“Fight!” Oak’s voice resonated from within the reinforced chamber, the sound muffled but still carrying a distinct note of authority.

  The crystalline snowflake shimmered into existence, a deceptively sturdy shield against the inferno that roared towards Kor. Heat radiated through the fractal barrier as he weathered the attack. Any resemblance to a genuine ice spell evaporating under the torrent. Gone were the days when this very spell had earned him the moniker ‘snowflake boy’.

  The wall. Got to use the walls.

  His mind whirred, calculating vectors and trajectories even as Serris, a seething tempest of elemental magic, charged forward. He lobbed a fractal bomb, a dormant seed of chaos, towards her. A flicker of power primed it, just enough to make her flinch, to disrupt her advance. A dense sphere of mana followed, forcing her to swerve again.

  This chamber, deep within Spire Alpha, was vast. Stone walls, embedded with dark, energy-dampening crystals, stretched high above, a testament to the power that could be unleashed within. Yet, even here, space was a constraint, a factor in his calculations.

  Two spears of ice, conjured from nothing, hurtled towards him. He sidestepped the first, the second catching his barrier with a glancing blow. A thrill, dangerous and exhilarating, surged through him as he prepared more bombs.

  Serris pressed her attack. A massive ice spear slammed into his barrier, a spiderweb of cracks spreading across its surface. Kor gritted his teeth, his stocky frame rocking with the impact. He poured energy into the barrier, smoothing out the cracks, the strain clear in the tightening of his jaw. Like a spider weaving a deadly trap, he pressed close. Two more bomb seeds, precisely measured bursts of energy, funnelled her toward the wall, a tightly controlled mana sphere forcing her to change course again.

  This was his fifth duel this morning, and with the difficulty of regaining mana, his reserves were flagging.

  A colossal boulder materialised, hurtling at him. His shield strained, the kinetic force tossing him into a roll. He sprang to his feet, firing a slew of mana spheres in response, impacting against Serris’s barrier, leaving a series of minor cracks.

  Another swell of uncontrolled power flared, a telltale sign of her intent as an onslaught of rocky cannonballs streaked through the air.

  He rolled, ignoring the whoosh of projectiles as he flung out two more bombs. Serris countered with a wave of searing heat that swept over his barrier, the warmth enveloping him and testing its limits. He grunted with exertion, feeding more power into the fractal structure, maintaining its integrity.

  Her energy pulsed again, more intensely than ever before. His eyes widened! Fire!

  A torrent of flames, fiercer than before, erupted.

  Got you now!

  Reacting before she could even complete the spell, he formed the galaxy fractal. A miniature universe, swirling with chaotic energy, coalesced in his hand. He poured his will into it, matching her power with his own.

  The wave of orange flame gushed, a fiery tide cascading over the stone floor. His galaxy whipped forward to meet it. A blinding flash illuminated the chamber, followed by a shockwave that rippled through the air. Kor held his ground, a smirk playing on his lips, as the fractal galaxy tore through the burning onslaught, its accretion disc a vortex of annihilation.

  Serris leapt aside, barely dodging the spell’s deadly embrace, but cracks spiderwebbed across her own barrier. His main spell was on cooldown, but she was trapped. He pressed forward, herding her back with two more bomb seeds, hemming her against the wall. He launched a volley of mana spheres, each one a concentrated bolt of energy, forcing her to dodge and weave.

  His head throbbed, a physical echo of his intense focus, even as his reserves wavered. He knew her next move. Any moment now, she’d take to the air.

  A powerful gust of wind slammed into his barrier, staggering him. Now airborne, Serris’s eyes blazed. He raised his barrier, reinforcing it with a surge of mana as she unleashed a barrage of razor-sharp ice shards. The force of each impact, a staccato rhythm against his defence, tested the limits of his defence.

  He swelled the nearest bomb with an obvious pulse of mana, a clear provocation. Serris took the bait. She launched herself higher, a dozen feet into the air, escaping the immediate danger, even as a torrent of lightning crackled around her.

  A burst of power, and he pulled out his last surprise. Scooping up the primed bomb, he launched it upwards after her, flooding it with mana. Her shield flared, a desperate defence. The explosion hammered her into the wall, the lightning from her faltering spell fizzling. She tumbled back to the ground, her control disrupted.

  He primed and readied his galaxy just in the nick of time!

  He unleashed the swirling vortex of power the moment she landed. Her shield flared again, but the accretion disc sawed into it, a relentless assault of cutting, grinding energy.

  She was trapped, a look of pure, unadulterated fury etched into her face. Her barrier was moments from collapse when a sudden gust of wind, powerful and abrupt, swept her aside.

