Chapter 248 Spar Against His Professor

The main training field of the Steele Estate was vast, a meticulously maintained expanse of close-cropped grass bordered by reinforced weapon racks and practice dummies now silhouetted under the silvery glow of the full moon. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine from the nearby manor gardens.

Alaric stood at one end of the field, Lilliana Valtor at the other. The usual tension of a spar was there, but it was overlaid with a complex current of nostalgia, curiosity, and the unspoken acknowledgment of how much had changed since their academy days.

“Are you sure about this, Professor?” Alaric called out, a playful smirk on his lips. His ruby eyes gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting a predatory anticipation. He wore simple, dark training clothes that allowed for ease of movement. “It wouldn’t do for your reputation if a mere Grandmaster managed to… ruffle your Archmage feathers.”

Lilliana chuckled, the sound surprisingly light, echoing faintly across the field. She too was dressed in practical training attire, though it did little to conceal the elegant power of her form. “Don’t get overconfident, Alaric. Artifacts are one thing. True elemental mastery is another. I taught you the basics, remember? Let’s see if you recall any of them.”

‘He’s certainly confident,’ Lilliana thought, observing his relaxed stance. ‘But confidence can be a brittle shield against raw power. Still, that barrier he created… there’s more to him now than just youthful arrogance.’

Alaric stretched his arms, a casual movement that nevertheless hinted at coiled strength. “The basics, Professor? I vaguely recall something about not setting your own robes on fire.”

“Very funny,” Lilliana retorted, a small smile playing on her lips. She raised a hand, a faint shimmer of arcane energy gathering around her. “Shall we begin with a gentle warm-up then? Or do you prefer to jump straight to the part where you admit I’m still your superior?”

“Actions speak louder than words, Professor Valtor,” Alaric replied, his own hands now glowing faintly with azure wind energy. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The air between them crackled with anticipation.

Lilliana made the first move. With a graceful flick of her wrist, she whispered, “Stone Shards.”

The ground beneath Alaric erupted. Dozens of sharp, fist-sized stones, imbued with kinetic energy, shot upwards, aiming to pierce and pummel. An Archmage’s casual attack, yet carrying significant force.

Alaric didn’t flinch. “Zephyr Step!”

He blurred, a gust of wind carrying him sideways, evading the main barrage of stones. A few stray shards whizzed past where he’d been moments before.

“Quick,” Lilliana commented, impressed by his speed. ‘His wind affinity was always strong.’ She followed up instantly. “Flame Whip!”

A lash of incandescent fire, long and sinuous, cracked through the air, seeking to entangle and burn him.

Alaric responded with equal speed. “Gale Barrier!”

A swirling vortex of wind coalesced around him, deflecting the Flame Whip, causing it to hiss and dissipate harmlessly. The heat washed over him, but the barrier held.

‘His defensive wind is solid,’ Lilliana noted. ‘Good control for a Grandmaster.’

“My turn, Professor,” Alaric called out, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He clapped his hands together. “Cyclone Lash!”

Not a single whip, but multiple tendrils of compressed wind, sharp as razors, lashed out from him, converging on Lilliana’s position from different angles.

Lilliana stood her ground. “Earthen Bulwark!”

A thick, solid wall of packed earth erupted before her, intercepting the Cyclone Lash. The wind blades tore chunks from the wall, sending dust and debris flying, but the bulwark held, absorbing the multifaceted attack.

“Impressive offense, Alaric,” Lilliana acknowledged as the dust settled. “Your wind manipulation has certainly… expanded.”

“I had a good teacher,” Alaric replied smoothly. He didn’t wait for her response. He dashed forward, not with Zephyr Step, but with raw, mana-enhanced speed, closing the distance rapidly.

Lilliana frowned slightly. ‘Close combat? Against an Archmage?’ This was unexpected. Most mages preferred to keep their distance.

As Alaric closed in, his right fist ignited with orange flame. “Blazing Fist!” A short, sharp jab aimed at her midsection.

