Standing where he was in the center of the room, Lanthim looked around to see the many other persons that were present. He had noticed before he entered the sparring room. That the only two people in the room itself were his mother and Mynrea.
All the rest were using some kind of projection magic. An interesting form of magic requiring the user to have a link through mana. Between their location and to where they would like the projection to appear.
Some dressed in long robes, others the dress that nobles would wear, most were dressed in the former.
As Lanthim looked at each group, he could tell that they were from different academies. Seeing in the background behind each person a sigil that signified the academy they represented. Watching him like hawks, he could feel their questioning gazes. It seemed that they had no idea why they were asked to view what many of them would at any other time call a farce, an uninteresting disturbance.
Regardless of what they may have felt concerning the boy, they had reasons to be here. For many, the words in a letter sent to them from Litralia Frenost held a great deal of weight. Having been since her youth a gifted witch.
That time being many years gone now, few of the many academy headmistresses had even been born. Having played her role in the late Imperial unification wars, her position before she married Nedral was of the highest social standing.
Being outshined immensely only by the heads of the Five primary Witch Clans that held the overall social authority in the empire. With such influence, it was almost impossible for them to give up an opportunity to observe what happened next.
Mynrea's presence, however, was somewhat unclear. Seeing as she never left the summit of the mountain. Standing with Litralia against the far east wall of the room. The Sparing room was not overly large, height about sixteen meters.
The rest of its dimensions were around 60 meters in total area. An area built for melee combat close range fighting with two people almost inches from each other. While it did allow for medium-range strikes, the confinement of the lower ceiling meant getting a height advantage over one's opponent was difficult.
By now, Lanthim had moved to an adjoining room, dressing into his training gear, Special clothing designed for intensive combat. While all it was comprised of was a two-piece set of shirts and pants with specifically created and designed magical sequences that would protect him as he trained.
The main and most advantageous sequence. That was placed on them was a spell that completely negated the physical damage of any kind from causing him harm. While that is the case, it does not stop the damage caused by slamming one's head against walls.
Fighting stone golems that once they struck, yes, there was no damage, but when your head is the last thing to hit the wall when you make contact, one learns to be more careful.
Meditating in this silent room, Lanthim began to concentrate the flow of his mana to his center.
With the seal on his back still pulling, constant amounts of purified mana into itself. The actual amount he had access to was less than the one-hundredth of its original amount.
That being as it may, he did not slow his desire to learn and master magic, many different things he could do with the mana he had, and daily he used it and improved himself. As he continued his meditation, he could sense three individuals were making their way to the sparring room.
'So it will be one of these three, is it I will have to fight?' {Lanthim}
Thought Lanthim to himself, he knew who they were. How could he not they were the three that had watched over him for all these long years. Softly there was a knock at the door.
"You may enter Milty." [Lanthim]
As the door opened, it was indeed Milty standing on the other side of the door. Her face bore a sad, almost depressing look to it.
"Young master, everything is prepared to please return to the sparring room." [Milty]
Leaving the door open for him, Milty waited. Looking up at her from his position, Lanthim could see that whatever his mother was planning. This maid did not like it in the slightest. Getting to his feet all, he could do now was find his opponent and defeat whoever it was.
Hearing the door close behind he, felt that the safety that had been there was no more all, he felt now was an unimaginable pressure coming from the sparring room.
As he turned the corner, he saw the reason why. The other two maids Felyma and Reiflin both, stood taking instruction from their mistresses. Felyma dressed in her working uniform. However, she had something with her that Lanthim did not expect.
A Regalia that he had never seen before, and to his credit, he had seen most that the servant witches had in the estate. Looking at it closely the design looked like a glove with some kind of gem on it.
The gem being heavily condensed mana, shown with a bright blood-red hue, a devastatingly disturbing beauty. Reiflin, however, had no Regalia with her that Lanthim could see looking towards her. His first impression was that she was not like the other two dress in her uniform.
She seemed to be dressed for combat action then work.
'Crap! not the dragon even, if she is required to use a limiter to fight with me, she will still be on a whole other level.'
Standing in the center of the room, Lanthim watched as the five-woman continued to talk among themselves. He could listen to what they were saying. However, the presence of other conversations in the room made doing difficult. Sweat could be seen forming on his brow. He did not want to get stuck having to fight Reiflin.
"So Reiflin you, understand what we require of you in this fight, correct?" [Mynrea]
Mynrea seemed pleased as she asked this question looking over to Lanthim still, just standing alone.
"Yes, mistress, I am to ascertain whether the young master has developed regalia of any kind as well. I am to draw out his combat potential if any from close-quarters combat with him." [Reiflin]
Understanding her mission was shown in this answer, Mynrea nodded eyes still on the boy.
