Now it became obvious why this specific classroom was placed in the building right next to the dueling arena. The door in a sidewall opened to a direct corridor into the arena.

  The instructor strode to the center of the arena. She surveyed the gathered students with an appraising look before speaking.

  “This is not just about brute force,” she said. “This is about control, tactics, and knowing when to strike, and when to retreat.” She turned, gesturing to the runes. “These wards will prevent fatal injuries, but pain is still very real, and so is my displeasure. So do not get careless.”

  She scanned the students and smirked. “Let’s begin. These duels are for me to assess your capabilities. They are not normal duels. Each pair gets three minutes at most. So, no waiting for the other to make the first move. No first casting defensive or enhancement spells. When I say ‘fight’ both opponents have to immediately attack. No weapons. No artefacts. No potions. So, who’s first?”

  Eris lifted her dainty hand and pointed at the student next to her: “I challenge Torvin!”

  Yveris sighed. “You don’t need to… Whatever. Go on down into the arena.” She waited until the two arrived at two circles twenty steps apart, then yelled. “Get ready, fight!”

  The two hadn’t even had time to get in any kind of pose, they both looked around confused, but then started casting. Torvin made wide and slow gesture, which caused the ground to form two growing waves of earth. Before he could send them crashing into his enemy however, the female student finished a quick spell that hurled a javelin of ice at him. He needed to duck, which caused him to lose concentration. His earth waves collapsed.

  The instructress held up her hand. “Stop! Enough. Torvin, impressive earth wave spell, especially double casting it. You should however refrain from using something with a long casting time while standing still like a bloody target! Eris, quick casting, perfect aim. Please also remember you’re not required to stay in the circle!”

  The next pair immediately started moving when she gave the signa, but unused to casting while moving, both botched their first and one also his second spell. Yveris was not pleased. “That’s it, Weylan, Kane you’re up next. I don’t care who you intended to partner with, I need to see someone who can breathe and fight at the same time!”

  The two hurried to the starting positions. Yveris waited until they arrived and even long enough for them to bow to each other. “Fight!”

  Kane pumped his massive legs and raced toward Weylan like a one-man stampede. Weylan came towards him at a casual jogging speed. Almost lazy.

  Kane narrowed his eyes at the lack of urgency in his opponent’s movements. He lifted his massive fist and… Weylan twisted sideways, shifting out of Kane’s charge with a dancer’s grace, then he stood up behind his enemy.

  The enormous fist crashed down onto the stone floor where Weylan had just been standing, stirring up a cloud of sand.

  Gasps echoed from the gathered students.

  Kane whipped around, throwing a second punch.

  Weylan leaned back, the fist missing him by a finger’s width. This time he started breathing harder. His enemy seemed too massive to move that fast.

  Kane snarled and cast a spell to increase his speed. He lashed out with three rapid punches, but they struck only empty space, as Weylan dodged with visible effort. The assassin started to sweat. When he went low, Kane kicked. When he ducked low to evade, Kane countered with a sharp kick. As Weylan tried to retreat, Kane surged forward again, mist rising off his body as he tapped into some internal potion reserve. His blow missed, but the trailing wind was so fierce it ripped sweat from Weylan’s skin.

  Weylan used rolls. Pivots. He didn’t dare use any of the more daring acrobatics, as Kane would have surely pulled him out of any high-jump and smashed him to the ground. The contrast between them was stark. Brute force and speed versus fluid, untouchable motion. A single hit would knock Weylan out. But Kane’s attacks never connected. There just wasn’t a way for Weylan to counter. The big slab of meat wouldn’t even feel a fist strike. And if he slapped him, he didn’t trust the arenas defensive shields to stop Kane’s fists from removing his head altogether. He had to go for a bit less demeaning strike.

  The crowd’s murmurs grew louder.

  Then, after dodging a frustrated swing that left his enemy wide open, Weylan flicked Kane’s forehead, and immediately took three quick steps backward.

  Kane froze mid-swing.

  Silence.

  One breath.

  Two.

  Then, slowly, Kane lowered his arms.

  He looked down at the wiry "...Did you just flick me?"

  Weylan grinned.

  Kane blinked. Then, suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed. A full, booming laugh that echoed through the arena.

  "That was a hell of a show," he admitted, rolling his shoulders. "You win this round."

  The professor rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Weylan, good dodging, again. You could have stabbed your opponent multiple times, if you’d had a weapon. But this is a magic school. Bloody learn some magic you can use or I’ll have you work as a practice target for the rest of the semester. Kane, you will need to learn some ranged offensive magic. After lessons, go to the library and check if they have a level 2 shockwave variant that fits your style. Look for techniques, that require you to stomp down to generate force. With your physique, the effect should be quite devastating. Aldrich used a variant like that, so you probably can get some pointers from him.”