Lilliana reacted instinctively. “Repulsor Field!”

A shimmering dome of force expanded outwards from her, invisible but potent. Alaric’s Blazing Fist slammed into it. The impact sent a shockwave through his arm, and he was pushed back several feet, the flames on his fist sputtering.

‘A basic force field, but amplified by Archmage power,’ Alaric assessed, shaking his hand slightly. ‘Smart. Keeps me at range.’

“Close combat against an elementalist, Alaric?” Lilliana chided gently, though her eyes were sharp with interest. “A bold strategy. Or a foolish one?”

“Perhaps a surprising one, Professor?” Alaric countered. He didn’t retreat further. Instead, he stamped his foot. “Rime Coating!”

A thin layer of slick ice instantly spread across the ground between them, extending towards Lilliana.

Lilliana merely levitated an inch off the ground, unaffected by the slippery surface. “Gravity Spike,” she whispered.

Alaric suddenly felt an intense downward pressure, as if an invisible weight had been slammed onto his shoulders. His knees buckled slightly. The Rime Coating beneath him cracked.

‘Localized gravity manipulation!’ Alaric gritted his teeth. ‘Nasty.’ He channeled more wind energy into his legs, pushing against the pressure. “Updraft Surge!”

A focused blast of wind erupted beneath him, counteracting the Gravity Spike enough for him to regain his footing and leap backwards, out of its immediate effect.

“You always did have a flair for the dramatic, Professor,” Alaric commented, breathing a little harder. The brief exchange had been intense.

“And you, Alaric, always had a penchant for unorthodox tactics,” Lilliana replied, a hint of admiration in her voice. ‘Magic martial arts? He’s infused his body with mana for speed and close-quarters strikes. Not a common skill among elementalists. Where did he pick that up?’ She herself had focused purely on elemental casting, viewing such physical enhancements as a distraction from true arcane mastery.

She decided to press her advantage, showcasing her broader elemental control. “Boulder Barrage!”

With a wave of her hand, several large chunks of earth, the size of small barrels, ripped themselves from the ground around the training field and hurtled towards Alaric with terrifying speed and momentum.

Alaric didn’t try to block them directly. That would be foolish against an Archmage’s earth magic. Instead, he focused on evasion and misdirection.

“Wind Weave!” he called out.

The air around him seemed to shimmer and distort. He moved with preternatural agility, using controlled gusts of wind to nudge the trajectory of the incoming boulders, causing them to narrowly miss him or collide with each other, shattering into smaller fragments. It was like watching a dancer navigate a hailstorm.

Lilliana watched, impressed. ‘His fine control over wind is exceptional. He’s not just creating blasts; he’s manipulating currents with surgical precision.’

As the last boulder fragment skittered past, Alaric retaliated. “Frost Shard Volley!” followed immediately by “Inferno Stream!”

A hail of razor-sharp ice shards flew towards Lilliana, glinting in the moonlight. Before they even reached her, a torrent of searing flame erupted from Alaric’s outstretched hands, following the same path, intending to melt the ice shards mid-flight and create a wave of superheated steam and molten projectiles.

‘A combined attack. Clever,’ Lilliana acknowledged. She didn’t panic. “Aqueous Dome!”

A sphere of shimmering water materialized around her, thick and resilient. The ice shards embedded themselves harmlessly in its surface. The Inferno Stream hit the dome, causing the water to hiss and boil violently, vast clouds of steam erupting, momentarily obscuring Lilliana from view.

“Trying to blind me, Alaric?” Lilliana’s voice came from within the steam cloud, calm and amused.

When the steam began to clear, she was gone from her original position.

Alaric tensed, his senses heightened by the Azure Spirit Lion essence that was now subtly thrumming within him, though he hadn’t fully manifested its aura. He scanned the training field.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him softened, turning into grasping mud. “Quicksand Trap!” Lilliana’s voice echoed from somewhere to his left.

Alaric felt himself sinking. He reacted instantly. “Glacial Platform!” He slammed his hands down, flash-freezing the mud beneath his feet, creating a solid, if temporary, platform of ice.

