Seraphina stood in the open field. Her feet were firmly planted, shoulders relaxed, both hands raised with palms facing forward. Her eyes were tightly closed.
Her breathing was calm, steady; her magical aura flowed slowly, like water held back by a dam. There was no nervousness, only a focus that was nearly clinical.
A few meters away, Arzael leaned against a lone old tree. One knee bent, the other leg stretched out. He tossed a small stone up to the height of his forehead, catching it again in his palm. His gaze never left Seraphina.
"If it were me, I'm already sure I'd get into the Hero Academy," he thought flatly, narrowing his eyes slightly. "The problem is her. It's not about 'can or can't,' but 'how precise.'"
A system notification floated at the corner of his vision, a brief blue glimmer. Arzael glanced at it for a split second, then closed it without delay. His focus returned to Seraphina's shoulder line, her breathing rhythm, the small details indicating control.
The silence was broken by the sound of fast footsteps. Not the orderly steps of soldiers; these were heavy, dragged, and hurried.
From behind the waves of grass, something limped forward, cutting through the wind with the smell of iron and soot. Its body was battered, its skin charred, and its aura, dark, dense, nauseating.
"A demon," Arzael said, flatly.
The creature leapt through the grass, paying no attention to the two humans in front of it. Its movements were wild, somewhere between fleeing and hunting, unpredictable. Arzael rose from the tree trunk, his left palm slightly raised.
"Crimson Edge."
[Inventory Accessed.]
[Equipping: Crimson Edge.]
The hilt of the dark red sword formed in his grasp, its shine brief like a sparked ember. But before the blade was fully formed, a streak of blue light cut through the air from Seraphina's direction, precise, clean, without any excessive gesture.
Seraphina opened her eyes. The mana she had been restraining surged, released in a single, straight pull. The air rippled suddenly. Fine cracks spread across the ground beneath her feet. She raised her hands no more than a few centimeters, just enough to release it.
"Explosion."
The wave of heat struck the demon directly. There was no scream. Its body turned to ash, completely incinerated in a fraction of a second, too quick for pain to register.
The grass around the impact point wilted and blackened, forming a burned circle about the size of a small courtyard.
Seraphina lowered her hands. Her face remained calm. "Target eliminated."
Arzael held the sword, which had yet to move. He looked at the remaining ash swirling in the air, then shifted his gaze to Seraphina. "You never go half-hearted, do you?"
"Not on purpose. The magic just… came out too strong." Her tone was neutral, informative, neither apologetic nor proud.
Arzael did not reply. His eyes dropped to her wrists, assessing the tension in her muscles, then returned to the burned circle on the ground. He sheathed his sword back into his Inventory.
[Unequipping: Crimson Edge.]
[Stored.]
Heavy footsteps approached. Four figures emerged from the grass.
A blonde man with a long scar across his cheek took the front; two others flanked him, and a silver-haired woman holding a spear followed behind. Their eyes swept the scene: the burned circle, the scattered ash, two calm figures.
"Who killed it?" asked the blonde. His voice was low, but sharp at the edges.
Arzael stepped half a pace forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Seraphina. "She was training," he said calmly. "The demon passed, then it's done."
The blonde raised an eyebrow slightly. "Training… and killed it in one strike?"
Arzael stared at him without blinking. No further explanation.
The woman with the spear tilted her head, measuring Seraphina from head to toe. "The mana residue is thick. The Hero Association Committee must know."
Seraphina turned, meeting their gaze. "Up to you," she replied curtly.
The man on the left, wearing leather and carrying a bow, whispered, "If the blast is stable, she's a very valuable candidate."
The one on the right added, "Or a threat, if uncontrolled."
Arzael's tone remained unchanged. "We will consider it."
A brief silence followed. The blonde weighed it, then nodded once. "Very well. We are not looking for trouble." He gave a hand signal.
The four retreated in formation, sheathing their weapons, gradually disappearing into the tall grass, leaving only faint footprints quickly swallowed by the wind.
After the footsteps faded, Arzael turned to Seraphina. "You could have restrained part of the blast just now."
"I could," Seraphina replied. She glanced at the burned circle, then back at Arzael. "But it wasn't necessary. The threat is gone."
