Duel

"Burn, fierce Fire Element, and let the impure souls be exposed, with nowhere left to hide..."

From far away, Donald couldn't make out what Carl was chanting. He only saw Carl's lips moving as he murmured, and then a fireball gradually appeared between his cupped hands, growing larger and larger, its red and yellow flames swirling together.

The boy's dark eyes seemed to see nothing but the fireball in the distance. It was the first magic he had ever witnessed. At that moment, the vivid red Divine Element of Fire in his Sea of Consciousness also seemed more lively and spirited than usual.

"Fireball! That's Carl's signature spell! His fireball is twice as big as mine!" exclaimed a student sitting in front of Donald.

In stark contrast to the audience's excitement, Wesley stood with his arms crossed over his chest, completely motionless. No, he was moving—he was whistling! On the Magic Arena, where all eyes were fixed, one duelist was pouring everything into preparing a spell, while Wesley casually whistled with an easygoing look on his face. Even when Carl thrust the fireball toward him, Wesley still looked utterly unconcerned.

"Has Wesley been scared stupid?" someone in the crowd asked.

"He was already stupid when he challenged Carl!"

"Move, already! Quit posing!" Watching the fireball grow larger as it flew, Donald couldn't help worrying about Wesley.

The fireball kept growing. Just as it was about to reach Wesley... it broke apart, scattering sparks across the ground.

"Carl, I'm really worried about your intelligence. You cast a tiny fireball from twenty meters away. Were you trying to warm me up?"

Laughter rippled through the stands, and at last, the people who had spoken earlier fell silent.

Carl glared at Wesley. Of course he knew his fireball couldn't hurt his opponent from that distance. He'd only meant to scare him a little, or perhaps test him and make him look foolish. But Wesley had remained so calm in the face of a blazing fireball hurtling toward him. It seemed he wasn't the fool he usually made himself out to be.

Carl slowly advanced. After six or seven steps, he stopped again. Now he was just over ten meters from Wesley.

As a second fireball slowly formed between his hands, Wesley began to move. He didn't raise his hand to cast a spell like his opponent. Instead, he ran toward Carl... seemingly muttering something as he went.

Carl panicked at Wesley's strange move. He wanted to release the fireball in his hands as quickly as possible, but he had made its Magic Model exceptionally complex in pursuit of greater power. Now that he was halfway through casting, he couldn't stop.

Wesley ran fast, like a gust of wind. He charged straight at Carl, then, just a short distance away, lowered his body slightly while maintaining his forward momentum. With a motion like an upward sword swing, he flicked one hand forward and sent out a tiny Wind Blade.

It really was a tiny Wind Blade. Spectators farther away couldn't even see it. Its Magic Model was so simple that Wesley could cast it with a casual flick. Who would build such a small Wind Blade into their Spiritual Power? It could barely do any damage. Compared to the fireball blazing between Carl's hands, it was downright pathetic. But now Carl could only watch helplessly as the pathetic little Wind Blade spun toward him and struck the nearly completed Fireball.

Wesley held his pose as if he had just swung the Wind Blade, even closing his eyes. Only after the fireball exploded with a thunderous boom and Carl's body hit the ground did he slowly lower his hand and straighten up. Shaking his head lightly, he murmured in a voice only he could hear, "That's how you look cool!"

When the fireball exploded, the crowd erupted in deafening gasps. But Wesley's supposedly stylish pose was met with a chorus of boos. Evidently, his pathologically narcissistic sense of style hadn't won over the audience. Still, Donald thought the move looked cool!

Carl wasn't badly hurt. With the referee's help, he even managed to get back to his feet. It seemed his Fireball wasn't as powerful as it looked. Besides, as an apprentice of Fire magic, he had decent resistance to the Fire Element. It was his handsome golden hair that had suffered.

"Do you know what fairness is? Fairness means even the strong get punished when they bully the weak. Look, your fireball is huge, and my Wind Blade is tiny. But if you try to bully me, I'll still make you regret it."

Wesley's face turned unusually serious again. "Oh, right. Donald's my friend. If you give him trouble again, I'll teach you what fairness means one more time. I don't mind the trouble."

Carl glared furiously at Wesley, his eyes blazing. Of course, that had nothing to do with him being an apprentice of Fire magic. It was just a figure of speech.

"Friend?" Donald watched Wesley from far away in the crowd. Wesley was his first friend in this world, and he was glad to have someone like him, though he felt that today's duel might make things even more troublesome.

To avoid trouble, I need to get stronger quickly. That was what he thought.

Late that night, Donald opened the box Mr. Merkel had given him at his desk. Inside were five large bottles of Magic Gold. It seemed Magic Gold wasn't as expensive as he'd imagined—or perhaps the Thousand-Tempered Sword had sold very well.

Donald divided the Magic Gold for the Five Elements among the crystal bottles Wesley had given him. Looking closely, he saw that the bottles were marked with graduations. Each held thirty-six measures when full, exactly the maximum amount he could practice with at his current stage. After filling them, he put the large bottles back in the box and returned it beneath his bed.

Over the following days, Donald had to complete the practice amount in all five bottles every night. In other words, he had to draw thirty-six diagrams for each of the Five Elements. He discovered that every six Runes he drew allowed him to form one Divine Element. It was an astonishing rate.

By the end of November, Donald had ninety Divine Elements in each of the Five Elements, bringing him close to the level of an elementary Magic Apprentice. As his Spiritual Power grew, he found his senses becoming sharper, and it was easier for him to concentrate when thinking through problems.

During this time, Wesley continued his miserable campaign of flirting every afternoon at the Library. Neither he nor Donald brought up the duel.

As for trouble, Donald's guess was soon proven right. Carl didn't show up again, but his lackeys, along with students swayed by the rumors they spread, began making all kinds of trouble for Donald. Filth that was hard to clean kept appearing on the Library floor. Dead mice turned up in his work lunches now and then. Strangers kept bumping into him whenever he walked down the road.

But none of that mattered. For Donald, the truly important thing now was building his first Magic Model.