Independence
“We’ll start with seven. Prepare yourself.”
“Yes! I’m ready.”
Roughly one year had passed since their visit to the Administrator’s Castle, and Eron remained wholly immersed in training under his master, Merna.
“Here it comes, Eron.”
With those words, seven massive spears of water materialized around her.
“Ifrit, I’ll handle the shape and targeting.”
“Got it! Here I come!”
Eron thrust forward a staff taller than himself, channeling his spell into motion.
The moment magic coursed into the crimson-hued timber, the jewel mounted at its crest flared to life, casting a radiant azure glow across the clearing.
In sync with the staff's brilliant radiance, seven discs forged of pure flame manifested around Eron.
They snapped into place with pinpoint accuracy, intercepting Merna’s incoming spears at the exact angles of trajectory and blunting her magic in an explosive sizzle of steam.
“Next one, let’s go!!”
With Ifrit’s exuberant shout, the flaming discs instantly morphed into razor-sharp, spinning cones.
This really is incredible.
Under normal circumstances, transfiguring an active spell into a completely different form mid-flight was considered fundamentally impossible. That was doubly true for Natural Magic, which channeled mana to manifest elemental forces bound to the rigid geometric blueprints of a magic circle. Unless the casting failed catastrophically, deviating from the spell’s predetermined shape was unheard of, and reshaping it once materialized was beyond mortal reach.
Yet two factors shattered that absolute rule: invoking magic through an elemental spirit, and wielding a staff forged from the Hybrid Grand Dragon Heart.
Spirits were incarnations of nature itself. Because their power was primal nature unbridled, its shape could be guided freely to will. Furthermore, while the Grand Chimera Dragon was a crossbreed, genuine dragon blood coursed through its veins. The staff empowered by its heart resonated seamlessly with the spirit's raw essence, defying conventional laws to bend materialized magic on a whim.
Boom! Crash!
The cone-shaped volleys of fire streaked straight toward Merna, detonating squarely against her position.
“Hell yeah! Wai—ack! What the heck?! She’s completely fine?! That monstrous woman!”
“Of course she is. Did you really think that would take her down?”
“Not bad,” Merna said, her lips curving into a dry smirk. “Shall we raise the stakes, then? Twelve this time.”
Twelve water spears—each far larger than the last volley—coalesced in the air behind her.
“What are we doing about this?!”
“This is... too many to predict! Go with flame orbs!”
“Then let’s hit her with the Fire Elemental Rising Bl—”
“Cut the names! Just flame orbs!”
Ignoring Ifrit’s grandiose theatrics, Eron backpedaled and swept his staff in a wide arc. Azure light cascaded from the tip as a barrage of flame orbs, each roughly the size of a human head, poured into the open air.
Standard magical doctrine dictated that an efficient combatant anticipate the enemy’s offense and deploy only the minimum required defense. Eron, however, was liberated from the shackles of magical efficiency. Channelling the boundless ambient mana supplied by spirits granted him the rare privilege of sheer, overwhelming extravagance.
Bang! Boom!
The frantic barrage intercepted Merna’s water spears, shattering their structure before detonating violently. Black smoke billowed outward, enveloping the battlefield in an impenetrable screen.
“Hey! Break left, now!”
Eron moved instantaneously on Ifrit’s command, which remained entirely inaudible to Merna. Directing the surviving flame orbs that hadn't collided with the spears, he looped them through the thick smoke screen and fired directly at where Merna stood blind.
“Oho... You’ve actually put some thought into this.”
Kaboom!
Even as her amused praise cut through the haze, the cluster of blazing orbs slammed down around her.
“We did it!! We got her good!”
Delirious with joy at their plan succeeding, Ifrit pranced atop Eron’s shoulder in a victory dance.
We played to our strengths as best we could. Surely that was enough to—
Just as Eron allowed himself a glimmer of hope:
“A clever strategy. Against anyone else, that would have worked wonders.”
Whoosh!
A sudden, violent gust swept the clearing clean, unveiling Merna standing completely unharmed.
“Ugh! Not even that worked?! That monster woman!”
“As expected of Master.”
“Why are you smiling?! Our spell didn’t even leave a scratch!”
Though it hadn't dealt any real damage, the fact that Merna herself acknowledged the strategy would have crippled any other opponent was praise enough. He hadn't realistically expected to overcome an Archmage in the first place. Even so, a slight twinge of regret lingered in his chest.
Should the cast have been faster? Or did it lack explosive power?
Setting his frustration aside, Eron immediately began dissecting how to refine the sequence.
“You managed to scorch my robe,” Merna noted coolly. “I’d say that easily qualifies as a passing grade.”
“Her clothes? What clothes? Huh? That?! Are you talking about that tiny smudge?!”
There was indeed a minuscule char mark at the very hem of her shoulder. Strictly speaking, he had burned it—if only by a fraction of a thread. It was easy to see why Ifrit was throwing a tantrum.
Merna was an Archmage who held a prestigious Ranked Seat. For Eron, who had picked up magic a mere year prior, leaving any trace of an attack on her person was a staggering accomplishment. Yet, earning a passing mark over a singed thread did feel somewhat anticlimactic.
“We can halt the training for the time being,” Merna said, brushing off the soot.
“Then does that mean...?”
“It is time you went out and saw the world.”
To experience the wider world. It sounded simple, yet to a spellcaster, nothing was more vital. Broadening one's horizons and cultivating an open mind were essential prerequisites for reaching the pinnacle of magic.
