Chapter 65: Mastering the Shades
Darius stepped out of the training room, the heavy iron door groaning shut behind him, the echoes of his clash with the second-year mage still ringing in his ears. The sting in his shoulder from her Aetheric Lance lingered, a sharp reminder of Anemoi Shades’ misfire and Elemental Body’s exposed weakness. The campus buzzed with mid-morning energy—students weaving through courtyards, their spells casting fleeting sparks, runes on stone walls pulsing with faint mana. His robes swished, still singed at the edge, as he moved with purpose, determined to find another training room, one where he could refine Anemoi Shades without risking another accident. The memory of the second-year’s starlit spells, her competitive smirk, and her words—they know your tricks now—pushed him forward, his resolve hardening to master his spell’s mana-targeting flaw before it cost him more than a singed shoulder.
He navigated the academy’s winding corridors, their tapestries of ancient mages flickering in torchlight, until he reached a quieter wing, far from the main training halls. A smaller door, etched with older, weathered runes, beckoned. He pushed it open, stepping into a training room distinct from the last. Stained-glass windows lined one wall, their vibrant reds, blues, and golds casting kaleidoscopic light across scarred stone walls, the colors dancing over enchanted dummies that pulsed with artificial mana. The air carried a faint hum, older and deeper than the previous room’s, laced with the scent of scorched stone and a subtle, electric tang of lingering spells. Reinforced walls bore the marks of countless battles, their cracks glowing faintly with protective runes etched into the floor, designed to contain even the wildest magic. Alone, Darius felt the room’s energy amplify his focus, his anticipation tempered by the need to address Anemoi Shades’ flaw, the hum settling into his bones like a challenge.
He crossed to a dummy, its mana core glowing softly, a perfect target—or so he hoped. The duel with the second-year mage replayed in his mind, Anemoi Shades’ clones veering toward her mana signature, ignoring his intent. The spell was powerful, its untouchable clones ideal for combat, but its mana-targeting quirk could be disastrous in a chaotic field battle, where allies and enemies mingled. His fingers twitched, his mana stirring, as he prepared to summon the spell, the colored light from the windows casting his shadow in shifting hues. Lucien’s shadow loomed—his rival’s unpredictable flair a benchmark Darius had to surpass. This room, quiet and solitary, was his chance to refine his magic, to ensure no more misfires.
Darius closed his eyes, his mental interface blooming with runes, Anemoi Shades’ silver-dark star pulsing brightest. He summoned the spell, his mana surging, the room’s air swirling as three ethereal clones materialized, their forms wreathed in wind, their silver eyes gleaming with dark energy. He directed them toward a dummy, focusing on precision, but the clones veered, locking onto the strongest mana core in the row, their slicing gusts tearing into the wrong target, shredding its surface with a screech of wind. The other dummies rattled, the runes on the floor flaring to contain the stray energy, and Darius cursed under his breath, his frustration mounting. The clones dissipated, their wind fading, the room’s hum deepening as if mocking his failure.
He tried again, adjusting his focus, his mind gripping the spell’s intent like a tether. The clones reappeared, darting with whirlwind barrages, their forms untouchable, but again they ignored his chosen dummy, seeking the brightest mana signature. He shifted tactics, splitting his focus to guide each clone individually, his mana straining, sweat beading on his brow. The clones attacked, their gusts slicing into two dummies, but the third veered off, its whirlwind scattering papers he’d left on a nearby bench. The room’s stained-glass light flickered, casting chaotic patterns, and Darius exhaled sharply, his fists clenching. Anemoi Shades was a masterpiece—its combat potential unmatched, perfect for duels—but its flaw could turn allies into targets in a real battle, a risk he couldn’t ignore.
He paced, the floorboards creaking, his thoughts churning. The spell’s power was undeniable, but its lack of precision gnawed at him. He recalled Ignatus, the Storm Visionary, his mentor’s gravelly voice during their meeting, speaking of spirit magic’s ability to weave intent into spells. Ignatus, who’d been at the academy longer than anyone, knew ancient spells, their secrets etched in his centuries-old gaze. He’d told of a mage who wove spirit into fire, making it seek targets with living precision. Darius’s heart raced, the connection clicking—Study of Spirit could be the key to taming Anemoi Shades. If he could imbue the clones with his will, make them semi-sentient, they could choose targets based on his intent, not just mana strength, aligning perfectly with Study of Air and Study of Spirit.
