CHAPTER 67 Lessons Learned

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CHAPTER 67 Lessons Learned

Elmi found himself fatigued as well, having prolonged the confrontation to teach Flint a lesson. The relentless attacks he did had drained Elmi's energy. The fight showcased the need for caution; Elmi had acquired potent spells, but they came with specific conditions for optimal effectiveness. 

This showed him he shouldn't be arrogant. If his opponent had decent mental prowess, Death spells wouldn't cause fear, and if they had a decent wand-parrying, they could deflect an amber spear spell.

Realizing he was operating at the strength level of a fourth or fifth-year student, Elmi acknowledged the limitations of his magical prowess. His physical condition allowed him to cast only around twenty spells, emphasizing the importance of strategic spell usage.

Had Flint been in a clearer state of mind, the outcome might have been difficult to decide. Spectators grasped the dynamic and recognized that Elmi was deliberately not finishing the fight. He toyed with Flint, launching attacks only when he could counter them. He was always waiting for him to get ready. If he attacked Flint one after another, Elmi could overwhelm him easily.

Flint was desperately defending ever since Marcus reminded Flint that there were people Flint should be more fearful of than Elmi. Flint, in the midst of defending, gradually adapted to Elmi's spell patterns, finding a rhythm that bolstered his confidence. But Elmi prepared for the final move; he intended to conclude the duel. 

Flint, having successfully deflected Elmi's previous spell, despite his exhaustion, gained some confidence; he had managed to defend against that monster for more than ten clashes. The ongoing clash felt draining, with the amethyst link between them seemingly sapping his strength. Flint's smirk reflected a sense of accomplishment, but in that fleeting moment of satisfaction, he sensed an impending mistake.

Flint met Elmi's gaze, and a chill ran down his spine as he sensed a shift in Elmi's demeanor. The once-arrogant expression had vanished, replaced by an icy coldness that sent shivers through Flint. He had seen that look a few days ago, and it brought those emotions back to the surface. 

Reacting instinctively, Flint conjured a Protego shield, but the response was futile. Elmi put both of his hands on his wand, and an amber-hued spear materialized, hurtling toward the shield and effortlessly penetrating it as if the magical barrier was made out of paper.

The amber spear, unstoppable by the shield spell, plunged into Flint's right leg, boring through and leaving a hole reminiscent of a golf ball. Since Elmi had overcast it, the spell had too much power; the amber spear persisted in its trajectory, hurtling towards the shield of the dueling arena. The air filled with a screeching clash as the spell collided with the shield, akin to the grating of two glass pieces scratching against each other. In this intense exchange, the spell managed to breach the shield, though only by a tiny margin.

Witnessing this, even the upperclassmen couldn't help but feel a sense of fear toward that spell. It was a daunting realization that most of them couldn't breach the defensive shield around the dueling area with just a single hit. Although Elmi had taken care not to hit any bone or major artery, the profuse bleeding from the sizable hole created an atmosphere of shock. Initially, Flint's brain struggled to process what was occurring. The area where the spear struck felt damp, and upon inspecting his fingers, he comprehended the severity of his bleeding. Subsequently, his nerves began sending signals to his brain, amplifying the sense of alarm.

With a resounding scream, Flint collapsed to the ground. As Elmi approached, Flint staggered and ended up falling on top of his ass. Seizing the opportunity, Elmi cast a weakened Tenebrae Trepidatio. Eerie black and amethyst specters materialized around Flint, permeating through his body. With each ethereal pass, the fear within him intensified.

As Flint was about to surrender, Elmi conjured another amber spear and hurled it in his direction. At that moment, Flint's mind was consumed by a single thought—he was facing imminent death. The sheer madness of Elmi's actions painted a grim picture. This maniac was going to kill him. 

Marcus yelled, "It's over," but Elmi persisted, casting yet another offensive spell. Reacting quickly, Marcus erected a protective shield around Flint. Despite the shield's presence, the amber spear managed to penetrate halfway through, showcasing the great penetrating power behind Elmi's magic.

Flint turned his head to his left, and the spear had halted just beside Flint's head, a dangerous proximity that triggered a visceral reaction. As consciousness slipped away, he lost control. His mouth foamed, and he pissed himself. Witnessing this, Marcus erupted in anger, questioning Elmi's relentless assault. "Why didn't you stop when he was already down?"

In response, Elmi calmly stated, "He didn't yield; this isn't sparring; it is a duel. Duels continue until one side yields or cannot fight anymore." While smiling, he pointed at Flint. "Now it is over."

Marcus seized Elmi's collar with a tight grip, his anger palpable. "I am the Prefect. A duel will end whenever I decide to end it. Do not act arrogant just because you beat a mediocre duelist. I am going to carry out a disciplinary hearing about this action. You tried to hurt your opponent when he was down."

Elmi, maintaining his composure, responded, "Prefect Avery, I might act ruthless, but I am not a murderer; I was not aiming for him, and you know it."

Avery's arrogant smile persisted. "That is for the disciplinary committee and me to decide." Elmi, undeterred, turned towards the entrance and addressed the professor standing there. "Professor, do you think I was aiming for him? You saw it, too."

 The dueling arena echoed with the fading whispering sounds, and everyone's attention was turned toward the entrance. At the very back, right next to the entrance, Snape stood with his characteristic scowl. His eyes flickered between Elmi, Marcus, and the unconscious Flint. "Prefect Avery," Snape drawled, his voice a low hiss, "abusing your authority is not a display of leadership; it's a mark of incompetence."

Avery stammered, "But, Professor, he—"

"Silence," Snape cut him off. "And you," he turned his gaze to Elmi, "playing with your opponent rather than showing proper respect is unbecoming of a true Slytherin. We are not cats, Mr. Fawley. A snake always goes for a kill. You should have respectfully disarmed your opponent rather than playing with him." Snape walked towards Flint and closed up his wounds by administering first aid to him. Then, he ordered some students to take him to the infirmary.

Elmi, undeterred by Snape's disapproval, responded, "Professor Snape, it wasn't about dueling. It was about teaching him a lesson."

Snape's expression remained stern. "Lessons are learned through discipline, not cruelty. Remember that, Mr. Fawley." With that, Snape turned on his heel and swept out of the dueling area, leaving Elmi to contemplate the weight of his actions. Snape never liked school bullies. Fighting and putting someone in his place in a respectful duel was one thing; humiliating someone and playing with your opponent was something entirely different.