Arzael considered for two seconds, then nodded slightly. "Cold, precise, lethal." A corner of his lips twitched briefly. "Exactly what I need."
He turned. "Let's go." His steps cut through the untarnished grass, seeking firmer ground. "The world won't wait for you to be ready."
He spoke little, occasionally offering a word or subtle gesture, only to ensure Seraphina understood the focus of her training.
"Release slowly. Don't rush," he said, calm, providing direction without commanding.
Seraphina lowered her shoulders slightly, adjusted her hands, and tried to restrain the surge of mana attempting to escape.
A faint glow pulsed in her palms. This time she tried channeling it toward a single point ahead, controlling its range and intensity.
Arzael watched carefully. "Good. Reduce the pressure in your wrists. Let the flow follow the palms, don't force it."
He stayed aside, not touching, only observing. In his heart, a mixed feeling stirred. Sorry, Seraphina… in the Empire I wasn't allowed to learn magic. How could I teach you?
Seraphina focused a single stream of light into a thin line. "Like this?" she asked, her voice flat but attentive.
Arzael nodded slightly. "Yes… but try holding it longer, don't let it escape faster than you intend. Control is key."
Minutes passed. Seraphina became increasingly adept at restraining and releasing her mana precisely.
Waves of light flowed and stopped according to her will, forming neat lines in the air and settling lightly on the grass without destruction.
Arzael remained still, occasionally whispering a word or lightly tapping her shoulder as encouragement.
No smiles, no excessive commentary. Just full attention, without disrupting her focus.
In between, he monitored her breathing rhythm, gauging when the mana might escape. He drew a deep breath, calming himself. If I could, I want you safe. I never had this chance. Now I can at least watch you learn… and maybe you'll be stronger than I ever imagined.
Seraphina lowered her hands gradually, the light stopping exactly where she intended. She opened her eyes, looking at Arzael briefly. "I can stop it in time," she said flatly.
"Good," Arzael replied briefly, leaning slightly to acknowledge without long words. "Try it again, but this time direct it at multiple points simultaneously. Feel the difference in pressure at each spot."
Seraphina adjusted her stance, beginning to channel mana to three different points ahead.
Faint light streamed, stopping at each target without spreading or damaging the surroundings. Each point had slightly different intensity, and she successfully controlled them all.
Arzael watched, eyes noting every detail, wrists, elbows, even foot positions. He didn't guide directly, only offering light comments from a safe distance. "Stable. Don't tense up. Let the flow follow naturally."
Seraphina bowed her head briefly, inhaling. "I can feel it. If I restrain too hard, the line isn't clean. Too loose, it escapes."
Arzael nodded lightly, guilt still present. In the Empire, I never had the chance to learn like this. I wasn't allowed to even try. Now I can watch you… and I can't help but care.
Seraphina refocused on training. She repeated the cycle of restraining and releasing mana, now faster, more precise. Each wave stopped exactly where she wanted.
No explosions, no sparks. Just thin streams of light dancing in the air and gradually seeping into the ground.
Arzael observed without moving. Pride mingled with seriousness. No excessive comments.
He knew every suggestion had to be brief and precise. He only wanted Seraphina to master full control.
After several rounds, Seraphina lowered her hands, breathing steady, eyes watching the fading light lines on the grass. "I can start feeling the rhythm," she said, flatly but with a hint of determination.
"Good," Arzael acknowledged, not as an instructor but as a reminder the session was temporarily over. "We'll stop here for now. Don't expend all your energy. You need to save some for the next session."
Seraphina lowered both hands. "I understand. Today I learned more about control than raw power."
Arzael looked to the horizon, considering the next steps. "Tomorrow we'll repeat, with more variation. I want you to be able to redirect mana quickly without losing stability. Focus remains the same: control, not raw power."
Seraphina nodded, glancing at him briefly. "I'm ready."
They walked slowly to firmer ground on the edge of the field, leaving faint light trails and small burned circles behind. The morning wind swept across, erasing traces of the training.
No long words, no jokes. Just calm steps, two figures focused, one wielding power now under control, the other fully attentive to the energy's rhythm.
Under the warming sky, Arzael glanced once more at Seraphina, who continued to calm the mana in her body. I can't teach you like a regular teacher… but at least I can guide you a little, keeping you from losing control.