Fallen Mage Regressor

Mal walked out over to the pillar and looked up at the sky.

Surprisingly, nobody else had volunteered to do this part. He wondered why.

”Hey!”

His voice rang out into the open air.

“What, too chicken to take me on?!”

Mal had no idea if magical beasts could understand human speech one-to-one.

A loud screech slammed against his ears, and he instinctively backed away. A grin came up on his face, and sweat dripped down his forehead.

Yeah, Mal had no idea if they could understand fully. But he was pretty sure that some things were just cross-species.

The bird flapped its wings and shot off like a bullet directly toward Mal’s position.

It became bigger and bigger in the sky as it got closer and closer. Mal licked his lips.

Wait for it.

Its feathers glinted in the sunlight.

Wait for it.

Its eyes were honed in on Mal.

Wait for it.

It came to a stop and flapped once, preparing its feather attack.

Now.

”Nima, go!” Mal shouted.

The smell of mana reached Mal’s nose. It was subtle. It reminded Mal vaguely of rotting fruit, sweet to the point of sickness.

The bird froze in midair.

In that moment, directly underneath, a blue light lit up the forest, the metal leaves and metal bark reflecting the light like a kaleidoscope.

Rolam erupted through the foliage. The leaves dug into his skin, and blood sprayed into the air. Mal winced. He probably should’ve given Rolam a little bit of the potion.

Still, Rolam didn’t look deterred in the slightest. His eyes were focused entirely on the Tungstenbat still frozen in midair.

The bird saw Rolam coming and tried to flap away, at the same time screeching.

Rolam came to just a few feet away from the bird.

He wound his hand back—

And threw the potion.

There was a glint of light from the potion moving through the air. It entered the bird’s beak in an instant.

The Tungstenbat flapped backward, but there was a noticeable slowness to it. Its eyes widened with panic, and it flapped again, but this time it was even less effective, merely diverting the path of its fall away from the forest and into the open clearing near the pillar.

Behind him, Rolam began to fall through the air.

”Philo!” he shouted. ”Philo, I’m falling!”

The Tungstenbat’s body tumbled through the air like a drunken acrobat. Mal took a few steps backward and then ducked behind the pillar. A loud crash erupted from behind him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.

Mal poked his head out to see the Tungstenbat dug halfway into the dirt like a crashed blimp. At the same time, there was another flash of blue light from within the forest.

Mal approached the body of the Tungstenbat.

From back in the forest, he saw Nima poke his head out. Philo walked into the clearing, his shoulders slumped and his breathing heavy. Behind him, Rolam looked almost deathly white, eyes fluttering like butterflies.

Mal took a closer look at the Tungstenbat.

It wasn’t moving. Its eyes were shut.

”Oh my goodness, I think we actually did it,” Nima whispered.

Mal frowned. That had been… way too easy. Surely that wasn’t the end of it.

“Philo has to admit, he wasn’t expecting this outcome.” Philo pushed his glasses up his snout and against his eyes. ”It was extremely smooth.”

Rolam stumbled forward, wiped the blood off his forehead, then snorted at the corpse of the Tungstenbat. ”Not so tough now, are you?”

Mal examined the stomach area. He stopped his own breathing, every part of his focus watching the bird for the slightest flicker of movement.

”I guess now we need to figure out what to do about the medallions.” Rolam walked over to the bird. ”Kind of funny, all that trouble and we’re back to square one—”

The bird’s beak moved by a half-inch.

Mal broke off into a dead sprint and slammed into Rolam with all his weight. The two went down, and a moment later, a blue metal feather rushed past them and clanged against a tree.

Rolam looked between the feather and the bird.

The eyes snapped open.

”Crap!” Rolam scrambled to his feet. ”It’s still alive!?”

Mal pushed himself up to a standing position. ”Clearly. The potion was enough to ground it, but not enough to take it out.”

The Tungstenbat lifted its neck up, one single inch at a time. Its chest rose off the ground, and it spread its wings, casting a shadow across the entire group.

Mal’s combat experience screamed at him.

