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“If you can grab the key within 10 minutes you win.”
Simple enough.
Aaravos sat on a bench in the welcome shade of a tree older than he. The sun fought to reach him there, its gentle fingers fumbling through any crack in the leaves. It did more good than harm with the mix of cool and hot feeling delightful on his scalp and long, white hair pulled behind him in a newly made warrior’s braid. Aaravos felt the sun rays the most on his exposed skin, some of it hidden behind his battle gear - gloves, a choker, a chest plate, and knee covers. They were soft and shimmering golds, whites, and blues embedded with magic that complimented his star-speckled blue skin. A sword or arrow would slice right through, but not a stray flame or lightning bolt.
The elven mage felt relaxed and confident today, wondering if his opponent felt the same. Taking one last sip of his tea, he straightened himself on the bench and focused on the shining, gray key dangling between the deft fingers of Viren across the fighting grounds. He was dressed in more traditional, brown-and-gold human battle gear. It would save him from both weaponry and magic, covering nearly all of him except for his young face and dark brunette hair.
Fighting mage-on-mage was hardly ever a challenge for Aaravos anymore, to the point where he’d exclusively fought fighters for months on end. But, finally, there stood a man who was unafraid. His fearless gray eyes gleamed under the gaze of the sun like a spotlight illuminating him on a stage.
As Aaravos stood, he watched with interest how the key slid on top of the staff Viren held in his other hand. There was a strap there just for this occasion that the key fit in snugly.
He nodded. Get the staff, get the key.
“Do you have any additional rules - or wagers?” Aaravos added, grinning at the focused mage as he began to get in position.
He’d heard of Viren, not that he had any plans to tell him that. Viren was an up-and-coming prodigy with powerful friends and just as many enemies. Or were they rivals? It didn’t matter. What Aaravos did know was that the human had ambition, goals, and a lot to prove - enough to feed the flames of a kindling ego.
“Wagers?” Viren asked hesitantly.
Hook.
“I’ve been informed of your prestige. I would like to see your best, though I’m not sure if it would be fair of me to suggest such a thing.”
Line.
Viren’s thin-lined mouth frowned further.
“I am perfectly capable of being a fair match.”
Sinker.
“Then?” Aaravos asked as his hands began to adjust his gloves. Feigned disinterest.
“Tell me your conditions.”
“If I win, you have to do one thing I say.”
“And if I win?”
Aaravos smiled. “What would you like?”
Viren pondered for a moment. Did he actually want something from him? Aaravos would feel uneasy if he thought himself capable of losing. He waited.
“I would like to borrow that key of yours.”
His gloves fell back down to his sides. Ambitious and forward. Viren knew more about him than he thought. So he wanted the cube. He could ask for anything and he merely wanted a chance to try it out for himself, without even knowing the extent of its abilities?
“Fine,” he agreed.
Viren had asked to borrow it, not keep it after all. This was fair. The man smiled at the confirmation and slowly turned into a fighting position - perfect form. He was trained in combat, clearly. The stance was optimal, a smaller target from afar with the staff as a buffer and a perfect line of sight.
Aaravos mimicked him, feeling how the ground pulsed under him like a heartbeat and the air crackled around him like an incoming thunderstorm.
They spoke the traditional words to begin.
“For honor,” said Aaravos.
“Honor fore,” said Viren.
All he needed was the staff. Its deep brown glowed with a sudden purple spiraling down its side. A power source? If Aaravos took the staff, Viren would be powerless, wouldn’t he?
Viren chanted quietly, too low for Aaravos to hear but close enough to make out some of his hand movement. Dark magic.
Aaravos gave a wry grin. Yes, but what kind? What Viren was doing was unfamiliar. Whatever it was, he could take it back!
His hands clenched into fists, grabbing the wind as if they were silk sheets fluttering past him. He pulled them forward, straining to command nature to defend him.
The staff pointed - and Aaravos threw his ‘sheets’ across the field.
Viren smirked. Nothing had shot towards Aaravos from the staff. Instead, the wind swirled around it, building higher and higher until it was a tornado jetting rapidly into the sky. The clouds darkened to meet it there and the whole battlefield followed its grim shadow. Aaravos stared into the murky void and its eerie, tunneling bridge that was commanded by a cruelly smiling gatekeeper.
Viren’s mocking laugh could barely be heard over the sounds of disaster. “They said you were powerful. Thanks for the boost.”
So he had to be on defense. The small knot of fear gave way to exhilaration. When was the last time he’d been outwitted?
Aaravos ripped his fingers in zigzags across the sky for a new spell, with all the precision and cut of a sword tip. He hadn’t perfected this one yet, it was his own creation after all. His pointer and middle fingers burned by the time he finished, a small cut leaving a trail of red as if he had been cut with his own invisible weapon.
Viren used both hands, struggling to point the staff. The tornado followed as he struck down, wielding it as a whip. There was no escape, of course, Aaravos had known that when he started this spell.
He took a deep breath and spun once. Flames followed him, curling around him like a thick blanket. The tornado landed like a stomp and Aaravos’ feet left the ground. Sharp winds whipped around him, swallowing him and throwing him in every direction - only changing to further disorient him. The flames cushioned him and the more he was spun, the bigger it got.
Viren would need to make a decision if he saw what was happening - end the spell or continue growing the fireball contained within it.
