Echoes of the Lost Elf

Historias rose with the first light of dawn, the soft hues of morning casting gentle shadows across his chamber. After a refreshing bath, he donned his academy robes and made his way to the dining hall. The hall buzzed with the murmurs of students, but he paid them little mind, focusing instead on his meal.

Upon entering the lecture hall, he noticed his classmates submitting their elective forms. Historias had already made his choice, confident in his decision to pursue the path of the Spirit Warrior. Taking his seat beside Leon, he awaited the commencement of the class.

The room settled into a hush as Professor Elias, professor of Magic Theory and Arcane Studies, entered with her characteristic grace. Her silver hair shimmered under the ambient light, and her crimson eyes surveyed the students with an intensity that commanded attention.

"Good morning, class," she began, her voice smooth yet authoritative. "Today, we shall explore the various facets of magic that form the foundation of our arcane studies."

She gestured gracefully, and intricate diagrams materialized on the rune-inscribed board behind her.

"Magic, in its essence, is the manipulation of mana—the life force that permeates our world. To harness this energy, mages utilize magic circles. These circles serve as conduits, channeling mana into structured forms to produce the desired effects."

The board displayed a series of concentric circles adorned with arcane symbols, each representing different spell complexities.

"Every mage begins their journey by employing these circles," Professor Duskbane continued. "The complexity of a spell dictates the intricacy of its corresponding circle. However, as one's proficiency with a particular spell increases, the reliance on these circles diminishes. A masterful mage can eventually cast spells with mere thought—a practice known as imaginative magic. While some prodigious individuals may achieve this near Tier 6, it is generally at Tier 6 and above that mages can wield this power with efficiency."

Historias listened intently, though much of this was familiar territory for him. His unique abilities had granted him insights beyond the standard curriculum.

"Now," the professor said, her tone shifting, "let us delve into the elemental classifications of magic."

With a wave of her hand, the diagrams transformed, now depicting various elemental symbols.

"Elemental magic is categorized into several types, each corresponding to a fundamental force of nature. These include:

Pyromancy: The manipulation of fire.

Hydromancy: The control of water.

Aeromancy: The command of air.

Geomancy: The shaping of earth.

Electromancy: The harnessing of lightning.

Cryomancy: The mastery of ice.

Photomancy: The utilization of light.

Umbramancy: The wielding of shadows."

She paused, allowing the students to absorb the information.

"Each mage typically possesses an affinity towards one or more of these elements, which influences their magical development and specialization."

Leonhardt leaned over to Historias, whispering, "I've always been drawn to Pyromancy. What about you?"

Historias gave a subtle smile. "I've dabbled in all of them."

Leon raised an eyebrow but refrained from pressing further, aware of Historias' penchant for understatement.

Professor Duskbane's gaze then intensified, signaling a shift to a more profound topic.

"Beyond elemental magic lies the realm of aura—a distinct energy that differs from mana. While mana is external, drawn from the environment, aura is an internal force, emanating from one's own life essence."

The board now displayed illustrations contrasting the flow of mana and aura within a mage's body.

"Aura users develop an aura core within their hearts, serving as the nexus of their power. However, the integration of both an aura core and a magic circle within one's heart is a perilous endeavor. The concurrent presence of these energies can lead to catastrophic consequences, as their clashing forces may ultimately destroy the user's body."

A palpable tension filled the room as students grasped the gravity of this revelation.

"Therefore," she continued, "it is imperative for an individual to master one discipline to at least Tier 6 before attempting to incorporate the other. This sequential mastery ensures that the energies can coexist without causing harm."

Historias reflected on this. His unique journey had led him to achieve mastery in both mana and aura, a feat few could claim.

As the lecture progressed, Professor Duskbane delved deeper into the nuances of aura manipulation, discussing its applications and the rigorous training required to harness it effectively.

"Aura can be utilized to enhance physical abilities, fortify defenses, and even augment one's presence on the battlefield," she explained. "However, such prowess demands unwavering discipline and a profound understanding of one's inner self."

The session continued with an exploration of the interplay between mana and aura, highlighting the potential synergies and conflicts that could arise.