  The Phoenix.

  Frustration welled up in him. He scrambled to adapt, to prime another bomb, but she was already past them, coming up into a run as she powered up for a devastating counter.

  His eyes widened, reserves almost depleted, as he prepared to receive the onslaught.

  “Victory Kor.” Professor Oak’s voice boomed through the chamber.

  Mana thrummed around Serris’s outstretched hand, but she reluctantly lowered it, her gaze locked on the small, multicoloured bird that perched on the sidelines, a miniature inferno ready to ignite.

  His shoulders sagged in relief. He shook his head, taking several deep breaths. If she’d just taken a moment to think, to target his bombs like the others had... He wouldn’t have stood a chance, not with his mana so depleted. Even now, Professor Oak drew closer, thick grey brows accentuating his disapproval as he rounded on the first daughter of the Unbound. Lentus lay coiled in the room’s corner, the link between them buried in slumber.

  “Serris,” he boomed. “Power without control is like a ship without a rudder.”

  “Hey! Sleepyhead. Aren’t you concerned enough to help me?“ he joked, a hint of exasperation in his mental tone.

  “Why bother? You won the moment Tilli intervened,“ Lentus’s voice echoed in his mind, laced with his usual apathy.

  “So you were watching, at least.“

  “Can’t have my pet human getting himself toasted by an angry Phoenix now, can I?“

  He glanced over at the bird, whose temper most certainly was a match for Serris’s own. “Well, uh, thanks for the backup...“

  “If you can’t control your companion, you’re going to keep losing these duels, Serris,” Oak stated, his gaze stern. “It’s not as if you were in genuine danger, either.”

  “I don’t see why we can’t fight with our partners!” Serris retorted, her voice sharp. “We need to practise with every tool we have.”

  “I want to see what you are capable of. Not your companion. Unless they want to be trained as well.” Oak’s steel-grey eyes shifted to Lentus, who remained utterly indifferent.

  Serris glowered, but Oak simply shook his head, turning his attention to Kor. “Good planning, hemming Serris in like that. But you need more versatile spells. The ones you have are powerful, Kor, but they will only take you so far.” He paused, his eyes fixed on Kor. “That galaxy attack of yours, its cooldown is an obvious weak point for anyone who’s observed your fighting.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is there no way that you can modify it? Once you’ve loosed it, all control disappears.”

  Kor sighed. “I’ve tried, sir. But part of the spell... is following its own nature. Changing it weakens the power too much to be worthwhile.”

  “Understandable. Still, an obvious weak point for you to consider. Send in Kelleth and Aeolian next.”

  Kor nodded, heading out of the chamber. Lentus slithered over, wrapping himself around Kor’s neck like a living scarf. He held the door open for Serris, standing aside as she stormed past, the Phoenix trailing in her wake.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Exhausted after countless sparring bouts that morning, Kor trudged towards Paddan’s workshop, his mind already sifting through the final steps needed to complete his heater project. The reprieve from combat classes was a blessing. His schedule was a relentless grind, a constant juggling act between his studies, training, and personal projects.

  Lentus aided his meditation, helping him manage the Hunger while replenishing his mana. But the Hunger was becoming more insidious, a subtle undercurrent that sometimes flared unexpectedly.

  The workshop was a maelstrom of activity. A cacophony of sounds assaulted his ears: the clang of metal on metal, the sizzle of magical energy, the excited shouts of students, and the rhythmic thump of what sounded suspiciously like a golem operating a set of bellows in the corner. The air thrummed with a mixture of raw energy and the smells of burnt wood, ozone, and something vaguely floral that he couldn’t quite place. He navigated the labyrinthine aisles, dodging a levitating chair that whizzed past and sidestepping a puddle of shimmering, viscous liquid that was slowly inching its way across the floor.

  He passed through into the first-year section, a slightly less chaotic zone where his project resided. Reaching into his pocket, he grasped his first artificing project, a small, intricately carved crystal, and frowned. The Academy’s rules forbade the use of items in training, even those they’d crafted themselves. Perhaps I could sell it.

  He put the crystal away and headed to the storage cupboard, retrieving his work. The ceramic pot, now heavy and condensed with energy, sat on his workbench. The power crystal, embedded in a fine mesh of his solidified honeycomb structure, was nearly finished. He sat down, ready to fill the remaining space with his fractal magic. A nagging thought wormed its way into his mind. Could I sell this too? His funds were perpetually low, and he hadn’t earned a single coin since arriving at the Academy.

