon, Von's gonna scold us!" Celia's voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to reality.
Vel chuckled softly but nodded in agreement. That was true; Von had taken a newfound interest in their training sessions lately. His strictness caught them off guard at first. The unexpected intensity left Vel questioning what had sparked this change in their father.
"Let's not keep him waiting then," Vel replied, pushing himself up from the post and shaking off the lingering fatigue in his arms.Vel furrowed his brow, mentally mapping the sigils from the spell's magic circle. Each intricate pattern glowed softly, representing a vital function.
Vel adjusted his stance, wiping sweat from his brow as he prepared for another round against Celia. The air buzzed with anticipation, their laughter and playful taunts ringing through the clearing.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps interrupted their practice. Vel turned to see Von approaching, his face more serious than usual. Each step seemed deliberate yet burdened, as if he carried a weight that pressed down on him.
"Dad?" Vel called out, curiosity lacing his tone.
Von paused a few paces away, catching his breath before speaking. "Vel." His voice held a firmness that cut through the lightheartedness of their training.
Vel exchanged glances with Celia. Something was different today; Von's usual gruffness felt overshadowed by an urgency in his demeanor.
"You both need to come with me," Von continued, gesturing toward the path leading back to town.
Celia tilted her head slightly, concern etched on her features. "What's going on?"
Von straightened up, a hint of hesitation flickering across his expression before he continued. "Lady Halen has arranged a test for you, Vel."
Vel's heart raced at the mention of Halen's name. A test? Today? The weight of anticipation settled heavily in his stomach as questions flooded his mind.
"What kind of test?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the growing excitement and nerves.
"A way to prove your worthiness for the scholarship at the Academy," Von explained, eyeing both of them seriously. "It's important."
Vel's mind raced with questions as they followed Von down the path. A test from Lady Halen herself? The opportunity seemed too convenient, yet his father's serious demeanor suggested this was no joke.
"Dad, why would Lady Halen-"
"Save your questions," Von cut him off with a wave. "I'll explain while we walk."
Their footsteps crunched against the dirt path as Von began to elaborate. "Lady Halen is offering a rare scholarship to the Academy. Anyone who passes her test has a chance at it."
Celia perked up beside them. "Really? Just like that?"
"It's not something that happens often," Von continued, his pace steady. "Could be years before another opportunity like this comes around. If you want any shot at the Academy, Vel, you need to pass this test."
The explanation made sense to Vel, though something about it nagged at the back of his mind. Still, a direct path to the Academy... "What kind of test are we talking about?"
Von's shoulders tensed slightly. "The kind that proves you're ready for the entrance exams. Combat skills, knowledge - everything they'd look for in a potential student."
"Combat?" Vel exchanged glances with Celia. Their recent training sessions suddenly felt inadequate compared to what might lie ahead.
"Yes, combat," Von confirmed. "They need to know you can handle yourself. The Academy isn't just about books and studying."
Vel's breath caught as they stepped through the grand entrance of Lady Halen's estate. Shifting from the blazing sun to the cool interior. Sweet floral scents wafted through the air - a mix of fresh flowers and expensive perfumes that spoke of wealth beyond anything in his experience.
His eyes darted around, taking in the polished wooden furniture and ornate decorative pieces. Potted plants lined the corridors, their leaves a vibrant green that put the wild plants outside to shame. Next to him, Celia's eyes were wide as she absorbed the luxury surrounding them.
"Keep up," Von muttered, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor.
They followed Von through a series of hallways, each turn revealing new signs of opulence that made Vel increasingly aware of his dusty training clothes. The manor's grandeur felt almost oppressive - a reminder that this wasn't a place meant for common folk like them.
Von led them out through a side door into a garden path. Smooth stone pavers stretched before them, winding between carefully maintained hedges. The nearby buildings cast long shadows across an open courtyard ahead, creating a natural arena sheltered from the harsh afternoon sun.
Vel's heart skipped when he spotted the two figures waiting there. Lady Halen stood with perfect posture, her silver hair catching what little sunlight filtered through. The frilled black headband she wore looked more like a crown in this setting. Beside her was Graham, the Guild's Vice Headmaster, his presence adding another layer of formality to the moment.
"Remember your manners," Von whispered as they approached the pair.
Vel felt a rush of adrenaline as Lady Halen's gaze shifted to Graham, signaling him to take charge. The atmosphere thickened with anticipation.
Graham stepped forward, his demeanor both authoritative and encouraging. "Welcome, Vel and Celia," he began, his voice resonating with confidence. "You've been given an exceptional opportunity today."
Vel's heart raced at the word "opportunity." He exchanged a glance with Celia, whose eyes sparkled with excitement.
"If you both pass this test, you'll be eligible for a scholarship from Lady Halen herself," Graham continued, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Celia gasped softly beside him. Vel's stomach flipped at the thought of competing for such an honor.
