Chapter 13 Micromagic

In the midst of a lush, tranquil meadow, two novice mages prepared to engage in their first magical duel. The high noon sun bathed the meadow in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows that danced upon the swaying grass. It was an idyllic setting, an unlikely backdrop for a battle.

The first mage, a young woman with an affinity for plants, stood with her feet firmly planted in the earth, her eyes focused on the verdant surroundings. 

Her attire mirrored her affinity, with earthy tones and leafy patterns adorning her robe. A wreath of fresh, blooming flowers crowned her head, a testament to her connection with nature.

On the opposite side of the meadow, the second mage, a young man with an affinity for water, took a deep breath and summoned a small orb of glistening water into his outstretched palm. He wore robes the color of the deepest ocean, and his cerulean eyes reflected the serene yet determined demeanor of someone attuned to the flow of water.

"Let's dance, baby doll!" He jeered at her.

As the duel began, the plant mage extended her arms gracefully, and the meadow responded to her command. Vines and tendrils sprouted from the earth, curling and twisting around her like protective serpents.

In response, the water mage raised his hand, the orb of water to hover before him. With a focused expression, he sent a stream of water shooting through the air, creating a powerful blast that sparkled in the sunlight. The water danced and shimmered, reflecting the brilliance of the day.

The battle unfolded with the two novices exchanging their elemental attacks. The plant mage directed her vines to lash out at her opponent, each tendril extending with surprising speed and precision. They lashed through the air, attempting to ensnare and entangle the water mage.

In response, the water mage deftly manipulated his watery projectiles, causing them to form a watery shield that deflected the incoming vines. Drops of water scattered like liquid diamonds as the tendrils struck his protective barrier, only to be repelled with a gentle ripple.

"That was close!" He smiled.

Earth and water collided in a dazzling display of magic. Each attack and defense displayed the novices' growing mastery of their chosen elements. It was a testament to their dedication and training, as well as the sheer beauty of elemental magic.

As the duel continued, the meadow transformed into a breathtaking battleground. The air was filled with the scent of fresh earth and the sound of gurgling water. The ground beneath their feet became damp and fertile, a testament to the interplay between their opposing forces.

Breathing heavily and smiling in appreciation of each other's abilities, they had discovered that their battle had not only honed their magical skills but also deepened their respect for the intricate harmony of nature.

In that tranquil meadow, the novice mages had shared a moment of magic and connection, an experience that would forever shape their journeys into the world of elemental mastery in the prestigious academy.

"Well, what a fucking bore," Varian yawned loud enough to echo through the room, he stroked his beard in a nonchalant manner, as if thoroughly unimpressed by the display below. Varian leaned against the windowsill, his eyes half-lidded with boredom as he watched the young novices engage in their duel.

Hidden behind the ornate windows on the second floor of the academy, Varian, an emeritus professor of micromagics, observed the entrance exam with a skeptical eye. Alongside him, other esteemed professors from various magical disciplines had gathered, each with their unique areas of expertise.

Varian's expression remained largely unimpressed as he watched the novice mages below engage in their elemental duel. His specialization in micromagics had made him an unconventional figure among the academy's faculty, and he didn't hesitate to voice his thoughts.

"Ah, plant versus water, how riveting," he muttered sarcastically to his colleagues. "It's like watching a gardening competition. You there, with the weeds, try not to drown."

His commentary drew stifled chuckles from some of the other professors, who were well aware of Varian's crass and straightforward manner. The headmaster had a soft spot for him, believing in his wisdom despite his unrefined demeanor.

"As professors, it's our duty to mold these sprouts into proper mages," Varian quipped, taking a swig from a flask he had conveniently stashed in his robe. "Though I'd wager they need more than a lesson or two to reach anything close to competent."

The other professors exchanged knowing glances, accustomed to Varian's cynical jokes and unsparing critiques. While his methods may have been unconventional, there was no denying that his insights often carried more weight than his gruff exterior suggested.

As the exam continued and the novices demonstrated their growing mastery, Varian maintained his watchful gaze.

Varian was interrupted by the arrival of Claudine, a professor emeritus specializing in ice magics. She sauntered over with an arched eyebrow and a sardonic grin, clearly enjoying the opportunity to engage in some friendly banter.

"Well, Varian, I see you're as cheerful as ever," Claudine remarked with mock sweetness. "Is it because your precious Department of Micromagics is getting dismantled? After all, who wants to learn niche, weird spells that are about as useful as a snowflake in a volcano?"

Varian, never one to back down from a challenge, leaned in closer to Claudine, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, Claudine, my dear, I suppose you're right. Micromagics are just too subtle and refined for the likes of you ice enthusiasts. You prefer the brute force approach, don't you? I've always said you ice mages are all about making up for something. Ice sculptures, for example."

Claudine laughed, her frosty demeanor thawing just a bit as she exchanged playful jabs with Varian. "You may have a point, Varian. But you can't deny that when it comes to practicality, ice magic reigns supreme. I mean, what's the real-world application of a spell that makes your shoes squeak when you walk?"

Varian chuckled heartily. "Ah, Claudine, you see, the world is full of mundane annoyances, and micromagics offer solutions to those very problems. As for the practicality of a squeaky shoe spell, it's quite handy if you're trying to sneak up on someone in a library, wouldn't you say?"

Their banter continued. Varian may have been unrefined and unconventional, but his wit and wisdom were undeniable, even if they often came wrapped in sarcasm and cynicism.

Claudine and Varian exchanged a knowing look, their rivalry evident in the subtle glint of their eyes. It was a rivalry that had simmered for years, fueled by their unwavering belief in the superiority of their respective magical disciplines. Nay, their superiority in teaching.

Claudine, confident and composed, often boasted about how ice magic was at the forefront of magical arts. She believed that the power to manipulate and control ice and cold was not only practical but also beautifully awe-inspiring. Her students excelled in precision and control, and she took great pride in their achievements.

Varian, on the other hand, was a staunch advocate for micromagics, the niche and often overlooked branch of magic that focused on subtlety and finesse. He relished in the peculiar and the peculiarly practical, arguing that there was beauty in the small and seemingly insignificant spells that could make everyday life just a bit more convenient.

Now, her tone is less snide and more genuinely worried.

"Varian," she began cautiously, "you know, it's a shame that the department is getting dismantled. It's true that many students prefer to learn more practical and mainstream spells these days, but your expertise in micromagics is invaluable. It's a shame to see it go to waste." Claudine, despite their rivalry, couldn't help but bring up her genuine concern for the Department of Micromagics. 

Varian, caught slightly off guard by Claudine's sincerity, gave her a rare look. It was a fleeting moment of sadness that flickered across his usually crass facade. He nodded slowly, his voice carrying a touch of melancholy.

"I know, Claudine," he admitted, his gruffness softened. "But times change, and magic with it. People these days want power they can see, not the subtleties of micromagics. It's a dying art, and I'm just a relic clinging to the past."

Despite his words, there was a glint of sadness in Varian's eyes, a recognition of the passing of an era, and the knowledge that his beloved field was fading into obscurity.

"What the hell is that mage doing!?" Someone shouted from outside.

Their attention shifted once more to the testing ground.