Magic Practice

A few students exchanged glances.

"Magical theory is useless without application. You can study the properties of mana for years, but if you don't know how to control it, then it's nothing more than wasted potential."

He turned toward the door. "Everyone, follow me."

There was a pause before the students hurried to their feet, some whispering in curiosity.

Elias followed, slipping into the flow of bodies as they exited the classroom and walked through the academy halls.

It wasn't long before they stepped outside.

The training field stretched before them — an open space lined with stone dummies, each carved with faint runic inscriptions.

The air was thick with the scent of scorched earth and lingering mana, a testament to the spells cast here in previous lessons.

The instructor strode to the center of the field and turned to face them. "Each of these dummies is reinforced with magic. They won't break easily, so don't hold back."

A few students straightened at that, excitement lighting up their faces. Others looked more hesitant.

"You will each take turns casting a basic spell at the target. It doesn't matter how powerful it is. What matters is control." The instructor raised his hand, summoning a small orb of blue fire. "This is an example of a mid-tier spell."

With a flick of his wrist, the fireball launched forward, striking one of the dummies.

A burst of flames engulfed it for a moment before fading, leaving a faint scorch mark.

"More mana doesn't always mean more power," he continued. "A well-placed, controlled spell will always be more effective than brute force. Now, step forward."

Students shuffled into position in front of the dummies, murmuring among themselves. Elias found himself at the far end, facing his own target.

He flexed his fingers, feeling the mana hum beneath his skin.

Around him, the first few students began their tests.

A boy with wind magic sent a cutting gust toward his dummy, leaving a faint scratch on the surface.

A girl specializing in water magic fired a concentrated stream, wetting the stone but doing little else.

Some spells hit harder than others, but the instructor's focus remained on technique rather than raw strength.

Elias inhaled.

He extended his hand, summoning a flicker of fire. It curled at his fingertips, eager to burst forth.

He knew he could make it stronger — far stronger — but that wasn't the goal today.

Instead, he shaped the flames into a small, contained sphere, no larger than an apple. Steady, controlled. Just enough to show proficiency without standing out.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent it forward. The fireball struck the dummy, a burst of embers scattering before fading into nothing. A faint scorch mark remained.

The instructor passed by, glancing at Elias's work.

"Good control," he said before moving on.

Elias let out a slow breath.

That was the reaction he had wanted. No suspicion. No unnecessary attention.

As the class continued, the instructor critiqued students who used too much mana, wasting energy on inefficient attacks. Others he corrected for lack of precision.

More and more students stepped forward, casting spells at the stationary dummies, eager to prove themselves.

Some were more successful than others — streams of water splashed harmlessly against stone, wind blades barely left a mark, and a few students even failed to conjure a spell at all.

Elias stood still, arms crossed, watching as his peers struggled with their magic.

His own fireball had landed cleanly, leaving a faint scorch mark, but nothing too spectacular.

The instructor paced between them, arms behind his back, watching with a critical eye.

"Some of you are too focused on power," he finally said, his voice carrying over the field. "Magic is not about who has the biggest fireball or the strongest lightning bolt."

He raised a hand, and with a single flick of his fingers, the dummies began to move.

A ripple of shock ran through the students. The previously stationary targets now dodged and weaved unpredictably, shifting at odd intervals.

The carved runes on their surfaces glowed faintly, indicating the magic that powered them.

"Precision," the instructor continued, "is what separates a great mage from a reckless one. Anyone can throw a spell, but not everyone can hit a moving target."

The students looked at each other, suddenly more determined. A new challenge had been presented, and no one wanted to look incompetent.

The first attempts were a mess.

A boy with wind magic shot a cutting gust forward, but the dummy spun out of the way at the last second, making him curse under his breath.

Another student, a girl with lightning magic, launched a bolt that struck the ground instead of the dummy, sending dust into the air.

Even the stronger students, those who had shown impressive elemental control earlier, were struggling.

Elias narrowed his eyes.

He stepped forward, standing in his spot as he studied the dummies.

Unlike before, there was no set pattern. Their movements were erratic, unpredictable. If he simply launched a fireball and hoped for the best, he would miss.

He flexed his fingers, feeling the mana simmer beneath his skin.

His first attempt was a failure.

The fireball soared through the air, fast and controlled, but at the last second, the dummy jerked to the left, dodging it completely.

Elias exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. He could hear some students groaning as they missed their own targets.

The instructor watched quietly, waiting to see who would adapt first.

Elias clenched his fists, focusing.

He had been too hasty. If he kept throwing fireballs the same way, he would continue missing. He needed to change his approach.

Instead of rushing, he raised both hands this time. He shaped the fire carefully, honing it into a compact sphere. Not too strong, not too weak — just enough heat to burn but not explode.

Then, he waited.

The dummy moved, swaying to the side.

'Predict the pattern.'

Another moment passed. He let the mana settle, controlling it instead of forcing it.

'Now.'

He fired.

The fireball shot forward with precision. The dummy reacted, trying to dodge — but it was too late. The moment it shifted, it placed itself right in the path of the attack.

A direct hit.

The flames collided with the dummy's surface, spreading across the runes before dissipating. The dummy was left charred, a clear burn mark across its surface.

For a second, the training field was silent.

Then, the instructor gave a small nod. "Good. That's what I want to see."

Elias let out a slow breath.

The other students, seeing his success, adjusted their own strategies. The girl with lightning magic took her time, focusing before launching another bolt.

This time, it struck the dummy's leg, earning a flicker of approval from the instructor. The boy with wind magic also adapted, using smaller, sharper gusts rather than a wide, uncontrolled blast.

Slowly, more students began landing their attacks.

The lesson continued for another half-hour, with repeated practice, corrections, and adjustments. By the time it was over, sweat clung to their skin, and exhaustion had set in.

The instructor finally lowered his hand, and the dummies stopped moving.

"That's enough for today," he announced. "Some of you improved. Others still need work. But this was a necessary step."

The students let out tired sighs, some shaking out their sore limbs.

Elias rubbed his wrists, flexing his fingers again. He could still feel the mana lingering beneath his skin, simmering, waiting.

As they turned to leave, the instructor spoke once more.

"Remember this lesson," he said. "Power is nothing without control. If you don't learn to aim, you'll be wasting your magic."