Chapter 5 Prodigy vs Monster

POV: Angela Ashford

"AAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!"

A scream tore through the shattered ballroom, raw and brimming with a volatile mix of desperation and rage. My gaze shifted lazily toward the source, my crimson eyes locking onto the trembling figure of Lucas Eldryn.

Heir to the Eldryn Mage Tower of the Veridia Kingdom.

Lucas Eldryn—hailed as a prodigy, a shining star of magic that outshone his peers. A mage of unparalleled potential, capable of wielding not one but multiple elemental attributes: fire, wind, earth, and lightning. His brilliance was the pride of the Veridia Kingdom, his name spoken in reverence by scholars and mages alike. They believed him destined for greatness, a force that would shape the kingdom's magical legacy for generations to come.

All of that might have been true... if I didn't exist.

His shaking hand shot upward, his fingers trembling before steadying as a surge of mana coursed through his body. His eyes burned with fury, his lips curling back into a snarl of hatred.

"YOU MONSTER—GO TO HELL!" he roared, his voice raw, cracking under the weight of his emotions.

[Inferno Ball].

A massive sphere of fire erupted in his palm, its flames crackling with a ferocity that made the air shimmer. The searing heat radiated outward, warping the very space around him. Tongues of fire licked hungrily at the debris-strewn floor, their glow casting long, wavering shadows across the wreckage.

The sheer size and intensity of the fireball were undeniably impressive. The mana coursing through it sent cracks spidering across the ground beneath Lucas, the air itself seeming to recoil from the oppressive heat. Even from a distance, I could feel the heat pricking at my skin like needles.

He was powerful, undeniably so. But power without control? It's nothing but a child's tantrum.

The fireball roared as it hurtled toward me, a radiant inferno of destruction. My expression didn't waver. I didn't flinch. Instead, I tilted my head slightly, amusement tugging at the corner of my lips.

Just before the blazing inferno could reach me, I raised my fingers and gave the faintest flick of my wrist.

"Fwoomph!"

The sound echoed sharply through the room as the fireball collapsed inward. The flames didn't fade; they vanished. The oxygen that had once fed the inferno was stripped from its core in an instant. The roaring heat was replaced by an eerie, chilling silence. The only trace of the attack was a faint trail of smoke spiraling upward and the faint hiss of steam rising from scorched tiles.

Lucas froze. His eyes, wide and disbelieving, stared at the empty space where his magic should have consumed me. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the soft crackling of dying embers scattered across the floor.

"You really should think before you act," I said coolly, taking a step forward. My voice was calm, almost bored, but the weight of it carried across the room. "An attack like that could've killed them."

I gestured to the huddled remnants of students, many of whom were trembling, their faces pale as they realized how close they'd come to being collateral damage in Lucas's blind fury.

His rage had clouded his judgment. A fireball of that magnitude, unleashed in such a confined space, was reckless at best, lethal at worst. His actions had not just endangered me—though his aim suggested that was the sole intention—but everyone else in the room.

"Is that truly all, Sir Lucas?" I inquired, my voice laced with a biting elegance. Each word hung in the air like a delicate yet sharp blade.

His hands clenched into fists, his gaze still wavering between disbelief and simmering rage. He wanted to respond, but the words seemed to fail him.

"Is this truly the culmination of all your so-called talents and tireless efforts?" I continued, my tone steady but unforgiving. "How utterly disappointing. I had expected more from one so revered."

I took another step closer, my presence now a heavy weight upon his shoulders. The silence that followed seemed to stretch between us, as though the very atmosphere thickened with the weight of unspoken truths.

"Perhaps, Sir Lucas," I murmured, my voice softening just enough to carry an unsettling calm, "you should consider the consequences of your actions. Consider, for a moment, the effect they will have on your sister Mary Eldryn. How do you think she would feel, were she to witness this? Would she be proud of her brother's power and ambition, or would she find herself grieving the destruction wrought by the very hands that vowed to protect her?"

I allowed the words to settle, allowing the full weight of my statement to sink in.

"After all," I continued, with an almost imperceptible pause, "you have dedicated so much of your time and effort to finding a cure for her Mana Blockage. But how would she view this outburst, this reckless display of emotion? Would she see you as the noble brother striving for greatness—or as the very source of the chaos that threatens those you love?"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH, YOU FILTHY WRETCH! DO NOT DARE SPEAK HER NAME!" he shouted, his rage spilling over with a fury that could have shattered the very air.

With a guttural growl, he unleashed his full power. Flames erupted from his form, engulfing his arms in a violent, searing embrace. The heat from his outburst warped the space around us, the intensity palpable in the air.

And then, from the flames, two jagged blades manifested—one in each hand. The air crackled with the energy radiating off them, the deadly edges gleaming with purpose. He stood before me, his fury embodied in the weapons he wielded—a reflection of the madness that had overtaken his mind.

His eyes locked onto mine, and I could feel the weight of his desperation. The power was there, but it was no more controlled than the rage that fueled it.

He still didn't understand. His sister, the one who had been his anchor, had become a fragile point of conflict in his heart. His love for her had turned into this reckless desire to prove himself, to cure her, to be something more than just a mage. But in the process, he had become a danger—not just to others, but to himself.

He was lost in his own fire.

"Such a pity," I mused, my gaze never leaving his. "You truly don't understand, do you? You're nothing more than a beast caught in a storm, tearing everything apart in the hope of finding salvation."