As the lecture progressed, she delved deeper into the nuances of elemental magic, discussing the unique characteristics and applications of each element. The students listened intently, absorbing the wealth of knowledge being imparted.

As the session drew to a close, Professor Duskbane assigned a reading from the academy's compendium, instructing the students to study the interplay between aura and magic in preparation for the next class. "Remember," she concluded, "the path to mastery is paved with both knowledge and discipline. Dismissed."

........

 Combat Training – Instructor Garrick Ironfist

After their first class ended, Historias and Leon exited the classroom. As they walked, Historias glanced at Leon.

"What's next?" he asked.

Leon stretched his arms. "Combat training."

Historias sighed. "Guess that means we need to change."

Realizing they were short on time, the two hurried toward the changing rooms, only to find the place in chaos. Students were scrambling to put on their training gear, tripping over boots, yanking off uniforms, and generally making a mess of the space.

Leon blinked. "Looks like we're not the only ones in a rush."

Historias smirked. "Shocking. Truly."

Without wasting time, they swiftly changed into their combat uniforms, managing to dodge a flying tunic and someone's misplaced belt. Once properly dressed, they rushed out and arrived at the training grounds.

Training Grounds Description

The grand training grounds of Castellas Academy stretched before them, a vast expanse of open space lined with reinforced stone tiles. Towering walls enclosed the area, adorned with glowing enchantments to absorb stray attacks. The outer perimeter featured racks of wooden and steel weapons, along with training dummies already scarred from years of abuse. Several sparring rings were marked with magic-infused barriers, ready to contain students' battles.

Standing at the center, a stout yet imposing figure awaited the incoming students. Instructor Garrick Ironfist—a dwarf with a barrel-like chest, thick braided beard, and arms like steel cables—watched them with sharp eyes. His voice, rough and gravelly, rang out the moment they arrived.

"Finally dragged yer lazy hides here, did ya?" He crossed his massive arms, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Right, since you're all here, start with twenty laps around the field."

A collective groan rippled through the students.

"Wait, what?" one of them blurted out.

"Is this guy serious?" another whispered.

Garrick's sharp gaze turned lethal. "Oi, quit gawkin'! If even one of ya stops, everyone runs five more rounds! NOW MOVE IT!"

The students scrambled into motion.

POV Switch: General Student Perspective

What was supposed to be twenty laps quickly became thirty.

Somewhere around lap fifteen, groans and gasps filled the air. Legs burned, lungs felt like bursting, and even the fittest students found themselves cursing the dwarf's existence.

"Damn it, Leon, I think I'm dying," one student huffed beside him.

Leon, drenched in sweat but still moving, gave a wheezing laugh. "We just got started!"

Further ahead, Historias ran with the same ease as a morning jog. His breathing remained steady, his expression unreadable—like this was just another warm-up.

One student whispered between gasps, "Now I see why he ranked first in the practicals…"

POV Switch: Princess Adriana

Adriana, her royal pride on the line, forced herself to maintain composure. Her legs screamed in protest, but she refused to fall behind.

Still, she couldn't help but glare at Historias, who ran effortlessly as if this were beneath him.

Does that guy even break a sweat? she thought bitterly.

After a Ten-Minute Rest

Instructor Garrick clapped his hands. "Alright, break's over, ya bunch o' weaklings! Time for some sparrin'!"

Groans echoed again.

The dwarf pulled out a handful of chits with ranks scribbled on them and started calling out random match-ups.

........

Leon cracked his knuckles as he stepped onto the sparring field. His opponent, a broad-shouldered warrior with a heavy stance, sized him up.

"Start!" Garrick barked.

The opponent lunged forward with a wide swing. Leon, fast on his feet, sidestepped with ease and retaliated with a swift jab to the ribs. His opponent stumbled but recovered, trying to grab him. Leon spun away, planting a kick against his back.

The opponent growled, charging in again, this time more cautious. He threw a feint, then aimed a low sweep at Leon's legs.

Leon leapt over it, landing with a sharp twist. He grasped his opponent's arm, using his own momentum to flip him onto the ground.

"Match over!" Garrick called.

Leon grinned as he helped his opponent up before returning to Historias' side. "Whew, that was fun," he said, stretching his arms.

Historias gave him a glance. "You got sloppy near the end. Almost tripped yourself."

