Michael tried to use |Heat Vision|, but whatever that barrier was made of seemed to block him. He didn’t dare use |Serpentine Senses|, since that Spell seemed to magnify his natural senses, without giving him any other kind of protections. And given that his eyes stung and that his hearing still rang a bit, that would have probably been a bad idea.

The light cleared off after a few seconds and Michael was rewarded with a view at the same time the others did as well. And what a view.

But… it’s only been like ten second. Tops!

The arena where the two were fighting, the actual arena, the ground floor was large enough to hold battles between groups. Close in size to a football field, though the shape was round. And yet the Erea where Kelunad had once stood, a field about the size of a normal house was now only a blackened crater in the ground, slowly smoking green fumes.

To the left of it, a line it the ground had been burned as well, not as badly though, tapering slowly into nothing. It looked, to Michael’s untrained eye, that Regitris struck first, but Kelunad dodged. The elf must have tried to drag the Spell while it was in effect, but it was too little too late.

The orc now stood, just as unruffled, a dozen feet to the right of the crater.

Did he just move again or did he use an illusion Spell?

“I was not aware warriors used deceit when fighting, Mage Kelunad.” Regitris said and they all heard him, clear as day.

“I was not aware this was a fight among warriors.”

“I see you have lost your manners as well as your senses.”

“One can only be called a savage a number of times before he himself starts to believe it.”

“You are taking your ire out on the target, my friend.”

“Perhaps. As to your comment on deception-“

Regitris teleported to another side of the arena and Michael found out why a second later. A glowing thrust of light shot out of the ground, shaped like the tip of a sword, blasting the air with a shockwave. It the elf hadn’t dodged… Michael wasn’t sure Regitris’s artifacts could have weathered it. He wasn’t even sure how strong that Spell was, for all it was showy. He wasn’t sure of anything.

This fight was so far above his level he was struggling just to make sense of it in real time.

“Have you lost all honor? Or are you testing me too?” Regitris snarled.

“Hmm.” Kelunad smiled. “Guess.”

A second light sword shot up from the ground and Reitris blurred right, but the area he stepped in was suddenly peppered with smaller variants of the previous Spell plunging up from the ground, transforming the area into an impalement field.

“|Repurpose Spell|, |Lighshard detonation|”. The orc slowly spoke.

The glowing swords did as he commanded and exploded into a storm of glowing shrapnel. The orc even seemed to have control over the working, since the majority of them were angled to shred Regitris to pieces. Yet the old elf wasn’t without surprises of his own. An orb became visible around him, as the pieces of light collided with it. It wobbled, but didn’t break, even in front of the sustained assault. Kelunad aimed his hand and a slice of air came cutting its way toward Regitris, but he seemed capable of maintaining his protective Spell while also using something like a high-level variant of the |Haste| Spell.

“You rely too much on artifacts, old one.”

“And you rely too much on yourself.”

Regitris sped up and became a bur on the field, never staying in one spot for more than one or two second. Spells started to fly towards Kelunad, fireballs and lightning bolts. But more unusual one too. Michael saw something like a translucent bull dash forward, before it was blasted to pieces.

And while Regitris was moving, Kelunad just stayed in one place. He refused to budge, instead he simply waved his hands and projectiles were detonated in mid-air, streams of fire dissipated and storm of electricity earthed itself. Michael realized they weren’t shouting their Spells or even speaking them. They were trying to capitalize on the element of surprise.

But it also seemed that they were both too experienced for that trick to be of any use.

Regitris seemed to have gotten frustrated, because he stopped dashing around and instead simply aimed his staff at Kelunad. A flash of light detonated again, but after the glow ended, Michael saw that there was no second smoking crater in the arena. Instead, a portion of the ground around Regitris had caught aflame.

“That was a priceless relic of the elves!” Regitris shouted.

“And you shouldn’t have relied on it.”

Michael saw that the staff was nor broken in two, cleaved in half by a… sword?

Is that… Kelunad’s sword?

The blade was jutting out of the ground, before Regitris feet. It retracted and Michael saw it reappear in Kelunad’s hand. After he retracted it from the ground next to his feet.

Dimensional magic. He used those previous Spells to make Regitris think that was what he planned to use this time too. Instead, he used his real sword.

“Shall we take this seriously, Regitris? I tire of these games.”

“The future of this academy is not a game.” The elf grunted and Michael felt more than one set of eyes land on him.

“Even so.”

This time, it was Kelunad on the attack. The orc looked as if he was running, but each stride carried him further than it should have. He shot across the grounds of the arena, but Regitris was moving too. The elf seemed to want to fight at a distance, perhaps sensing or knowing that Kelunad was far too dangerous up close. He blurred, dodging back, always unleashing waves upon waves of Spells, each time he had a second to cast. But the orc was pressing him, catching up and swinging continuously, not giving Regitris a moment to focus.

They danced like this back and forth, one not giving in and one never stopping. But eventually something had to give and it was the old elf who made the first mistake. Bereft of his staff, at the end of a dash Regitris turned and raised his arms, splaying out his fingers. Light was already shining among them, the Spell ready to be cast but Kelunad was on top of him.

“|Shadow Cuts|, |Blackfire Slash|”.

The blade ignited and the swung blasted Regitris’ Spell apart. Which would have been fine, because the two negated each other, if not for the fact that the orc had used a Skill as well. Three more cuts came after it. They were too fast to notice, but the magic of the arena proved once again it worked for the viewers as well. A second image appeared, showing the last few seconds in slow motion. And Michael saw the other cuts strike.

One cut at the force field, igniting and weakening it. The second broke through, blasting it apart. And the third went in, flowing freely and slicing Regitris’ amulet in half. The elf blurred once again, this time Kelunad not following and when he reappeared, the elf was holding the two halves of his amulet in his hand, force field gone.

