Three creatures emerged from the thicket.
Two of them were Abyssal Wolves, the same kind Elise had slain days earlier when they carried Arthur's body. Their dark fur bristled, fangs dripping corrosive saliva, red eyes blazing in the shadows. The third creature, smaller in stature, was far more sinister.
Its body resembled that of a deformed cat, but its mouth split open unnaturally wide, filled with serrated teeth. Two pairs of pointed, almost elven ears crowned its head, while three blazing eyes burned like embers. Its gray fur was streaked with crimson tips, as if forever licked by fire.
"A Demonic Tiger…" Iolanda muttered. "I'll take the wolves. You handle it."
She raised her sword and whispered the incantation:
"Globus Ignis."
The air before the blade wavered, condensing into a flaming sphere the size of a man's skull. At first it burned a vivid orange, but quickly shifted to crimson, then to an obsidian black that seemed to devour light itself.
Before the first wolf — already charging — could reach her, Iolanda hurled the sphere. The impact ignited the ground, and a pillar of black fire shot twenty meters high, consuming the beast in flames so dark that not even bones remained.
In the same breath, Iolanda moved. Elian's eyes barely kept pace. Her speed was thunder crashing upon earth — and in a single strike, her blade pierced through the skull of the second wolf. It fell without even a howl.
When silence returned, only the Demonic Tiger remained, its three burning eyes fixed on Elian.
"Now it's your turn, Elian," Iolanda said, wiping the blade clean in one motion. Her gaze was cold, unyielding. "Show me what you have."
★★★
Iolanda stood still, sword at the ready, eyes never leaving the boy. She would not intervene yet — she wanted to see how far he would go, though prepared to strike if needed.
The Demonic Tiger prowled in circles, snarling, its three eyes smoldering with malice. Each growl seemed to shake the earth, and the acidic drool dripping from its maw sizzled on the leaves, burning holes in the ground.
Elian stood firm, though instinct screamed for him to run. Seven meters separated them. He lowered his hands and, in a swift motion, touched the earth. Water and soil stirred, merging into a pit of mud where the tiger would step.
Iolanda's eyebrow rose.
He didn't even use incantations… he's fusing elements by instinct.
But the tiger veered aside with predatory speed, leaping toward him. Elian rolled out of the way, narrowly escaping the crushing weight of its claws. Anxiety burned in his chest, but he refused to falter. Conjuring small orbs of fire, he hurled them at the beast. Two struck, but had no effect — the flames clung briefly to its gray fur before vanishing, leaving nothing behind.
The beast roared, spitting a jet of virulent green acid that sliced the air. Elian dodged by reflex, feeling the searing heat brush his cheek.
That was when Iolanda spoke for the first time:
"I've already seen your flaws… but they're not your fault, boy."
Then she stepped back again, letting the fight continue.
Elian summoned a wall of fire, raising a blazing curtain between himself and the creature. The heat warped the air, obscuring him for a few moments. Through the shimmering flames, he glimpsed Iolanda's impassive figure, and Elise — already finished with the other beasts — watching in silence. He was alone.
Elian drew a ragged breath. He thought of the spell he had used before — the one that had slain two boys and earned him the astonishment of elders. But now, with the beast before him, his mind faltered. He ran, dodged, but his concentration collapsed each time anxiety clawed at him.
"I'll hold it!" Iolanda shouted. "Use the spell you so crave!"
Elian nodded. She slammed her sword into the ground, summoning stone. Jagged rocks erupted around the tiger's limbs, shackling it. The beast thrashed, roaring in fury, but could not break free.
This was the moment.
Elian forced himself still. His lungs burned, but he pulled his focus into a single point. Stone and wind. He conjured a spear of rock, larger than any he had attempted before, then wreathed it in air. The projectile spun violently, emitting a piercing metallic shriek as it tore through the silence.
He released it.
The spear shot forward, drilling into the creature's skull. The impact cracked like thunder. The Demonic Tiger convulsed and collapsed, lifeless.
Silence weighed heavier than its roar.
Elian did not smile. There was no pride in his victory. Instead, bitterness seeped through him: he had needed help. Alone, he would have died.
Iolanda approached, her eyes steady.
"You are riddled with flaws," she said, voice sharp as judgment. "And you still lack much."
The words cut deeper than any wound. Elian lowered his head, the weight of defeat pressing harder than any blow. From afar, Elise watched his expression — not the glow of triumph, but the shadow of doubt. The boy did not wonder if he had power, but if he had a future at all.
