The tree's shadow crawled slowly across the grass. The wind was no longer hot. I sat with my back against the trunk, breathing deep. After Paul, every part of me hummed. Not from pain — from overload. Like every muscle had brushed the edge and now just went quiet.
Footsteps.
Roxy sat down beside me. Leaned forward a bit, legs stretched out. Hat still on, but no staff.
"Did Paul go for the 'one more time' routine again?" she asked without looking.
"More like, 'one more time and you'll get it.' Then ten more after that."
"Classic."
She stretched, shoulder clicking. Fabric wrinkled at the elbow, dust on her wrist like she'd come through a field, not a road. The wind moved between us — lazy, unhurried.
"He… praised me today," I said.
"And still kicked your ass?"
"Well, yeah. It's Paul. His praise has pain levels."
"Congrats, then. You've hit the 'almost broke a rib, but with respect' tier."
I smiled — not right away, a little after. My chest still rose with effort.
Roxy stayed silent.
The wind flowed through the grass. My back still buzzed. Somewhere inside, under the skin, under the ribs — a quiet tension, like my body wasn't convinced the training was over.
I stared at the sky, the thin clouds. But my mind wasn't there. I thought of Rowls. His voice. Not anger — silence, the kind that moved with his words. Too calm not to be frightening.
"We once had a country..."
"Our language was erased..."
"Just us now. No flag. No memory..."
"You can't call yourself an elf if you want bread..."
He wasn't whining. He wasn't begging. Just speaking. And I didn't know what to say. Didn't know whether to believe him. But it stayed. Somewhere inside.
I turned to Roxy — not right away. First I just asked, like offhand:
"You've traveled a lot, haven't you?"
"Hm? Yeah. From Asura to... the Demon Continent. And back. Why?"
"No reason..." I hesitated, then kept going, eyes forward. "Seen a lot of different people?"
"I have. Lived with some. Even speak a few of their languages."
I nodded, slowing my breath. Then:
"Is it true there are people... who had everything taken from them? Their country, their language, even their names. That they can't be who they are if they want to survive?"
Roxy didn't answer right away. She looked off, toward the hills. Then nodded, slowly.
"Probably."
She paused.
"Why?"
"Because the world's unfair. Because the strong dictate. And the weak either leave, or accept. Sometimes both."
She looked at me. Her eyes calm, but her voice softened:
"Why are you asking?"
"Rowls said some things. He... wasn't accusing anyone. But it sounded like something you don't just forget."
"Ah… The elves," she said, adjusting her hat so she could look ahead. "Yeah. That one turned out ugly…"
I turned, but she was already looking at me.
"You've seen the world map, right?"
I nodded. Almost immediately. But inside, something tightened.
I remembered that damn map. The one where the Asura region took up half the page. Dozens of noble houses in tiny script. Heraldry, borders, capital names, who married who, who stole whose wife. All of it had to be memorized. All of it was important.
The rest — one paragraph. Blank lands. A few islands. And a massive ocean in the center.
"That ocean," she said, "used to be smaller. There was water, yeah. But in the center… there used to be a whole continent."
I leaned forward a bit. Didn't interrupt.
"They lived there. Not all elves, but many. They had cities, temples, their own nations. And one day erased it all."
"What happened?"
"Aldebaran... The great hero, as they call him in Asura. According to legend, he stopped a demon army. But he did it by blowing himself up. Somewhere in those lands."
"And… that destroyed the continent?"
"Almost. The blast was so strong, the ocean surged over the shores and drowned everything. Millions died. Nations vanished. Elves, animals, forests, cities — all gone under the water."
"..."
"People don't like to remember what his 'heroism' cost. It's easier to sing songs. About how he saved everyone. How he stopped the darkness."
She fell silent. Only the wind moved again between us, dragging dust and grass with it.
"There are hardly any elves left now. The ones who wanted freedom fled into the forests. The ones who stayed became… the ones no one talks about."
I exhaled quietly. It didn't feel like history. More like a wound no one treated — just threw a sheet over it and put up a monument.
"And all of that — just to stop a demon army," Roxy said, not sarcastically, but like she was trying to swallow it herself. "Heh. People love calling them that. Demons. Non-humans. Beasts. Monsters…"
She turned her head, looking straight now, no smile.
