I set the class for seven pm, an hour after the rowdies usually came in, grumbling about their “long day’s ride” and grueling trip “on the wagon.” Unsurprisingly, it turned into a total fiasco, with everyone complaining that they couldn't drink and watch at the same time. So Manta, at his wits’ end, came down to yell at me for what felt like the sixth time. Fortunately for me, I witnessed the exact moment Emilia showed him the pre-class books:

  Over thirteen hundred hawks: all in one night.

  A good deal came from challengers—thirty-four in total. Some just wanted to unload on me for talking shit, but most were enticed by the offer to teach them a periwinkle-rank spell. Periwinkle was, after all, pretty strong for Beyonders. To them, scarlet was the pinnacle of magic. Below it came garnet, amethyst, and then periwinkle—fourth from the top. The guild had plenty of periwinkle spells, and all of them were a thousand hawks or more. That’s why, after I made a soul pact declaring that I, indeed, had over ten periwinkle spells, many with edgy names like “Thunder Jaws” and “Diamond Skin,” it became a landslide to sign up. Some people thought they could win; others treated it like gambling. The rest just came to watch or take the class—including four people who paid Manta’s full one-fifty to buy the spell.

  It was a hell of a lot of money; that’s why Manta rubbed his head and broke protocol, opening the doors to drinkers on the condition they paid double to drink in the gym. No one cared. They dropped six doves a mug to drink while watching the “bloodbath.”

  Then, the clock struck seven, and I gave my pretentious speech.

  “Welcome one, welcome all, to the most extravagant display of magic you’re sure to ever see! Tonight, you will witness the might of your fellow adventurers! A display of fire, wind, and electricity! Crackling thunder; booming explosions! All directed at me, the Marvelous Mister Valayan, who will, as promised, only use one spell: Wind Dance. But I will warn you right now: it's powerful. So powerful that even mythrils quake in their boots at its very name. So, if you want even the slightest hope of winning”—I scanned their faces seriously—“aim to kill.”

  No one did at first—no one ever does. But after the contestants saw me shatter a man’s ribs with a finger flick, and destroy a woman’s ice meteor with a wave of my wrist—no one had any reservations.

  Compressed wind bombs rained down on me. Then came the homing arrows—the blinding spells. Illusions, shadow summons—gravity itself. Every color of the rainbow flashed underneath that orange ward barrier, stressing its power—but it was to no avail. It was a rout—a massacre—a true spectacle in every sense of the word.

  That night, wind was the true meaning of magic: not only did it win me the fights, but it made me an extravagant sum of money and also something I hadn’t expected—

  Friends.

  I had unloaded ten hawks on the bartop and said, “Tonight you drink free!” It was only to buy back my popularity after swindling them blind (at least it felt that way), but it turned out that adventurers respected power more than anything. They promoted me from “pretty boy” to “powerful pretty boy” a designation I found disagreeable, but a solid improvement from the last one. So, I drank and drank and drank, listening to stories, and through it all—

  I wished Sara was there. She was away on a mission (I asked twice—once drunkenly) and—for whatever reason—the tavern felt slightly empty, despite it being overwhelmingly full. I hoped she’d return soon.

  —Sara—

  Now that Sara had taught Kalas how to tell time, she felt strangely obligated to get him a watch. That’s why she went to a watchmaker’s shop the second she returned with funds from her latest mission, searching for a present. Nia, her best friend and party member, followed her around the quirky shop, harping on her for the decision.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Nia asked. “I mean, you’ve met the man, what? Twice?”

  Sara winced, fixing her gaze on a set of skeleton watches. She turned back. “Yeah, but… you just had to be there. There was just this… connection.”

  Nia smiled impishly. “Yeah, it’s called charm.” She leaned in and repeated herself. “Charm.”

  “But he wasn’t charming. He hadn’t even met someone his age before. And even if he was, I just… want to. Is that so bad?”

  Nia studied Sara, tracing her finger on a glass case. “Maybe,” she warned. “I mean, not to be the bearer of bad news, but I overheard that woman say he was leaving next week.”

  (Time’s running out.)