Aaravos took another deep breath. He could see clearly now, the fire became big enough to touch end-to-end of the tornado, enough for him to float in the eye of the storm.
The human would continue to surprise him - Viren fulfilled neither of his expectations.
The tornado ended abruptly, but not the spell. The wind focused into a singularity, pushing the fireball from its bottom straight into the sky. Aaravos rocketed higher and higher, faster and faster. And then there was nothing. The ball of flames dissipated.
The second lasted an eternity. The sun could finally embrace him here, laughing and burning him freely. And yet, it was beautiful - beyond the clouds, alone in a world of blue above and white below. He was floating.
Aaravos watched the sight disappear, straining to absorb the strange, new world before it melded together back into mostly white clouds. The elf fell through them, ripped back into the quickly-approaching greenery below with freezing water droplets on his skin.
If Viren were truly a competitor, he wouldn’t wait for him to land. Aaravos turned as he fell to regard the growing spec of person. Another deep breath. Aaravos did a swift spell.
He cared more about winning than living - what a shame. But this is what competition did to him.
The clouds chased after Aaravos, wrapping around his arms like bracers and warping black. Lightning flashed where he pointed at Viren. He couldn’t see what the other did to protect himself as the bright lights temporarily blinded the entire fighting ground.
With another spell, a gust of wind gushed out of Aaravos mouth, pushing all around him and slowing his descent until he had so gracefully landed on the ground.
Just as he did, dark fangs sunk themselves into his legs. He hissed.
The purple snakes of dark magic were draining him of energy. Aaravos laughed hoarsely.
Merciless Viren.
Enough. Aaravos reached down and grabbed the snakes, ripping them out of his legs and crying out from the pain. He’d probably ripped a tendon. His legs shook, deep red pouring down from the wounds like a river. With a tighter squeeze of his hands, the snakes violently jerked and then exploded into a mist. Aaravos inhaled it all, taking back the magic they had just stolen.
He shed the clouds magically adorning his arms and sent them to cover the field with a fog, lightning still jolting out at random. Aaravos fell to his knees and whispered his next spell before punching the soft earth.
The ground exploded all around him, some of it caving but most of it jutting its rocks out.
He heard a yelp of surprise from behind him and punched again. All the earth caved this time. Purple sprang from the fog as Viren frantically tried to balance himself against the changing training ground. Aaravos wouldn’t let him.
Another punch. The grounds exploded one last time - shooting everything back into the air once more as if they were natural spikes. Including Aaravos.
He used the momentum to close near Viren. Before he could land, a deep purple orb shot out. A shield. But it was uneven, distorted in its haste over the ruined earth. Aaravos landed on top of it with a thump. Calmly, he placed a gentle hand on the orb’s surface, feeling like he was touching a warm river current.
He’d won.
Viren was an excellent dark magic user, Aaravos could admit that.
But he was better.
Where he touched dissolved, the purple magic instead crawling over his arms like veins. Aaravos was his own magic staff.
He fell through and landed on his target, feet hitting Viren’s chest and knocking him over.
The orb burst like a bubble, turning into a mist that fell and dusted the earth in a sparkling, ethereal residue that resembled twilight.
Aaravos grabbed the staff from where Viren had dropped it and pointed it at the ground, eyes focusing on the groaning man.
The earth changed, morphing back to how it was originally along with the fog disappearing.
Viren struggled to stand up, bruises and scrapes from the earth attack visible on his exposed face. His eyes widened when he saw Aaravos had his staff and the training grounds were returning to their unadulterated form.
The mage took a step forward but stopped when Aaravos removed the key.
It was over.
Defeated, Viren’s disappointment set in.
Viren bowed and Aaravos followed. Then, the other exhaled.
“How are you not exhausted?”
Aaravos hadn’t expected that to be the first thing he said. He laughed, surprised.
“I - don’t feel anything?” he responded honestly.
They both looked down at his wobbling legs, painted red.
Several minutes later, they sat on the bench under the shade of the old tree. Viren finished bandaging Aaravos’ second leg as the elf finished mixing herbs.
“This will help the swelling,” Aaravos explained.
“How is it that you are well-versed in all subjects?” Viren said, sneering more than curious.
He shrugged, eyeing the human who was grimly applying the herbs without question to his face.
“I’ve had the time.”
“Hmph.”
“Do you not?”
Viren paused. “I am the Student Council Vice President for my class. Time is one thing I do not have, despite being expected to fulfill several obligations.”
Aaravos smiled. “You are impressive.”
“Impressive? I only know dark magic and you still broke through my barrier like it was child’s play.”
He shook his head and Viren peered up at him, frowning but waiting.
“No, Viren - you only know dark magic and yet you forced me to use several arcana to keep up. No one else has even come close to injuring me, and yet you proved potentially fatal on several occasions. You are impressive.”
“Oh.” The human showed the signs of his first smile. “Thank you.”
“Now - my winner’s request.”
The smile fell and Viren sat up straight, serious once again. Too much of that would ruin his good looks. Aaravos chuckled.
“I honor my promises, now what is your command?” Viren asked.
He’d already decided what he wanted long ago as he floated in the sky above the clouds, wondering if he went a little farther if he could truly become a Startouch elf.
“I command you - to be my student.”