”Behind the trees, now!” he shouted.

Mal broke off toward the trees, but quickly noticed that everybody else was rooted in their positions.

”Now!” he shouted even louder.

This seemed to break them out of it, and they stumbled backward, then sprinted.

The bird let out a scream. The smell of iron flooded Mal’s nose like a tidal wave. He darted behind a tree. A split second later, he saw the rest of the group do the same.

A tsunami of blue feathers erupted out of the Tungstenbat’s wings and slammed against the trees. Clang after clang after clang rang against Mal’s ears.

The attack stopped as suddenly as it started.

The silence was deafening.

And Mal couldn’t help but feel that he’d made a terrible mistake.

Mal kept his back pressed against the tree, heart hammering in his chest.

Up to the side, he could see Philo poke his head out from behind the tree to shoot a fireball from his mouth. Unfortunately, the shot went wide and disappated into the air.

It seemed that Philo’s statement that the first time had been a lucky shot was indeed true. Not that it would’ve mattered. Philo would’ve needed to have significantly more heat in order for that to work.

Nima, meanwhile, was curled up into a ball with his hands pressed against his ears, whispering phrases under his breath.

Mal could see that he wouldn’t be of much help going forward.

Rolam, on the other hand, was trying to summon a spell of some sort, but based off the fact that he kept freezing up and then clenching his fist in frustration, Mal could guess that the spell was fizzling out.

Mal shut his eyes and evaluated his options. He could try to make a run for it. But at this current angle, and this close to the bat, he’d be mowed down.

He might make it out, he might not. Either way, he could probably kiss his spot in the Academy goodbye after a fiasco like this.

His best shot might be convincing the others to run in other directions. If they broke off in different directions, then the bat would be forced to choose between them. If they were particularly lucky, the rest of them would get away scot-free.

Mal didn’t really have any moral compunctions about throwing his allies under the bus like this. But despite that, a small part of him recoiled at the idea of running.

Mal had run away in the past. He kept running over and over and over until he got to the point where he was strong enough that he’d never have to run away again.

But he was weak one more. There was no strength left in this body. It would take time to develop it into something stronger, something more powerful.

Right now, there wasn’t anything he could do.

Yet despite that, his pride raged inside of him, demanding that he fight against the Tungstenbat.

He sighed. Did he even have anything left up his sleeve? He could summon a basic arcane sphere. If he really pressed it, he could summon a small, virtually useless void orb. There were a few other things in his arsenal, of course, but they would take an obscene amount of time to summon. So long that the examiners might decide to just assume that the group gave up and teleport them out.

He pinched his skin. Still hard as metal, there was a noticeable flabbiness that hadn’t been there before. The potion was fading, and it was fading fast. It was a miracle that it had lasted as long as it did, but it seemed his luck was running out.

If he wanted to do something, now was the time to do it.

Direct attacks were out of the question. Hitting it over the head worked for the Ironwolf, but not something of this size. He wouldn’t be able to stab it, or slice it, or do any physical damage from the outside.

But what about from the inside?

They’d already targeted a projectile into its mouth, so it was possible. If Mal could get an arcane sphere inside the thing’s stomach, he might rip apart the internal organs.

In spite of himself, his heart rate began to speed up.

Well, his chances were already screwed anyway. He might as well go out with a bang.

Goosebumps ran down his spine. For a moment, he wasn’t in a forest, but on the battlefield once more. The smell of acrid smoke and blood drenched his nostrils. He blinked, and the vision was gone as quickly as it appeared.

He grinned and started to pass the aligned mana through his body, purifying it and running it along the surface of his core.

Nima looked over at him, poking his head up from its place in between his knees. ”Mal? What are you doing?”

”I’m gonna need all of you to distract it as much as you can.” Mal stood to his full height and straightened his back. ”Your illusions, any spells you have. Whatever you can do to get its attention off of me.”

Rolam paused his spellcasting and looked over at Mal with wide eyes. ”Mal? What are you planning to do?”

”I’m going to rip that thing apart from the inside out.”

