The crowd flinched, tremors running through it as I unleashed the first stage of my beast stigma.
Some examiners seemed to even feel a change building in the air, judging by how they shifted their body weight and eyed the arena; seemingly forming an unspoken conclusion themselves.
Master Harghen, on the other hand, seemed no more amused than he had been beforehand.
"So you're a beast tamer—what of it? Is that all? You changed your hair?" He stepped beyond his rapier, shaking his head, his tone measured.
"And here I was, beginning to think things might get interesting. I'm sorry to say, Examinee Crownless, but if that is the extent of your… abilities, then I will have to end this examination here. You say my words of praise are far too indulgent for someone of your stature, and that I don't believe them myself? To that, I say why not? After all, you can't blame me, considering that you've been holding out on me throughout our entire fight. And just when I finally thought things would change… You disappoint me."
I took in a deep breath, unaffected by his words, which, at least this time, seemed to be sincere. Then, stretching my shoulder, I reached for another connection hidden deep within.
Something else I've learned throughout these months spent purely training.
My official breakthrough. "Not so fast, Master Harghen. I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve. I think you'll find this next one in particular to be quite entertaining. You're going to love this, trust me."
My eyes closed for as long as my next inhale lasted, snapping open on the next exhale.
"Voltstance."
Tendrils of blue electricity surged from my body, enveloping it like a living suit of armor.
My senses, which were already tapered to a degree no regular human could ever hope to imitate, grew even sharper… but not in the way you would think.
This spell of mine was only responsible for an increase to my thought speed, movement speed and dexterity—as well as acting as slight defense. It helped to bridge the gap between my enhanced mind brought about from my beast stigma, and my otherwise ordinary body.
Too bad I can only use it about once a day, with the way that my body crashes after using it…. Like overcharging a battery, I guess.
It was something I worked on for a long time, the idea coming to me in sparks of inspiration, taking from stories of my past life. But, it also marked another huge point in my journey as a mage.
With this, it meant that I was officially a divergent mage—someone capable of using the advanced tiers of magic. Only currently, mines were only for my two specialities; water and fire magic, respectively.
I was now capable of ice and electricity magic of a relatively high tier, though it's not as if I regularly checked in with a spellbook in order to see.
And with my new silver core, if I had to guess, currently I would be around… the low-mid thresholds of intermediate-level magic?
Of course, that's because it was something that I've always put my best foot forward with. Not to say that I never really tried with swordsmanship, it's just that some things come easier than others naturally.
Besides, my current level of swordsmanship was quite adequate, if I had to say myself.
Enough so that I'd be confident that I could at least hold my own against people of even Saint level. In terms of pure skill, anyways.
I was trained by a king, after all. Who else, if not I, should hold that right?
Still, defeating someone in a fight was vastly different than holding your own. At best, I could survive a few minutes—and that's with the full extent of my abilities.
Sadly enough, I wasn't even the most skilled of swordsmen, either. Ismene was actually a better one than me—before she decided to take up a bow. That girl was talented, though I doubt even she knows…
But it wasn't as if that was my only vice available to me.
At my core, I was a conjurer, after all, and a uniquely creative one at that. And so there was no reason to endeavor as if it was. Merely surviving in a fight would be enough for me.
My creativity and thoughtful planning, as I had learned the very first day I arrived in Testruam, could cover the rest.
"...Interesting," Master Harghen's voice carried through my rapid ensemble of thoughts, bringing me back.
"Now, that's the spirit. Finally, I was starting to get bored of our little sword battle. We're both conjurers… Why don't we start acting like it?"
As he finished, an intense bellow of fire magic exploded from him, sending my hair in a billowing frenzy, and I had to shield my eyes with a thin layer of mana. The snowflakes slowly trickling even seemed to ignite as a pressure rolled over the arena like a wet blanket, stealing the breaths of even those watching in the stands.
So, this is his Intent…
A technique in which a mage exudes mana from their core in large amounts, focusing their intent in attempts to intimidate an opponent.
I'm glad I learned how to do it.
Scorching balls of fire found their place in their air, assembling themselves in a fashion that I never cared to genuinely consider, spellframes vibrating into existence.
…I carefully considered them each, my senses easily able to discern the runes even from far away.
[Ignis + Altus + Duratus + Motus + Velox].
Fire, elevation, duration, and… a speed-enhanced motion. So, the spells were going to linger in the air for a small period of time before shooting forwards really quickly.
That's good to know.
It wasn't long before I was completely surrounded by stationary magic in a full 360-degrees.
Outwardly, I smirked, but inwardly… I almost felt something akin to fear, or anxiety.
As if, for the first time, defeat was ever possible to me.
I snapped out of it, retrieving my sword and crouching into position.
Fifteen spells total. As much as I hate to admit, this guy… He's strong.
But, I'm not the same person as all that time ago. I've improved by leaps and bounds, too.
"Fine by me," I replied.
His rapier found its way into his hand again, though this time his stance was much different.
Less reserved and passive, more active and eager.
He was ready to spring into action, though not immediately. From the careful look in his eyes, to the bend in his knees.
I could see… no I could feel it.
This second stage in our battle was going to start off with a test—hence the flaming cores.
A way for him to gauge my capabilities at full extent.
Things weren't going to simply go his way, however.
There was a tense lull, and then the explosion of motion signified the beginning of our second round. Like a bell that tolls at midnight.
I dashed forward, instantly crossing half of the distance between us. His eyes widened in surprise, and his spells began their descent.
…They were a second too late, though.
My sword carved a silver arc, connecting against his side and slamming into it with a dire force.
