Lothar’s Smugness vs. My Sanity

The frost-covered training grounds were quieter than usual, the faint cracks in the froststone floor from yesterday's session still visible beneath my boots.

Lothar, as always, lounged near one of the rune-lit walls, spinning his sword lazily in his hand. The smooth, rhythmic rotations made the blade seem like an extension of his arm, as though it wasn't just a weapon but something alive, an extension of his will. His eyes followed the rotations as if hypnotized, but I caught the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You're looking confident," he said, his gaze flicking up to meet mine. The amusement in his tone was sharper than usual, poised to cut as deeply as his blade. "Already feeling like yesterday was enough to graduate, or are you actually ready to give me a real fight today?"

I smirked, rolling my shoulders as the shadows coiled faintly around my feet in smooth, practiced motions. For a moment, I hesitated, watching them move. Did they... feel alive? Was that even possible? Or were they just reacting to my emotions, slipping through my control whenever they wanted? I shook the thought away, clenching my fists. "Oh, I'm ready. I hope you stretched. Wouldn't want you pulling something mid-spar."

Lothar chuckled, his eyes scanning the training ground with faint amusement. He stepped forward, flipping his sword lazily in his hand. "Before we start throwing punches, let's see if all that practice you've been bragging about has actually paid off."

I raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Lothar said, gesturing toward the far side of the arena where a small shard of froststone lay near the wall, "show me what you can do. Something simple. That stone, 'Decay' it. Break it apart without making a mess."

I glanced at the shard and let out a slow breath, the unease twisting in my chest impossible to ignore. This was my first time using Death magic, and no matter how steady I tried to seem, the tension in my fingers betrayed me. There was no point hesitating now. I just had to trust myself and get it done.

"Fine," I said, rolling my shoulders.

Lothar smirked, leaning lightly against the rune-lit wall. "Let's see some finesse, prodigy."

I ignored him, my focus sharpening as I reached for the cold, pulsing energy buried deep beneath my skin. The death magic stirred immediately, writhing like restless smoke, eager to spread. But I didn't let it overwhelm me.

Reining it in, I pressed the magic forward through my outstretched hand, channeling it with deliberate precision. Tendrils of dark energy curled from my fingertips, creeping toward the shard with purpose. The froststone hissed faintly as the death magic touched it, its surface blackening before crumbling into a neat pile of dust.

I stepped back, brushing the faint chill from my hand. "There. Clean enough for you?" I said evenly, but even as the words left my mouth, a flicker of bewilderment crept in. It had been... easy. Easier than commanding my shadows, which always required focus and effort.

"It's too easy," I said, furrowing my brow. "Is it because I already have experience with mana?"

Lothar tilted his head, his eyes glinted faintly in the rune-light as he studied the pile of dust. "It is. You're already familiar with using mana," he said, crossing his arms. "But be careful. If you push it too far, who knows what might happen."

His grin sharpened as he pushed off the wall. "Alright, you're ready for the next step. Let's see if you can manage that control when I'm actually coming at you."

The moment Lothar's grin faded, he moved, a sharp blur of silver cutting through the air. His blade sliced toward me in a clean arc, the froststone's pale glow catching along its edge. The shadows snapped upward immediately, coiling into sleek, black tendrils that intercepted the strike with a dull crack. The impact rippled through me, sharp and unrelenting, but Lothar never paused. His sword twisted free of the barrier, angling sharply toward my left side.

This time, I moved with the shadows, stepping into the strike and forcing the tendrils to recoil, lashing outward in retaliation. Two darted toward his legs, jagged at the edges, while a third curled toward his chest. The effort of splitting my focus was like dragging chains in opposite directions, but I gritted my teeth, driving the shadows faster.

Lothar twisted sharply, his movements impossibly fluid. He sidestepped the first tendril, his boots barely grazing the ground, and deflected the second with an effortless slice of his blade. The third strike grazed his shoulder, and for the faintest moment, I saw his grin tighten. "You're improving," he muttered, his voice calm, as his sword flicked toward me in another burst of speed. "But you're still predictable."

I didn't have time to respond. His blade came faster this time, each strike sharper, each movement more calculated. Lothar didn't just aim to overwhelm me, he moved exploiting every crack in my defenses. The shadows met him where I commanded, but their movements were still jagged, slipping free if I faltered even for a second.

One tendril faltered, and Lothar's blade slipped through. The flat of it crashed into my ribs with a forceful crack, stealing the breath from my lungs as I stumbled back. My footing slipped as pain rippled through my side.

