From Fire to Fog (I)

The sun hung high over the arena, its rays reflecting off the polished marble floor, making the place seem both grand and daunting. The air buzzed with murmured excitement, students craning their necks to get a better view of the duelists stepping into position. On one side stood Kyle, calm and composed, a slight smirk playing on his lips. Opposite him, Nick stretched his arms, his expression unreadable but his posture tense, exuding raw determination.

I leaned forward in my seat, feeling the subtle anticipation build in the pit of my stomach. "That's Kyle," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. "I want to see his magic."

But by the way, do all the wizard students already have their own unique magic? I've always wanted to see the unique magic of each wizard. Unique magic is something extraordinary—magic developed by an individual wizard, often incomprehensible or unusable by others. It sets them apart, placing them at the forefront of wizardry.

I've seen unique magic before, but not very often. Gravity magic, where the very weight of the battlefield can be shifted at will. Real illusion magic, bending reality so convincingly that you can't tell what's real. Spatial magic, folding the dimensions to create impossible movements. And then, the most mysterious of all—the seemingly unbeatable 'Circle' Magic. Each of them carries a mystique, a level of craftsmanship that fascinates me, even though I can't use magic myself.

I sighed softly, torn between envy and admiration. Wizards truly had something incredible—something untouchable to someone like me.

Kyle, a picture of focus, gripped a thin wand, no larger than a twig, in his right hand. A small leather pouch hung at his side, bouncing lightly against his hip with every movement. That's it? I tilted my head. His whole approach seemed... minimal. Wizards usually carried an array of backup tools, potions, or even an additional weapon. Did Kyle think he wouldn't need any of that? Confidence or recklessness, I wasn't sure.

Then my eyes shifted to Nick. He flexed his fingers, his black gloves creaking as his fists clenched. Reinforcement magic? Martial arts? I studied his movements, trying to piece together his fighting style. His compact, muscular frame, combined with the lack of visible weapons, hinted at close-range combat expertise. Still, compared to Kyle, his setup felt more grounded—no frills, just raw power waiting to be unleashed.

"Get ready!" Mr. Alan's voice broke through the low hum of chatter in the audience. The energy in the arena shifted. Every pair of eyes locked onto the two duelists, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Kyle adjusted his stance slightly, his wand raised just enough to catch the light. Nick settled into a loose fighting pose, his knees bent and his weight balanced on the balls of his feet. It was as if the world had shrunk, focusing only on this small patch of the arena where magic and might would soon collide.

Kyle vs. Nick: A Clash of Styles

The tension in the arena was palpable as Mr. Alan's voice thundered through the space: "Begin!"

Kyle moved first, his lips parting to chant a spell. His voice was low, steady, and deliberate—a rhythm that felt like a pulse in the air. His wand began to glow faintly, and a shimmering light traced intricate lines in the air before him. Slowly, the outline of a magic circle materialized. It wasn't just any circle—it was dense, layered, and alive with energy. The lines rippled like water, reflecting his mastery over high-level casting that only High Wizard can use Chanting and Magic Circle in the air.

Nick, also chanting, stayed rooted in his spot, watching with sharp eyes. His gloves tightened as he lowered into a defensive stance. For a moment, it seemed as though he wasn't planning to counter, but I caught the faint shimmer of a second circle forming beneath his feet. Reinforcement magic—an augmentation that enhances strength, speed, and durability. His stillness wasn't inaction. It was preparation.

This is my slight dislike towards magic compared to Skills in real battle. They have too many things to prepare. Unlike Espers, who can directly use their power, wizards rely on deliberate steps: chanting, forming circles, and channeling mana. Watching it unfold is fascinating but slow. Skills, by contrast, feel raw and immediate—a burst of energy at the speed of thought.

Still, in terms of knowledge, magic has the upper hand. Wizards study intricacies beyond what most Espers ever touch. Every magic circle tells a story, a blend of symbols and structures representing power and creativity. From where I stood, I could barely make out the details of their circles, but the general intent was clear enough: Kyle's was offensive, Nick's defensive.

