With a thunderous "Boom!" the explosion of the Lesser Fireball Spell tore through the training grounds, sending a shower of earth and fragmented rocks into the air.
Across the field, the Junior Apprentice facing Elandril let out a piercing scream of agony. Panting and overwhelmed, he loudly declared his surrender, making a hasty and graceless retreat from the battle zone.
The price for challenging and failing against Elandril was clear: the Junior Apprentice's arm was scorched and ruined, a grim testament to the potency of Elandril's magic.
At the Dark Magic Academy, there was no such thing as holding back or mercy. The frequency of severe injuries or even death among the apprentices provided a somber explanation for the perennial phenomenon: every year, a fresh batch of children, all tested and approved for their Psychic Force, were admitted to the academy. Yet, the total number of students never seemed to grow.
For a lengthy period after Elandril entered the arena, no apprentice dared to challenge him. His fearsome reputation suggested he was a contender for the top three spots. Yet, in the Dark Magic Academy, there were always those who seemed fearless or perhaps foolhardy. The apprentice who just faced off against Elandril was one such individual.
Despite his inferior skills, he had paid the price with an arm, only adding to the legendary fierceness associated with Elandril. What left many onlooking Junior Apprentices even more in awe was the fact that Elandril never once brandished his signature staff. It was solely through his masterful use of the fireball spell that he stood out among his peers.
In the span of two months, Elandril had been tirelessly studying the two magic tomes entrusted to him by his mentor, Mosido. And clearly, his efforts bore fruit.With swifter magical casting, reduced Mana consumption, combined with Elandril's inherent combat prowess and razor-sharp reflexes, it was only natural for him to vanquish his adversaries.
Furthermore, this was a one-on-one duel, not a brawl involving a crowd.
For a mage, sometimes casting spells faster than your opponent can be the very factor that determines victory.
Elandril owes a deep gratitude to Mentor Mosido's magical notes, and to the private tutelage of Senior Mage Phyra.
Without their guidance, it's doubtful he would have made such remarkable progress in just two months.
Now, were Elandril to venture into the territory of the Brackish Behemoth, while still fraught with peril, he would undoubtedly navigate it with much more poise than he would have two months prior.
Clutching his short staff beneath his dark robe, Elandril uses his Acidic Wand to replenish his Psychic Force and Mana, all while vigilantly scouting for the next potential challenger.
Traditionally, a Junior Apprentice who clinches three consecutive victories is awarded a special honor by the academy.
Given that not all Junior Apprentices are willing to risk their lives for this accolade, Elandril's sixth-place finish last year was the result of two wins followed by a loss.
Beyond Elandril's duel, battles between other apprentices were also underway across the training field.
The duels in the Junior Apprentice section tend to be less captivating, as most apprentices here know only a single spell, and those knowing two are considered a rare breed.In the training arena, what truly captivated the gaze of hundreds of apprentices was the battlefield of the Intermediate and Senior Apprentices.
The dazzling display of multi-colored Mana was both intimidating and mesmerizing. These young ones, relatively new to the Dark Realms, were simultaneously weighed down by the pressing realities of survival amidst lurking dangers, yet couldn't help but be filled with aspirations for a powerful future.
Power was undeniably the driving force for the majority of the apprentices in their pursuit of magic. As for Master Mosido's teachings about "seeking the ultimate truth" and "the true essence of magic", only a handful genuinely grasped their depth.
...
As the intense battles raged on in the training arena, three Dark Sorcerers in the stands seemed unperturbed by the casualties unfolding below. They were engrossed in their own conversation. In reality, only two of them were actively chatting, while the third, a man with icy-blue hair and an even colder demeanor, mostly remained silent.
"Master Andis," one of the chatty Dark Sorcerers finally couldn't contain his curiosity, "I've heard whispers that the Vice Dean's team found a spacetime rift in Shadowvale. Is there any truth to this?" He directed his question to the blue-haired man, who had been largely reserved throughout their conversation.
In the world of the Dark Sorcerers of Mosobra City, where power dictates prestige, there are naturally hierarchies. Andis, with his blue hair, was a formidable presence, often ranked amongst the top-tier Dark Sorcerers. Rumors amongst some Dark Sorcerers even suggested that his power was surpassed only by the three Vice Deans.The three deputy deans are powerful magicians, each possessing abilities surpassing the second tier. While Andis hasn't quite achieved that second-tier status, his reputation suggests that he's reached the pinnacle of the first tier.
Facing questions from two Dark Sorcerers by his side, Andis's icy gaze fleetingly met theirs, devoid of emotion. He then slowly stated, "It's true. Deputy Dean Martin and Lady Joanie are just over there."
"However, the spatial-temporal rift in question is quite small. We're uncertain about which alternate world it connects to and whether it holds any developmental value."
It seemed Andis was privy to more insider information than previously thought; he revealed details the two Dark Sorcerers were unaware of.
Upon hearing this, one of the Dark Sorcerers, his face alight with excitement, exclaimed, "I hope it's a Semi-Plane worth exploring. Our Mosobra city is truly desolate."
"Had the deputy dean not imposed such stringent restrictions on our actions in recent years, I'd have raided the surface world by now," he continued with fervor, likely feeling stifled from being confined underground for so long. "The magical organizations and noble knights above are dripping with riches. To target any one of them when they are vulnerable..."
The Dark Sorcerer spoke with enthusiasm, letting slip a few phrases typical of the secretive 'Thieves' Cant' dialect, unique to their kind.
The other Dark Sorcerer, while nodding in agreement, was slightly more pragmatic. "While I share your sentiments," he cautioned, "we must tread carefully when acting on the surface.""Inferior magical guilds and noble knights might be overlooked, but to cross the Holy Tower or the Knight's Hall..." The unease in the Dark Sorcerer's voice was palpable when he mentioned the latter two. But beneath that apprehension brewed another inexplicable emotion, especially when he uttered the words "Holy Tower."
Master Andis was not one to indulge in idle fantasies as these Dark Sorcerers did. He wasn't given to baseless speculations. Yet, his interest was unmistakably piqued by the rift in space-time. Otherwise, he wouldn't have sought out so much information about it.
"Do you think," began the seemingly more rational Dark Sorcerer, "that behind that rift lies a Full-Plane governed by its own set of rules?" But his question betrayed that his reason might just be a facade. A Full-Plane, a world teeming with countless beings and governed by comprehensive laws of nature and magic, was no small matter. Even the smallest of such realms was far beyond the aspirations of a mere city like Mosobra.
Only the widespread Holy Towers and Knight's Halls from various parts of the wizarding world possessed the might to launch an assault on an entire realm. The armies they might marshal, consisting of enslaved creatures, could number in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions.
And Mosobra City? How many official Dark Sorcerers did they have? By a generous count, perhaps twenty-something, certainly less than thirty. With such limited strength, even contemplating the idea of glimpsing into a Full-Plane seemed like a pipe dream.