Rolam’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. ”Wait, are you sure—”

Mal stepped out and faced toward the Tungstenbat. His core throbbed with power as the spell started to form inside his closed fist.

It instantly locked its eyes onto him and screeched, then glared at him hatefully and spread its wings out.

Mal ran toward one of the trees closer to the bat. Feathers launched out like arrows. One scraped against the back of his shirt and another cut some of his hair. He ducked behind the tree and took a few deep breaths. The rain of black feathers wasn’t stopping. If anything, it had increased in intensity.

”Guys, a little help!?” Mal shouted.

Philo poked his head out and looked at Mal incredulously. ”Spirits, he’s completely insane.”

”We have to help him!” Rolam shut his eyes and steeled himself before he found himself outside of cover and facing the bat. He flapped his arms around. ”Hey, I’m over here!”

Philo cursed and tilted out of cover, then blasted the Tungstenbat with his fire breath. The bat’s feather storm stopped and it adjusted its position to turn toward Rolam and Philo.

The two paled and quickly got behind the tree again. The bat’s feathers launched out once more as a hailstorm of metal.

Mal rushed out and got even closer until he was at the edge of the clearing. As soon as he arrived, he felt something shift inside of him. Somehow, he could sense that the potion had run out. To confirm, he pinched his skin and a small amount of blood trickled down his arm.

Last chance, his inner voice told him. If you go any further, you risk death.

But then again, Mal had already died. What was one more to add to the tally?

Mal ran toward the bat.

Instantly, its neck snapped toward Mal and it turned to adjust its feather storm.

Mal turned and ran along the side, trying to outrun the rate at which the bat could rotate. The feathers nipped at his heels. One landed and cut a thin scratch across his back.

He couldn’t keep running in a circle. He had to risk it.

He threw himself to the ground in the direction of the bat. A feather scratched against the top of his head but failed to score a deep cut. He scrambled along the ground until he was at the bat’s feet. It reached up with one of its talons to try to scratch him, and Mal spun out of the way. The feather storm stopped, and Mal took the opportunity to get back to his feet.

The spell was almost finished forming. His eyes darted up to the head. He needed to get behind it, but the back of its neck was where it wouldn’t be able to dislodge him.

The bat’s beak darted forward and Mal dodged. The bat retreated a bit before Mal could grab onto it. Mal ran and grabbed onto the feathers, ignoring the way they cut into his hand like daggers. He scrambled up the front like a madman. The bat screeched and ruffled itself in an attempt to throw Mal off. Mal continued, undeterred. He threw himself over the shoulder and onto the back.

He grinned. ”Checkmate.”

He opened his hand and the arcane sphere finished forming. The bat screeched, and Mal maneuvered the arcane sphere in front of the bat’s mouth. He made a pullback gesture and the arcane sphere rammed into the bat’s throat.

Mal tried to force the sphere further down its throat, but he could feel the resistance. It was trying to vomit the spell back out of its gullet. The bat swung its massive body to the left and Mal had to grip tighter on the feathers in order to avoid falling off. Rivulets of blood ran down Mal’s wrist and coated his sleeve and arm.

Damn it, I need more! It needs to be sharper, more powerful! Please!

Something ran down Mal’s spine. The smell of iron blocked all other scents.

The sphere rattled and spikes jutted out from the sphere, shredding into the throat.

He rammed the sphere further down. Almost at the stomach. The bat let out a strangled cry and tried once more to push against the sphere. Blue blood splattered from the motion, out of the creature’s throat and into the air. Mal gave one more tug and it went directly into the stomach. He cleaved through the stomach lining and punctured a massive hole in it.

Now given free rein, Mal focused on moving the sphere through the Tungstenbat’s body. The bat let out a weak cry and more blood trickled out of its beak. It stumbled backward, and Mal let the spell dissipate while also throwing himself off to the side.

The Tungstenbat fell back, dead.

Mal took several long, deep breaths.

A few hurried footsteps came from behind him.

”You actually did it.” Philo took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ”You actually killed it.”