"Remember this, Rudy. If you ever call someone from the Demon Continent a 'demon' — they'll probably reach for a weapon."
I was surprised — not sharply, but something in me pulled back.
"Why? Isn't it just… a name?"
Roxy gave a dry, humorless smile. Like she'd been waiting for the question.
"How would you like being called a creature? A slab of meat? Something the books place next to monsters the church says must be exterminated — no matter if it's a child or a soldier in front of you?"
She leaned forward slightly. Her voice turned dry, harder.
"They're called 'demons' not because they're from the 'Demonic' Continent. But because it's easier that way. Convenient. One label — and you don't have to care. Don't have to think about who's in front of you. He's a demon. So it's fine to kill him. Fine to drive him out. Fine to hate him."
"..."
"There are truly horrific peoples there. Some whose culture revolves around killing. Some races born for war. That's real. But… it's not the whole truth. There are also those who just want to live. Raise their kids. Trade, build, read, pray to their gods. They're alive."
The wind passed again, lifting the edge of her cloak.
"There are bastards everywhere, Rudy. Among humans. Among so-called non-humans. The only real difference is who throws the first stone."
She turned to me. Her face calm now. No anger, no bitterness. Just focus.
"And right now, we've got training scheduled."
***
"This one?"
Roxy waved her hand, and glowing symbols flared in the air.
"Water. Flow. Change."
I answered without thinking.
She squinted at me but said nothing. Her finger traced the air again, leaving a thin glowing line.
"And this?"
I glanced at the new symbol.
"Force. Suddenness."
She gave a slow nod.
"And this?"
Three symbols appeared at once, linked together. I'd seen them separately before, but never like this. I frowned, digging through the patterns we'd studied the past few weeks. Then my lips moved on their own:
"Breakthrough. Disruption. Surge."
This time Roxy didn't reply immediately. She just stared at me, and something flickered in her eyes — part surprise, part thrill, and something else I hadn't seen before.
"What?"
She exhaled, crossing her arms.
"You're pissing me off."
"What?!"
Roxy snorted and shook her head.
"I thought you'd be tripping over these for at least a couple more weeks. What the hell? You didn't even look focused!"
"I wasn't." I shrugged. "It just… clicked."
She stared for a few more seconds, then a real smile tugged at her lips. Not the usual smug one — a sharp, excited one. The kind she wore when something truly caught her interest.
"Alright. If you're that smart…" She snapped her fingers, and another word lit up in the air. "Then translate this."
I looked at the symbol. I knew it instantly. We hadn't studied it yet, but I'd seen it in one of her books.
"Control. Perception. Balance."
Roxy muttered something under her breath and rubbed her eyes.
"I should've given you harder tasks…"
"You just underestimated my genius."
"Oh, obviously." She lowered her hand and smirked again. "Alright. So you've got the basics down. That means it's time…"
She snapped her fingers again, and a small object floated in front of me. A wooden wand, carved with intricate runes. A faint red crystal shimmered at its tip.
"…to move on to practice."
I took it carefully, fingers tingling at the touch.
"What is it? An artifact?"
"A wand for dueling magic. Helps regulate power while you're still learning technique."
I frowned.
"What's dueling magic?"
Roxy tilted her head, amused.
"It's magic that does this…"
She extended her arm — and in the next instant, my feet were gone. The air thickened, slammed into me, and before I understood what was happening, I was on the ground, face-first in the grass.
"WH—"
"That." Roxy finished calmly.
I blinked, switching my gaze from her to the sky and back. Her grin was even wider.
"That didn't hurt, right?"
"No…" I sat up, rubbing my back. "But it was very unexpected."
"That's the point." Roxy twirled the wand between her fingers. "Dueling magic doesn't kill. It disables, knocks you off balance, throws off your attacks. It's what they use in tournaments or sparring matches between mages."
I paused, thinking.
"Sparring? I thought mages fought with real combat spells."
Roxy chuckled.
"They do. If they've got no brains."
She took a few steps aside, arms folded.
"Picture it. Two mages facing off. One casts a fireball, the other fires back an ice spear. One of them screws up — and boom. No sparring. Just a funeral. Sound efficient?"