He envisioned the clones as living entities, their wind attacks adapting to combat’s chaos, darting through enemies with precision, sparing allies. The thought ignited his excitement, his ambition flaring to close the gap with Lucien, whose fluid magic seemed to dance with intent. Study of Spirit would teach him to make his spells alive, a skill that could redefine Anemoi Shades and prepare him for Study of Genetic Alchemy’s challenges, where control was everything. He summoned the clones again, testing a flicker of intent, his mana weaving a thread of will into their forms. They moved, slightly more precise, one gust hitting his chosen dummy, but the others still strayed, the mana-targeting quirk stubborn. His excitement grew, though, the potential clear—spirit magic would unlock his spell’s true power.
The academy’s bell screamed, a loud, piercing wail that shattered his focus, echoing through the training room like a banshee’s cry. The clones dissipated, their wind scattering, the stained-glass light trembling as the runes pulsed in response. Darius sighed, his mana settling, the room’s hum softening. The bell meant lunch, a call he couldn’t ignore, his stomach rumbling despite his focus. He gathered his scattered papers, his mind buzzing with the promise of Study of Spirit. The dining hall awaited, the campus alive with students, but his anticipation burned brighter, eager to master spirit magic and refine Anemoi Shades, his resolve to surpass Lucien and shape his future stronger than ever.
The dining hall loomed ahead, a grand structure of arched windows and weathered stone, its double doors propped open, spilling out the clamor of voices and the clatter of trays. The scent of roasted meat, fresh bread, and spiced stew wafted toward him, making his stomach growl louder, urging him to quicken his pace. Inside, the hall was a sea of students, their robes a patchwork of colors—blues, greens, reds—marking their years and magical focuses. Long wooden tables stretched across the room, laden with platters of food, enchanted lanterns floating overhead, casting a warm golden glow. Darius joined the lunch line, the queue snaking along the wall, students chatting animatedly, their mana humming faintly, a low buzz that mingled with the hall’s lively din.
He scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on Kai, his dormmate, near the front of the line, his messy black hair unmistakable, his robes rumpled as always. Kai was laughing, gesturing wildly to another student, his carefree energy a stark contrast to Darius’s focused intensity. Darius wove through the line, sidestepping a first-year juggling a tray of steaming soup, and reached Kai, clapping him on the shoulder. "Hey, Kai," he said, his voice warm but still tinged with the morning’s focus. "Survived the morning?"
Kai turned, his grin wide, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Barely. Got caught in a sparring match with some third-year—nearly singed my hair off." He ran a hand through his hair, as if checking it was still there, then tilted his head, appraising Darius. "You look like you’ve been wrestling storms again. Training room?"
"Yeah," Darius said, shifting his papers, the memory of Anemoi Shades’ swirling clones flashing in his mind. "Working on a new spell. It’s... tricky, but I’m getting there." He hesitated, then added, "You sorted out your classes yet?"
Kai nodded, grabbing a tray as the line moved forward, the scent of fresh bread growing stronger. "Yep, all set. Study of Fire, Study of Summoning, couple others. Gonna be chaos, but I’m ready." He glanced at Darius, his grin softening to curiosity. "You? Heard you’re going big with Ignatus’s mentorship. What’s your lineup?"
Darius’s lips twitched into a half-smile, his anticipation for Study of Spirit sparking again. "Sorted it with Ignatus. Study of Fire, Air, Water, Earth, Spirit, and..." He paused, the weight of his bold choice settling in. "Genetic Alchemy. It’s a lot, but I’m ready." His voice carried a quiet resolve, Lucien’s shadow and the promise of spirit magic’s living spells driving his words.
Kai whistled, low and impressed, as they shuffled closer to the serving counter, the clatter of plates loud in their ears. "Genetic Alchemy? That’s wild, man. You’re not messing around." He grabbed a roll, tossing it onto his tray, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Gonna outshine us all, huh?"
Darius chuckled, his tension easing, the dining hall’s warmth wrapping around him. "Just trying to keep up," he said, but his mind was on Anemoi Shades, its potential unlocked by spirit magic, his vow to surpass Lucien and prevent a dark future burning bright. The line moved forward, the hum of the hall a lively backdrop, and Darius stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Kai, waiting for their turn, his anticipation for the days ahead a steady fire in his chest.