"They say the only way to get along with a bully," Frostilicus said in a low voice. "Is to teach him that he's weak." He stood up with his back erect, staring down at his adversary, huddled on the ground.

Halorax lurched onto his side, reeling from the pain. He clearly hadn't expected Frost to fight back. Glom and Grub stood on the sidelines, unsure of what to do or say. They were frozen in place, their eyes darting between Hal and Frost.

A few other students had gathered nearby, watching the spectacle. Their mouths were open and eyes wide.

"Let's go, Frost," Prisma said, grabbing his arm. "I think we're done here."

Frost turned to leave. It was a short walk back to his housing, and the night was getting cold.

"Coward," Halorax spat, standing up. His glowing blue eyes vibrated in the night. They flickered like torchlight. He couldn't let it end like this. No, Halorax needed to save face. "Fight me."

Frost ignored him.

Halorax pulled on the rainwater, a sword forming in his hands. It glowed bright blue. The weapon was razor-sharp and had spikes near its hilt just above the grip where Hal clutched it with two hands. "I said fight me, scumbag."

Frost jerked his head. Was he really pulling out a sword? Clearly, the man's ego was bruised, and he wanted to double down. But would he really fight with a deadly weapon?

Hal charged.

Frostilicus reacted on instinct, pulling on the rainwater puddled up on the ground. It snaked into his hands, forming a classic two-handed broadsword. It wasn't as decorative as Halorax's weapon, but Frost doubted it was any less sturdy.

They exchanged blows.

Halorax moved like a trained swordsman. He swiped left and right. Hal was bigger and stronger than Frost, but, somehow, he seemed less...experienced.

Halorax slammed his sword, Frost catching it with his own. Then Frost sidestepped and kicked Hal in the shins. This wasn't supposed to be a fight to the death, but Hal's anger was building. Would it be?

Hal turned around, seething. "You'll pay for that."

The crowd was gathering to watch the fight. More eager students joined, their hearts beating fast in anticipation.

Hal burst forward in a blind fury, swiping and thrusting with his sword. He fought like the brute that he was — a trained brute, yes, but still a brute. Frostilicus parried, blocked, and dodged each blow gracefully. Whatever strengths these frost mages had, they didn't grow up on the streets of Capscatia. Knowing how to hold your own with a sword, especially as a blacksmith's son, was critical to gaining respect.

The bully breathed deeply, gasping for breath. He was outmatched and knew it. The crowd had grown tenfold since the beginning of the fight. Frolick and Alex were also in attendance.

Hal dropped his sword on the ground as if signaling the end of the match.

Had he given up? Frost followed suit. Letting go of his sword, he watched it splash in the mud before dissipating into water as he released its form. He stared at Halorax across the large puddle in the ground. The rain continued to beat overhead, drenching the watchful students.

The crowd cheered on Frost.

Frolick, in particular, let out a loud whooping noise. This wasn't turning out to be Halorax's best day.

Then the angry Hal smirked.

In an instant, he pulled on the rainwater from the puddle. It formed a spiral, collecting droplets of rainwater still falling from the sky. It twisted until it formed into a long spear.

Frost's eyes glowed. Did the man never quit?

Frostilicus pulled on the opposite end of the still-forming frost spear. It twisted and contorted in mid-air, forming a long cylindrical tube between the two Frostmarked students. Their powers wrestled with each other in a magical test of might, the strain visible in their faces.

Back and forth, the water ebbed and flowed like a match of tug-of-war. Distortions formed in the cylindrical spear, tiny fractures in the ice. Bits of the spear converted to water and then back into ice. Back and forth it went—cracks forming and then melting and then re-freezing over and over again.

The spear writhed under the tension.

Frost focused his powers, but Halorax was too strong. The bully had grown up in Frosthaven and trained in frost powers his whole life. Frostilicus had incredible raw power and was arguably a better swordsman, but when compared to a Frosthaven native, his magic was left wanting.

When it came to brute force, Frost was outmatched. His grip weakened, he felt himself lose his grasp on the ice spear. Hal would win this one. Frost would have to yield this small victory.

But suddenly, he had an idea.

Something that would put Halorax on the edge, using his own force against him.

Frostilicus smirked and narrowed his eyes. He expanded his mind, taking in the full form of the spear. It was a strange design. A distorted mixture of Capscatian medieval weaponry and the more illustrious ancient design of Frosthaven. It had a long shaft that dazzled with blue light.

Frost stars danced along it like pictures in a temple wall. They whispered the secrets of geometric proofs and mathematical truths as old as the universe itself. While the form of the spear shifted and contorted, the frost patterns themselves stayed the same. The frost was eternal. Immutable.

Halorax desperately wanted this spear to show he was the strongest. The young man pulled it toward himself with the ferocity of a spoiled child. He wanted to prove that he was the strongest figurehead at Everwinter. He wanted to prove that no filthy foreigner could stand up against him.

If that's what he wanted, then fine, Frost thought. Let him have it.

Frost focused instead on the tip of the spear nearest Hal. There he concentrated his powers, forming the tip into a sharp blade. He'd cast a thousand spears in his life, and with every one, the tip was perhaps the most important part. It made the weapon deadly. Murderous.

The tip formed like a knife point barely visible to the naked eye. The smaller the tip, the more deadly the blade.

Frost felt the tension in the spear like a coiled spring. Halorax was pulling it toward himself.

All Frost had to do was let go.

So he did.