  Valen nodded affirmatively. “No problem. I’m happy to help keep combat interesting for my roommate. We wouldn’t want Weylan to get bored, after all.”

  Weylan chuckled and returned the nod, then turned to Professor Yveris. “I was going to use shadow magic to slide, but it only works on smooth surfaces.”

  Yveris raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And why would you think that? You’re using shadow’s secondary affinity to reduce friction, aren’t you?”

  Weylan nodded. “I… think so?”

  “Well then,” she said, folding her arms. “That should work just fine on sand or any loose-grain surface. Try it.”

  Weylan took a few steps back, then sprinted forward. As he moved, he focused on the shadows beneath his feet, extending and thickening them until they rose slightly above the soles of his boots. With a sharp breath, he channeled the concept of frictionlessness into them, and let the shadows glide over the gritty arena floor. The effect couldn’t remain on the surface, instead it seeped down a bit into the sand.

  Weylan’s boots slid down a tiny bit and he felt all friction below cease, as the sand lost all cohesion. When he pushed backward, his feet got deeper than the shadow magic effect and he could push himself forward easily. He stumbled a few steps, then started sliding with uncanny smoothness. He shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, gliding effortlessly across the sandy floor of the arena. The frictionless shadows carried him with uncanny speed, kicking up small sprays of dust in his wake where he pushed down to correct his direction or speed.

  Gasps rose from the students as he leaned into a turn, pivoting smoothly around a corner with the grace of a dancer on ice. He dropped into a low crouch mid-slide, spinning once, then pushing off with one foot to accelerate again. He wasn’t just skating anymore, he was performing.

  “Stylish show-off,” Valen muttered, though even he was watching intently.

  Weylan shifted his weight again, shadows flattering behind his feet like ribbons of dark silk. He passed within inches of the dueling ward circle, gliding effortlessly along its edge before launching into a small jump over a low sandbank, landing with a flawless continuation of motion.

  Then the shadows flickered and the spell broke.

  Momentum carried him forward, but when instantly switching from gliding to walking at high speed, his footing faltered and he stumbled. There was a half-second of chaos as his arms windmilled for balance, then instinct kicked in.

  He dropped into a forward roll, tucked his shoulder, and came up in a twisting half-turn before planting his feet firmly and striking a dramatic, if completely unintentional, landing pose. A puff of sand and dust rose around him.

  The arena was silent for a beat.

  Then applause.

  Someone whistled. Kane gave an approving grunt. Even Professor Yveris looked faintly amused.

  Weylan stood, brushing sand off his pants with what dignity he could salvage.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Mana tanked,” he said simply.

  “Try lasting longer next time,” Yveris called dryly. “And train to get a feeling for when your mana gets low. You should never get surprised by a spell ending. But all in all, not bad… for a dancer. I can picture you developing a fighting style built on mobility and weapons. Next!”

  Mirabelle stepped forward. “Professor, sorry but neither of us has any offensive spells usable in these circumstances. Without at least our quarterstaffs, we’d be required to ineffectually slap each other.”

  Yveris shrugged. “That would be fun to watch, but out of respect for your goddess, I will exempt the four healers from the exercise this time… Yes, Ulmenglanz, I know you can probably fight just fine, but I’d prefer you to use a weapon. I’ve seen a knight being ripped apart from the inside by roots when he attacked the librarian. That’s too much for my healing potion budget.”

  Alina stepped forward. “But I want to try! I challenge Darken! He can’t fight someone with proper combat magic anyways.”

  Kaelthorne looked at Darken, who nodded eagerly. “This I need to see. Proceed!”

  The two hurried to their positions.

  Darken O'Mighty stepped into the ring, looking distinctly put out.

  "Reminder," Professor Kaelthorne intoned from the sideline, voice sharp, "no external tools. No weapons, no potions, no scrolls. Spellcasting, mana enhanced attacks and physical engagement only."

  Darken gave an exaggerated bow toward the audience, then another, mockingly smaller one toward Alina, who was already bouncing on the balls of her feet across from him.

  She grinned fiercely. “You’re going down, ‘Master of the Dark Arts.’”

  Darken smirked. “Ah, to be defeated by unrefined brute enthusiasm. A glorious end indeed.”

  Alina jabbed a finger at him. “You’re not allowed your poisons today. No fancy tricks.” Then she cracked her knuckles loudly. An ominous sound.

  “I realized something important,” she announced proudly. “Since I can’t blast you with spells, I’m allowed to just slap you until you yield.”

  The class roared with laughter.

  Even Kaelthorne’s mouth twitched slightly before she raised her hand. “Begin.”

  Alina charged immediately, no finesse, no warning. Just a straightforward sprint.

  Darken sidestepped lightly, hands tucked neatly behind his back, like he was inviting her to chase him around a garden party.

