The boy walked out onto the sparring fields. The sun was almost reaching the bottom of the horizon painting the sky in a slight orange hue. The sparring fields were a land of space behind the castle that had become completely devoid of any life as the earth was nothing more than cracked dried mud covered in scorch marks. Much like the size of the castle the fields behind as also vast, though he suspected this was rather due to the fact that more area means that there was less of a chance for a wild spell to accidentally hit someone not paying attention. There weren't any outlines on the field but the boy had watched the combat mages duel against each other, and it seemed there was an unspoken agreement as to how much space they got and that all duels should be conducted as far as possible away from each other. The place clearly wasn't well maintained but he had to imagine it was impossible due to the constant spells being thrown around.

Swallowing the ball of spit he had in his through he walked through the fields. There were some mages practising with their masters still out tonight but when he walked by they sent small glances his way. It must have been pretty strange to see him on the fields, he was the only one not wearing the leather robes as they did. The boy kept his eyes down, he didn't want to be here at all and the way the snared at his clothing didn't make him feel any more confident about today. He wore his trousers and tunic that he wore the day he was taken to the pointless academy. The fabric was itchy and smelled as if someone had died in it, he blamed the mages and their rich tastes, his taste in clothing had become spoiled. It certainly didn't help that his trousers, made a metallic clink sound with every step. Perhaps he was a little too prepared for his duel, the knives he had hidden in his boots and the waist of his trousers weighed him down. His biggest worry was that one of his knives would cut into the pouch of fire pixie dust in his pocket, the last thing he wanted to have his leg be covered in something that could potentially turn him into a human candle.

He tried to push any flammable ideas to the back of his mind, he had to focus on what lay before him. He was thankfully brought out of his thoughts by a small tap on his shoulder.

"Anon." He didn't even need to turn to know who had tapped his shoulder. He had burned the girl's annoying voice into the deepest parts of his mind.

"Book burning girl."

"My name is Nora." She said much to his surprise. "Consider it a final gift for a dead man."

"I don't suppose I could return it? I have no need for something so useless." He gave her a quick glance letting her see the smile smirk on his face, she wasn't smiling. Clearly, she was in no mood to exchange barbs. "Relax, I'm not going to die. I haven't seen a duel end worse than the few minor burns that can get instantly healed by the healers. You have nothing to worry about." He waved a hand at her as if to say it was no big deal but her flat look said otherwise.

"Those are master and apprentice combat mages who know what they are doing. You and that bitch are not, relying on healers is how my siblings died and it will be how you die if you don't surrender right now." The boy scowled at her, had she never heard of support?

"Awwww do you care about me?"

"God I hope you die." She spat venomously, her glare alarmingly snake-like. He was honestly surprised about how much she was against him dying, he honestly thought she would be thrilled at the idea of his painful demise. He'd be lying if he hadn't thought of the idea of her warming her hands on his still burning corpse.

"I love you too." Nora visibly gagged. "For someone who despises me so much, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you would be too busy burning down the library or something equally as moronic, not wasting your time with me." For all his little insults and barbs the girl- Nora, didn't rise to match them. She didn't throw insults as she did before, or hiss as he was accustomed to hearing from her. If anything it was even more unsettling the silence that followed her as she didn't dare speak. The small walk to the far side of the fields was only in silence, perhaps his insults were a little too much or poorly timed. Should he apologise? He wanted to, anything would be better than the silence but whenever his mouth opened it seemed any words he wanted to say died in his throat.

The walk was uncomfortable, he saw her fidgeting as if she wanted to speak but much like himself he couldn't let a word out. It annoyed him that she couldn't look at him for more than a few seconds, her bloodshot blue eyes only daring a few annoying passing glances. He tried to not look as bothered by her lack of attention as best as he could though he could feel a strong pull on his eyes to look at her, to apologise. He didn't feel guilty and if he got the chance again he probably would have still accepted the duel, but if it meant a superficial apology then he would lie as selfish as that sounded to see her smile again.

"I'm surprised your here boy. I honestly thought you would have stolen the child in the dead of night and run." The voice appeared to his right, it was the older mage, Racheal Redkin. He'd branded that name into his brain with red hot fury. She wore a present smile as if what was going to occur next was going to be the easiest thing in the world, how he would love to take the smirk off her face. Beside her was Master Greenmist along with Clarisa who looked as if she was only moments away from an anxiety attack, a stark difference from her master who kept the same constant frown that he always wore. The older Greenmist had in his hand papers, most likely the adoption papers for Chelsea. That bastard probably wanted this done and over with as soon as possible.