I blinked.
"Not really."
"Exactly."
She tapped her chin, as if thinking how to explain it simply.
"When it's your life on the line, you use everything you've got. But if it's training, a tournament, a formal duel at court — where no one's supposed to end up in pieces — then you use a different kind of magic."
"Dueling magic?"
Roxy nodded.
"It's built around restraint, disruption, and control. Knock out, stun, bind, trip. Anything that doesn't kill but still makes you the winner."
I turned the wand in my hands, thinking. She went on.
"It's stupid to expect a spell made for killing to suddenly behave just because you're sparring. Magic doesn't care. It doesn't know the difference between a duel and a battlefield."
Yeah, that actually made sense.
Honestly, I'd never thought about it. In my head, mages were like walking catapults — the more firepower, the better. But Roxy was right. If every fight ends with someone dead, you don't last long. Not every opponent is an enemy for life. Not every battle is a war. Sometimes it's smarter to disable than to go full slaughter mode.
"Watch this."
Roxy waved her hand, and a blue dome shimmered into place around her. A translucent sphere, gently glowing in the sunlight.
"Basic shield. It softens blows." Her fingers brushed the surface, and the barrier rippled like water. "Good against weak attacks, but it won't hold for long."
She snapped her fingers. The surface changed.
Thin lines ran across the dome, interweaving into a honeycomb pattern. The shield now looked tougher, more structured.
"This is the combat variant. See the difference?"
I squinted. The surface was no longer smooth — it looked like flexible armor.
"Honeycomb?"
Roxy nodded.
"It distributes force better. A strong hit won't shatter the whole thing — just damages a few cells. But making it is much harder."
She snapped her fingers again, and the shield vanished.
"But you know what's most important?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"You shouldn't be shielding your whole body."
She crossed her arms. Her gaze sharpened.
"It's harder, drains more mana, and isn't that effective. It's much smarter to create small barriers exactly where you need them. Imagine an incoming strike — you block just that point. Minimal mana, maximum effect."
I nodded slowly.
That actually made a lot of sense.
"Alright, raise the wand." She gave a crisp nod.
I lifted my hand — a little unsure — and then—
"Blast." A glowing projectile shot straight at my arm.
My hand jerked with a sharp jolt, and the wand flew out of my grip.
I blinked, not quite processing what just happened.
It hit the ground with a soft thud. My palm still tingled, like I'd been flicked hard with something invisible.
"Damn it!" I shook out my hand, trying to kill the numbness. "What was that?!"
Roxy stood there with her arms crossed and a very satisfied smirk.
"Energy shot. Basic dueling spell."
I gave her a look.
"And why did you do that?"
"To keep you from zoning out."
I glared, rubbing my hand.
"You couldn't warn me first?"
"And in a real fight, you gonna ask your enemy for five seconds to get ready?"
She raised a brow like that was rhetorical — which it was.
I tilted my head, flexing my fingers. Still a faint tingle in the palm, but the pain was already fading.
"So, energy shot…" I muttered, picking the wand up off the ground. "The very foundation of dueling magic, huh?"
Roxy nodded.
"Exactly. First thing they teach. Won't kill you — but you'll feel it."
She grinned.
"Especially if you take a few in a row. Anyway, enough sitting around. Next, you're going to learn two more spells…"
She raised her hand, and two glowing symbols flared in the air before me. One — round, closed, flowing smoothly like it drifted on air. The other — jagged, sharp, with short lines, like it'd been carved into stone with a knife.
"The first one's Suppression. The second — Lunge. In dueling magic, they're often used together. One locks your opponent down, the other knocks them off their feet. Simple, but effective combo."
I stared at the symbols, already feeling the shapes forming in my head. Not as words — more like pressure, motion, rhythm. Just like with Roxy — inhale, exhale, pulse.
"You want me to cast them?"
"No. I want you to remember them. By evening."
She raised a finger.
"Then we start sparring. You with the wand. Me without."
She turned and walked back toward the house without looking back. Dust kicked up slightly with her steps. The sun hit my back, and the two symbols still hung in the air — suppression and lunge.
I stayed where I was. Wand in hand. Palm still tingling. And the sense that this wasn't a game anymore. That training had only just begun.