The morning sun had barely risen when Jain found herself standing in a secluded courtyard, facing her mentor. The young woman, Nellis, was known for her formidable skill in barrier magic—a rare form of defensive emotional pain magic that required immense focus and control. Jain felt a mix of nerves and determination as she admired the bruises on her arms from demonstrating her current level.
Nellis wasted no time. "Jain, your barrier spell is strong, but it's not invincible. Against the emotional or physical onslaughts you'll face in the upcoming trial, a single-layered barrier won't be enough. Today, we'll focus on layering your barriers, making them more resilient."
Jain nodded, ready to absorb every bit of knowledge she could.
Nellis demonstrated, she recited something under her breath as a tear began to fall down her cheek. Her hand moved fluidly as she generated not one, but two barriers. She then waved her hand, layering one barrier over another, each shimmering with a faint blue light.
"The key is to not just create a barrier but to weave them together. Each layer should reinforce the others, creating a shield that can withstand repeated attacks."
Jain watched intently as her mentor's barriers overlapped, forming a dense, multi-layered shield. She could feel the power radiating from it, a tangible force that seemed almost impenetrable.
"Now you try," Nellis instructed.
Jain focused, channeling the pain she had learned to harness into her forearms, bashing her forearms together with all her strength. A stream of pain flooded her body and she worked to create two distinct flows of pain, one from each minor injury.
She formed the first barrier, its familiar faint glow appearing before her. Then, with careful concentration, she added another layer reinforcing the previous.
It was more difficult than she had anticipated. The layers wavered, the energy fluctuating as she struggled to maintain control. Her mind raced as she recalled the turmoil that often clouded her mind when her family had forced her to learn a similar technique... but she pushed through, focusing on the task at hand.
After several attempts, Jain finally succeeded in creating a solid, multi-layered barrier. It wasn't as strong as her mentor's, but it was a start.
"Good," Nellis said, her voice approving. "But you need to work on spreading your barriers to cover your teammates as well. A strong defense is vital, but in a team, it's just as important to protect those around you instead of yourself."
Jain nodded, determination burning in her eyes. She knew she still had a lot to learn, but she was ready to face the challenge.
---
Meanwhile, Ryen found himself in the infirmary, surrounded by the deep hum of healing magic and pitch black walls. His mentor, Liera, was a calm, gentle woman who specialized in support spells—particularly those that could heal and bolster allies in the heat of battle.
"Ryen," Liera began, "your role as a Support is crucial. In the upcoming trial, your ability to heal and strengthen your teammates will be tested. But you must also learn to maintain your focus, even when faced with the most disturbing images or thoughts."
Ryen nodded, but couldn't help observing Liera's condition. Scars lined her arms and her skin was sickly pale, she had deep bags under her eyes and looked as though she'd cut open her side as a large pool of blood seemed to coat the underside of her shirt.
He grimly nodded and shook off the unwanted thoughts, "I understand, Liera. I want to do everything I can to support my team."
"Good," Liera said with a smile. "Today, we'll work on two things: quickly healing wounds and fortifying your teammates' defenses. But first, I want you to focus on maintaining your concentration. I will create a series of illusions designed to distract and unsettle you. Your task is to keep your mind focused on the support spell, no matter what you see."
Ryen took a deep breath, cut his arm, and began to channel his magic, the coolness of the pain energy flowing through him. As he did, Liera waved her hand, and the room around them seemed to shift and change.
Suddenly, Ryen was surrounded by scenes of chaos—people crying out in pain, images of destruction and death flashing before his eyes. The illusions were disturbingly real, designed to shake his focus. There were people with detached limbs crying out to be killed, shot, burned- anything to get rid of their horrible existence. Images of other students being burned alive from below and frozen from the top as they screamed in agony.
His heart raced, but he kept his mind on the task, focusing on the stream energy he was channeling into a nearby dummy. The screams grew louder, the images more gruesome, but Ryen refused to look away.
After what felt like an eternity, the illusions faded, and the infirmary returned to normal. Ryen was sweating, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but the dummy before him was glowing with the soft light of the support spell.
Liera nodded in approval. "Well done, Ryen. It's not easy to maintain focus in the face of such distractions, but you've shown that you can do it. Remember this feeling, and use it to keep your mind sharp in the trial."
Ryen smiled, relieved that he had passed the test- but many questions lingered about what type of 'healer' this lady was...
She then drew out a knife and moved towards him, "Now, I am going to teach you about true support magic..."
---
Jorel met Serik in a secluded part of the campus, the older student's expression unreadable as always. As Jorel approached, he could see that Serik was holding something—a small, leather-bound book that looked old, but unused.