The boy felt the attention of the woman looking him up and down the could almost taste the satisfaction that poured out of her when she saw him. The filthy tunic and the knives that not so secretly hid on his body seemed to be an admission of failure.

"I came here to duel a mage yet here I am only greeted by a boy who looks as if he just crawled out of the slums, is this your cute way of saying you surrender? Charming but ultimately a waste of time, you could have just told me in my chambers and we could have avoided wasting an afternoon." Racheal grinned. He honestly couldn't tell if she was taunting him or if she actually believed this to be a form of suicide, like a knight who let go of his sword and walked towards the enemy army.

"If I were you I would keep that arrogance in check. Kings have been beheaded by peasants and famines have been caused by locusts. I personally am worried about your fall from such a high horse, you might break a bone." The boy sneered. He felt an odd satisfaction when he saw the woman's eyebrows rise in response.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise. You talk as if you were a real mage instead of the filth you are."

"I am myself. As I always have been." He hated himself for the way his eyes shot a glance towards the older Greenmist. Their eyes only met for a second, but he could feel the unspoken judgement from him, the words that weren't spoken but were still said.

"Touched a nerve did I?" Oh how he hated her ridiculous smile. Her smile only faltered when she saw Nora who silently grumbled next to him. "Nora Spellsword? It's an honour." The boy couldn't believe it when he saw her give a deep bow to the girl. "Why are you here if you don't mind me asking?"

Nora scowled at the Racheal, did she have some sort of connection with her? It would certainly explain why Nora had been adamant about the boy not keeping Chelsea. The boy clutched his chest, why did it hurt slightly?

"Nora? You know her?"

"Of course not, why would I know her?"

"Maybe cause she knows your name."

"That's because of reasons. Reasons that you don't need to know the answer to." Nora despite being slightly depressed the last few days was about to summon her snake-like eyes that dug deep into his heart. The boy held back the insults that sat in his throat, he wasn't like that, he wasn't a man who got into arguments. That wasn't him! He wasn't different, he wasn't changing! Despite what old arrogant mages thought, he was just getting fed up with the idiocy of the mages. It was natural he was getting angry and grumpy when all he had been is criticised day after day, it wasn't his fault surely.

"Whatever, let's get this stupid duel over with I'd rather not walk back to the castle in the dark." He spoke.

"Couldn't agree more." Racheal agreed, a little too eagerly.

The two mages didn't speak but the boy and Racheal seemed to have a silent understanding of where the duel would be, they walked a little further away from Nora and the two Greenmists so they would have some space. Clarisa stood behind her master who didn't seem worried by standing next to a duel, he probably was capable of handling the occasional stray spell. To be honest, the boy wouldn't have minded if Master Greenmist got slightly hurt, not seriously but he wouldn't mind if the older mage's robes got ever so slightly lit on fire. Nora like the older Greenmist stood calmly not bothering to hide behind the healer, she was young like him but wore combat mages' leather robes. To have those robes must have meant she was at least capable of protecting herself... right? He hoped so.

The boy tried to take his focus off Nora to concentrate on the face-off against Racheal. He knew this was a poor idea, a mage who knew not a single spell against someone who seemed to be quite confident in her ability to win. Yet, it was only now did he start feeling the soul-crushing gravity of the situation. He was completely and utterly screwed. Why did he think this was a good idea? He should've just stolen Chelsea in the middle of the night, he would have stolen the girl's chance at education but maybe he could make it back to the Ossege estate, the mages wouldn't care, they were too arrogant. Why did he think accepting a duel was smart? In hindsight he could've swapped Chelsea for another child, he doubted Redkin would be able to tell the difference.

He reached behind him taking one of the smaller knives out of his waistband. It felt heavy and light at the same time. This idea was stupid, he had never even been in a fight, he just hoped that Greenmist was as good as a healer as he thought he was. The boy really didn't want permanent scarring.

"Are you ready boy?" Racheal called out to him.

"Ready."

When the words left his throat he broke off in a sprint knife in hand. He tried his best to close the distance but he only got a few metres before Racheal opened her mouth.

"Ignite." Flames appeared out of nowhere just above her open palms. Shit. Did that really count as a chant? It was so quick, so fast. There was no point in learning to cast wordlessly if a single word is all it took. His whole plan was structured around the idea if he was fast enough he could stop her from casting, all of that was worthless if all it took was a single word. Racheal threw her hands forward shooting one fireball after the other. They were fast, faster than expected. Not as fast as an arrow fired from a bolt but still flew like a bird towards him. The twin balls of bright heat burned through the air, he had to stop his sprint and dive to the side. He ate the dirt but at least he didn't eat fire. The shots were aimed purposely low and short, more aimed towards feet than anything else.