  He sat down, the weight of the ceramic pot familiar in his hands. Almost there. He had to focus; each movement needed to be precise. This fractal was more intricate than any spell he cast, a delicate dance with his own mana reserves. Gotta get this done. Twenty credits. He started with the dense core, a knot of solidified mana, before carefully feeling outwards, searching for imperfections. This wasn’t just about power; it was about control, imposing the required symmetry onto the chaotic energy. He imagined stray tendrils of energy, each a threat to be reined in. He had to make sure their path contributed to the strict, self-replicating geometry.

  The fractal resisted, threatening to unravel at the slightest deviation. He could almost feel it, each piece lending strength to its neighbour, and a minor warping would ruin everything. Come on, hold. With a grunt of exertion that mirrored the mental strain, he severed the last flowing tendril, anchoring the volatile mana. Done. He leaned back, the pot feeling heavier now, almost complete but so fragile. He replaced the lid. He’d need to reinforce it somehow, but how—

  A strange, acrid smell suddenly intensified, and a high-pitched whine, like straining metal, cut through the workshop’s usual din. A burst of magic from across the workshop shattered his thoughts. Instinct took over. His barrier snapped into existence just as something, an explosive pulse of energy, hurtled towards him and towards the pot!

  The Hunger surged unbidden, manifesting as a transparent maw of ethereal energy, a grotesque parody of a creature with far too many teeth. It devoured the errant magic, dissipating the wave of force that threatened his project.

  Cracks and crashes echoed around him as he quickly extended his barrier to encompass the pot. The ripple effect of the initial explosion was disastrous. Several loose enchantments detonated, sending shrapnel flying. His barrier took several hits in quick succession: a chunk of metal ricocheted off its surface, followed by a spray of sparks and a jagged piece of what looked like petrified wood. None of them even dented it.

  Lentus barely stirred around his neck, an amused hiss echoing in his mind before the serpent drifted back to sleep. Students cried out as other projects were destroyed, their pent-up energy crackling out. Tools and half-finished creations littered the floor. A large spade spun madly, its edge a blur of fire.

  What on earth had that student been making? A flaming spade?

  Professor Paddan burst into the room, his bald head gleaming under the workshop lights. His eyes, magnified by thick spectacles, darted across the scene, finally settling on a student near the centre of the room, whose workbench was engulfed in flames.

  Surprisingly, the workshop’s walls and floors seemed to absorb the worst of the errant magic, the embedded crystals doing their job. Paddan’s magic reached out, a calming wave that quenched the flames, stilled the spinning spade, and righted overturned tables.

  “Explain to me wha’ happened ‘ere then,” Paddan barked, his voice surprisingly deep for someone of his stature, his accent thicker than usual. “Mistakes happen, but Ah don’ want excuses, just honesty.”

  The immediate danger passed. Kor lowered his barrier, his heart still pounding. Nobody had noticed his use of the Hunger. Helpful for once. He exhaled slowly. Should have seen that coming. He’d been so close to finishing, so focused on the fractal. Now he needed to reinforce the pot. As it stood, the delicate ceramic wouldn’t even survive a fall from the bench. He needed a second enchantment, explicitly for resilience. But he’d need another power source. Could he risk it? Ceramic had been his choice for its fractal synergy, and now it was time to put that to the test...

  Paddan’s rapid-fire lecture droned on in the background as Kor got back to work.

  Several more hours passed, and he lost himself in the intricate process of creation. He’d had to use another power crystal, this one to power the defensive enchantment he wove into the ceramic. The material proved malleable enough to his powers, parting under his direct focus to allow him to embed a smaller power crystal into the pot’s lid handle. Working a fractal reinforcement enchantment into the very walls of the pot was relatively easy, if time-consuming.

  By the time he finished, his deep wellspring of mana was practically empty, and a warm lethargy washed over him as he slumped back in his chair.

  Finished! He grinned, his body aching from the protracted work. He stretched, working out a kink in his neck. Glancing around, he saw that only a single other student remained hunched over their own project.

  A heavy hand slapped his shoulder, making him jump. “Ahh—“

  Paddan moved around him, his short legs carrying him surprisingly quickly. “Good work, Firster, good focus! That’s what I like to see!” He spoke so rapidly that the words seemed to tumble over each other.

  Paddan practically danced around the desk, peering at the pot with an intensity that made Kor nervous. The professor’s own mana probed the creation, tracing its lines and contours like a physical touch. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, yes. I see two power sources. Durability enchantment. A heater, of course.” He nodded, seemingly to himself. “May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the pot’s lid.

  Kor nodded, and Paddan carefully lifted the lid.

