"The thing about mages is that they're bound by traditions and beliefs passed down from previous generations. Sure, they research to progress magic, but the scope of their study is generally limited by their mindset. If something isn't accepted, they automatically assume it won't work. That kind of thinking is laughable. Why even bother becoming a scholar and exploring the mysteries of magic if you're not willing to entertain other possibilities?"
His old man had said something along those lines. Valiance couldn't remember the exact words, but the meaning was still clear.
Right now, Valiance stood in front of everyone, feeling the weight of their stares. Eira remained seated, her gaze icy and indifferent. To his left, Steve shifted uncomfortably, looking at him nervously, clearly unsure of what to do. Meanwhile, that so-called teacher, Professor Rombuss, perched smugly on the edge of the table, his expression oozing condescension.
Five minutes had passed since Valiance and Professor Rombuss sealed their bet, but nothing had happened. Valiance still couldn't conjure any magic. Embarrassment was starting to creep in. He had no idea how to use his innate mana to create a fireball, and the silence in the room was growing heavier by the second.
"What's wrong? Aren't you supposed to be a mage? Can't even manage something as simple as a fireball?" Rombuss mocked, lifting his hand lazily. A small flame appeared at the tip of his index finger, flickering smugly, much like its caster.
Valiance clenched his fists, growing impatient. Why had he been so stupid to accept this challenge? He wanted to prove something, but now it seemed his idiocy was coming back to bite him. This was the worst-case scenario—being humiliated in front of his new classmates. He considered leaving the room, retreating until things calmed down.
No. I can't do that.
He immediately shook off the idea. Running away would only make things worse. If he left now, they'd surely deem him untalented, not worth nurturing. Maybe the academy would even expel him. The headmaster's recommendation—someone he didn't even know personally—wouldn't protect him from that. No, leaving wasn't an option.
What would Kalli do in his place?
Taking a deep breath, Valiance tried to think. A plan began to form in his mind. If he could somehow apply his old man's way of using magic, maybe he could summon a fireball after all.
His eyes flicked to the chalkboard at the front of the room, where the words "Imagination is the foundation of a mage's journey" were scrawled.
He frowned. Imagination alone hadn't worked earlier. He had tried picturing fire—conjuring it purely through will—but nothing had happened. He couldn't rely on vague imagery. He needed to approach this differently.
Valiance closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shutting out the growing murmurs of the class and the smug grin on Professor Rombuss's face. This wasn't about them. It was about proving himself—and proving that Kalli's teachings weren't just the ramblings of a madman.
Fire is not just a spark. It's a reaction—a process.
He began to build the spell in his mind, piece by piece, like constructing a puzzle.
The Core.
First, he visualized a tiny, concentrated point of energy in the palm of his hand. That would be the fireball's heart, its source of power. He imagined drawing his mana from within, guiding it to his palm in a slow, steady stream. Not too much, or it would overload. Not too little, or the fire wouldn't form.
The air around his hand began to shimmer faintly, but nothing else happened yet.
Focus.
He compressed the mana in his mind, squeezing it tighter and tighter until it felt dense, like a ball of compressed light. A spark flickered within the invisible core—still unstable, but it was a start.
Containment.
Next, Valiance imagined wrapping the core in an invisible shell, holding the volatile energy in place. Without structure, the fire would explode or dissipate uselessly.
It was like gripping water in his hand without letting it slip through his fingers. He focused on the containment, creating a mental "bubble" around the energy. Slowly, the spark in his palm stabilized, glowing faintly red and orange. A small, flickering flame appeared, hovering just above his skin.
It wasn't much yet, but it was progress.
Sustainability.
Now he needed to keep the fire alive. Fire needs air, he reminded himself. Oxygen to feed it.
He imagined the tiny flame breathing, drawing in the air around it. In his mind, he created a faint spiraling motion, like a tiny whirlpool of wind feeding the fireball with just enough oxygen to keep it burning. The flame grew brighter, steadier.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. The mental strain was immense—every step required absolute focus—but he couldn't stop now.