  Those words popped into Sara’s mind intrusively. She shrugged them off and answered. “Yeah. He mentioned he was traveling the other night, too.”

  “So… what?” Nia asked. “You’re just planning to buy him an expensive watch and then wave goodbye?”

  Sara turned away, focusing on the gold watches to avoid her gaze.

  Nia stilled her finger. “Oh no… you’re not thinking about joining him, are you?”

  A harsh silence passed, made uncomfortable by the watchmaker’s unwillingness to approach them. Sara didn't blame him. Nia was wearing a breast wrap and hot pants (“normal Carigan summer garb,” as she always put it) in a city where women wore two layers of underwear underneath their dresses. And while Nia loved watching posh women blush and whisper furiously to each other, innocent gentlemen like the watchmaker were caught in the crossfire.

  “Well?” Nia asked, tapping the glass.

  “You're making it sound like I'm running off to get married,” Sara said. “Traveling around aimlessly is like a… fairy tale. It’s a dream. But you can’t just do it. Mom’s pushing me to attend mixers ‘before the good one’s are taken,’ and Dad’s afraid of me traveling alone. But then Kalas came along. Mage. Traveler”—

  “Handsome.”

  —“Handsome,” Sara confirmed, turning away. “It doesn’t hurt.” She blushed, and then whirled back. “Besides: what’s the worst thing that can happen?”

  (He says no.)

  “It’s not like I have to stay,” Sara pressed. “I’m one train ride away from coming home. It’s worth asking, right?”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Nia thought about it, walking around the watch cases as the watchmaker moved around to avoid looking at her. “Okay,” she said obliviously. “That’s a good enough reason. But… what about your contract? Don’t you got another three years?”

  “Not if I become a Requia.”

  “Ah… so that’s what this is about…” Everything clicked for Nia. The only reason Sara could entertain the talk was because she was taking the Requia test; if she passed it, she’d be freed from her governmental contracts and could leave Amia. Everyone had been so confident that she would become one that she started to believe it and found herself entertaining step-two possibilities. Nia was one of the believers, so instead of pushing back, she ran her fingers through the back of her short hair multiple times, massaging her scalp as she said, “Okay… Well… if you’re serious about this, you should probably travel with the guy first.”

  Sara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because that clearly makes sense.”

  “Don’t worry, I got an idea,” Nia said, glancing at the clock. “In the meantime…” She pointed at a sterling silver watch with a mythical bird engraved on it. “Buy ‘em an heirloom,” Nia said. “If he’s traveling with you—he’ll need it.”

  The watchmaker suddenly lost his aversion to Nia’s half-naked visage the second she pointed at a fifty-hawk watch. “Would you like to see it?” he asked.

  “No,” Sara said. A gift of that price said things, and more importantly, “I can’t afford—”

  “Yes,” Nia interrupted. “Don’t worry, we’re about to take on a job, so she’s richer than she thinks.”

  Sara planned to reject the watch outright until the word (last)—as in built to last—entered her mind. It was unclear why that word stuck with her, but it did. She bought the watch. It was 7:31 am.

  —Kalas—

  It was nine am, a mere six hours after last night’s party stopped, when hell broke loose in the guild hall. To my shock, there were—somehow—even more people in the gym than there had been during my grand event.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Emilia.

  “Oh, you’ll see~,” she said.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’ll give me?”

  “Trust me, you’ll~see.”

  Once I pushed through the gym and reached the stage, I did indeed understand what the fuss was about. In the center of the crowd was a charming young woman with golden hair, accompanied by three friends. One was a breast wrapped woman with abs as cut as mine. Another had a faded cut and a bow slung across his shoulder, and a third wore ominous beast tattoos across his arms.

  The name “Platinum Star” rippled through the crowd.

  “Okay…” I said. “As customary, is there anyone who wishes to start the lesson by challenging Wind Dance?”

  I glanced directly at Sara, and a wave of oohs and grinning faces followed. This is what people came here to see—and I was giving it to them. The archer turned to Sara and said, “Do it.” Lady Breast Wrap said, “Don’t go easy.”

  Sara ignored them, keeping eye contact with a slight smile. The mood shifted a moment later. She didn’t change her expression—or perhaps it was because she didn’t change it—but the entire room fell silent, awaiting her answer.