Despite the cruel words the two of them shared it seemed that Racheal wasn't aiming for anything fatal. Her mistake. He should have been grateful, despite being opponents she still showed small mercies, guess there wasn't much to boast about defeating an inexperienced child. He wasn't though. He wanted to tear her to shreds, wanted to humiliate her. He wanted to not be treated like not a threat. He really wasn't a one though.

By the time he stood up, more balls of fire were sent his way. He rolled backwards letting the flames land short scorching the dried mud in front of him. He looked up expecting to be greeted by more balls of fire, yet Racheal didn't bother hurtling any more flames, she just looked at the boy with eyes of pity.

"You want to just surrender before you get seriously injured?"

"Bite me bitch." She shrugged before saying her chant to summon more balls of fire at her palms. The two of them did the same dance of him trying to run forward followed by her throwing fire at him keeping a safe distance between the two. She may have been confident in her victory but she wasn't letting him get close, if the duel kept going this way the boy was either going to get burned alive or Redkin would run out of magic. The boy doubted his ability to continue to dodge, he could feel the muscles in his legs burn. He was a servant who spent most of his time cleaning, he wasn't made for fast pace movements.

He had to end this fast. One last charge, a battle of attrition was just going to leave him exhausted and on fire. Thankfully he had plenty of knives to spare. He pushed his legs hard feeling the familiar scream in his legs pushing him forwards. He saw Racheal roll her eyes before more fist-sized balls of fire appeared above her palms with a single word. Before she could launch her spells at him he throw the knife forwards, it was a poor throw and didn't spin as it should have. In his defence, he was as poor in combat as he was in magic.

If Racheal was surprised she certainly didn't show it. When the knife came at her she brought one hand in front of her extinguishing the flame instead letting out pure invisible kinetic force sending the knife flying away from her. It was a repulse spell, so simple it could be cast wordlessly and fast. No wonder regular humans thought mages to be undefeatable, they couldn't feel magic. With a simple wave of a hand and any weapon, a knight held would be sent flying out of their hands. It would explain why most mages use fire as their main offence. They weren't going out and seeking combat from monsters, the enemy they would usually fight were regular humans. Fire would be the only thing that could get through their thick layers of armour and chain mail.

He couldn't stop now though, he had to keep moving forward. To lose momentum would mean he would lose the duel. Running towards Redkin he took another knife and hurdled it as best as he could, she didn't even need to redirect it as it went wide soaring left of her. The next thrown was slightly better but once again a wave of her hand sent the blade off to the side. It didn't matter, he was within three metres now, close enough that if he dived he could plunge the knife into her shoulder. She let the fireball in her other hand fly hitting his hip. It hurt. A lot. The weak fabric of his tunic did nothing to stop the fire from burning his side causing excruciating pain. As a servant, he was no stranger to punishment but he was never branded, at worst he would get his palms whipped with a cane. This was another level of pain. If it wasn't for the momentum that carried his body he would have laid down on the floor screaming.

Only through the momentum and adrenaline that pumped through his blood, he was able to carry his body forwards aiming to place the knife deep in her shoulder. With a roar of pain, he flew towards her making it within a metre. The edge of the knife glistened in the sun that had almost disappeared below the horizon, it was only a few centimetres away before the older mage was able to get one hand up to the boy's face.

He felt the pull of magic be directed to her hands before he felt the invisible force snap his neck back. it felt as if his head was hit with a wooden board, he didn't even need to see the blood that sho into the air to know his nose was broken, he wouldn't be able to see much as tears formed into his eyes. This was a mistake, everything hurt. His top half was repulsed back but his lower half still carried forwards causing him to flip onto his back landing on the floor with a hard thud.

"Surrender now." He heard a voice but he couldn't remember who it belonged to. All he could think about was how much everything hurt and how everything he saw was blurred through watery tears. He didn't think his body even realised it was on the floor as his world spun. It took a few seconds but his eyes were able to focus on the mage with curly hair pointing a ball of fire at his face from above him. Oh, that was right. He was in the middle of a duel. No, it wasn't a duel, it was a slaughter. He had no chance, at winning. No wonder she pushed for it. He was an idiot for thinking that he could win with only his spirit.