"You still can't use emotional pain magic," Serik said without preamble, his gaze sharp. "I've been watching you, Jorel. You're not like the others, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. It just means you need a different approach as more is expected of you."
Jorel frowned, unsure of where this was going. "What do you mean?"
Serik handed him the book, his voice lowering. "This is something I found a few years ago—'Displaced Pain Magic.' It's a rare and overlooked branch of physical pain magic that allows a user to harness acute nociceptive pain to cause effects in locations other than their body."
Jorel's eyes widened as he began to understand the potential of what Serik was offering. "You think I could really learn this? Even though I'm not strong with emotional magic?"
"I do," Serik said with a grin. "Because like I said, its a form of physical pain magic."
Jorel flipped through the pages, his interest piqued. The book was filled with detailed diagrams and instructions, all focused on using physical pain to create distant effects.
"It's ignored by most because emotional pain users are better at long-range magic- well not just better, their whole strength is long-range magic," Serik continued. "But I believe that with your unique situation, you could excel at this if you start early and specialize in it. It could be the key to compensating for your stark weakness in emotional pain magic."
Serik's face turned grim, "Now don't get me wrong, it's going to be difficult, but I believe this could be your way to stand out. If you can master this, you could catch your enemies off guard—especially since no one expects a physical pain user to be capable of long-range attacks. It's all about control and precision."
Jorel nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for—a way to overcome his greatest weakness. He clutched the book tightly, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.
"I'll do it," Jorel said, determination burning in his eyes. "I'll master this."
Serik's lips curled into a rare smile. "Good. Start practicing immediately. You only have the rest of the day today before the trial, and you'll need every minute of it."
Jorel returned to his room, the old book in hand, and immediately began practicing the techniques outlined in its pages. The first few attempts were frustrating—he struggled to channel the pain into a distant effect, finding it difficult to separate the sensation of pain from its source.
He started with small, sharp cuts on his arms, trying to direct the pain away from himself. But the energy seemed to dissipate, the effects weak and unfocused. All he could feel was the pain coursing through him like when he generates his blood claw.
He tried again, this time using a small flame to burn his palm, but the results were still inconsistent. All he could feel was the burning sensation within him, and no way to move the pain such that it could be manipulated outside of himself.
As the hours passed, Jorel's frustration grew. The techniques were difficult, requiring a level of concentration that was far beyond what he had used up till this point. But he refused to give up. He knew that mastering this skill could be the key to his success in the trial.
Jorel then threw himself on the bed, covered in burns, cuts, blood and the vial laying empty besides him. He had tried everything he could wrap his mind around, but all he could feel was the pain on his skin, in his body, in his mind...
Finally, as he was about to give up for the night, a thought occurred to him. He remembered Serik's words about precision and control—he hadn't been able to move the pain out of his body, but maybe he could force it into a concentrated point rather than feeling it in his whole body... and if it was concentrated like that, maybe he could stretch it away from him rather than completely displace it.
Taking a deep breath, Jorel made a deep cut on his forearm, concentrating on the sharp, piercing pain. This time, instead of trying to force the pain outward, he focused on channeling it into a single, small point in the center of his palm.
He visualized the pain taking shape, forming a string of energy that could shoot through the air and create a burst of the pain he felt on the other end. Slowly, he felt the pain respond, the energy coalescing into a thin, sharp line.
With a final push of concentration, Jorel sent the string forward. It slowly meandered across the room, each inch taking more and more concentration as he pushed the pain through the point on his hand.
After what felt like eternity it reached the target he had set up on the other side of the room and with a final push of the pain he felt the string pop, leaving a thin and precise cut across the dummy's chest.
Jorel stared at the target in disbelief. He had done it—a small success, but a success nonetheless. The sense of accomplishment washed over him, filling him with hope that he could develop this skill further.
His resolve strengthened. He knew that he still had a long way to go before he could fully harness the displaced physical pain magic in battle, but this was finally a true leg up on the rest of the competition.
He knew that mastering this new form of magic wouldn't happen overnight, but he was willing to put in the effort. He spent the rest of the night studying the book, committing its teachings to memory, his mind buzzing with ideas and possibilities.
Before going to sleep, Jorel reflected on the past two days of training. He felt a renewed sense of purpose, knowing that he had found a way to overcome his biggest weakness. The upcoming trial was no longer just a test of endurance—it was an opportunity to prove himself, to show everyone that he belonged at E&R and that he was meant to be in the Raven House.
At last he finally drifted off to sleep, the book still laying open on his chest.