Paragon of Destruction

Arran looked at the adept in astonishment. Each spell he knew had taken him months to learn properly, and now she expected him to learn twelve of them in a single day?

It wasn't just impossible; it was madness.

Anthea smiled in amusement at his bewildered expression. "The spells I'm talking of aren't like the ones you know," she explained. "They're Forms — basic elements you can combine to create more complex spells. Observe."

She held up her hand, and Arran could Sense that she was gathering Fire Essence. A moment later, a bright-red ball of Fire appeared above her hand.

"Condense." As she spoke the word, the ball of Fire grew smaller and brighter, its color changing into an intense yellow that bordered on white.

"Soar." The ball of fire instantly flew from her hand, moving toward the wall at an incredible speed.

"Ram." She spoke the final word right as the ball of fire forcefully crashed into the wall, where it left a blackened scorch mark.

Arran watched the display in fascination. Each of the separate Forms was simple, barely qualified to be called a spell. Yet together, they formed a complete spell, if not a particularly powerful one.

"It's like using sword techniques in a combination," he said, suddenly wondering why nobody had ever taught him this before. "And you can use this to create whatever spells you want?"

The thought of it astounded him. The spells he had learned so far could only be mastered as a whole, and the only way to learn one was to learn it all at once.

By comparison, this method seemed far easier. The Forms themselves seemed simple enough, and if creating new spells was just a matter of combining them, then learning magic would be far easier than he had anticipated.

"As long as you know the proper Forms, there isn't a spell you can't cast," Anthea replied, visibly pleased with Arran's excitement. "Though I have to warn you — there are many Forms, and learning to combine them correctly will require a great deal of practice."

The warning did not deter Arran in the slightest. Even if there were thousands of Forms, if they were all as simple as this, learning all of them would still be quicker than mastering even a single normal spell.

"You're going to teach me twelve of these Forms today?"

"That's my intention," Anthea replied. "Let's started with the first, Condense. You already know how to condense Essence for simple techniques like fireballs, but the Form is slightly different. Watch closely…"

She spent the next quarter-hour explaining and demonstrating the Form, with Arran watching intently as she detailed its specifics.

He soon realized that the Form wasn't as simple as he had initially believed. While it resembled the basic technique of condensing Essence, it was far more precise, each time using an exact series of steps to create the same weave of Essence.

After Anthea's demonstrations, it took Arran nearly an hour to grasp the Form. That was slower than he had wanted, but it paled compared to learning a real spell. And if his teacher was right, he would be able to use it in numerous combinations.

"That's good enough," she finally said. "Mastering it will require a great deal of practice, but for the moment, we'll move on to the next Form — Soar."

It took Arran another hour to learn the Soar Form. Like Condense, it was simple but highly specific, clearly intended to achieve the exact same result each time.

"Consistency is the foundation of working with Forms," Anthea explained. "To combine them, the individual elements have to be exactly right."

Arran nodded in understanding. In some ways, it reminded him of sword styles, which allowed well-practiced techniques to be forged into powerful combinations.

"Next, let's move on to the Ram Form," Anthea continued. "You can use it to imbue a combination with a final wave of power, right before it hits a target. Like this…"

She explained the Form in detail, and it took Arran another half hour to learn it.

When he thought he knew it well enough, he asked, "The Forms you've taught me so far, can I try combining them?"

"Of course," Anthea replied with a pleased nod. "It will take you some tries to get the combinations right, but you should be able to handle it."

Eagerly, Arran set to work.

Focusing his mind, he gathered a moderate amount of Fire Essence in his hand, forcing it to Condense when there was enough of it. The result was a fist-sized orange fireball, still fully within his control.

Satisfied with the effort, he then made it Soar toward the wall — only to see it instantly dissipate in mid-air.

"Try again," Anthea said. "And this time, focus on performing both Forms exactly as I taught you. Even the slightest imperfection will cause the combination to fail."

Several dozens of failed attempts later, Arran succeeded in creating his first combination — an orange fireball that hit the wall with all the power of a warm breeze, not even leaving a scorch mark behind.

"Add the Ram Form," Anthea said. "That will lend some power to the attack."

Arran began to practice once more, and nearly an hour later, he finally achieved success in combining the three Forms he knew into a single attack.

