Victoria stepped into the vast, stone-walled classroom, still shaking off the haze of lunch and the embarrassment from earlier. The scent of scorched stone and faint ozone hung in the air, clinging to everything like the ghost of previous spells gone wrong.
At the front of the room, a tall woman wrote precisely on the chalkboard, her script looping in flawless cursive—Amara Hightower, War Mage and tactical specialist, was already deep in preparation.
Victoria leaned toward Arwin, whispering without much thought:
"I didn't know Miss Hightower was that hot."
The silver-haired professor stiffened slightly, her hand pausing mid-curve—but she didn't turn around.
She didn't need to.
A faint blush rose along her pale cheekbones, barely visible under her smooth, alabaster skin. Her hair shimmered like strands of moonlight, cascading down her back and brushing the embroidered shoulder loops of her deep blue Archmage's coat. A rune-stitched tie hung loosely around her neck, humming faintly with protective wards.
Her aura—not just magical but commanding—seemed to vibrate with unshed power, like a storm just below the surface.
"I heard that," she said without facing them.
Victoria flinched. Arwin smirked.
The last of the students trickled in, boots and robes rustling, voices dropping to murmurs. Desks slid noisily, then silence fell.
Professor Hightower turned to face them at last, violet eyes sharp and unreadable.
"We begin."
Her voice rang out, crisp and steady. No flourish, no fanfare—just command. She moved to the center of the room and raised one hand. The air shimmered, and arcane sigils flared to life behind her in midair, forming elegant constellations of magical theory.
"Today's subject: the War Mage."
She paced slowly before the class, each step deliberate. The floating runes shifted around her like planets caught in her gravitational pull.
"A War Mage is a specialized spellcaster trained for combat operations—particularly large-scale engagements and sieges. Their role is not finesse. It is not diplomacy. It is annihilation."
Her words struck like marching drums.
"While others study healing, enchantment, or planar travel, the War Mage is forged in fire. Subtlety is not our strength. Mercy is not our mandate. A War Mage is a weapon."
She stopped at the front, letting the silence settle like ash.
"We are battlefield controllers. Siege specialists. Assets embedded within military operations—not lone wolves. We walk beside infantry, above cavalry, behind walls, and through them. And sometimes, when the need arises…" she gave a rare, razor-edged smile, "we are the siege engine."
A wave of energy pulsed through the room, and behind her, the sigils rearranged into tactical diagrams—fortresses under attack, formations flanked by spellcasters, magical barrages sweeping through enemy lines.
The students watched in quiet awe.
"War Mages wield high-impact, area-based elemental spells. The five core disciplines are our tools of destruction. Let me introduce you to the foundational spells of your training."
With a snap of her fingers, five glowing glyphs flared to life behind her, each shimmering in a different hue.
Elemental Spells
Air - Chasing Lightning
Yellow lines spun from her fingers, forming jagged circles in the air. A hum filled the room.
"This spell releases charged arcs of lightning that hunt their targets, leaping to the next as each falls. Perfect for chaotic skirmishes and breaking weak lines."
Fire - Raging Sun
Purple fire bloomed outward from her palm in a swirling vortex.
"A volatile detonation engulfing everything in its radius. High energy, high collateral. Do not miscast unless you enjoy friendly fire."
Earth - Tidal Wall
The room rumbled as an illusion of stone surged from the floor in a great wave.
"A war spell's rare defensive option. Form a massive shield—or crush advancing enemies beneath your will."
Water - Ice Age
A mist curled outward, freezing even the illusion of space itself.
"A blast of sudden frost that halts movement and slows perception. Ideal for halting cavalry or buying seconds that win battles."
Darkness - Chasing Death
A towering, blackened lance of shadow shrieked forward, vanishing just before the wall.
"Seeks life—ends it. Effective, but indiscriminate. Cast with clarity or suffer its appetite."
The illusions faded. Her voice grew quieter, but no less firm.
"This… is the War Mage. Not a scholar. Not a healer. But a force of destruction given purpose. You are here not just to learn spells. You are here to become tactical weapons."
She gestured to the practice field doors.
"Outside. We train."
Combat Practical – Elemental Foundations
The class spilled into the open arena behind the War Mage Tower. Targets stood at various distances—some human-shaped, others fortress walls or barricades. The ground bore the scars of generations of magical violence.
"Each of you will cast one of the five. Pick an element. Begin."
Arwin stepped forward, choosing Tidal Wall. His version was shaky but impressive—enough to raise a small ramp of hardened dirt. Applause rippled through the class.
Others followed: lightning that overshot, fireballs that exploded too soon, water that froze half a dummy, then shattered it.
Then it was Victoria's turn.
"Fire," she said simply.
"Spell words?" Hightower asked.
"Not necessary," Victoria replied.
The other students blinked. A few scoffed.
Victoria extended her hands. Her light mastery shimmered across her skin—small tendrils of radiant energy tracing across her arms like liquid starlight.
With a twist of her fingers, three light-formed runes floated into being—glowing circles etched with geometric complexity. No chanting. No hand signs. Just will.
"Rune sacrifice one," she muttered, touching the first. It dissolved into sparks.
"Rune two." Another burst of energy fed into her core.
"Three." She flared with heat.
She pointed at the farthest target—a stone barrier.
"Raging Sun."
A compressed sphere of purple flame burst from her palm, screamed across the air, and detonated mid-target with a deafening BOOM—a shockwave echoing off the academy walls.
The barrier was gone.
Gone.
Silence fell.
Even Professor Hightower raised an eyebrow.
"Light-crafted runes. Mana transmutation. Efficient rune sacrifices." She approached slowly. "Who taught you that?"
"No one," Victoria said softly. "I… just figured it out."
The professor looked at her for a long, unreadable moment.
Then she turned to the class.
"You see now why I said we train weapons, not students. Victoria's method isn't in textbooks. It's instinct. Discipline. Innovation." She narrowed her eyes slightly. "And you will all be chasing her for the rest of the semester unless you work harder than ever."
As the session ended and students filed out—sweaty, burnt, and sore—Arwin clapped Victoria on the back.
"Well. Looks like someone just became top of the class."
"I just didn't want to chant," she muttered, still trying to shake off the heat in her bones.
Professor Hightower, still watching from afar, allowed herself a small smile.
Not bad for day one.