A massive grin rose on Rolam’s face and he let out a whoop.

”That was the coolest thing I think I’ve ever seen!” he shouted. “How did you pull off those moves?”

Nima just stared at the corpse and didn’t even say a word.

Black crawled at the edges of Mal’s vision. He stumbled backward and caught himself at the last second.

”Whoa, whoa.” Rolam grabbed his back and held him steady. “Are you okay?”

”I think I pushed myself too hard,” Mal muttered. The black continued to expand, consuming more of his sight. ”If you get a chance, tell the teachers that…”

Philo leaned in. ”Yes? What?”

”Tell them that…” Mal resisted the urge to throw up. ”Tell them that I get half of the harvested materials from this thing.”

Philo’s face went completely deadpan. ”What?”

Before Mal could continue the conversation, the last of his strength left him and his mouth flapped shut.

I think that’s at least a passing grade. I just hope I didn’t attract too much attention.

His mind went unconscious, and all he knew was darkness.

The examiners were completely silent. Puck kept as straight a face as he could, but internally, he was screaming at the top of his lungs. Igna’s jaw had dropped. Vigil stroked his chin calmly, but his eyes were larger than they had been a few minutes ago.

It was almost like theater. There had been twists and turns, and last-second bursts of strength and heroism. Even Igna, with her dismissal of their weak cores, had been glued to the scrying orb when Mal had brazenly run directly for the Tungstenbat.

“That was…” Puck seemed to taste the air for the right word. “Interesting.”

“Interesting? I’ll just say it. That was downright incredible,” Vigil crossed his arms. “The level of ingenuity, the bravery from all of them—and that Mal boy has the makings of not just a great wizard, but an excellent leader. He took charge of the situation, came up with a plan, and was able to adapt and improvise when the plan failed. I wouldn’t expect this level of performance from my fifth-year students, much less from a first year.”

Igna grimaced, her lips tight around her face. “And though his ability as a spellcaster was… questionable, there’s no denying he knows potionmaking like the back of his hand. He either knew a recipe involving Ironwood trees, or he improvised it on the spot. Either way, it’s clear he was trained by a potions master and that he excels in the field.”

“Cassandra’s going to love him,” Vigil paused. “Actually, no, she’ll hate him. But she’ll at least ensure that he does well.”

Puck thought of something to contribute. It wouldn’t do for him to look completely inactive.

“What about the others?” he asked.

“They did excellently as well,” Vigil said. “The half-elf was brave. He put himself in the line of fire multiple times.”

Igna made a tiny noise and shook her head. “Yes, but his spellcasting was abysmal. I don’t think I recall him casting a single spell during the entire exam. It was all fizzles, one after another. That’s putting aside the fact that he’s a D-rank core.”

“Cores aren’t everything, Igna,” Vigil said.

“But they are important.” Her tone was stern. “That’s the same for all of them. I will admit that the Mal boy was impressive. And that Nima with his illusions didn’t do a half-bad job either. If they had stronger cores, I would accept them all without hesitation.”

Puck’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch. He turned and looked at Igna. “You’re voting not to allow them in?”

“Yes. Exodi’s for the elite of the elite. Not a half-elf reject, a terrified illusionist, and an F-rank of all things.” She paused. “The only one I would allow in is the draconid. Though I will admit that his… characteristics may be concerning, he’s still C-rank. He has potential. The rest of them do not.”

“I think you’re completely missing the forest for the trees,” Vigil said. “They defeated a Tungstenbat, Igna. A Tungstenbat. Is it only a grade 3 beast? Yes. But they were still pre-acceptance applicants. If that doesn’t earn them a spot in our Academy, I don’t know what will.”

“Again, I acknowledge that what they accomplished was impressive. They have futures, just not here.”

“You would let a potential potions prodigy slip out of our grasp on the basis of your bias against lesser cores?” Vigil scoffed. “I respect you greatly, Igna. But there are times when I seriously question your thought process.”

Igna’s face darkened at the statement. “You’re stepping over a line, Vigil.”

