A/N:-
Dear Readers,
As of Chapter 10 the fanfic has crossed 20k+ words. And amassed 100+ collections.
Thank you for choosing to spend your time with my book. I am writing for the first time and it has been a challenging and rewarding experience, and your support means a lot to me.
Your feedback keeps me motivated, and I'm grateful for your interest in my work.
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The mountain wind howled as Alaric and Igor stood on a wide, rocky plateau behind Ban Ard Academy. The arena was marked by jagged stone formations and ancient scorch marks—testament to countless magical experiments gone awry. Today, it seemed, would add another layer to that storied history.
Alaric adjusted the straps of his leather armor, still slightly singed from their last session. He'd insisted on wearing it, despite Igor's protests. "Just in case one of your brilliant ideas decides to blow up in my face again," Alaric had quipped earlier, earning a laugh from the young mage.
Igor, as usual, was brimming with enthusiasm. He paced back and forth, gesturing wildly as he explained the principles of Earth magic, occasionally stopping to sketch diagrams in the dirt with the tip of his staff. Alaric watched him with a mix of amusement and skepticism, arms crossed and brow furrowed.
"Earth is different." Igor crouched down, picking up a rock, "Where Fire burns, Air flows, and Water shifts, Earth—" he dropped the rock "—stands. It is solid, unyielding. For most mages, Earth magic is the hardest to master because it resists manipulation. But for you? It's your perfect match."
Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Igor, ever animated, snapped his notebook shut and gestured theatrically. "Ah, an excellent question! Why indeed! Allow me to illuminate you."
"I think you meant enlighten."
Igor turned to face away from him, hands clasped behind his back, preparing for a lecture. "You see, each of the elemental magics behaves differently. Fire, for example, is naturally destructive, volatile, and wild—very much like the raw magic leaking out of you. That's why your Igni manifests so explosively and uncontrollably."
Alaric rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at the memory of his last Igni practice session. "Yeah, I noticed."
"Air is fluid and unpredictable, making it difficult to stabilize without precise control. Water is even worse for someone like you. It flows freely, resists containment, and its movements are chaotic in large quantities—very much like your natural state."
Alaric brow twitched a bit in annoyance, but Igor was still facing away from him.
"Earth!" Igor exclaimed, gesturing dramatically at the rocky ground beneath their feet. "It's the most stable and rigid of the elements. It doesn't flow, it doesn't explode, it doesn't waver. It stays put. That makes it uniquely compatible with your... well, let's call it unorthodox magical presence."
Alaric frowned. "That's... polite."
"Quite," Igor said with a grin. "But here's the real reason we started with Earth. Unlike other elements, Earth has a natural affinity for reinforcement. Where Fire destroys and Water flows, Earth protects and fortifies. It doesn't budge easily. But for you, my dear Alaric, that's its strength."
"So….." Alaric said as if having an eureka moment.
"Yes..." Igor's eyes shined as he nodded slowly. "By starting with Earth, you're working with an element that naturally counterbalances your instability. And since you're not channeling magic like a traditional mage but instead shaping what you're already leaking, Earth gives you the structure you need to actually hold it together."
"So, Earth is easier for me because it doesn't play by the same chaotic rules as the rest?" he asked.
Alaric mulled over Igor's words, glancing down at the dirt and stone beneath him. It made sense, in a weird way. Where fire roared and water flowed, Earth simply... stayed. Solid. Reliable. Stubborn.
"Sounds easy when you say it," Alaric said dryly, "but every time I try to 'guide' magic, something explodes. Usually you and me."
Igor clapped his hands together, ignoring the sarcasm. "Which is exactly why we're out here in the open, where the only thing you can destroy is the landscape—and me, if I'm not quick enough."
"Comforting," Alaric muttered, rolling his eyes. "Alright, genius, how do we start?"
"Simple," Igor said, planting his staff firmly in the ground. "You're going to use your ambient magic—not channel it, not control it—just infuse it with Earth. Reinforce it. Think of it as adding structure to chaos, like shaping molten metal into a blade. Instead of a flimsy, pseudo-magical construct like Quen, you'll create a true, physical barrier."
