Magnus Stormborn

Magnus was the first to strike. His silver hair shimmered with the intensity of the storm he summoned, lightning crackling from his fingertips, slicing through the air with blinding speed. The arena felt like it was alive with the tempest around him, the very ground trembling under the power of his command. His eyes locked onto me, cold and relentless as the storm he wielded, his body poised for the kill.

But just as I braced myself to evade, a flicker of doubt crossed his face—just a momentary pause before he unleashed his full fury. His thoughts appeared to drift somewhere.

***

Magnus had grown up in the Stormborn Familia, a line of wizards and witches revered across the Enchanted Forest for their unmatched mastery over storms. He had been a prodigy from the moment he could walk, his natural affinity for lightning earning him accolades and admiration. It had been clear from an early age that Magnus was destined for greatness, his magic flowing through him effortlessly as he surpassed even the greatest mages of his family.

And with that power, arrogance had bloomed. Magnus had become convinced that no one, not even the most legendary wizards, could stand against him. He had been untouchable, a force of nature in his own right.

Until Valkyrie.

At first, Magnus had dismissed her. She was a human—nothing like the wizards and witches of the Stormborn Familia. She had no lineage, no power that could rival his. The idea that someone like her could stand in his way had been laughable. And yet, when they faced each other in the arena, something unexpected happened.

The battle had ended in a draw.

Magnus had refused to believe it. It had to have been a fluke, a stroke of luck. But deep down, something had changed. Valkyrie had held her ground, matched his every move, and—most unsettling of all—she had shown him respect. Real respect. Not because he had earned it, but because she didn’t need to. She was confident in herself. She believed she could win.

And that had terrified him.

In the battles that followed, Magnus had seen a pattern. Valkyrie was no brute. She didn’t rely on overwhelming strength or raw power. She was strategic, calculating. With every battle, she grew stronger, more precise. Each time, they ended in a tie. But Magnus felt it—each fight left him questioning his own abilities, his own strength.

And then, the fight with Amon.

Magnus had watched, his heart sinking as Valkyrie fought on with a body already on the brink of collapse. Bloodied and battered, yet she kept going. It wasn’t her magic that had scared him—it was her resolve. She stood against pain like no one else could. She endured what would have broken anyone else, and that frightened him in a way he had never been frightened before.

Could he, Magnus Stormborn, endure that level of suffering? Could he face the storm of pain Valkyrie had faced and still stand tall? The question plagued him.

No, he couldn't.

***

Magnus snapped out of the memory as his lightning surged toward me. His silver eyes flared with renewed determination, his hands thrusting forward with such power that the very atmosphere seemed to bend. But the storm in his mind had already begun to waver.

I saw the hesitation—just for a split second—before he attacked again. It was enough.

I darted to the side, my hand outstretched. I grabbed his wrist, the momentum of his strike amplifying the force as I used a judo throw to send him crashing into the earth. The impact echoed through the arena, and I could feel the plants beneath me surging with energy, heightening the force of the throw.

As Magnus lay there, a sharp gasp escaped his lips. His silver eyes glowed with a mix of anger and confusion. His storm raged, but for the first time, it seemed less certain. The weight of his past battles with me—those ties, that fear—had finally caught up with him. And I could see it in his eyes: the realization that, once again, I had beaten him without defeating him.

***

Elara wasted no time, her focus sharpening as she raised her hand, weaving a spell with the grace of a master. A brilliant light began to form at her fingertips, and with a swift motion, she aimed it directly at both Magnus and me. The spell blazed with blinding intensity, cutting through the air like a strike of divine justice.

Yes, this was a battle. The arena, the stakes, everything pointed to the necessity of winning. But in that moment, as I saw the light barreling toward Magnus—still lying there, dazed from the judo throw—I made an instinctive choice. Without thinking, without planning, I stepped forward, moving faster than I had ever moved before.

I threw myself in front of him.

The light collided with my body, its intensity ripping through me like fire. My breath was stolen as the energy surged across my skin, searing through every nerve. I didn’t know if I could hold on, but I didn’t falter. My body shook, but I stayed upright, my eyes locked on Magnus, who was now staring at me in disbelief.

Pain. It was overwhelming. It flooded my senses, but I didn’t fall. I couldn’t.

For a brief moment, the world around me went quiet. Elara’s spell had exploded in my chest, but the chaos of the battle seemed to fade as I focused on the stillness between breaths. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I had done something I didn’t fully understand.

Magnus’s eyes were wide, his shock mirrored by my own. For the first time, he seemed unsure of what to do. His storm had calmed, his control wavering as he gazed at me, struggling to comprehend my decision.

I wasn’t sure if it was an act of selflessness, or something deeper—something that called to me without warning—but I knew that I couldn’t let him take that hit, not after everything we had been through, not after what had happened in our previous battles.

Both Elara and Magnus stood frozen, taken aback by my actions. Even I was shocked by what I had just done.

“What... why?” Magnus’s voice trembled with disbelief, the words barely escaping his lips. The question hung in the air, thick with confusion, as if the very atmosphere around us had frozen in place. His silver hair, still crackling faintly from the energy of the spell, seemed to lose its luster. There was no storm in him now—only a storm of questions that swirled in his mind.

I let out a breath, standing tall despite the ache coursing through my body. The pain was still there, lingering, but I forced a smile at him. “It’s not fun without you,” I said, my voice lighter than I felt, trying to mask the weight of the moment.

His eyes widened, but I didn’t give him time to respond. “After saving you, I got this great idea.”

With those words, I raised my hands, calling upon the magic I had come to rely on. The earth beneath my feet trembled as molten lava surged from the ground, coiling around me like a living creature. It formed a suit of armor, encasing my body in a shell of fire and rock.

But I wasn’t done yet. I channeled plant magic to cushion the heat of the armor, weaving vines and roots to create a protective layer that could withstand the scorching temperatures. The armor, now tempered with both magma and nature’s resilience, felt like an extension of myself—strong and invulnerable, but not without its own weight.

“Magnus, I won fair and square,” I said, locking my gaze with his deep blue eyes. He looked utterly stunned, as if my words hadn’t quite sunk in yet. But then, something unexpected happened—he smiled. It was a small, knowing smile, but it spoke volumes.

Without waiting for a response, I spun toward Elara. With the full force of my enhanced armor and the power of my resolve, I drove my fist forward, aiming for her with a speed that belied the weight I carried. The punch landed with a satisfying thud, the impact reverberating through the air.