"Sloppy," Lothar barked, his tone sharper than his blade. "Your focus is splintering. Fix it, or this is over."

I gritted my teeth, dragging the shadows back into a defensive coil as I regrouped. He was testing me, pushing hard to see how far I'd bend before I broke. The effort of managing the shadows felt like trying to hold water in cupped hands, but then I felt it again. Death magic, it was cold and sharp, like a predator waiting in the dark.

I didn't hesitate, I let it out.

The froststone groaned beneath us as jagged lines of gray energy rippled outward. They spread, hairline cracks that hissed and crept like a living thing, weaving a spider's web across the floor. The shadows struck alongside it, but I didn't need to guide the Death magic. It moved on its own, slow but persistent, creeping toward Lothar. For the briefest moment, his gaze flicked down. His eyes watched the fractures spreading toward his boots. The cracks crept closer, and for the faintest moment, his footing faltered as a piece of froststone beneath him crumbled. But that hesitation lasted only a heartbeat before he surged forward, the wind lifting him clear of the unstable ground. Then his grin returned, sharp as his blade.

"So this is the plan?" he called, the wind stirring faintly at his back as he danced out of the tendrils' path. "Break the ground and hope I trip? You're better off throwing it at me."

I smirked, forcing the shadows to press further as the fractures widened beneath him. "I'm not wasting my energy aiming at you. Your Wind magic makes you impossible to hit. Why bother?"

His boots landed lightly on an unbroken patch of froststone. "Go on, then," he mocked, circling as his Wind magic stirred like a storm waiting to break. "What's the big idea, prodigy?"

"Simple," I said, keeping my voice steady as the Death magic spread faster. "You can dodge anything, but you can't dodge forever. You still need ground to stand on, and I'm taking it away."

For a moment, his grin only widened, his gaze dropping briefly to the spreading cracks. Then he laughed.

"Clever idea, Ali," he admitted, spinning his blade lazily in his hand as if this wasn't a fight at all. " You're starting to think like a fighter, but you've got a long way to go."

Before I could respond, the wind around him surged. It roared to life, spiraling out from his body in a torrent that hit me like a wall. The shadows shuddered, slipping free of my control, and the floor beneath my boots cracked further as I staggered back.

"You think I'll run out of ground?" Lothar barked, his eyes cutting into me as his wind whipped through the arena. "You'd better remember. You're standing on it, too."

His blade became a blur of light as he advanced, cutting through the shadows before they could reform. The cracks in the froststone crept dangerously close to my own footing now, but I couldn't pull the Death magic back, not without losing momentum. I forced the shadows to rise again, sharp and jagged, and lashed them toward him in a desperate arc.

Lothar didn't flinch. His Wind magic surged, lifting him effortlessly over the strike as his sword angled toward mine in a clean, upward slice. The shadows faltered, and I barely brought a tendril up in time to deflect the strike. It wasn't enough. The tip of his blade slashed across my arm, leaving a sharp, stinging heat in its wake.

I stepped back, clutching my arm, but Lothar didn't stop. Another strike came, his Wind magic carrying him forward as he pressed harder. "You're thinking ahead now. That's good," he said again, his voice calm but sharper now. "But cleverness without control is just... noise."

The fractures beneath us groaned louder, and for a moment, the froststone shuddered under my weight. Lothar's blade stopped just short of my neck, the flat glinting faintly in the pale rune-light.

His grin returned, light but still infuriating. "You've got potential, Ali," he said, stepping back as he lowered his weapon. "But don't let it go to your head. You're not ready to beat me yet."

I straightened, sweat dripping from my temple as my shadows curled reluctantly around my feet. The Death magic faded, the cracks in the froststone pulsing faintly one last time before going still.

"Tomorrow, we'll see if that cleverness of yours can actually keep up," Lothar added, turning toward the exit. "Don't disappoint me, Ali."

Lothar strode out of the arena without looking back, the faint stir of wind following him like an afterthought. I stayed behind, alone with the weight of my own magic, the fractures beneath my feet pulsing faintly with the residue of Death.

I stayed where I was for a moment. The cracks beneath me pulsed faintly, the darkness within them still visible, like scars etched into the froststone. The air felt heavier now, thick with the remnants of my magic. Lothar hadn't noticed, at least not yet, what Death magic was really capable of. It obeyed me too smoothly, too eagerly, like it was waiting for a chance to move without me. I couldn't shake the feeling it was becoming alive, just like the shadows.

Whatever happens, I need to prepare myself.