He didn't think he could surrender even if he wanted to any words that came out of his mouth would only be a jumbled gargle. He tried to surrender he really did, he couldn't even remember why he was even out there on this field of hard mud that felt like concrete when a head is thrown against it. All he knew was his own blood was dripping from his own nose into his mouth leaving a taste of iron in his mouth and that his side burnt like hell. If he could feel pain then that meant the burn wasn't the worst it could be, right? He couldn't remember, he couldn't think.

His vision blurred and he was now on his back in the mud.

"Thane get up!" Vlad had yelled at him. His nose wasn't bleeding nor was his side burning but he was on his arse. Getting up he knocked the dirt off his leather robes. Thane had no interest in being a combat mage, they were the mages with the highest mortality rate and his studies were far too important to waste fighting monsters to protect pointless peasants for a bit of coin. He had more important things to do and he had below-average magic stamina which is kind of a requirement to be a combat mage with their fast and continuous casting.

"Come on, I thought you wanted to learn from the best. Can't do that on your backside." Vlad grinned at him. Thane only glared at his fellow mage. Vlad was a sicking ball of teasing and energy, both of which Thane despised. He couldn't argue despite his annoyance, after he had abandoned his master to live in the library to research golemancy, which he succeeded in by the way, no mage wanted him as an apprentice. Thane was quite a capable healer in his own right and now could animate dolls but he needed resources. Not just in wealth, he needed access to the knowledge that the Golden Crown kept hidden from even their own mages. Thus, he asked the only mage that he knew would accept him, Vlad.

Vlad was a protege, young, skilled, handsome according to most female mages and had the magic stamina of a mage who had exhausted his years. A combat mage that would become the poster child of magical warfare if he didn't die doing something stupid as most combat mages tend to do. As much as Thane would loathe to admit it, his fellow mage would be going places, places that Thane couldn't reach by himself. Vlad and Thane had agreed to a deal, Vlad would make him his apprentice and Thane would teach him everything he knew about healing and creating plants from nothing. Unfortunately, Vlad had failed to mention that the requirement to be his apprentice was that he would have to become an adequate combat mage. Or at least adequate in Vlad's eyes which meant nothing but exceptional. It wasn't enough for him to learn combat spells but to also cast them wordlessly.

"Ready for round two?"

"Bite me."

Vlad merely laughed at Thane's response taking that for a yes. He charged at Thane who raised his hands letting flames burn at his fingertips, he wasn't going to win. That was certain. But he would at least make this bastard work for it.

"Anon surrender!" A voice brought him back to reality. It was feminine... Nora? It took a second but his eyes readjusted and he was once again facing Racheal Redkin above him with a fireball directed at his face. His heart jumped into his heart and on instinct, he thrust forward with one hand sending a concussive force of magic straight into Racheal sending the older mage off her feet onto the ground. Using these precious seconds the boy rolled backwards till he made it to his feet and took serval steps making as much distance as he could away from Racheal.

"Woah, that was a strong repulse. Had he concentrated that he would have shattered her ribs. How did he do that?" Clarisa had murmured on the sidelines. Neither Nora nor the older Greenmist answered her only narrowing their eyes.

"Lucky shot brat." Racheal had spat at him. He could barely hear though, his heartbeat was deafening in his and his nose and side still hissed from pain. "Ignite!" Balls of fire erupted to life in her hands. The fire in her hands burned much like her eyes full of fury. The boy had a strong feeling that he wouldn't be getting any more mercy from the mage.

The boy didn't care though, he felt oddly calm. Focused if anything. Taking a few deep breaths he let his magic flow as he had done for his whole life. He let his magic twist and fold within itself, weaving the very laws of nature into it. He started by weaving his magic to form oxygen, fuel and a spark. The basis of fire. He then structured the weaving fire into something more wieldable. Not a simple ball as the common mages would, Vlad would mock him if he ever cast something so basic.

Racheal let her balls of fire fly at him no longer aiming low. It didn't matter though, he didn't need a chant or hand gestures. He was better than that, he was better than them. One ball of fire went over his shoulder but the other was intercepted by a whip of fire that originated from his own hand. The flame whip is a very popular combat spell as after it had been cast it only required a little bit of magic to keep ignited allowing a mage to have a whip of fire to last a battle, personally one of his favourites.

"That's not possible." It wasn't just Racheal who said it. Nora and both Greenmists looked at the boy in shock as he stood on the dried floor with a whip of flames dancing from his fingers scorching the earth below like a burning snake.

"I didn't know you could do that with fire pixie dust," Clarisa whispered to her master.