Of course, our blades were both covered in a thin veil of mana that acted as a way to dull the blade's edge, preventing it from actually cutting skin. Though, the process was different from that of an enhancer.
While enhancers could naturally imbue whatever they held, using that as a sort of conduit, conjurers had to focus a thin film of mana around the weapon itself, demanding much more concentration.
Depending on the amount of mana used, the protective layer would either be extremely potent, or simply weak and ineffective, still functioning as a normal weapon, and very much able to deal lethal damage.
When done correctly, however, the result was nearly identical to using a blunt weapon.
Master Harghen let out a grunt, his face scrunching ever-so-slightly as he used the momentum of my swing to spin himself around on his other foot, landing a few feet away, as the falling spells finally drew close enough to draw my attention.
I quickly turned to face them, my arm arcing as my sword lurched into motion, water magic rippling in its tailwind, colliding with the flames.
My body fell into a rhythm as it met with the full force of a Master's spell, sending vibrations trembling through my arms and into my body, but nothing particularly sending me off balance.
One by one, the flaming cores were extinguished, their heat still lingering even after I neared the end of my deadly dance; heart beating rapidly.
I broke into a cold sweat despite the sweltering effects of his spell as I successfully finished, feeling myself relax ever-so-slightly.
That didn't last long, however, as an ominous premonition raised the hairs on my neck.
My body reacted much faster than my mind could ever hope to, even with Voltstance active—though it did bridge the gap by quite a lot.
Pivoting my right foot, I ducked down and lunged off of it, the whistle of his rapier piercing the air still echoing against my ears.
As I turned around, Master Harghen's figure coming into view, I instinctively examined him, considering a realm of possibilities.
From the way his balance was distributed, the space between his legs, his pristine form, all the way up to what direction his eyes were in, and just where would his point of view be limited at the most.
I saw it all, formulating an absolute plan of counterattack in those lingering moments.
…As well as the forming spellframes in the air surrounding him.
He's planning something. I'll attack him before it can manifest!
Time seemed to lurch from its standstill as I brought my sword across a horizon painted just for me, aimed at his torso; particularly the same spot I hit him.
His eyes slowly tracked my movements throughout the process, his body also moving in order to counter, but by then, it was too late. He had put in a little too much weight behind that strike of his, which I intended to exploit.
However… my blade bounced feebly off of an unseen, concentrated current of fire-attribute magic, dealing no damage to the man in question, and exploding on contact, sending my own weapon off balance.
This spell… It's one he already had active! There's another still!?
This realization of mine was a beat too late.
Master Harghen had regained his poise by then, bringing his own weapon around as his spellframes finally materialized.
Maneuvering flexibly, I slipped out from underneath his counter-strike, repositioning myself… but not without receiving some sort of consequence on my own.
Distantly, I registered as a piece of dark clothing fluttered through the air, too focused on the runes.
An intense pain spread from my ankle, forced against the backdrop of my mind.
[Glacius + Duratus + Motus + Velox]
[Crystalline Barrage]
Crystals of ice manifested themselves in the air behind him, shooting forth with nearly the speed of a bullet. With my enhanced senses and speed, I was able to react on the spot, jumping out of the way of the first round of barrages.
…Except that wasn't it. He lingered for a second, a smirk impressioned upon his lips, before he declared, "Not so fast!"
The spellframes suddenly shifted, the ice crystals curving in a manner that allowed them to reach me still.
I landed nearby, releasing an intense gust of wind that I'd summoned while falling, sending them off track.
Then, I used the second spell to dash towards him, summoning a shroud of pure ice around my sword. [Rime Blade.]
He did the same, flames encasing his own as he met my sword in a beautiful spectacle of fire and ice that reeked of fierce ingenuity. They struggled against one another like crashing tides, pushing and pulling in equal parts.
I swiped, ducked, pivoted, and parried—all to the best of my abilities.
And the tendrils of electricity crackling around me all took their turns lashing out at him, though they didn't do very much other than make him wince occasionally.
My reaction time was much faster, making it easier for me to perceive his own attacks and notice patterns that, otherwise, my mind would've been too preoccupied to consider, alongside allowing me brief insight into his own battle art.
Where he put his weight, how he reacted to certain attacks, how much space he occupied, and how he used it to his advantage to get leverage for his rapier, all sorts of things like that, which were all essential to forming one.
It was much more visible to me now that we had slightly and very briefly resigned our roles of conjurers, allowing our weapons to speak for us, for the most part.
Also… his feelings that went into each strike and reaction.
How he felt when he attacked, what he considered when he dodged. Stuff like that.
My own understanding was still nascent, after all, only being planted in the beginning of this examination, but it was blossoming, nonetheless.
While I couldn't determine the nuances driving his motivation, nor unravel the layered webs of his desires, emotions, and ambitions—nor did I pretend to, those were still out of reach to me—each clash lent me fleeting glimpses.
I was able to sense the brief, elusive impressions that only seeped through during the heat of battle—like the sparks of steel that flew whenever our swords collided, momentarily illuminating the space between us without ever revealing the whole; just those lingering strays that couldn't be put into words.
A clash between two people was nothing but a conversation, after all, and swordsmanship was merely the most efficient way to convey your feelings when words failed.
But deep down, I felt that with enough experience I could.
And I ached to reach that level of skill, to where you could fully understand your opponent just by clashing. To reach an unspoken understanding with another person, revealed in the most pure, faithful way that words couldn't poison.
…Perhaps that alone was what I yearned for the most.
Eventually our swords broke apart, and we returned to ourselves, the dirge of battle intensifying.