Leon groaned. "Not even a 'good job'? Just once?"

Historias smirked. "Where's the fun in that?"

........

Next came Historias' turn.

His opponent was Edric Halvar, Rank 4—an elite swordsman with a muscular build, sharp hazel eyes, and short black hair. He carried himself with the confidence of a seasoned fighter.

Edric smirked. "Finally, a real challenge."

Historias raised a brow. "If that's what helps you sleep at night."

The moment Garrick gave the signal, Edric exploded forward, his sword flashing as he delivered a powerful downward strike. Historias sidestepped smoothly, dodging by mere inches.

POV Historias

Not bad. He's fast. Strong, too.

Edric was skilled—one of the best students present. But against him?

Edric continued his relentless assault, his blade a flurry of slashes and thrusts. Historias weaved through each attack effortlessly, his movements precise, fluid, and almost lazy.

The students watching gasped. "He's dodging everything!"

Edric gritted his teeth and switched tactics. He feinted left, then twisted to aim a backhand strike.

Historias finally moved.

With a swift parry, he deflected the blow, twisting Edric's wrist just enough to disarm him.

Then, with one smooth motion, he swept Edric's legs out from under him.

Edric hit the ground hard, gasping as his sword clattered away. Before he could react, Historias placed the tip of his own blade against his throat.

Garrick let out a low chuckle. "Match over. Winner, Vaelcrest."

POV Instructor Garrick

Garrick Ironfist had seen many talented fighters. Historias?

The boy didn't just fight—he flowed like water, his movements absurdly refined.

Garrick crossed his arms, nodding in approval. "Hmph… kid's got skill."

One of the students muttered, "Skill? He just played with Rank 4 like it was nothing!"

Garrick smirked. Aye… this one's gonna be interestin' to watch.

.......

Historias' POV – The Parcel from Aldren

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, the remaining classes proceeding without issue. After dinner, Historias and Leon made their way back to their Aedis Dorm. As they reached the lift, they parted ways, Leon giving a lazy wave before disappearing down the corridor to his own room.

Historias, ever composed, merely inclined his head in acknowledgment before scanning his identification card at the door. A quiet click signaled his entry, and he stepped inside.

The room was just as he had left it—immaculate, organized, and devoid of anything unnecessary. Yet, on the center table in the living area, an unexpected object rested—a small, elegantly wrapped parcel.

His brow lifted slightly.

From Aldren?

Approaching the package, he untied the string and lifted the lid of the box. Inside, nestled within soft velvet, was a single earring—ornate, yet unassuming. Accompanying it was a letter.

Unfolding the parchment, his sharp gaze flicked over Aldren's unmistakable handwriting.

"Here's a solution to your little mana problem. The earring should suppress your mana enough to bypass the academy's detectors. If you ever need to fight, just break it, and your mana will be fully unleashed. That being said—don't go breaking it just because you feel like it. This was an absolute pain to acquire.

Also, stay out of trouble. I do not have the patience to clean up your messes."

Historias exhaled a soft chuckle, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of the earring.

Typical Aldren—stern, practical, and ever so reluctant in his concern.

With practiced ease, he clipped the earring onto his ear. Instantly, he felt it—a slight constriction, as if a veil had been drawn over his presence. His immense mana, which had always surged beneath his skin like an untamed river, settled into something far more subdued. Manageable.

Convenient.

He leaned back against the couch, rolling the earring between his fingers in thought. While he had little intention of drawing unnecessary attention to himself, Aldren's warning was hardly necessary. He had no intention of breaking the artifact on a whim.

But… it was rather amusing, wasn't it? That despite his efforts, Aldren still found it necessary to send something like this.

A faint smile played at the corner of his lips.

"Trouble, is it?" he murmured to himself. "Well, that depends entirely on how one defines it."

He set the letter aside and stretched, exhaustion finally creeping in after the long day. There was little else to ponder—tomorrow would bring its own challenges, and for now, rest was the most logical course of action.

With that, he rose and made his way toward his bed, the weight of the earring a subtle reminder that, despite his disguise, there were still those keeping an eye on him.

Not that he minded, of course.

After all, life would be far too dull otherwise.