The morning sun cast warm rays across the academy grounds, a stark contrast to the cold darkness Asmodeus had encountered during his brief venture into forbidden magic. Determined to redeem himself, he threw himself into his studies with relentless focus.
In the airy starter witch class, Asmodeus stood at his desk, his wand poised and steady. The professor was demonstrating a new spell—a charm designed to enhance reflexes and speed during duels. The class buzzed with energy as students muttered incantations and flicked their wands, attempting to replicate the demonstration.
"Come on, Asmodeus," Belial whispered, nudging him. "Let's see if you've still got your edge."
He grinned, his confidence returning. "Watch and learn."
With a swift motion, he uttered the spell, his voice calm and measured. A faint shimmer surrounded him for a moment, and then he moved his wand in an intricate pattern. A stack of practice dummies lined up against the wall toppled over, hit by a burst of energy so quick it was almost invisible.
The class turned to look, murmurs of approval rippling through the room. Belial raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "Not bad for someone who used to struggle with basic levitation."
"I've been practicing," Asmodeus said, shrugging nonchalantly, though the spark in his eyes betrayed his pride.
Belial narrowed her eyes, a competitive glint flashing. "Alright, mister prodigy. How about a little duel after class?"
Later, in a quiet courtyard shaded by towering oaks, Asmodeus and Belial faced each other, wands drawn. The air between them seemed to hum with anticipation.
"Ready to lose, Belial?" Asmodeus teased, adjusting his stance.
Belial twirled her wand, her expression playful but determined. "Let's see how fast those reflexes really are."
The first spell shot out from her wand, a streak of sparkling blue aimed at Asmodeus's feet. He dodged with ease, countering with a harmless disarming charm. Belial parried, her movements graceful and precise.
Their duel was a dance of light and energy, each spell weaving through the air like a ribbon. Belial's accuracy was impressive, but Asmodeus's newfound speed gave him an edge. With a clever feint, he sent a spell that knocked her wand from her hand, ending the duel with a triumphant grin.
Belial picked up her wand, shaking her head with a chuckle. "Okay, okay, I admit it—you're getting good. But don't let it go to your head."
"Too late," Asmodeus quipped, laughing.
Madara appeared at the edge of the courtyard, his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. "You two are going to wear yourselves out before the real tests."
Asmodeus turned to him, still riding the high of his victory. "You saw that, right? Not bad, huh?"
Madara nodded approvingly. "Not bad at all. But if you're serious about getting better, you'll need more than friendly duels."
"What do you mean?" Belial asked, brushing leaves off her robes.
Madara stepped closer, his tone serious. "The academy isn't just about learning spells. You're either improving or you're falling behind. And if you fall behind too far... you'll be kicked out."
The weight of his words settled over them. Being expelled from the academy wasn't just about losing a place of study—it meant forfeiting the chance to become a recognized witch or warlock, a future many of them had dreamed of for years.
"Alright," Asmodeus said, his voice resolute. "What do you suggest?"
Madara's lips curved into a knowing smile. "We train. Every day after class, the three of us. I'll push you until you hate me, but you'll thank me when it matters."
The next few days were grueling but rewarding. After their regular classes, the trio gathered in secluded spots around the academy—empty classrooms, quiet courtyards, or hidden nooks in the library. Madara led the sessions, drilling them on everything from basic charms to advanced defensive spells.
"Again!" Madara barked as Asmodeus tried to deflect a volley of small, stinging hexes.
Sweat dripped down his brow, but he gritted his teeth and raised his wand. "Protego!"
A shimmering shield materialized in front of him, blocking the hexes. Belial, watching from the sidelines, clapped in encouragement.
"Good," Madara said, his sharp gaze softening slightly. "But next time, don't hesitate. The moment you pause is the moment you lose."
Belial stepped into the circle next, her expression determined. Madara sent a series of attacks her way—blinding flashes, bursts of wind, and disarming spells. She moved fluidly, deflecting and countering with precision.
"You're improving too," Madara said, nodding. "But don't forget to think ahead. Anticipate the next move."
As the sun set on another long day, the three of them collapsed onto the grass, their wands resting beside them.
"This is harder than I thought," Belial admitted, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.
"Tell me about it," Asmodeus said, rubbing his sore wrist. "But it's worth it. I feel... stronger. More confident."
Madara looked at them both, his usual stern demeanor giving way to a rare smile. "You're both doing great. Keep this up, and you'll be at the top of your class in no time."
Asmodeus lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. For the first time since coming to the academy, he felt a sense of belonging. He wasn't just surviving—he was thriving. The memory of the grimoire and its rejection still lingered, but it no longer defined him.
"I'll prove I belong here," he whispered to himself. "Not through shortcuts, but through hard work."
With that, he closed his eyes, already looking forward to the next day's challenges.