It wasn't a particularly impressive display. It took half a minute just to create the combination, and it struck the wall with a force far weaker than even a normal initiate's fireballs would have.

Yet Anthea observed his efforts with clear excitement. "You're talented," she said in a cheerful voice. "Most people take days to create their first real combination."

Arran felt some excitement as well. Although the result was too weak to be of any practical use, having a result at all in just half a day of training was nothing short of astonishing.

With a normal spell, it would have taken weeks just to reach this point, and then months more to do anything useful. If the Forms already yielded such results after a few hours, Arran could barely even imagine what he could achieve in a few months of training.

The whole thing seemed almost too good to be true.

He repeated the feat nearly two dozen times, keen to confirm that his success hadn't been a mere fluke. Yet the result held, and though the combination was still slow and weak, he could tell that he was on the right path.

Finally, Anthea motioned for him to stop. "That's enough for now," she said. "You've earned a break. Let's get some food in town, and we'll continue after that."

Arran happily agreed. Despite the motivation that came with rapid progress, practicing magic was exhausting — far more so than sword training.

They left the training hall, then headed toward the town at the center of the House of Flames. Or rather, the city. Because Arran soon discovered that unlike the House of Swords, the House of Flames held a proper city, and a sizable one at that.

The streets were lined with stores, shops, and restaurants, crowds of crimson-robed mages slowly walking past them. There weren't nearly as many people as in the capital, but with every person here being at least a reasonably talented mage, there could be little doubt that the House of Flames was a tremendously powerful force.

"It's like a city of mages," he said ponderously, curiously looking around as they walked.

"We're the second-largest House in the Valley," Anthea said, some pride in her voice. "Before the truce, the House of Flames was the Valley's main fighting force. But you already knew that, of course."

"I didn't," Arran replied. "I'm from the Fourth Valley. I only arrived here a year ago."

"The Fourth Valley?" Anthea's tone held more than a little surprise. "Then you've actually experienced real battle? Against mages?"

"I have," he confirmed.

Naturally, the brief reply wasn't nearly enough to satisfy her curiosity, and Arran found himself spending the next half hour answering questions about the things he had encountered in the borderlands.

He answered what questions he could, making sure not to reveal anything she should not know. Aside from the borderlands, Anthea was most interested in the magical methods used in the other Valleys. Here, Arran had no need to feign ignorance. As an initiate, he had little experience with the Valleys' different approaches to magic.

Somewhere in between asking questions, Anthea found them a small restaurant that served surprisingly tasty grilled meat and vegetables. From the Essence Arran could Sense being used in the kitchens, he surmised that the cooking here wasn't done by any natural means.

Arran ate with gusto, emptying three full plates in short order. The morning's training had been strenuous, and he now eagerly replenished his lost energy. In between bites, he answered Anthea's questions, though his thoughts were focused more on food than on magic.

Yet as he picked the final scraps from his third plate, a voice sounded behind him.

"Caught another one, have you?"

Arran turned to the person who had spoken, and saw that it was a middle-aged man whose angular face bore a severe expression.

"Master Linos." Anthea greeted the man politely, but more than a hint of hostility could be seen in her eyes.

"It's bad enough that you're wasting your own talent on a dead-end path," the man continued. "But do you need to lead others astray, as well?" He turned to Arran. "What she has failed to tell you is that these Forms of hers are useless. Nobody can use them — not as anything more than feeble tricks."

"Elder Nikias could—" Anthea began.

"Elder Nikias died half a century before you were even born," the man interrupted her. "And nobody since has mastered the method he created. Not your master, not you, and certainly not the initiates whose time and talents you've wasted with this futile pursuit. The method died with its creator, and it's time you accept that."

Anthea gave the man a hateful stare, but she did not respond, and he turned to Arran.

"You're the initiate who bested one of our novices this morning, correct? Come visit me once you realize the truth. I can provide you with proper training — talent like yours should not go to waste."

Without a second look at Anthea, the man turned around and left the restaurant.

"That vile…" Anthea muttered in anger as she stared at the departing Master's back.

Arran, however, found himself filled with concern. Ignoring the risk of further upsetting Anthea, he asked, "What he said, is it true?"

"It's not!" she said sharply. Yet after a brief moment of hesitation, she continued, "At least, not exactly." She shook her head. "Let's return to the training halls. I'll explain it to you on the way back."