Alaric stared at him. "You say 'simple,' but that sounds like the opposite."
"Nonsense! It's all about intent. Now, close your eyes, focus on the power you're already radiating, and feel the Earth around you. Let its strength flow into the magic."
Alaric sighed, closed his eyes, and extended his hands. He concentrated on the raw energy that seemed to hum in his veins, the ever-present thrum of magic leaking into the air around him. He reached for the Earth beneath his boots, trying to connect with its steady, unyielding presence.
"Good, good!" Igor encouraged. "Now, reinforce it! Give it shape—strong, sturdy, unbreakable!"
The air crackled with energy as Alaric's magic flared to life. A golden shimmer began to form around him, but it pulsed erratically, destabilizing. Before Alaric could adjust, the barrier detonated in a burst of force.
The shockwave sent Igor flying backward with a startled yelp, his staff tumbling from his hands. He landed in a heap several meters away, coughing as dust settled around him.
Alaric groaned, brushing debris off his armor. "Well, that went great," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Igor staggered to his feet, brushing dirt off his robes and grinning like a madman. "Fascinating! Did you see that? The raw power—the sheer force of the explosion! Incredible!"
"You almost died, Igor," Alaric pointed out.
"Details! Besides, it's all part of the process. This is groundbreaking work, Alaric—quite literally!"
"Dying is not part of the process!" Alaric shook his head. "Next time, maybe you could put up a barrier yourself before I try again?"
"Ah, excellent suggestion!" Igor retrieved his staff and planted it firmly in the ground, a shimmering shield of green-tinged energy forming around him. "Ready when you are!"
The cycle repeated several times. Alaric's barriers flared to life only to explode spectacularly, sending shockwaves rippling through the arena. Each time, Igor's barrier held firm, though the mage's grin grew wider with every failed attempt.
Finally, after what felt like the hundredth try, Alaric took a deep breath and focused again. He was slowly getting a hang of it, he didn't fight the chaos of his magic. Instead, he let it flow freely, drawing strength from the Earth's solidity. Slowly, a shimmering, golden barrier formed around him. It flickered and wavered but held steady.
Igor's eyes widened in awe. "You did it!"
Alaric opened his eyes, staring at the barrier encasing him. "I did," he murmured, almost disbelieving. He pressed a hand against the inside of the barrier, feeling its strength.
Igor whooped with delight, clapping his hands. "Brilliant! Oh, this is monumental! Do you realize what you've accomplished? This isn't just magic—this is art!"
For the first time, Alaric felt a flicker of confidence in this chaotic experiment.
Before he could relish the moment, a searing bolt of magic slammed into the barrier *BOOM*, sending up a cloud of dust and shaking the ground beneath him. Alaric flinched, instincts kicking in as he braced himself, fully expecting to be torn apart.
When the dust settled, he realized he was still standing, completely unharmed. The barrier held firm, its golden sheen glowing faintly in defiance of the attack.
Wide-eyed, he turned to Igor, who stood a few meters away, his staff still crackling with energy. The mage's expression was one of pure, unhinged glee.
"It's still up!" Igor laughed, his voice echoing across the plateau. He raised his staff again, this time gathering even more power. "It stays! It stays!"
Before Alaric could protest, Igor unleashed another spell, a lance of raw energy that crashed into the barrier with enough force to shake the ground again. *BOOOM* The barrier wavered but remained intact.
Alaric stared at Igor, aghast. He shouted "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMNED—"
"It STAYS!" Igor bellowed, hurling another spell, this one an explosive orb of condensed Earth magic. *BOOOOM*
The impact sent cracks racing through the ground around Alaric, but the barrier stood firm. Alaric's eyes darted around, panic rising as the shimmering shield flickered momentarily before solidifying again.
Igor was practically cackling now, raising his staff high. "Incredible! ONE MORE—just one more!"
Alaric barely had time to groan before the next spell, the strongest yet, slammed into the barrier. *BOOOOOOOOOM* This time, the force of the impact made his knees buckle. He clenched his fists, pouring every ounce of concentration into maintaining the shield as sweat trickled down his temple.