'I understand that this child is special but, why would such a little thing like this draw my Mistress down from the mountain?' {Reiflin}
Thinking this to herself, Reiflin made her way towards the center of the room.
"I will say this now, Reiflin. I had hoped that it would not be you I would fight." [Lanthim]
The little boy said as his opponent drew closer.
"Just a small demonstration for all of these good headmistresses who have come today to see you young one give a good show, and you will marry well when you are older."
Mynrea seemed more excited by seeing him fight than the rest but, that was no matter now.
Both looked at each other for a moment before settling into their respective stances. Evaluating his opponent, Lanthim knew that his troubles began and ended with Reiflin's greater reach, as well as her height. Lanthim stood just short of Four feet Five inches. A foot shorter than his target and her age gave endless amounts of combat experience. More even than himself, who had a whole other life of thirty-seven years to fall back on.
Suddenly his brief moment of analysis was broken Reiflin's strike was not slow but to Lanthim. It seemed that she was intentionally giving him a handicap logically given. She did not wish to harm him while still getting the results she was required to get.
The strike had been a jab towards Lanthim's lower abdomen from her right fist impact would be almost unavoidable. As her fist made its way, the boy does not move his stance did not change like a stone he presented himself for the strike.
Then at the moment before contact, a strange sensation filled Reiflin. Her feet had that instance come right off the ground, and she was almost twenty feet from her original position.
Looking back, she could not recollect what had happened in that instance. Thinking it over to herself, it made no sense. Yes, he could have deflected the strike but to throw her this distance with so little effort. Preparing for another strike, Reiflin took up her stance again.
'I will up my speed a little more. I guess there might be more to this boy than I originally thought.' {Reiflin}
Thought Reiflin to herself as she prepared for her next strike. However, it was Lanthim that struck first this time.He had taken no stance and had been in her line of sight before she understood what happened.
'Did he just disappear?'
The strike itself came immediately after a thunderous crushing kick to her left side sent her flying. This time she was not stopping. Hitting the south wall with tremendous force, the impact on the flat surface causes large cracks to form. There was little pain that she could feel even though the blow was powerful.
She had used body reinforcement magic just before being hit. Even with that, the distance that she had covered was astounding. She had thought that if he was able to land a strike on her, it would be something that would only be a slight irritant.
Lanthim stood alone in the center of the room. His previous attack had been successful. With distance now between him and Reiflin, he could take the time to purify more mana. Seeing the confusion of Reiflin's face after she hit the wall, Lanthim began to draw natural mana. In the previous attack, he had used almost all of his mana.
Having used an advanced movement spell to increase his speed. He also added a sequence that decreased his body's overall mass, making his overall speed greater. So when he struck, it seemed to her that he had disappeared, in the end, though it would not have worked if she was not intentionally holding back from the beginning.
'Okay, cats out of the bag, and I will likely be taking a big hit here.' {Lanthim}
Training his eye onto Reiflin, he settled himself her face looked calm almost, uninterested in what had happened. Reaching out with all of his might, Lanthim could feel a difference in the mana she was emitting.
'Damn incantation-less magic is a real pain.' {Reiflin}
After thinking this to himself, Reiflin vanished from his sight. She was faster than he had been when he had launched his attack earlier. However, he was not going to allow himself to be defeated because himself being unprepared. Slowly feeling for changes in the way the natural mana reacts to beings that interact with it.
He could sense her movements even though she was moving faster than he could see at that moment. Not moving from where he was quickly moving, his arms closer to his body. He would attempt to deflect the strike. Hopefully, he would have the timing right so he could land it perfectly.
From behind came Reiflin. The attack would land from above towards his left shoulder. Feeling the range, Lanthim pivoted right and low for this one moment. He used most of his mana again. However, he continued through the motion.
"Strike fear into my enemy's...Lyrinmos Tevila"
Spoke Lanthim as he brought his strike to contact with his target on his right and left hands formed the magical sequences or tattoos that constituted regalia.
"He is far beyond any self-taught witch I have ever met." [Lanthim]
Spoke, Mynrea to Litralia both watched on as Lanthim landed his final strike.
"For a male who should not be able to manipulate mana, this level of combat should not even be possible." [Mynrea]
Reiflin, this time, was not moved. However, she did look to have taken considerable damage.
"I think that our friends for the academies have seen enough as well it might be dangerous to allow them to continue." [Litralia]
Litralia spoke now, looking at the many personages that were watching. Many seemed without words of what they were seeing. Some spoke about his young age others just watched in silence.
'Now, let's see if anything positive will come of this.' {Mynrea}
Thought Mynrea to herself, still watching with a smile.