The thing about magic circles is that they're foundational, but not universal. Every wizard builds their own, crafting it as uniquely as a signature. The complexity isn't just for show—it's protection. The more intricate the design, the harder it is for others to replicate or even understand. That's how unique magic is born: when a wizard's circle becomes so distinct that no one else can use it.

Kyle's circle pulsed with aggressive energy, its symbols swirling faster with every second. Meanwhile, Nick's reinforcement circle was less ornate but solid, anchoring him in a place like an immovable wall.

The air between them grew heavy as Kyle finished his incantation. With a snap of his wrist, he directed the magic circle forward. A bright orange light flared at its center before condensing into a compact, blazing <fireball>.

The fireball hurtled toward Nick, cutting through the air like a comet. The crowd collectively held its breath as the attack closed in.

Nick didn't flinch.

The fireball struck him dead-on, exploding in a burst of heat and light. Smoke erupted from the impact, cloaking the battlefield in a dense gray haze. 

As the smoke began to clear, a figure emerged—upright, unshaken. Nick stood in the same spot, the remnants of the fireball's heat shimmering in the air around him. His gloves faintly glowed, likely a result of reinforcement magic dampening the force of the blow.

A confident smile curled on Nick's lips, and from across the arena, Kyle matched it with a grin of his own.

It wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Kyle moved quickly into his second attack. Nick, knowing this, immediately ran towards Kyle. It looked like he wanted to close the distance between them.

He dipped a hand into the small bag at his side, pulling out a square piece of parchment: Spell Paper. Unlike the elegant, floating magic circle from before, Spell Paper was a simpler, pre-drawn option for low-class spells. Practical but limited in size.

I raised an eyebrow. Why would he use that? Then it hit me—speed.

Kyle extended the paper in front of him, and the symbols on its surface lit up. A burst of light erupted from the parchment, so blinding that I instinctively turned away, squinting against the intensity.

"A flashbang?" I muttered under my breath. Clever.

Nick, caught in the light's epicenter, stumbled, his hands flying to his eyes. The temporary blindness bought Kyle the seconds he needed.

Kyle stepped sideways, repositioning himself as another circle began to form in the air behind him. Unlike the Spell Paper, this was a mid-class spell. Its size was larger, its complexity undeniable. The energy it emitted was heavier, and the air around it charged with static.

Nick blinked rapidly, trying to regain his vision, but Kyle wasn't going to wait.

"Blaster!" Kyle's voice echoed as blue flames roared to life within the circle. The fire gathered for a heartbeat before surging forward like a tidal wave, consuming the space between the two fighters in an instant.

Nick barely had time to react. He raised his arms defensively, his reinforcement magic flaring to its limit, but the force of the attack was overwhelming. The impact sent him sliding backward, his boots digging into the arena floor as the flames exploded on contact.

When the dust settled, the contrast was stark. Nick, breathing heavily, knelt on one knee. His gloves were charred, and faint burns marred his exposed forearms. Despite his resilience, the toll of Kyle's magic was clear.

Mr. Alan stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "Match over. The winner is Kyle!"

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause as Kyle lowered his wand, his smirk fading into something softer. He walked over to Nick, offering him a hand. Nick takes his hand pulling himself to his feet.

"You're tough," Kyle said, his tone genuine.

"You too," Nick replied, his voice steady despite the strain

As they exited the arena, Mr. Alan gestured for the next pair to prepare. But I couldn't help letting my thoughts linger on the match. I didn't expect the match to be a bit short, but it was still exciting.

Magic battles mostly involve long-range attacks, but it didn't look boring earlier. I could only smile at this match. I gained additional lessons from it.

As the noise around me died down, a small smile crept onto my face. This was only the first match of the day. What else could these students do?

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I make this and maybe next chapter short to make it easier to keep an eye on.

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