“Not bad,” Lilliana commented, appearing on a nearby training dummy, perched gracefully. “But you’re still playing defensively.”

She raised her hands, and the air around her began to crackle with immense power. This was no longer a simple whispered spell. She began to chant, her voice gaining resonance, arcane symbols flickering into existence around her.

“Ancient earth, heed my call, from silent depths, your power enthrall!

Sky’s fury gather, storm’s dark might, unleash the tempest, banish light!

Elements converge, by will made one, your Archmage speaks, her judgment done!”

‘Oh, she’s serious now,’ Alaric thought, recognizing the build-up of a true Archmage-level spell. He knew he couldn’t meet it head-on with a single Grandmaster spell. He needed to disrupt it, or prepare a very potent defense.

He chose disruption, combined with an offensive counter. He also began to chant, his own voice lower, faster, infused with the wind’s rush.

“Winds of change, your currents heed, a tempest born of will and need!

Flames ignite with righteous ire, consume the doubt, set souls afire!

Ice descends, a chilling grasp, through fleeting moments, futures clasp!”

As Lilliana prepared to unleash what felt like a localized elemental cataclysm, Alaric launched his attack. “Tempestuous Inferno Shards!”

It was a complex fusion. He created dozens of large, razor-sharp ice shards, then imbued each one with a core of intensely hot, unstable flame. He then launched them not directly at Lilliana, but in a swirling, chaotic pattern around her, using precise wind currents to guide their erratic trajectories, aiming to disrupt her chanting, force her to defend, and create unpredictable pockets of extreme heat and cold.

Lilliana’s eyes widened slightly as the bizarre projectiles, burning from within their icy shells, whizzed around her, forcing her to momentarily adjust her spell focus to maintain a protective aura. The chaotic elemental signatures interfered with her own precise elemental weaving.

“Unorthodox to the last, Alaric!” she called out, a hint of exasperation mixed with grudging admiration in her voice. Her nearly completed spell wavered.

Seizing the momentary disruption, Alaric didn’t press the attack. He used the opening to close the distance again, but this time, he moved differently. He wasn’t just running; he was flowing.

His body became wreathed in shimmering azure energy, the Lion Essence now more visible. He didn’t just enhance his speed; he infused his limbs with elemental power. Wind coiled around his legs, making his steps impossibly light and fast. His forearms shimmered with faint layers of hardened ice, like natural bracers. Tiny sparks of flame danced around his knuckles.

“Lion-Spirit Dance!” he announced, more to himself than to her. It wasn’t a spell, but a state, a fusion of magic martial arts and his beast essence.

He reached Lilliana before she could fully recover her Archmage-level spell. She quickly shifted to a defensive stance, surprised by his sudden, aggressive proximity and the strange, potent aura around him.

Alaric attacked. Not with grand spells, but with a flurry of precise, elementally charged strikes.

A jab with a flame-wreathed fist, aimed at her shoulder. Lilliana parried with an Earthen Gauntlet that materialized on her arm.

A sweeping kick, his leg trailing arcs of razor wind, aimed at her legs. She countered with a Gravity Pulse that momentarily threw off his balance.

He recovered instantly, using a burst of wind from his palm to right himself, and launched a series of rapid strikes. Ice-coated elbows, flame-enhanced palm heels, wind-accelerated kicks. Each strike carried the force of a potent low-level spell, delivered with martial precision.

Lilliana found herself on the defensive, forced to erect rapid, localized elemental shields – a Stone Vambrace here, a Watery Aegis there, a Gusting Parry to deflect a particularly fast kick. Her Archmage power allowed her to conjure these defenses almost instantly, but Alaric’s assault was relentless, unpredictable.

‘He’s… fighting like a martial artist!’ Lilliana thought, genuinely shocked. ‘But his strikes are infused with magic! This isn’t just brute force; it’s controlled, tactical, elemental close combat! I have no direct counter for this specific style!’

