Chapter 3 - Manaflare

A bell rang.

The fire mage struck first. He didn’t waste time. A jet of flame spiralled forward like a serpent, dancing and twisting through the air with a hiss. The crowd gasped. The other mage stood motionless.

The flame surged, coiling like a striking viper—then vanished.

A breathless silence fell over the crowd.

Something shimmered in the air—

BOOM—

Shards of ice scattered throughout the air.

Ice? I thought it was just fire, water, wind, and earth.

The steam calmed downed to reveal the unknown mage with his arm outstretched palm forward, a smug grin washed across his face and a wall of ice shielding him from the twisted flame.

“So you’re a Water Ascendant,” The fire mage chuckled his face growing increasingly intrigued, “come show me what you’ve got.”

Ascendent?...I remember reading each of the four core elements have an ascended form; for water: ice, for fire: lightning, for earth: metal, and for wind: sound.

The fire mage shot out jets from his feet, more intense than earlier, propelling him straight forward with his right arm charging with flames for a strong right hook.

Smart. He’s using his body as a weapon so he can’t be blocked by some barrier.

As the fire mage dawned closer and closer, the ice mage’s smirk only grew larger until the last moment, the ice mage skated to the side – literally – riding a frozen path he had been conjuring while the fire mage had been preparing his first attack.

Incredible, he used the fire mage’s attacks as a distraction to make his conjuring go unnoticed.

The fire mage gritted his teeth and tightened his jaw at the mockery he was being made into. The ice mage decided to make his first attack, placing his palm firm on the ground, before icy stalagmites erupted out of the ground.

The fire mage eloquently jumped clean over them catching the ice mage off guard. In that moment the fire mage exploited his opportunity clenching his fist as a red glow emanated from it and he landed his first clean hit on his opponent’s back.

Well-timed. Clean hit.

That marked the end of the ice mage’s composure as his brow raised and he lifted his palm before clenching it into a fist clothing it in a gauntlet made of ice. The mage extended the ice beneath his feet propelling himself forward.

The duo exchanged countless blows, Ev’s violet eyes tracing each move, absorbing all this experience before him.

Fire roared and sparked a blood red. Ice cracked, shining a glacial blue.

Beautiful. Mana is beautiful.

Each blow the furious mages exerted only increased in magnitude, each desperate to brilliantly overcome its foe. The transfigured ring was now slick with melted frost and soot.

Magic was no longer clean. No longer beautiful. It had reverted to raw instinct – no longer a craft, but survival.

Then it happened.

The fire mage pushed forward with a spectacular spiral of flames, immersing his body in heat. A final last ditch effort for victory. It almost appeared as if he wouldn’t last enough to land his finishing blow, but his body pushed past its limits.

But the ice mage seemed unfazed, in fact his smug grin from earlier returned, he had waited, he was ready.

Spikes of ice launched out the ground like the jaws of an ice dragon.

But the ferocious flames cracked each and every one, until there were just three left.

The crowd watching held its breath, so silent, a pin drop would echo.

His flame pierced another spike. Two left.

It was clear the fire mage’s flames were ready to give in, the only thing keeping them burning at their intensity was the mage’s sheer will. One spike remained.

Then, the fate no one could’ve foreseen. The smirk faltered from the ice mage’s face as he was overtaken with a feeling of unease.

Crack.

The final spike exploded into the sky, sending the ice mage flying out the arena and the fire mage’s will was over, a smile content on his face.

A victory, from sheer luck, he won – the fire mage’s efforts were just barely enough.

The ice shards even finer than before glistened across the entire square, enveloping it in snow that appeared to be made of diamonds.

Erven exhaled.

He clapped just once, not at the victor, but because he had truly seen what mana could do.

But then, Erven had a bigger problem. Through this prolonged moment of tension, he seemed to have relieved himself of a different tension…

Oh crap – literally, oh crap.

His head mechanically rotated to Lyria to meet the stare of an alarmed mother. Harold smiled at her in attempt to console her - to no avail - regarding the baby that just pooped on her.

“Think it’s time, we head back.” Harold chuckled, pushing his distraught wife back along the path.

After Erven got changed, Harold shouted “Ev, Lyria, quick get back!”

Why, what’s going on?

Lyria rushed as if she was about to miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Great. I’m the only one who has no idea what’s going on.

Erven sighed

“This is the reason I was talking about earlier.” Harold grinned at Erven pointing at the night sky, full of stars.

Yeah it’s beautiful but nothing extraordina-

BANG

Erven’s thought was interrupted.

BANG

A series of tubes were fired to disturb the natural abyss of the night sky.

BANG

Each tube exploding into its own unique shape and one of the four colours from earlier: red, yellow, white, blue, illuminating the entire sky replacing the stars, combining all their brightness and beauty in every tube.

“These…These are Manaflares.” Lyria told her son.

Though Erven was usually observant, absorbing everything he saw, it seemed for the first time in this third life, Ev was absorbed into the beautiful scenery. Speechless. Thoughtless.