"You can't."

The boy looked Racheal in the eye, neither of them no longer held fury in either in their eyes. The boys had a strange sense of clarity, the warmth of the fire that burned from his fingers was familiar. Like seeing an old friend. Redkin however looked at him with eyes of fear. Not of him but rather the unknown. At what he accomplished. He was now the novice mage who didn't have the magic stamina or weaving ability to cast a spell. The burning viper in his hands argued fiercely against it though.

The boy flicked his wrist a few times to get accustomed to the whip, he had spent weeks of his life learning the basics of a whip. Thankfully with magic, he had an unnatural control of it thanks to his weaving letting it hit his target a bit easier. Sending his hand back his flame whips jumped into the hair before a flick of his wrist sent it attacking Rachael.

The mage snapped out of her shock and sent a repulse at it preventing it from burning off half her face. No worries, the spell wasn't made to break through shields but rather exhaust them. He sent the whip at her again and again but Racheal proved capable of defending herself. In his defence, he was still getting into the grove of it. When he strikes high she blocked high, when he went low so did she. At this rate, she would miss time the repulse spell either casting it too fast or slow, either would result in a nasty burn. He didn't want this to last another minute though. The flicked his other wrist another similar burning snake erupted to life, she was just barely able to block the blow.

The boy couldn't help but let a smile form on his face. He let one whip fly high which she naturally blocked back immediately after he sent the other whips low, Racheal wasn't fast enough this time unable to stop the fire viper from biting into her heel causing her to howl. Before she could do anything else he sent another flame whip into her shoulder causing a small eruption of flames to rip into her robes and skin. He raised a hand once more, a finishing blow that would surely melt her face. He didn't let his hand fall though, he had already won.

"You bastard! You cheater! Dark mage! He's a dark mage!" She screamed in pain trying to shield her body from the twin fire whips that still burned at his fingertips.

"What?"

"No novice can cast those spells. You're a dark mage! Kill him, kill him!" The woman's pained screaming started to draw the attention of the fellow mages who were about to retire for the night not interested in training in the dark. It was no secret that the boy was a novice. Rumours had been spread around like wildfire and everyone knew he was the worst mage in the academy. The combat mages glared at him, they of all people knew the capabilities of combat magic and there was no way in hell a novice could cast it. It was absurd for him to be a dark mage, why would a dark mage, someone who abandoned the order comes to the academy and become a novice who spends his days cleaning. Yet, it was the only reasonable explanation.

The boy looked to the surrounding mages, feeling their magic summoned to their fingertips. It seemed he wasn't done yet with his fighting.

"Stop!" Nora walked powerfully into the middle dragging everyone's attention to her. "I am Nora Spellsword. I assure you this man is not a dark mage! He is... my apprentice." What? "Under my order he pretended to be a noivce for reasons that are not yours to know. Anyone who has an issue with that is more then welcome to argue the Spellsword family."

He didn't know how much sway that Nora had but he felt the magic of the mages nearby unravel. They probably didn't believe her or her story as they still sent accusitory glares at him, but the threat of her family seemed to outweigh their suspicions. Some of them left to go back to the castle others still watched to see what would unfold next, all of them wanted nothing to do with him though.

"What are you on about." The boy hissed under his breath so only Nora could hear.

"You my little dark mage friend are going to get me out of my marriage." She grinned, he probably would have been glad to see her smile if it wasn't for the strong sense of dread he felt. He should have just stayed down and surrendered. God knows what this crazy girl wanted from him. Before he had time to ask what she went Clarisa came up to the two, adoption papers in hand. Her master was busy hunched over Racheal trying to heal her burns or at least lessen the pain, he also knew how much fire stung and admittedly was eager to see the older healer.

"Um... I need a name for the papers," Her voice slightly trembled, she wasn't afraid so much as nervous. The boy and she had spent plenty of time together and saw each other every night so she could put him to sleep. What was the point of that if he was going to kill her? That didn't stop her from feeling hesitant to approach the boy or want the conversation to end as soon as possible.

The boy honestly didn't know what to say, his head was still spinning from the point-blank repulse spell that sent him into the mud with a broken nose.

"My name? I- I guess." He tried his hardest to think, this wasn't what he wanted, he wanted the Ossege to name him. Though that was nothing but a distant fantasy, the second he let his magic flow was the second he let the servant boy go, he doubted he would see the Osseges again. He made one last glance to Racheal Redkin who still was cursing up a storm. "My name is Anon Kinslayer."

"Edgy bastard," Nora smirked.