Damien yelped as Delph smacked him hard on the arm. The mage armor hardened an instant later. The professor clicked his tongue as Damien groaned and nursed the newest bruise on his body.

Delph claimed to have a sense of humor, but the man was deadly serious about training. Damien was pretty sure the only part of him that the professor had yet to hit were his eyes, and that was only because he’d missed.

Sylph was still running circles around the arena. She’d lasted longer than he had, but the exercise was taking its toll on her. Her footsteps fell heavier and her breathing, which had initially been completely silent, had become labored.

“Getting tired?” Delph asked cheerfully as he rapped Damien across the chest.

“Yes,” Sylph said plainly, slowing to a jog. “Should I stop?”

Delph considered the question for a moment. Then he nodded.

“You might as well. I’d say you’re all warmed up,” Delph said, lowering the stick for a moment. Damien started to let out a breath of relief. It vanished as a warning buzz ran through his mind. Instinctively, Damien hardened the entire left side of his mage armor, using up all the Ether he’d stored.

The stick smacked against the hardened cloth covering Damien’s left arm harmlessly. The professor smirked and gave the boy a slight nod.

“Well done. Don’t do it again. We’re training precision. Turning yourself into a statue isn’t going to be useful in a fight.”

Damien gave the man a wary nod, not taking his eyes off the stick. Delph chuckled and tossed it to the side. It hit the ground and dissolved back into sand.

“Rest for a while,” Delph told Damien. “It’s Sylph’s turn.”

The professor walked up to Sylph. Wordlessly, the girl lowered into a fighting stance. Delph walked in a circle around her, examining it.

“You’ve trained before,” he observed.

“I have,” Sylph said, not explaining further.

“Good. That will make my job easier. Now, before I continue, there are a few things that actually pertain to both of you.”

Sylph cocked her eyebrow.

“As you may or may not be aware, a large part of Blackmist’s curriculum revolves around quests. You work in groups of two or three for them. If neither of you have an objection, I will be making you a group. Your combat styles are likely to be complementary, and you’re already roommates. Is this okay?”

“It’s fine with me,” Sylph said. “My partner will not have a significant effect on my ability to perform.”

“Wrong. Your survival depends on being able to rely on your teammate,” Delph said casually, glancing at Damien.

“I’m fine with it if Sylph doesn’t mind,” Damien said, wisely choosing not to comment further.

“In that case, there will be no need to hide information about each other’s abilities and weaknesses,” Delph said. “I like to talk openly, so this will make things easier for me. It’ll probably be embarrassing for you, though.”

Delph turned back to Sylph. He stroked his beard for a few moments before he started talking again.

“Your physical endurance is good. Much better than the average student here. Your movements are precise and controlled, so it is apparent you’ve been training for a long time. When we fought, you wasted no magic and you struck to kill,” Delph said. “However, your magic is weak. Incredibly so. If it wasn’t for your incredible control, I would not even consider teaching you. I’ve seen squirrels with more magical power than you have.”

Sylph’s face remained flat, but Damien spotted her wince for an instant as the professor ripped her apart.

“That being said,” Delph continued. “A well placed needle can kill a man or a monster just as well as an explosion. Your precision is already fantastic, but you will need to go beyond even that if you want to have a chance of graduating.”

“What about me?” Damien asked, noticing how Sylph’s cold expression wavered at Delph’s final sentence.

“Impatient. I said I was starting with Sylph,” the professor said. “However, you are simple. You appear to have a significant amount of magical power, but you are impulsive. You have no control and are either a liar or have a disturbingly powerful companion. If you could learn half of Sylph’s control and a quarter of her critical thinking, you’d be an incredibly deadly force.”

Henry stirred within Damien’s mind. “He’s observant. I wish he’d just tell us how he does his magic.”

Shush. If he notices me talking with you, he’ll only get more suspicious.

“Now,” Delph said, raising a hand into the air palm up. “Sylph, don’t take my words as insults. I will do my best to make you graduate at the top of your class. But, in the end, it all depends on your abilities as a mage. Right now, neither you nor your roommate have a chance of passing the first year, much less graduating.”

Energy crackled around Delph, enveloping the man. He rose into the air as grey flesh bulged and formed around his armor. Within moments, he’d been completely replaced by a tall, grey creature with two burning red eyes and long, gangly limbs.

“This is a wendigo,” Delph’s voice came, although it was hard to tell from where. “It is a monster that isn’t particularly common. They are quite fast, but their bodies are frail. I will begin with about twenty percent of the monster’s complete strength. Your training for today will end when you can land a single blow on me.”

Sylph was already moving. She shifted, blending into the background. Delph was faster. The wendigo stepped back as a line of darkness carved through the air, then grabbed Sylph by the collar and launched her across the arena.

“Seven planes,” Damien cursed as Sylph righted herself midair and faded away before she slammed into the wall.

“Eight,” Henry corrected.

The sand beside the wendigo shifted. It twisted backwards as if it were doing some strange dance, avoiding the dark slash and punching the air before it.

Sylph flickered into existence and doubled over as the monster’s fist drove the air out of her lungs.