When the dust cleared, Igor stood, panting, his staff lowered. His expression was one of astonishment and joy as he stared at Alaric, who was still encased in the barrier.
"How—how is it still up?!" Igor cried, his voice rising in pitch. "It's incredible!"
Alaric swayed, his vision swimming as exhaustion washed over him. The barrier flickered weakly but held just long enough for him to collapse backward onto the rocky ground, limbs splayed as he gazed up at the sky.
Igor's face appeared in his field of vision, wearing a grin so wide it could have split his face. "Fascinating," the mage declared, peering down at him like a scientist observing a prized specimen. "You're not magically exhausted—no, no. It's purely mental fatigue. And even that won't affect you as much with practice."
Alaric let out a tired sigh, too drained to muster much of a reaction. "You absolute madman. You almost killed me," he muttered, his voice half-exasperated, half-amused.
"Psh." Igor waved a dismissive hand. "Everything was under control. I wouldn't let my most precious subject of research die just like that. The shockwave of the complete barrier breaking would have negated my attack."
Alaric turned his head slightly to glare at him, though it lacked any real heat. "I don't know whether to feel offended or assured."
"Assured," Igor said without hesitation, crouching beside him and tapping his temple. "Definitely assured."
Alaric groaned, closing his eyes. "You're going to be the death of me, Igor."
"Unlikely," Igor replied cheerfully.
...
Months passed.
The mountain winds had grown colder, whipping through the open-air training arena as snow dusted the peaks. Months had passed since their first chaotic experiment, and the once-awkward student and his eccentric teacher had found a rhythm, a strange sort of camaraderie that defied explanation.
Alaric stood at the edge of the plateau, his stance balanced, sword in hand. Opposite him, Igor held a practice blade, its tip wobbling as the mage shifted his weight unsteadily.
"Feet apart," Alaric said, his tone equal parts instructor and exasperated older brother. "Not that far apart! You're not trying to straddle a horse."
Igor huffed and adjusted his stance, the blade tilting as he did. "This is absurd. Why would I, a mage of unparalleled intellect, need to learn how to swing a glorified piece of sharp metal?"
"First of all," Alaric replied, circling him, "it's not just a piece of metal—it's a finely balanced tool of precision and power. Second, you wanted to do this, remember."
A few days ago, their argument began during one of their late-night training sessions, sparked by Igor's ever-present curiosity and a dose of hubris.
"I'm telling you, Alaric," Igor said, pacing in front of the fire, gesturing wildly with his ink-stained hands. "In a duel between a Witcher and a skilled mage, the mage wins. Every time."
Alaric, sitting cross-legged as he meticulously sharpened his blade, didn't bother looking up. "Only if the Witcher's asleep. Or tied up. Maybe both."
Igor stopped, his eyes narrowing. "You're underestimating the sheer versatility of magic. A mage has an arsenal—fire, ice, barriers, teleports. A Witcher has, what? A sword and some fancy pirouettes?"
That got Alaric's attention. He looked up, his golden eyes catching the firelight as he leaned forward, resting the sharpening stone against his knee. "Fancy pirouettes?" he echoed. "You mean the footwork that keeps us alive against monsters twice our size and five times our strength?"
Igor waved it off. "Monsters are predictable. Mages are not. A teleport behind you, a blast of fire to your face—how do you counter that?"
Alaric smirked. "By not letting you teleport in the first place."
Igor snorted. "Oh, please. You'd never get close enough. The moment you stepped into range, you'd be flattened by a kinetic blast or caught in a binding trap. Admit it—against a competent mage, you're outclassed."
The Witcher's grin widened. He set the blade aside and reached into his pouch. "Alright," he said, his tone dripping with challenge. "Let's test that theory....."
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A/N:-
Got ideas for future arcs or plots? Maybe there's something you'd love to see our main character tackle sometime in the future? Comment down below!
While I have a general direction for the early plot, I'm actively brainstorming for the later arcs. Your input would be incredibly valuable. Even the simplest ideas or spontaneous musings can ignite a spark and help clear those creative blocks.
So, don't hesitate—share your thoughts!
As always, if you have any questions, feel free to comment. I will do my best to answer without spoiling too much.
Clear skies to all of you! ✨