Renard now lay in the infirmary bed, his upper body bandaged, the scent of healing salves heavy in the air. Faint burn marks still lined his chest and arms. He felt the burn but the taste of complete defeat masks the pain.
The academy healer hovered nearby, carefully applying more ointment, though her hands trembled slightly. Not from haste, but from nerves.
Despite her years of experience, she didn't enjoy treating this particular student.
Renard Halworth was powerful, noble, and notoriously volatile. He lashed out for the smallest reasons. A bruise applied too hard or a potion that stung too much, any of it could earn a sharp glare or a snapped insult.
She'd seen it often enough to know his pride was delicate.
But today… Something was different.
He hadn't said a word since arriving. He hadn't thrown a fit or shouted or demanded faster treatment. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, with expression blank.
No, actually its more than blank. He looks defeated.
She could see the faint tremor in his hands and the slight tension in his jaw. Renard Halworth, the pride of House Halworth, one of the strongest students in the academy, was visibly rattled, scorched, and broken.
She didn't know what had happened exactly, but she could guess.
Everyone had heard rumors about the Archmage's new student. A mysterious girl Sylmira was training personally in the private projection arena.Something she'd never done before.
The secrecy around her only made the gossip worse. Some claimed she was the daughter of a high noble house, or Sylmira's daughter herself, though it's almost impossible. Others whispered she might not even be human.
Regardless, there was one thing everyone agreed on:
She must be extraordinary.
The healer silently stepped back just as the infirmary door creaked open. She turned, heart skipping a beat as Principal Olbrecht Varn entered.
His mere presence commanded respect. She gave a small bow.
"Leave us," he said calmly.
She nodded and slipped out of the room, leaving the two alone and didn't want anything to do with them.
Olbrecht approached the bed and glanced down at Renard's battered body. "How was it?" he asked with a faint smile.
Renard didn't look at him. "You can see for yourself," he said bitterly.
Olbrecht chuckled, unbothered.
"So, she really beat you up, huh?" he said, pulling a chair to sit beside the bed.
Renard growled. "She's strong. This is the first time I've ever lost… and it's infuriating."
"Are you afraid of her now?" Olbrecht asked casually.
Renard immediately snapped, "No!"
But Olbrecht didn't flinch. He just laughed again and leaned forward slightly. "Then tell me what she can do?"
Renard clenched his fists, recalling the fight.
"She uses four elemental Magics like she's mastered them for years. Her attacks weren't just strong, they were lethal. Every attack was precise, and just meant to destroy or kill. She didn't hesitate or hold back."
Olbrecht nodded slowly, thoughtful. "Impressive. Sylmira doesn't train just anyone. I wonder where she found this girl… or what her true origin is."
Renard turned his head, studying the principal's expression. "You want to recruit her into the academy."
"Of course I do," Olbrecht replied without hesitation. "A talent like that? I won't let it go to waste. And if a war breaks out again someday, we'll need people like her to secure victory, right?"
Renard's eyes narrowed. "You said the same thing about me once."
Olbrecht smiled, amused. "And I wasn't wrong. But now look, maybe you've finally found someone who can keep up with you. Didn't you always complain that no one here was worth fighting?"
Renard stayed quiet for a long moment.
Then slowly, his eyes hardened. "I'll beat her. One day, I'll pay her back for this."
Olbrecht chuckled, patting his shoulder. "That's the spirit. Let's just hope you survive the next round."
The days passed and Arty's training grew more focused. With the help of the enchanted bracelet Sylmira had given her she slowly gained better control over her powers.
Her fireballs no longer exploded the moment they left her hands, at least, not always. Though still unpredictable and dangerous.
Today, she stood at the center of the private projection arena, hands outstretched, brows furrowed in focus. A single flicker of flame danced above her palm.
She tried to conjure just a small ember that was delicate and harmless. But the moment it took shape, the fire suddenly flared and detonated right in front of her face.
The blast knocked her backward with a burst of heat and smoke.
Sylmira immediately rushed toward her. "Arty!"
But when the smoke cleared, Arty was already pushing herself up, coughing slightly.
Her face was scorched, some of her hair singed, but… she wasn't hurt. No burns or bleeding, no serious injuries. Only the blackened smudge of ash across her cheek.
She narrowed her eyes and stared at Arty's body.
That blast should've done more than just knock her down. A normal Mage, even one moderately experienced, would've needed healing spells after something like that. Yet Arty stood with only minor soot stains.
That's when Sylmira's mind began to piece it together.
Could it be? Is her body… unusually resilient?
She's the sister of the Dragonborn, after all. That closeness might've changed her as well. If Arty possessed even a fraction of her brother's traits physically…
Then she wouldn't just be a Mage with terrifying firepower, she'd have the body of a warrior too.
A rare and dangerous combination, Sylmira thought, watching as Arty returned to the center of the field again.
If her theory was correct, then Arty could become someone truly extraordinary.
Suddenly, Arty stopped moving. Her expression shifted. Her eyes wide, lips parting slightly. Then she let out a soft gasp.
She clutched her chest in recognition. Something inside her had changed.
It felt like a thread had snapped.
Her Mana surged not wildly but as if finally responding to her properly.
The wild fire she always struggled to tame now danced at her fingertips.
Without a word, she raised her palm again.
A single flame appeared. It hovered gently.
It didn't explode or spiral out of control.
It simply stayed there.
"I got it!" Arty cried with a wide, shining smile.
Sylmira blinked, stunned for a second, but then she smiled too.
Arty ran toward her and threw her arms around her in a sudden hug. Sylmira stiffened and surprised because she wasn't used to such contact.
But after a moment, she gently wrapped her arms around the girl in return.