“Was that a priceless relic of the elves too?” Kelunad smiled.

Regitris didn’t say anything. He simply stared at the broken amulet, before letting it fall on the floor.

He attacked so fast not even the arena’s magic could register it. He didn’t even look like Regitris anymore. For all intents and purposes, Regitris was now a storm of magic, sometimes fire or light being the central element, but most of the time the layer upon layer of wards on his body made him seem like a particularly vengeful explosion kept hounding Kelunad across the room.

For once, the orc was on the backfoot, no longer smiling, but intent on defending, blocking and dodging, as the old elf shot magma and lasers and things Michael only saw in sci-fi movies out of his storm of energy. He had half-way stopped wordlessly casting Spells too, as every now and then Michael heard a shout.

“|Whitefire Lance|!”

“|Homing Acid Orbs|!”

“|Void Ray|!”

Each time he did, Michael saw Kelunad doge away. Not block or parry, just dodge. And when those Spells hit the arena, they turned it into a death zone. And still Regitris kept coming, firing grand Spell after grand Spell. Kelunad weathered them, using Spells and Skills of his own, but Michael could see he was slowly losing. He wasn’t sure for how long Regitris could keep this up, but if he managed, he didn’t see how Kelunad find the opportunity to strike back.

As always, Michael was rewarded with a lesson on his own inexperience.

It was when Regitris slammed his hands together and the air around Kelunad swirled towards him, seeming as if it was trying to drown him, that the orc made his move.

“|Will Defies Magic|, |Greater Teleport|.”

The orc managed to get out of the vortex of magic that was Regitris, but even his Spell didn’t succeed in carrying him too far away. Michael remembered one of Sinestra’a lessons, when se told the Class that Spells which affect the environment are weaker in mediums that are already infused with either magic or mana. And the cloud around Regitris was a great example of that. And yet the orc proved his mind was as keen as his sword.

He did teleport only a short distance, true. But he teleported at Regitris’s back. He was facing the wrong way, but he started to move just as soon as he reappeared. To his fortune, Regitris seemed to have included a |Haste | Spell among the myriad Spells that were covering him, because he started to turn just as fast.

Only… he was a heartbeat slower.

The orc made his move first and that was all it mattered.

“|Shatter Skill|, |I Cut|!”

A wave of magic exploded. Only, it wasn’t like the blinding explosion of before. The light was great and the roar deafening, but it didn’t obstruct the sight. This time, a tidal wave of multiple effects fille the arena and washed over the wards themselves. Which held, but wobbles, frightening most of the mages present.

When they were visible again, Michael noticed the effects. Kelunad was burned and cut in places, yet he seemed satisfied. And Regitris. The old elf was kneeling on the ground, on the far side of the arena opposite to Kelunad. His robe was in tatters, for all he didn’t bleed. But his rings, his bracelets? His armor and circlet? They were all gone and no sign of them remained.

“Proper casting, Mage Kelunad. My compliments.” The elf said, with a tone like ice given voice.

“Thank you, Mage Regitris.”

“You used an old Spell, one made by your people. And you used it on yourself. You could have cut me, had you used it purely. Yet, you chose to use it to break all my artifacts. The treasures of my people and Gnosis both.”

He raised himself up and Michael felt pure fear looking at his eyes.

“Why?”

“I thought it was the best method to bring out the fight in you, teacher. My apologies for your robe, I still can’t control it perfectly, even now. Have I cut you?”

“Whelp!” the elf swore, fury rising like fire in his tone. “You treat this as a game. You think I want to fight with all my might? There is a reason I rely on artifacts. Do you even know what it would mean for me to fight seriously?”

“Know? No. But I wish to, with every fiber of my being? You are afraid of yourself Regitris, afraid of your own power. But now I have given you no choice. No more artifacts to hide behind. Too much at stake to back down. And a worthy opponent.”

“Fool!” the elf bellowed and his robes blasted apart.

Michael saw…

What the fuck…

The old elf, the grandfatherly Ascentionalist, his faction leader… was ripped. Not fit, ripped. He had the physique of a soldier. Where Kelunad looked like was build to fight, muscles slightly bulging, Regitris was slim. His muscles basically perfect. But that was only the physical aspect. His aura, the magical wave around him, was starting to broil so much that it was actually becoming visible.

“You best the highest of your faction and wander the world for a few decades and now believe yourself to be my equal? Do you know who I am? Do you know what I have done?” Regitris screamed.

“I know!” Kelunad bellowed back. “I know, old one. I’ve heard the stories, told everywhere but here. Regitris, the Fire. Regitris the Slayer. Regitris the End. I know your role old elf and I know what you did. Entire races ended by your hand. So many others that had been cowed into submission by the ones you led. You were part of the Great War, one of the elves of old. By your hand and those of your equals, was the Wild tamed and Nature beat back into submission. Only then did you come to Gnosis. Only after you brought magic and death to all who opposed you.”

Regitris opened his mouth to speak, but Kelunad spoke overhim.

“I do not judge you, teacher. Looking at the state of the world now and what it was been… it was probably for the best. Not the method, but the result. Yet… look at you. A shadow of yourself. Playing politics in an academy that was supposed to usher in the new age.”

“And what you have me do?! Grab the reins of power and rule this castle with an iron fist? This is an academy, not a horde! Accord is reached by dialogue when possible and politics when not. Not by might!”

“Perhaps. In the end, it does not matter. I only wished to fight you at your full power. And now I will. So come, Regitris |Exemplar of Gnosis|. Show me the that magic is might!”

Michael thought for a moment that his faction leader would stop this. That he would say he was not going to revisit his past simply because Kelunad forced him into a corner. But he saw the exact moment when something entered his gaze. Something old and not like the current Regitris at all.

“As you wish.”