  Alina swung with admirable enthusiasm. Darken ducked. Another slap whistled past his ear. He wasn’t using that fast, but evaded the attack seemingly without problem.

  Weylan used the pretext of looking for another angle to watch the fight to go away from the others, so he could whisper to Selvara. “He’s not dexterous enough to dodge like that. He’d move differently if he did. How does he do it?”

  The raven bowed down, what brought her beak right next to his ear. “He’s predicting the attacks. I’ve heard of something like that. Martial mages that can’t be touched by attacks, moving like rogues and assassins. That’s the Predictive Dodge skill for sure. His evasion maneuvers are based on intelligence, not dexterity.”

  Weylan was impressed. That sounded neat for a mage. He continued watching the fight.

  “Very aggressive," Darken commented, weaving back. "I admire the commitment.”

  Another swipe. Another dodge.

  Darken had half his usual tools stripped away. No acupuncture needles, which he didn’t miss since he had almost no training with those, no poison mist, no sneaky potions. He had to rely on pure movement and touch-based disruptions.

  Fine.

  As Alina swung again, he stepped in close, two fingers flicking lightly against the side of her wrist. Subtle, harmless at first glance. Then a disruption of her wrist tendons spiraled up her arm. Alina’s next swing wobbled slightly, her balance thrown off just enough.

  Darken grinned, dancing two steps back.

  Alina scowled. "Stop moving so much and fight me like a real mage!"

  “You're the one trying to slap me,” Darken said innocently.

  She lunged again. He let her get close, just close enough, and then shifted, his hand touching her hip. Then he released the power of Dark Ayurveda, increasing the dosha of kapha, the humour of earth and water, while subtly tainting it.

  With her balance of the three doshas imbalanced, Alinas movements faltered and became sluggish. Alina stumbled forward, off-balance… and Darken caught her gently by the shoulder before she could fall, steadying her with mock gallantry.

  "My lady," he said, voice oozing exaggerated courtesy, "your enthusiasm is unmatched. Your aim, however..."

  Kaelthorne raised a hand. “Winner: Darken O'Mighty. Victory by destabilization.”

  Darken bowed low again, flashing a theatrical grin.

  Alina, red-faced but unbroken, shoved his hand off her shoulder with a muttered, "Next time, you’re getting double-slapped."

  Darken smiled, utterly unbothered.

  "Next time," he said, "I'll bring a pillow."

  Kane burst into uproarious laughter, unable to contain himself. “That puny touch magic would never work on me.”

  Darken looked at him. “Do you want to try?”

  "Go ahead! Give it your best shot!" Kane threw his arms wide, proudly exposing himself.

  Without a word, Darken dipped into a low bow and tapped a single finger against Kane’s thick, muscular thigh. To the spectators, it looked laughably unimpressive. Only the professor, attuned to the arena’s analytic artifacts, saw the sudden flare as Darken burned through every drop of his remaining mana in that one precise touch at a pressure point with the Art of Dark Acupuncture.

  Kane glanced down and chuckled. "Didn't even feel it." He turned to walk away, but the leg Darken had hit didn’t move. Every muscle was paralyzed and numb. Off balance, with no chance to recover, his massive body twisted awkwardly and toppled like a felled tree, slamming into the ground with a crash.

  He looked up confused, then laughed again. His leg returned to normal in moments, but Darken had made his point.

  * * *

  At the end of the lesson, Yveris winked at Weylan to stay behind when the rest of the students left. Torvin gave him a pitying look before he left.

  “If it’s about my performance…”

  “Oh, you’re here to learn spells. I don’t mind that you have less theoretical background than the others. There’s only one thing I want to know: How is it, that your familiar has a higher mana-reserve than you? Higher than even most of our senior class mages.”

  Weylan did his best to look casually confident. "Selvara is just an awesome familiar. What can I say?"

  The professor gave him a look of pure skepticism before slowly shaking her head. "You know, if you’re going to lie to a magic instructor, you should at least try harder." She gestured vaguely around the arena. "This place is covered in high-grade detection and analysis artifacts. The wards here don’t just track spell efficiency and mana expenditure. Your so-called familiar registers as a full caster while still being a bonded entity. And she has a transformation spell active."

  Weylan froze for half a heartbeat before catching himself. "What?"

  Yveris rolled her eyes. "Oh, don’t play dumb, Weylan. Your raven is using active magic effect to maintain that form."

  Selvara flapped her wings, looking utterly unfazed.

  Weylan kept his expression carefully neutral. "That’s… odd."

  Yveris’s eyes narrowed. "You really don’t want to tell me the truth, do you?"

  Weylan shrugged. "It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just…" He exhaled dramatically, rubbing his temple. "…the truth is complicated, and I don’t think you’d believe it anyway."

  The professor crossed her arms, waiting.

  Selvara, perched smugly on Weylan’s shoulder, cawed, unbothered.

