Dawn arrived wrapped in a light mist surrounding the lake and the base of the tower.
Thiriel was already awake when one of the puppet servants gently knocked on his door to announce he was to present himself alongside Drowen at the stone platform.
When he arrived, Drowen was already there, standing in front of the lake, with an expression that mixed expectation and anxiety.
Vexar appeared shortly after, descending the steps with a slow pace, leaning on his staff.
"Today," he said without preamble, "you will cease to be simple apprentices who refine energy without understanding it."
Both paid serious attention.
"Until now, you have only learned to feel and accumulate magic," he continued. "That is the foundation, but it is not enough. Magic exists to be used, and correct usage marks the difference between a mediocre mage... and a talented one."
He stopped in front of them.
"There are many branches of magic," he said, "but for a Rank D mage, everything initially boils down to two fundamental categories."
He held up two fingers.
"Combat magic and support magic."
Drowen frowned slightly.
"Only two, master?"
Vexar let out a brief laugh.
"No. There are many more. But those come later."
He tapped the ground with the tip of his staff, and a faint magical ripple ran through the platform.
"Combat magic is the most direct," he explained. "Its purpose is to cause damage, repel enemies, or destroy obstacles. It is the first one most wish to learn."
He raised his hand, and a small spark of fire appeared above his palm. It was no larger than a coin.
"Support magic, on the other hand, does not seek to harm directly," he continued. "It reinforces the body, improves perception, accelerates recovery, or protects against attacks. Many underestimate it... until it saves their lives."
The spark extinguished.
"In addition to these," he went on, "there are other branches."
"Ritual magic, which requires time, preparation, and materials."
"Elemental magic, which delves into a single element to advanced levels."
"Specialized magic, such as that of alchemists, artifact creators, or healers."
He paused briefly.
"And there also exists forbidden magic."
Drowen opened his mouth, curious.
"Why is it forbidden?"
"Because it breaks rules the continent decided not to cross," Vexar replied without changing his tone. "Consumption of another's life, soul manipulation, forced alteration of talent. They are fast paths... and dangerous."
He said nothing more about it.
Thiriel did not react.
"For now," Vexar continued, "you will focus solely on the most basic combat magic. You will not learn complex spells or advanced techniques."
"First, you must understand how magic flows when used actively."
He turned toward the lake.
"Sit down."
Both obeyed and sat on the cold stone floor.
"The simplest combat magic," Vexar said, "is not a complex spell. It is a controlled discharge of magic."
He extended his hand, and a small sphere of energy formed in front of them. It wasn't fire or ice. It was pure magic, colorless, vibrating gently.
"This," he said, "is attribute-less magic. The most basic form of attack."
The sphere shot out and struck a nearby rock, leaving a superficial mark.
"Weak," he admitted. "But efficient."
He looked at Drowen.
"Try it."
Drowen swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and began to channel magic from his core. After a few seconds, an unstable mass of energy appeared in front of his hand. It was trembling.
"Concentrate," Vexar ordered. "Don't force the flow."
Drowen adjusted his breathing. The sphere stabilized slightly and shot out. It hit the ground a few meters away, kicking up dust.
"Acceptable for the first time," Vexar said. "You spent more magic than necessary, but the control wasn't disastrous."
Then he looked at Thiriel.
"Your turn."
Thiriel extended his hand. He didn't rush. He channeled a minimal amount of magic. The sphere that appeared was smaller than Drowen's, but stable.
He launched it.
The energy impacted against the same rock as before and deepened the mark.
Drowen frowned.
"Less expenditure with more power," Vexar commented. "And good control."
"Remember this," he said. "The power of a spell does not depend only on the amount of magic used, but on how well it is controlled."
"An apprentice who empties their core in a single attack is left defenseless."
He tapped his staff against the ground.
"Exhausting all magic causes dizziness, disorientation, and in extreme cases, damage to the core. Some never recover."
"Practice with attribute-less attack magic," Vexar said as he sat down and closed his eyes.
During the rest of the morning, they practiced the same technique over and over. Projecting magic. Stopping it. Adjusting the amount. Varying the distance.
Drowen tended to use more energy than necessary. Thiriel, on the other hand, maintained consistent control, though his attacks were less flashy.
In the afternoon, after a good lunch, Vexar changed the focus.
"Now, we are going to practice some basic support magic."
He pointed at Drowen.
"Channel magic into your muscles. Not to attack. Just to reinforce."
Drowen tried it. The magic ran through his body irregularly. His arms shook.
"Too fast," Vexar corrected. "The reinforcement must be uniform."
After several attempts, Drowen managed to maintain a slight improvement in his strength for a few seconds.
Thiriel watched closely, analyzing the difference with his Magic Warrior Aura technique.
When it was his turn, the reinforcement activated more smoothly. It didn't increase his strength explosively, but the stability was evident.
"Interesting," Vexar murmured, without elaborating and looking at Thiriel with a smile.
The following days followed a clear pattern.
In the morning, combat magic practice.
In the afternoon, support magic practice.
At night, mandatory rest.
Vexar explained the restrictions of combat magic.
The range limited by control.
The difficulty of maintaining continuous spells.
The vulnerability during channeling.
He also showed them examples of what happened when a mage exhausted their core completely: extreme fatigue, blurred vision, inability to perceive magic for hours, and disorientation from dizziness.
On one occasion, he made Drowen force one last attack with an almost empty core. The result was immediate: he fell to his knees, pale, breathing with difficulty.
"Remember this sensation," Vexar told him. "This is what happens when you don't measure your limits."
Thiriel wasn't forced to that extreme, but he took mental notes.
A week passed.
During those days, they learned several simple magics: basic projectiles, minor bodily reinforcements, a weak elemental barrier that could barely stop a light blow. Nothing spectacular, but enough to lay the foundations.
At the end of the week, Vexar gathered them once more.
"You have learned the essentials," he said. "From now on, the senior apprentices will be in charge of explaining variations and safe practices."
He turned around without another word.
Drowen exhaled sharply, exhausted but satisfied.
"Finally," he said. "I feel like now we are actually learning real magic."
Thiriel nodded slightly.
That night, back in his room, Thiriel activated the Magic Warrior Aura. He adjusted the flow, integrating small improvements learned from magical reinforcement.
The technique responded better than before.
When he deactivated the aura, he sat in silence.
Tomorrow he would train without Vexar watching closely.
And that, for now, was enough.