Motion.
Finally, Valiance pictured the fireball moving. It wasn't enough for it to hover in his hand; it needed purpose, direction. He imagined the fireball being propelled forward, carried by a burst of energy from his core.
The fireball trembled in his palm, responding to his thoughts. Slowly, it began to float upward, glowing brighter as it stabilized into a perfect sphere of flame.
"There," Valiance said with a small smile as the fireball hovered above his hand. "I can form an extremely stabilized fireball without wasting so much mana," he added.
Professor Rombuss eyed the perfect sphere of flame, his expression shifting slightly. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes—it was clear this wasn't what he had expected. The fireball was unusually stable, its edges smooth and precise, burning brightly without flickering or faltering. However, the professor's smug demeanor quickly returned.
"Looks like you've forgotten the terms of our bet," Rombuss retorted with a sneer. "If you can create a spell more destructive than mine, then you win."
"Of course I didn't forget that," Valiance replied, his voice calm and even.
He studied the flame for a moment, his mind racing. What makes a flame more deadly?
Valiance turned his focus inward, recalling the old man's lessons. The way to create true destruction wasn't through brute force or pouring endless mana into a spell. It was about refinement, precision, and efficiency.
Heat. Compression. Fuel.
He exhaled slowly, stabilizing the fireball further. Its surface shimmered with an eerie calm, betraying the explosive potential brewing within.
First, increase the temperature. He pulled more mana from his core and funneled it directly into the flame, focusing on intensifying its heat. The fireball shifted from orange to white-hot blue, radiating an almost unbearable heat. A ripple of warmth spread through the classroom, and several students instinctively leaned back in their seats.
"What's he doing?" Steve whispered nervously, glancing at the professor.
Rombuss's smile wavered. He crossed his arms but said nothing, his eyes narrowing as he observed.
Next, compress the flame. Valiance imagined pressing the energy tighter and tighter, as if squeezing it into a smaller container. The fireball began to shrink, its size halving but its intensity increasing tenfold. The air around it crackled faintly, and the edges of the flame turned razor-sharp, vibrating with raw energy.
"Compressing it further…? That's reckless," Rombuss muttered under his breath. "It'll destabilize."
But it didn't. The fireball remained perfectly stable, held in place by the invisible framework Valiance had envisioned. His mental control over the containment was absolute, a testament to the old man's teachings.
Finally, fuel the fire. He imagined streams of oxygen spiraling into the flame, feeding it like a living, breathing entity. The fireball pulsed in response, growing denser and more vibrant. A faint hum filled the room, like the sound of a storm gathering strength.
The professor's expression hardened. He had underestimated the boy.
Valiance's voice broke the tense silence. "This is how you make a flame more deadly," he said simply, his tone calm but confident.
He flicked his wrist, and the fireball shot forward like a streak of lightning. It moved faster than any conventional spell, slicing through the air with precision. The class barely had time to gasp before the fireball hit the far wall.
The impact was silent at first—just a flash of light. Then came the sound: a sharp, searing crack as the stone wall hissed and split. The fireball didn't scatter like a typical explosion. Instead, its energy concentrated on a single point, burning a deep, circular hole into the wall. The edges of the hole glowed red-hot, the sheer intensity of the heat evident to all.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Even Professor Rombuss seemed taken aback, though he quickly masked it with a dismissive scoff. "Efficient," he admitted grudgingly, "but efficiency doesn't win wars. You'll need more power than that."
Valiance met his gaze, his eyes steady. "Power without control is just waste," he replied.
The professor's face darkened, but he didn't respond.
Around the room, the students were still staring at the wall, murmuring in hushed tones. Steve finally broke the silence with an awed whisper. "He didn't even chant… How is that possible?"
Valiance turned to face the rest of the class. He hadn't planned to make an impression—he'd only wanted to avoid humiliation. But now, he stood taller, his confidence growing. This wasn't just about proving himself to Professor Rombuss anymore.
It was about showing the world what the "mathematically correct" way of magic could truly achieve.