  His eyes widened briefly. “Fine work! That design is fancy, for sure.” Paddan activated the heater, replacing the lid with a soft click. “Certainly filled those crystals full o’ mana, didn’t ya, boy?” The professor grinned, his teeth surprisingly white against his dark skin.

  The pot warmed, but Kor watched with a growing sense of unease. He’d focused so intently on containing the heat that perhaps he’d overdone it. Barely any warmth was escaping the walls of his creation.

  Several moments passed in silence. Nothing. Kor’s face fell. All that work, and he’d just made a pot that kept itself warm...

  Paddan shot him a knowing look before removing the lid again. A sweltering breath of heat washed up from the interior, a tangible wave that warmed the air between them. The professor laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Not what you intended, eh, Firster?”

  “No, Professor...” Kor’s shoulders slumped. “Hmm...” Paddan glanced between the two of them. “How long did I ask ye to make it last, anyway?”

  “A week.”

  “Hah. A week.” He shook his head, replacing the lid. “With the lid on, that thing would last months. Not that it would heat much that way, but the design is incredibly efficient.”

  Kor’s shoulders straightened slightly, a flicker of hope igniting within him. He held his breath, his gaze fixed on the professor’s face.

  “You lost sight of the goal when creating a heater. Which is meant to warm things other than itself.” An animated smile stretched across Paddan’s face.

  Kor nodded, his heart sinking again.

  “But,” Paddan continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone, “the pot is well made, durable, and functional if you take the lid off. Good work, that’s an easy pass! Twenty credits.”

  Kor sagged with relief, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Thank you!”

  “No, thank you, Firster. Seeing ya get so lost in your work, that’s what I like to see.” The professor seemed lost in thought for a moment, his gaze distant.

  “Can I sell these, Professor?” Kor asked, pulling out his first project, the intricately carved crystal, and placing it on the bench beside the pot.

  Paddan’s eyes lit up. “Of course, lad! Getting paid is all part o’ the process. Though I doubt anyone on campus is after such items. The Academy often sells stuff to the city, or various planets. Might fetch some decent chips, especially that heater, quirky as it is. I’ll put it on your account. Let me see your badge for a sec.”

  His eyes widened as Kor handed over the third-year badge. “Hah, one of those, are ya?” He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye.

  He waved a small, nondescript device over the badge before handing it back. “Funds will be added, provided they sell.”

  “On the badge?”

  “Yes, you daft Firster. Didn’t nobody tell you us crafters use it to store money? Who wants to be carrying round stacks of chips with ‘em everywhere?” He shook his head, as if the very idea was absurd.

  Kor was about to speak when Paddan fired off again, “Anyway, next project...” He eyed Kor up and down, his gaze lingering on his stocky frame. “Powerful. Explosive. Needs to only work for the owner... Obviously, you need to be able to set it off from a distance.”

  Kor’s eyes lit up. Now that was something he was good at.

  “Oh? Like that, do ya? Well, I don’t want no weak sauce efforts, lad. Show me what you got, and don’t hold back, neither.”

  Kor grinned, a predatory gleam in his eye.

  Paddan thought for a moment. “Use workroom five for it.” He pulled a key seemingly out of thin air and handed it to Kor. “Don’t go blowing yourself up or nothing, and keep your experimenting to that room. Should be able to handle it.” Paddan grinned, a hint of madness in his expression.

  Crazy professor actually wants me to make a bomb.

  “What was your name again, Firster?”

  “Kor.”

  “Think ye told me before. But I won’t forget now.” He chuckled. “Nope.”

  Grabbing Kor’s projects, the professor scuttled out of the room, leaving Kor alone with his thoughts.

  He headed back to the dorm, his mind already churning with ideas for his bomb. Another pot filled with power crystals, all tied to a recreation of his fractal bomb? Just how much explosive power did the professor want?

  He remembered reading something about power sources coming into conflict when placed in proximity. Providing the power wouldn’t be an issue, but the design... and making sure he didn’t blow himself up in the process... He’d have to do more research.

  A pulse of power from his ring, a familiar sensation. Kor reached out mentally.

  “Kor? Oh, goody! I need you to come by with Lentus. Need his help.“

  “Now you’re willing to speak! I’m only coming if you tell me the truth about this Hunger technique!“

  “Hey, I’m your boss, kiddo. I’m the one that gives the orders!“ A giggle, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Okay, I’ll tell you when you get here. Bit too late for you to change your mind now, anyway...“

  Kor sighed. “Tomorrow. I’m off to bed.“

  “Tomorrow.“ The connection from his ring died down, leaving him alone with the unsettling feeling that he’d just signed up for something dangerous.