"The test is straightforward," Graham explained, gesturing toward the open area behind him. "You'll each face me in combat. I'll evaluate your abilities and determine if you're ready for the Academy."
Vel's mind raced. A fight? Against Graham? He felt a wave of nervousness wash over him but also a flicker of determination igniting within.
Graham nodded, acknowledging her apprehension. "That's what this test is for. To see where you stand and how much potential you have."
Vel swallowed hard, trying to push down his doubts. He had trained with Celia; they had practiced sparring sessions and tactics—but this was different. This was real.
"Are you both ready?" Graham asked, tilting his head slightly as he regarded them both with intensity.
Vel took a deep breath, nodding slowly despite the churning in his stomach.
Celia straightened up beside him, determination shining in her eyes. "I'm ready," she declared firmly.
Graham stepped back to create space between them and assumed a relaxed stance that belied his readiness for action.
"Good," he said evenly. "Remember to focus on your training and let instinct guide you."
Graham strode toward a weapons rack positioned against the courtyard wall. The afternoon sun glinted off polished wood and metal, highlighting an impressive array of training weapons. Vel's eyes followed Graham's movements as the Vice Headmaster selected a practice sword, testing its weight with practiced ease.
The blade caught the light as Graham gave it an experimental swing. Even from this distance, Vel could tell it was perfectly balanced - the kind of quality weapon they'd never had access to during their practice sessions.
"So, who wants to go first?" Graham's question hung in the air between them.
Vel glanced at Celia, catching her eye. Neither spoke, the weight of the moment holding them in place. Their usual eagerness to jump into training seemed to have evaporated in the face of this formal test.
Graham's voice cut through their hesitation, gentle but firm. "No need to worry. You'll both have your chance to demonstrate your abilities." He gestured toward the weapon rack. "Pick your weapon. Come on - if your goal is the Academy, hesitation shouldn't be in your book."
Vel felt Celia take a deep breath beside him. She turned to meet his gaze, and in that moment of shared understanding, they both knew. All those hours of training together, learning each other's rhythms and styles, had taught them more than just swordplay. They could read each other's intentions without words.
Celia stepped forward, her shoulders set with determination.
Vel watched intently as Celia settled into her familiar stance, her weight balanced on the balls of her feet. He recognized the posture from their countless practice sessions - she was ready to explode into action at any moment.
Graham's position, however, made Vel uneasy. The Vice Headmaster stood with one foot forward, the other back, his sword held behind him and angled downward. His cloak obscured most of the blade, making it difficult to read his intentions. The stance seemed almost casual, yet Vel sensed a deadly efficiency in how Graham carried himself.
When Graham made no move to attack, Celia took the initiative. She burst forward with the speed that had caught Vel off guard so many times during their sparring matches. Her strikes came in quick succession - each one precise and measured.
But Graham moved with an ease that made Vel's stomach sink. The Vice Headmaster barely seemed to shift as he deflected each of Celia's attacks, his movements minimal and efficient. He wasn't fighting back - just reading her, analyzing each strike as if this were nothing more than a casual observation.
"You're too predictable," Graham's words cut through the sound of clashing metal.
Vel watched in awe as Celia pressed her assault. Her wooden blade whirled through the air, targeting Graham's head with precision. The Vice Headmaster shifted slightly, deflecting the strike with minimal movement. Undeterred, Celia immediately transitioned into a side slash, her footwork fluid and precise.
Graham's blade intercepted each attack with perfect timing. The wooden weapons crashed together, sending sharp echoes across the courtyard. Despite Celia's relentless offense, Graham's defense remained impenetrable, his movements economical and controlled.
Vel recognized the sequence Celia was attempting - one they'd practiced countless times together. She feinted high, then dropped low, aiming for Graham's ribs. The Vice Headmaster didn't fall for the deception, his practice sword already in position to block before Celia's attack fully developed.
"Good combination," Graham commented, parrying another strike. "But your eyes give away your intentions."
Celia sidestepped, trying to create an opening. Her blade whistled through the air as she launched another series of attacks. The sound of wood meeting wood filled the arena, each impact punctuating her determined assault. Graham retreated a few steps, though Vel could tell it was a calculated movement rather than being forced back.
"Keep your guard up," Graham advised as he deflected another of Celia's strikes. "Your attacks are quick, but you leave yourself exposed."
Vel watched intently as Celia adjusted her stance, trying to correct her form while maintaining her assault. Her breathing was becoming more labored with each exchange.
"Your footwork is solid," Graham continued, easily avoiding a thrust aimed at his chest. "But you're telegraphing your moves. A skilled opponent will read you like an open book."
Celia spun into another combination, her practice sword cutting through the air. Graham's blade met hers with precise timing, completely neutralizing the attack she had worked so hard to perfect during their training sessions.