  Weylan sighed. Alright, time to sell the lie.

  "Fine. You caught me," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Selvara isn’t a normal familiar. I met her in a dungeon." He glanced at Selvara, who tilted her head as if intrigued by his improvisation. "She’s a dungeon fairy."

  Yveris’s expression didn’t change, but Weylan knew he had her attention now.

  "She wanted to see the world," he continued. "Apparently, dungeon fairies can’t leave their dungeon unless they bond with someone. It’s some weird restriction tied to their existence. I don’t know the details. I just know she practically threw herself at me when I was about to leave."

  Selvara definitely enjoyed that part of the story. She ruffled her feathers with a pleased noise.

  Yveris watched him closely. "A dungeon fairy."

  "Yup."

  "And she just happened to want to see the world?"

  "Yup."

  The professor regarded him for a long moment, then let out a slow, tired sigh. "You know what? Fine. I don’t care why she’s here, or what she actually is. The truth is probably more ridiculous than I want to deal with right now. I’ve just finished training the first semester of revenants. They flooded our school at the beginning of the plague. You wouldn’t believe some of their ‘ultimate class and feat combinations’, much less their ideas for spell combinations, learning ‘draconic shout magic’ or the…," she paused to make a gesture. She capped both hands together, drawn back to their side like they held an invisible ball. Fingers spread and curved, almost touching, forming a circular shape. Then she thrust their hands forward, palms open. “The Camel-Hammer-Ha! Or whatever that nonsense is called.”

  Selvara cawed, pleased. "Wise choice, professor."

  Yveris didn’t even look at Selvara. “If she’s going to attend classes alongside you, I expect her not to interfere too much. If she can cast magic, she needs to be trained as a proper spellcaster. She can’t participate in the standard tests, evaluations, or dueling sessions, so I’ll arrange separate lessons for her. I’ll teach her myself in secret. In the meantime, during normal classes, she’ll stay on your shoulder and play the mysterious familiar."

  Weylan nodded quickly. "Understood."

  Selvara gave him a sideways glance. “I can restrain myself.”

  The professor sighed, finally turning her full attention to the raven. “Do you at least know standard mage spells? Or is this going to be some fae mumbo jumbo?”

  Selvara shimmered and shifted into her dungeon-fairy form. Her black butterfly wings flared open to show off the golden lines that formed mazes on the black background.

  Yveris arms folded slowly, brows arching with academic intrigue. “Well, well. Now that’s not something you see every day.” She stepped closer, eyes narrowing slightly as she examined Selvara with clinical precision.

  “I know eight spells,” Selvara said smoothly. “Among them: Telekinetic Shockwave, Shocking Grasp, and Frost Breath. I use the standard arcane casting method.”

  “You can use a tier-three spell?” Yveris narrowed her eyes. “That puts you at class level six?”

  Weylan coughed. “Uh… yeah. We both are.”

  Yveris pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed again. “You do realize most of your classmates start at level three? Valen Aldrich is the highest here, and he’s only level four. Which he told everyone who would listen, so that’s no secret. Now get out of my arena before I make you duel each other for my amusement.”

  Weylan didn’t need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and made for the exit. Selvara, with a shimmer of light, resumed her raven form and smugly perched on his shoulder.

  As they walked back toward the main path, the raven let out a soft, satisfied chirp. “That was fun. I like her. She’s sharp. I’m looking forward to learning some new spells.”

  Weylan muttered, “We need to be more careful. Your identity isn’t something we want becoming public knowledge. Sooner or later, someone’s going to decide a rare dungeon fairy would make a lovely pet… or potion ingredient.”

  Selvara fluffed her feathers. “Relax. Yveris was using advanced arcane diagnostic artifacts. According to Malvorik, most magical tools and identification spells won’t detect more than a general transformation aura. Measuring someone’s exact mana reserves takes specialized gear. And she’s the first person we’ve met who actually had access to that. They probably needed to build it into the arena for it to work.”

  Weylan sighed. “Well, she’s agreed to keep your secret and you’ll be getting private lessons. That’s better than I’d hoped. Now, come on. We need to make it to the food hall. After the lunch break, we’ve got Introduction to Alchemy.”

  Selvara cawed. “Do you even have the Alchemy skill?”

  “Nope. But I’ve got Poison Lore. Malvorik says that might evolve into a specialized Alchemical skill, and eventually into full Alchemy. What about you?”

  “I’ve got Alchemy, Leyman Tier II and Herb Lore, Tier IV from my bond with Malvorik. But as a familiar, I can hardly start brewing next to you.”

  Weylan chuckled. “Well, keep your wings folded and your eyes open. I’ve got a feeling this next lesson might be explosive.”

  While walking away he took a look at his last notices.

  Skill increased: Acrobatic Dodge (Apprentice VI)

  Skill learned: Shadow Skating (Apprentice I)