“Particularly for you, who wields magic with greater freedom than anyone alive. Experiencing the world will be its own form of cultivation.”
Seeing the world...
Having spent years imprisoned within his family's oppressive manor, the thought sent a jolt of raw excitement through Eron’s chest.
“We leave immediately,” Merna said briskly. “There is much ground to cover.”
“Yes, Master!”
That very day, Eron departed the nation where he had spent over a decade of his life, embarking alongside Merna into the boundless world beyond.
“Are you fifteen as of today?”
“Yes. My birthday was just a few days ago, so I’m fifteen now.”
“It has been a little over five years, then.”
Five years had passed since Eron met Merna and cast off his noble lineage. After wandering the continents by her side and honing his craft, he now stood on the threshold of complete independence as a full-fledged mage.
“This was where you fought your first real battle, wasn't it?”
“Yes. Where we faced the Grand Chimera Dragon.”
Returning to the windswept cliff where the colossal beast had met its end, Eron and Merna commenced his rite of independence.
“Tedious formalities are a bore, so let us dispense with them. Take this.”
“Is this... a pendant?”
Merna held out a delicate silver chain set with an alluring, luminous violet jewel.
“It is an ancient custom to bestow an ornamental keepsake upon an apprentice when they strike out on their own. Nowadays, most settle for handing over a crest of their magical school, but I prefer the old ways.”
Accepting the gift with reverent care, Eron draped the pendant around his neck.
Her voice rang out, solemn and unyielding, yet beneath the ceremony lay an unmistakable warmth that reached straight into Eron’s heart.
“With that, Eron, you are an independent mage.”
“Huh? That’s... all?”
The sheer anticlimax snapped the tension right out of Eron, leaving him blinking in bewilderment.
“Did I not just say we would skip the bothersome nonsense?”
“I mean, sure, but isn't this taking it a bit too far...?”
He knew her eccentric temper better than anyone, and he was hardly someone who enjoyed stuffy pageantry. Even so, wasn't this a little *too* casual? Five years of traveling together had taught him everything about her character, yet standing at the finish line of their mentorship, a quiet pang of wistfulness remained.
“Wipe that expression off your face. It is not as though we shall never meet again.”
“I suppose so, but...”
“Eron.”
“Ah? Yes?”
Merna closed the distance between them and gently placed a hand atop his head, ruffling his hair.
Wait... what is this?
Eron froze stiff on the spot, utterly stunned by a tender gesture she had never once shown in their entire five years together.
“You were once so much smaller than me,” she murmured softly, her eyes lingering on his face. “And now, you look down on me from above.”
“M-Master?”
“Two years from now, several Archmages holding Ranked Seats will convene. It has been quite some time, but I intend to make an appearance.”
See you then. That was the unspoken promise tucked beneath her words, and Eron caught it clearly.
“You still have a long road ahead before you reach your ultimate ambition. I look forward to seeing how much further you grow, Eron.”
“Yes, Master! Thank you for everything you’ve done for me!”
They might have sounded like ordinary parting words from a mentor, but to Eron, they meant the world. The depth of her faith and affection rang clear in every syllable.
Looking down at her deeply bowing disciple, Merna swallowed the lingering words rising in her throat. Spoken advice carried invisible weight; there was no telling how her parting guidance might inadvertently tether his ambitions.
A mage—especially a young one—needed to be freer than the wind itself. She refused to place any preconceptions or artificial boundaries upon the horizon he would carve for himself.
Without another word, Merna turned on her heel and strode down the mountain trail, leaving her disciple behind with his head still bowed in gratitude.
She was returning to the solitary journey she had walked for decades. Yet as the gravel crunched beneath her boots, the familiar solitude felt strangely, terribly hollow.
When Eron finally lifted his head, Merna had vanished into the mountain mist without a trace.
Gazing down at the lone set of footprints fading into the dirt, an overwhelming sense of reality washed over him.
This is where it truly begins.
His path as an independent mage. A solitary journey as the spellcaster Eron...
Wait a second. Did we forget something...?
Clink.
Eron patted his coat pockets, and the cold truth hit him like a bucket of icy water.
All he possessed in the entire world were a few copper coins jingling against his knuckles. It looked like barely enough to afford a single night's bunk at a roadside tavern.
Surely she hadn't done this intentionally. His master was a staunch believer in strict self-reliance, but she was never the type to force unreasonable misery upon him out of spite.
She probably just completely forgot.
By standard continental convention, when an apprentice embarked on their inaugural journey, the master provided a modest travel stipend. Especially when the apprentice lacked fixed employment, an initial fund was essential to sustain them while finding their footing. Fledgling mages rarely secured lucrative mercenary work or administrative commissions right out of the gate.
Jingle.
Eron counted the meager copper pieces once more, desperately hoping mathematics would bend in his favor.
“Is this really happening?”
Alas, reality offered no miracles.
“I have no money...”
Merna was fundamentally an imposing, near-flawless figure, but whenever her attention fixated on a grand ideal, mundane details slipped right through her fingers. For the past five years, it had been Eron who quietly managed their funds and patched up those domestic oversights.
Yet today, swept up in the solemn farewell, Eron had lacked the presence of mind to verify the coin pouch.
“What am I supposed to do now...?”
And just like that, before his glorious new life as an independent mage could take its very first stride, Eron’s grand voyage crashed headlong into absolute destitution.