He remained silent the rest of the journey, eyes fixed on the endless road of trees and hills. Iolanda's words echoed in his mind like cold steel. It was not lack of talent — yet the failure gnawed at him as if it were.
By nightfall they stopped in a roadside clearing. Dinner was simple: rabbit stew Iolanda had hunted, stale bread from the inn, and green tea to ward off the cold.
Elian still said nothing, chewing slowly, replaying each moment of the battle, every misstep, every wasted spell.
It was Iolanda who broke the silence.
"Boy, I'll say this once," she began, her voice steady but not cruel. "What happened today wasn't lack of talent. It was lack of combat training."
She set her bowl down and turned to Elise.
"You haven't trained him in combat at all, have you?"
"No," Elise admitted calmly. "Only healing magic."
"Good." Iolanda exhaled, then fixed her gaze back on Elian. "Then it's nothing but inexperience. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he answered, quietly but firmly.
She raised her sword, letting the firelight glint across the steel.
"And another thing: you need a magic conduit. It speeds conjuration. Even if you don't rely on incantations, you still need time to open your mana gate and give shape to the spell."
Elian frowned.
"Mana gate?"
Iolanda shot Elise a sharp, critical look — as if to say, He doesn't even know this? Then knelt, sketching a crude figure in the dirt. At the figure's sternum, she drew an oval.
"Here," she explained. "The mana gate is where your energy leaves your body to merge with ambient mana." She sketched a small fireball before the figure. "When you imagine a spell, don't you feel the energy move from here?"
Elian nodded.
"Exactly. That's where your mana fuses with the world and gains form. The fact you command multiple elements proves your gate is expanded… but it's still raw, unrefined. The more refined it becomes, the faster and steadier your magic will be."
Elise lowered her eyes in silence. Guilt pricked at her — she had been so focused on healing that she had left him unprepared for survival.
"Back to conduits…" Iolanda continued, spinning her blade in her hands. "They act as bridges, smoothing the mana's flow and quickening element fusion. Watch the timing."
She set the sword aside and raised her hand. A fireball formed slowly, taking four long seconds before stabilizing. Its flames crackled, casting light across her face.
"Four seconds," she said, then dispersed it.
Holding the sword now, she repeated the motion. The sphere blazed to life in only two seconds, fiercer and hotter.
"Two seconds. In battle, that difference is the line between life and death."
Elian's eyes widened. He had never considered time itself as an enemy.
"But not everyone can wield a conduit," Iolanda added. "The metal is rare, costly… a privilege of the great orders. Beyond them, few ever touch one."
At last Elise spoke, her voice soft but firm:
"That's enough for today. We'll rest. Tomorrow we'll reach Brumaria before noon."
There was something in her expression — guilt, perhaps jealousy — that Elian caught at once.
He only nodded, tucking Iolanda's lessons into silence. Rising, he cast a final glance at the sketch in the dirt. There was no more anxiety — only bitter clarity: he needed training, discipline, a conduit. Another step carved into his path.
The rest of the journey passed without incident. By midday, the gates of Brumaria loomed ahead. A small crowd gathered as their carriage arrived, eyes filled with awe, suspicion, and fear at the sight of the Dark Throne crest.
Some recognized Elise through the right-side window. She offered only a discreet nod, not stepping down. Her heart was not in their stares, but in her home.
Elian, meanwhile, could barely contain himself. Seven days without his mother and siblings — and soon it would be months, perhaps years. The longing to hold Maria burned in him, a raw, visceral ache that surpassed even his hardened mind.
The sun blazed overhead. They had left under rain that washed the roads; now the sky seared with merciless heat.
In front of Elise's home, Marduk waited, arms folded. Beside him, Maria, Emanuelle, and Anthony stood, watching in silence.
The carriage stopped. Elise stepped down first, greeting Marduk and Maria with a weary smile. Then Iolanda, a soldier's shadow at her side.
Last came Elian. His feet touched the earth, and his gaze locked on Maria's tear-filled eyes. He thought of running to her, but there was no need — she had already moved.
Maria broke the distance, running to him. She wrapped him in a desperate embrace, her navy-blue eyes drowning in his. Elian understood the weight of his absence without a word.
"I'm back, Mother," he whispered, voice trembling, tears burning in his throat.
"Welcome home, my son," Maria answered, clutching him tighter, as though to carve him into her very flesh.
And there, in the middle of the street, surrounded by whispers and eyes, mother and son folded into an embrace that asked no permission of the world — an embrace that restored what time and distance had tried to steal.