Her strength lay in ranged elemental devastation, in controlling the battlefield from a distance. She could erect powerful shields, yes, but this sustained, close-quarters assault by someone who could seamlessly blend martial attacks with elemental bursts was something entirely new to her experience.

“You’ve learned some new tricks, Alaric!” she panted slightly, deflecting a lightning-fast jab that crackled with faint sparks – Voltaic Touch.

“The world is a harsh teacher, Professor,” Alaric replied, pressing his advantage. He wasn’t trying to seriously injure her, but he was definitely trying to overwhelm her close-range defenses, to force a mistake. He used his wind mastery to feint, to change angles rapidly, his Lion-Spirit Dance making him incredibly agile.

A bead of sweat trickled down Lilliana’s temple. She was an Archmage; her stamina was immense. But this constant, high-intensity close combat, requiring instant defensive spellcasting against unpredictable attacks, was mentally taxing.

She needed space. She needed to unleash her true power.

With a yell of frustration and effort, she stamped her foot hard. “Gravitic Repulsion Wave!”

A powerful wave of focused gravitational force erupted outwards from her, far stronger than the earlier localized spikes. Alaric, caught mid-strike, was blasted backwards, tumbling through the air despite his wind control, landing hard on the grass several dozen feet away. The Lion-Spirit Dance aura flickered, momentarily disrupted.

Lilliana finally had breathing room. Her chest heaved slightly. ‘That was… too close. His physical prowess, combined with that elemental infusion… he’s a nightmare up close for a traditional caster.’

She didn’t give him time to recover. This was a spar, yes, but her Archmage pride was a little stung. Time to remind him of the difference in rank.

Her hands rose again, and this time, the power she gathered was immense. The very air around her grew heavy, charged with multiple elemental signatures. The moonlight seemed to dim as shadows gathered, then were pierced by flashes of internal light.

“Alaric Steele,” she declared, her voice now resonating with undeniable Archmage authority. “You have grown. You have surprised me. But raw talent and unorthodox tricks can only take one so far. Witness the true harmony of the elements, wielded by a master!”

She began a longer, more complex chant, her voice a symphony of power.

“From earth’s deep heart, let mountains rise, to pierce the veil of starlit skies!

Let oceans surge, their fury known, on tidal waves, to claim their throne!

Let fire bloom, a cleansing pyre, to forge anew with wild desire!

Let tempests howl, their anger freed, a symphony of storm and speed!

By ancient pacts, the powers bind, the Archmage calls, her will enshrined!

ELEMENTAL CONCORD: WRATH OF THE FIVE THRONES!”

The entire training field seemed to groan under the strain. Five colossal elemental constructs began to materialize around Lilliana, each radiating immense power.

A towering figure of jagged stone and earth, fists like battering rams – the Earth Throne.

A swirling vortex of roaring water, crackling with captured lightning – the Ocean Throne.

A radiant phoenix of pure, incandescent flame, its wingspan vast – the Fire Throne.

A howling cyclone of razor winds and freezing sleet, its form indistinct but terrifying – the Storm Throne.

And subtly, behind them all, a shimmering field of intensified gravity, bending light, anchoring the others – the unseen Gravity Throne.

Each construct was easily equivalent to a high-tier Sixth Order elemental, perhaps even bordering on Seventh in raw destructive potential, all controlled by Lilliana’s single will. This was Archmage-level spellcasting – commanding multiple, complex elemental manifestations simultaneously.

Kenneth, had he been watching, would have despaired. This was power far beyond his current comprehension.

Alaric, picking himself up from the grass, looked at the five colossal elemental thrones arrayed against him, and a slow, wolfish grin spread across his face. The Azure Spirit Lion aura reignited around him, stronger now, more defined.

‘Now this is a challenge,’ he thought, his blood singing with anticipation. ‘This is the Archmage I remember. Time to see if a Grandmaster, with a few tricks of his own, can dance with gods.’

He took a deep breath, his ruby eyes fixed on the towering elemental constructs. The spar had just entered its true, exhilarating phase.