"Hm." Graham's mocking sound echoed in the courtyard as he pushed forward, forcing Celia to stumble back. She struggled to catch her breath, sweat beading on her forehead.
"Now let's see how you are on your defensive."
Graham's casual demeanor vanished as he stepped forward. His practice sword became a blur of motion, launching a relentless barrage of attacks. Vel's eyes widened - Celia had always been the faster one during their spars, but now she could barely track Graham's movements.
She retreated step by step, her boots scraping against the stone as Graham advanced. The sharp crack of wood against flesh made Vel wince. One hit landed on Celia's shoulder, another caught her side. Despite the practice sword's padded surface, each impact drew a pained gasp from his friend
Vel's heart clenched as Celia hit the ground, her practice sword clattering against stone. She lay there for a moment, chest heaving with each breath. Graham's tall figure cast a shadow over her fallen form.
The Vice Headmaster turned away, boots scraping against the courtyard floor as he put distance between them. When he faced her again, his voice carried across the arena.
"Is that everything you've got?" Graham's words cut through the air. "I expected more from Clara's sister. She was a platinum adventurer, after all."
Vel's fists tightened at his sides. The mention of Clara seemed to pierce through Celia's exhaustion. She stirred, fingers curling around the handle of her practice sword once more.
Her movements were slow as she pushed herself up, hair falling forward to obscure her face. Vel couldn't see her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders spoke volumes. The way she gripped the sword, knuckles white against the wood - he recognized that internal struggle. The weight of Clara's legacy pressing down on her, the fear of not measuring up.
But something shifted in Celia's stance. Her breathing steadied, and she lifted the practice sword once more. When she finally raised her head, Vel saw steel in her expression. The hesitation had burned away, replaced by raw determination.
Vel watched as Celia launched into another flurry of attacks. Her movements had changed - each strike flowing seamlessly into the next, like links in a chain. Where before she had fought with raw determination, now there was calculation behind every move.
Graham blocked each hit with practiced ease, but Vel noticed something different in the pattern. Celia wasn't aiming to break through his defense - she was herding him, controlling the space between them with each carefully placed strike. Her blade sang through the air, forcing Graham to step exactly where she wanted him to go.
"Not bad," Graham acknowledged, deflecting another precisely aimed thrust.
Celia's final attack came in hard and fast - a powerful overhead strike that seemed to commit all her remaining strength. Graham's blade rose to meet it, wood cracking against wood. But in that instant, Graham twisted, his body completing a full rotation. His practice sword whirled in a devastating arc, front to back and returning again with frightening speed.
The impact against Celia's side echoed across the courtyard. She stumbled backward, face contorted in pain, barely keeping her footing as the force of the blow sent her reeling.
"Come on," Graham called out, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "Show me something. Prove that you are better than any other swordsman."
Vel's throat tightened as he watched. His hands clenched at his sides, knowing with crushing certainty that he would fare no better against Graham's skill. Every move the Vice Headmaster made spoke of years of experience - the kind of mastery that made their practice sessions look like children playing at swords.
Vel's chest tightened as he watched Celia struggle to catch her breath. Her shoulders heaved with each inhale, practice sword hanging loosely at her side. That last spinning attack from Graham had clearly taken its toll.
From the corner of his eye, Vel noticed Von and Lady Halen observing the match. Von's face remained impassive, but his rigid posture betrayed his tension. Lady Halen's expression held a mix of curiosity and assessment.
Celia's eyes glistened with unshed tears. Vel recognized that look - the same one she wore when speaking of Clara, when the weight of expectations became too heavy to bear. Her fingers trembled around the practice sword's grip as if ready to admit defeat, to accept that she wasn't good enough.
But something changed in her demeanor. Celia drew herself up, pulling in a deep breath that seemed to steady her entire frame. Vel's eyes widened as she shifted her stance - one foot forward, the other back, mirroring Graham's position exactly. Her practice sword angled downward behind her, held with the same casual efficiency that had made Graham's style so deadly.
Graham's eyebrows rose slightly, the first crack in his professional facade. Vel couldn't help but stare at the scene before him - two figures facing each other like reflections in a mirror, their stances identical down to the smallest detail. The tension in the courtyard thickened as neither moved, both waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Vel held his breath as the two fighters stood motionless, their stances mirror images of each other. The afternoon breeze rustled through the courtyard, carrying with it the weight of anticipation. Neither Graham nor Celia moved a muscle, each waiting for the other to break first.
Graham's eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed this new development. "Alright, let's see what this is about," he called out, finally shattering the stillness.
The Vice Headmaster surged forward, his practice sword becoming a blur once more as he unleashed another devastating sequence. But something had changed. Vel noticed it immediately in Celia's eyes - a newfound clarity that hadn't been there before. Her movements became precise, economical, each parry and redirect flowing naturally into the next. She matched Graham's style perfectly, moving only when necessary, just as he had done earlier.