  “No restrictions?” Sara asked.

  “No restrictions,” I said.

  “And if I win?”

  “I’ll teach you a periwinkle spell of your choosing.”

  “I got plenty. What else?” She raised and lowered her eyebrows.

  “I’ll… buy you dinner?” I joked.

  I expected a flat rejection or flustered face. Instead, I got: “Okay.”

  (What?)

  My mind slammed into an ocean current, losing connection with reality.

  “And if you win?” she asked loudly, forcing her voice over the buzzing gossip.

  I laughed, still confused. “You’ll take me to dinner,” I said, half-mockingly. I waited for a pause and added, “And you’ll let me pay.”

  Sara giggled involuntarily, laughing with the surprised crowd. She threw up her hands playfully. She walked to the stage and picked up a practice sword from a rack. “I accept. But I should warn you…” She stared into my eyes. “You should use some enchantments.” She cast [haste] onto herself, glowing gold before fading.

  “That’s against my rules,” I said.

  (Unfortunately.)

  (That core’s way stronger than Bal's.)

  Sara’s core was far more open and refined than Balphoa’s—and I used enchantments to win against him—a lot of them. It was necessary. Skill could only take you so far when the person you were fighting was vastly faster, sharper, and stronger than you due to enchantments.

  Still—I didn’t plan to lose.

  Sara saw my dawning grin and shrugged. “Okay… Well, don’t complain when it’s over.” Her body blurred as she shot toward me. She was fast. She caught up before I could pull my hand back for a hand wave attack. She thought she won, but a wind blade shot out of my elbow.

  I watched her panic and slice through the blade, skidding backward across the stage. I smirked and flicked my fingers, shooting blades with every motion.

  Sara dodged like a hallucinogenic blur, leaving afterimages of her ponytail as she moved around the stage. Suddenly, she lunged forward, aiming her sword at my gut. I dodged at the last second, flicking wind blades into her stomach. They blasted into her, sending her sliding to the edge of the stage—her armor glowing with green inscriptions.

  The cheering followed three seconds later like the clap of distant thunder.

  “Guess I’m not winning with sword skills alone,” Sara remarked.

  “Doesn’t look like it, no,” I said.

  “Well then…” She traced her hand over the blade, and it turned to ice. “If I’m using magic—I might as well go all the way.” Her mouth mumbled silent words, and her body lit up with multiple colors.

  I watched steam froth off her sword like the surface of a fresh teacup—and then she attacked.

  I shot a wind blade at her, but when she sliced through it, an arcing wall of white frost shot at me. I dodged and threw another wind blade at her sword’s next arc. The wind and frost clashed, and to Sara’s apparent shock, the wind blasted through her ice.

  Her surprise was a feint.

  Sara formed hovering ice arrows behind me—shooting them in a sneak attack. I dodged and cut them in half with one motion.

  “Damn it,” Sara said, spinning her sword playfully. “So much for saying I cheated.”

  “I appreciate the consideration,” I said, grinning.

  “Well… anyway.” She lifted her hand and spoke the words, “Crystal Chandelier.” It was a fitting name for the spell. Two hundred ice lances formed in the sky, refracting sharp rainbows onto the stage. My students gasped in a state of rapture. “I really want that dinner,” she said. “So…”

  She swiped her hand down, and the ice lances rained down like homing arrows.

  I spun my body, and an overwhelming blast of wind crashed into them, sending them flying back into the barrier. Sara stumbled back in surprise as I landed, then ran backward as I charged her.

  Sara thrust up her hand, and a wall of ice shot toward the ceiling.

  I didn’t give her time. I rotated my wrist, and a spiraling lance of wind hit the solid structure, cracking it. I then hit it with a blunt explosion of wind, and ice blasted out at Sara in an explosion.

  She shielded her eyes to protect them from the ice shards. I readied my hand for the winning strike at the same moment, wind swirling in my palm—

  But I didn’t throw it.

  For some reason: I didn’t want to.

  The wind stilled in my hand just as wind formed in hers.

  The next moment: “[Blunt Razor Wind].”