Pride Goes Before A Fall I

Otto Boomsgath was not a man who questioned his own power. From a young age, he had been lauded as a prodigy in fire magic, mastering spells that others in his small village could only dream of.

His talent had inspired awe and fear in equal measure, and by the age of thirty, Otto had become a master of his craft. He didn't just wield fire—he controlled it, bending it to his will with a precision that bordered on the supernatural.

His greatest achievement, the Laden Spell, a spell of his own creation, was a swirling mass of compressed flames, a bomb so volatile that the slightest pressure could trigger an explosion capable of reducing anything within its radius to ash. This spell was Otto's ultimate weapon.

So when Otto found himself staring at a boy standing at the entrance to his underground lair, his first thought was not of danger, but of annoyance. The boy's expression was one of anger, his eyes hard and unyielding. At first glance, the child seemed unremarkable—brown hair, average build, nothing that suggested he was a threat. Otto assumed he was just another escapee, one of the many children his men had rounded up. But something about the boy made Otto pause. There was a tension in the air, a sense of impending violence that made Otto's instincts flare.

Otto studied the boy more closely, and the pieces began to fall into place. The boy wasn't just another orphan—this was the child he'd heard rumors about, the one who had been causing so much trouble for his operation. As Otto took in the boy's calm, menacing stance, it all started to click. This was no ordinary child.

Otto's eyes widened, but only for a moment. The surprise quickly faded, replaced by a wicked grin that spread across his face. His mismatched teeth, a grotesque combination of gold and white, gleamed in the dim light of the chamber. So, this was the child who had been causing so much trouble. The thought that a mere boy could pose any real threat to him was laughable.

"That's right, kid," Otto sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I'm the one you're looking for. But tell me, how did you get here? How did a little brat like you manage to slip past my men?"

For a moment, Otto considered the question. He knew the capabilities of the guards he had stationed above. Over three dozen able-bodied men, each skilled in combat and loyal to him out of fear. The fact that this boy had managed to get past them all was puzzling, but Otto quickly dismissed the thought. It didn't matter how the boy had gotten there. What mattered was that he was here, and Otto was going to enjoy teaching him a lesson.

Turai's expression didn't change. Instead, he took a step forward, his posture shifting into a battle stance, every muscle in his body coiled and ready to strike. "Where are the children?" he demanded, his voice steady and unyielding.

Otto's grin widened. The boy's confidence was almost endearing. Almost. "If you want to know," Otto replied, his voice full of mockery, "you'll have to make me tell you." The words were a challenge, a dare. Otto's eyes gleamed with cruel anticipation. He had no doubt that he would enjoy crushing this boy's spirit.

And then, without warning, the battle began.

Swoosh~

Otto moved first, summoning a torrent of flames with a single thought. The fire roared to life, surging towards the boy with a heat so intense that it warped the very air around it. Otto fully expected the child to be overwhelmed, consumed by the sheer force of his magic. But to his surprise, Turai didn't flinch. The boy moved with a speed and agility that defied logic, dodging the flames with fluid grace, as if he had anticipated the attack.

Otto's eyes narrowed. "He's quick. That would make this more interesting."

Otto summoned another wave of fire, this time directing it with more precision, aiming to cut off the boy's escape routes.

Boom!

But again, Turai evaded the attack, weaving through the flames with an almost unnatural ease. He didn't counterattack—he simply dodged and observed, his eyes never leaving Otto.

For the next several minutes, the battle played out like a deadly game of cat and mouse. Otto unleashed spell after spell, each one more powerful and complex than the last.

The chamber was filled with the sound of roaring flames and shattering stone as Otto's fire magic tore through the walls and floor. Yet, no matter how fast or powerful the attack, Turai was always one step ahead, dodging, blocking, or deflecting each spell with a calm that bordered on eerie.

Otto felt a flicker of frustration. He had never encountered an opponent like this before—someone who could not only survive his onslaught but seemed to be growing stronger as the battle continued. 'He's notjust reacting to my attacks; he's learning from them.' Otto thought amidst the fight. It was as if Turai was studying him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And then Otto changed tactics. He was not only a master of fire magic but also a formidable fighter in close quarters. With a burst of speed, he closed the distance between them, his hands crackling with flames as he struck out at the boy. Turai met his attacks head-on, blocking and countering with a precision that belied his age.

Booooom!!

The sound of their fists colliding echoed through the chamber, each impact sending shockwaves through the air.

As the battle wore on, Otto's frustration turned to anger. Turai was still standing, still fighting, and Otto was beginning to feel the strain. His spells were becoming more erratic, his movements less controlled. In contrast, Turai seemed to grow more focused, his attacks more deliberate. "I don't like this," Otto muttered as he began to feel fatigued.

It was at the thirteenth minute of their battle that Otto's confidence finally began to crack. Turai's attacks came faster and harder, each one striking with pinpoint accuracy. Otto could barely keep up, his mind racing to find a way to regain control. Panic began to set in.

 "This wasn't supposed to happen." He was Otto Boomsgath, master of fire magic, feared by all who knew him. "How? How could I be losing to a mere child?!" Otto roared.

Desperation drove him to his final gambit. Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, he began to gather the flames into a swirling mass of energy—the Laden Spell, his most powerful spell. The flames twisted and coiled, growing brighter and hotter with each passing second.

Otto could feel the heat radiating off the bomb, could see the air around it shimmering with the intensity of the flames. This was it—his last chance to turn the tide of the battle.

But before Otto could release the spell, everything changed. In a blur of motion, Turai closed the distance between them, his movements so fast that Otto barely had time to react. "What?!"