Vel's eyes widened as he watched Celia handle the onslaught. Gone were the excessive movements and wasted energy. Each defense was calculated, predicted, turning Graham's own technique against him. The sharp cracks of wood meeting wood echoed through the courtyard with renewed purpose.
Then came a strike that made Vel's stomach drop. Graham's attack wasn't particularly fast, but the raw power behind it was evident. The practice sword cut through the air with crushing force - a reminder that speed wasn't everything. Graham's superior strength threatened to overwhelm Celia's defense completely.
Celia recognized the danger instantly. She leaped backward, putting distance between herself and Graham before his follow-up attacks could connect.
Graham's face lit up with excitement. "That's right!" he called out. "Speed alone isn't enough. You need instinct. Understanding your opponent's movements. Quick thinking, not just quick feet."
Vel watched as Celia's stance shifted again. Her breathing had steadied, but he could see the slight tremor in her arms - she was reaching her limit. Her eyes darted across Graham's form, analyzing, calculating.
She exploded forward with renewed purpose. Her blade wove through the air in intricate patterns, each movement flowing into the next. Vel recognized the strategy - she wasn't trying to land hits anymore, but forcing Graham to react to her feints. Their wooden swords scraped against each other in an elegant dance, neither blade fully connecting as they slid past one another.
Suddenly, Celia leaped back, creating just enough distance to stay out of Graham's reach. Vel's breath caught as she assumed a stance he'd never seen before - her practice sword held horizontally above her shoulder, both hands gripping the handle with fierce intensity.
What happened next made Vel's eyes widen. Celia's arms blurred into motion, launching three lightning-fast thrusts that seemed to merge into a single strike. Graham's reaction surprised Vel even more - instead of attempting to block, the Vice Headmaster twisted away from the attack completely, as if dodging something far more dangerous than a practice sword.
Before Graham could reset his stance, Celia charged forward. Her blade whistled through the air, nearly grazing Graham's face. But the Vice Headmaster moved like water, his entire body rotating away from the strike. Celia's momentum carried her past him, and she tumbled to the ground.
She remained there, making no attempt to rise, her chest heaving with exhaustion.
Graham's voice cut through the silence. "Where did you learn that move?"
Vel watched as Celia remained on the ground, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was during a bandit raid..." Her fingers dug into the dirt. "The night Clara and I lost our parents."
A heavy silence fell over the courtyard. Vel's chest tightened as Celia continued, her words carrying the weight of painful memories.
"I was so small, but I remember my father's stance. The way he stood between us and danger." Her voice cracked. "It's the only thing I remember of him... before Clara carried me away."
Graham's stern expression softened. "Test's over. Stand up." He extended his hand, helping Celia to her feet and brushing dust from her dress with surprising gentleness.
"Pay attention," Graham said, his tone shifting to that of an instructor. He assumed the same stance Celia had attempted - sword held horizontally above his shoulder. But something changed in the air around them. Vel felt it immediately - not quite wind, but a charged sensation that made the hair on his arms stand up.
"Trinity Volt!" Graham's shout split the air. His blade blurred in what appeared to be three simultaneous thrusts, but instead of mere movement, three bolts of lightning erupted from the blade. They struck the ground nearby, leaving smoking scorch marks in their wake.
"Had that manifested from you," Graham explained, lowering his practice sword, "it would have struck me. That's why I chose to dodge rather than parry."
His lips quirked up slightly. "So that was your ruse - get me distracted for your final strike. Not bad."
Vel watched intently as Celia mirrored Graham's stance. Her breathing steadied as she raised the practice sword horizontally above her shoulder, just as Graham had demonstrated. The grip of her hands adjusted, finding the perfect balance point along the wooden blade.
Something shifted in the air around her. Vel felt it - that same electric tension he'd sensed during Graham's demonstration, but fainter, like static before a storm. The sensation prickled across his skin as Celia gathered her focus.
Her arms blurred into motion. Three precise thrusts cut through the air, each movement clean and purposeful. "Trinity Volt!" Celia's voice rang out across the courtyard.
Nothing visible manifested from her blade. No lightning, no dramatic display of power. But Vel noticed Graham's eyes narrow with interest. A tiny spark had danced along Celia's practice sword, barely visible in the afternoon light. Another flickered around her hands before dissipating into nothing.
"Interesting," Graham's voice carried a note of approval. "You need more practice, but it seems you have found a new path - one that would have taken from you." He gestured toward the side of the arena, indicating for Celia to step back.
Celia rejoined the others, her face flushed with exertion but eyes bright with newfound purpose. Graham rolled his shoulders, loosening his stance as he prepared for the next match.
"Well, I did not expect that," he said, his practice sword hanging casually at his side. "One more candidate left." His gaze fixed directly on Vel, making his stomach clench with anticipation.