“Am I?” Vigil adjusted his coat. “You know, I’ve always wondered who would win between the two of us. You’re a fine mage, but you’ve only been in a handful of scraps. I’ve been fighting for most of my career.”

Igna’s eyes sharpened to pinpricks. “So cocky, aren’t you? The legendary enforcer who came back from the depths of hell. Sounds like it’s starting to go to your head.”

Vigil’s smile turned brittle. “I would recommend that you stop that line of conversation. Immediately.”

“Still sensitive? It’s been two years. Shouldn’t you be over it already?”

“I was down there for thirty.” Vigil’s eyes were sharp as steel knives. “I’ve been down there almost longer than I’ve been out of there. And thankfully, I can’t remember much of it, but you have no idea what I’ve been through.”

Oh, this wasn’t good.

Puck didn’t need his professors trying to kill each other a day before the school year started. The board would have his head on a spike.

“Let’s settle down here.” Puck suppressed the quaver in his voice as best as he could. “I know that there are strong feelings here, but let’s not go overboard.”

The two glared at each other before they both let out a sigh at the same time.

“My apologies, Igna,” Vigil said.

Igna rolled her eyes. “Same here. No need to get personal about it.” She looked over at the scrying orb. “We still haven’t decided what we’re going to do about that group.”

“I think it’s clear what my vote is,” Vigil said. “I think all of them should be allowed in.”

“The only one I’m giving a pass to is the draconid.” Igna snorted. “And I suppose we’re going to ignore the fact that every single one of them failed to complete the objective?”

“You and I both know that neither of us care about that,” Vigil responded.

With both votes cast, Igna and Vigil turned and stared at Puck.

It was down to him. He would be the deciding vote. Given Vigil’s small smile and Igna’s sharp stare, they both expected that Puck would vote yes.

And Puck was tempted to—but at the same time, he was fearful of what Igna would do if he pushed too far.

Again, if she didn’t care that much about the students, he would have been far more confident casting a yes vote.

But because she was so adamantly arguing against them, it would attract attention if he voted against her. If he pushed too hard, voted too many times against her, then she might get mad. If she got mad, maybe she’d press a little harder on the fact that he hadn’t actually done any advanced magic past the most basic of first-year spells. And if he was pressed on that, it would quickly be exposed that he was a massive, lying fraud.

Frankly, as much as it pained him to disappoint Vigil, he was starting to lean in favor of voting no.

But something inside of him recoiled at making that choice.

Something was screaming within him that it would be a massive loss to the Academy if these four were allowed to leave.

Puck was possibly the worst wizard in the Academy, which was saying an enormous amount, given the number of barely-legal teenagers that went here. He was a coward, and he wasn’t particularly clever. The only thing he really had going for him was that he was a damn good liar and…

His intuition, which had gotten him out of a jam many a time.

And right now, that intuition was about to strangle him by the throat if he refused to listen to it.

He pursed his lips, then nodded. “I’m voting yes.”

Vigil’s small smile turned into an almost grin, while Igna scoffed.

“You know that almost all of them are just going to be steppingstones for the actual prodigies of the school.”

“I truly believe that they’re going to surprise you,” Vigil said.

“When the first hero returns,” she said.

Vigil summoned a book in front of him. It floated and opened up its pages.

“Professor Vigil,” the book said. “How may I assist you?”

“I think we’re ready to start marking down names for acceptance,” Vigil crossed his arms. “We have four.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “What were their names again?”

“Nima Blackthorne, Rolam Knilum, Philo—no last name—and…” Her voice trailed off. “Malfrasius Patoal.”

“And what Circle will they be assigned to? What scores do you plan to give each of them?”

Igna and Vigil stared at each other, and Puck could’ve sworn that lightning flashed between the two of their eyes. Knowing their prodigious talents as wizards, Puck wouldn’t have counted that outside the realm of possibility.

This was going to be a painful conversation. Puck resigned himself to talking the both of them down from, once again, attempting to kill each other.

I’m not paid enough for this.