The Pursuit Of Catalyst: A Dive Into Another Verse

Imperial Asphalia Academy – Lecture Hall

The atmosphere in the academy had shifted.

The incident in Dorm Room 142 had rattled the entire campus. Protective enchantments were being reinforced, and whispers still circulated through the marble corridors. But life, as always, pressed forward.

With the start of a new month, the lecture schedule had also undergone a transformation. The focus now turned toward advanced elemental training—Fire, Wind, and Light magic were to be taught in rotation.

Inside the vast lecture hall, the students took their usual seats, the memory of recent events still fresh but slowly being compartmentalized. Sylves sat in the back row, flanked by Ashia on one side and Prince Elas on the other. Serena joined them shortly, looking more confident than before.

Moments later, the heavy wooden doors creaked open, and a young man with short, flame-colored hair and a commanding presence stepped into the hall. His crimson robes fluttered slightly with each step, embroidered with subtle golden runes that shimmered under the sunlight streaming through the arched windows.

He approached the podium, his eyes scanning the class with sharp intensity.

"Good morning," he said, his voice steady and full of restrained energy. "I am Professor Voltis Baren, and I will be your instructor for Fire Magic over the next few weeks."

Some students straightened instinctively, sensing the raw elemental pressure that lingered around him like heat on a summer's edge.

"Fire is the element of will, destruction, transformation, and passion," Ignias continued. "It can warm nations or reduce them to ash. Those who wield it must learn discipline before power—or they'll be consumed by it."

He raised his hand. A small spark flared to life above his palm, dancing in the air before spiraling into a controlled ribbon of flame. The students watched, captivated.

"By the end of this week," he said, "you will not only learn how to conjure fire—but how to command it. Now, open your spellbooks to Chapter One: The Birth of Flame."

Imperial Asphalia Academy – Fire Magic Lecture, Day One

Professor Voltis Baren paced slowly across the polished stone dais, his boots tapping rhythmically as he spoke.

"Fire Magic begins with emotion—but survives on will. Without control, your flame becomes chaos. With mastery… it becomes law."

He gestured toward the blackboard, where a series of magical runes shimmered into visibility. With a flick of his hand, they rearranged into the elemental sigil for fire.

"Now, who can tell me the three classifications of Fire Magic?"

A pause.

Then, a hand shot up—it was Serena Lawrance, her posture composed despite her hesitation.

"Yes, Miss Lawrance?"

Serena stood. "The three classifications are: Ignition, which is the basic spark; Manipulation, which shapes the flame; and Amplification, which increases intensity and area of effect."

Professor Voltis nodded, clearly pleased. "Excellent. You've done your reading. Five merit points to Miss Lawrance."

Serena blushed and sat down quietly. Ashia leaned over and whispered something with a smile, and Serena's nerves melted slightly.

Professor Voltis turned to the class again. "But remember—these categories only define application, not intention. Intention determines everything. Even a flicker of harmless flame can kill if misdirected."

He snapped his fingers, and a puff of flame appeared on his shoulder. "Now, let's see… Mr. Ellesmere. You've been quite the talk of the academy lately."

Sylves stood, composed. "Yes, Professor?"

"If you were in a forest surrounded by enemies, low on mana, and had only enough energy for a basic flame… what would you do with it?"

Sylves didn't hesitate. "I would use ignition, but I'd light the surrounding brush to create a barrier of smoke and flame—not to harm, but to escape or buy time. Fire isn't always for attacking."

A long silence followed.

Professor Voltis nodded slowly. "Correct. Fire is not mindless. It listens… if you know how to speak its language. Very well-thought-out."

Another voice chimed in from the front—Kavel Razenburg, his pride still bruised from his earlier encounter with Sylves. "Professor, isn't fire inherently destructive? Why waste time with restraint?"

The professor's expression hardened. "A blade that cuts without reason is a murderer's tool. Fire that burns without reason is the same."

Kavel scowled, but said no more.

The class was quiet for a moment, then Ashia raised her hand—timid, but curious.

"Yes, Miss Ashia?"

"If a person feels fear while using Fire Magic… could the fire act on that fear?"

The question gave Professor Voltis pause. "A good question. Emotions, particularly intense ones, do influence spellcasting. Fear can make fire lash out. But with training, a mage can channel fear into precision. Fire is dangerous, yes—but it can also become an extension of your instincts. You must trust yourself."

Ashia smiled slightly, reassured.

"Now," Voltis said, clapping his hands once, "pair up. We'll attempt basic sparking exercises outside. Remember: think. Don't just burn."

As the students stood, whispers flitted among them—but Sylves, Ashia, Elas, and Serena moved in quiet focus.

Fire was no longer just an element.

It was a test of will.

Imperial Asphalia Academy – Fire Magic Practical Training

Professor Voltis Baren, a broad-shouldered man with a flame-embroidered robe and smoldering eyes, stepped onto the training grounds. His very presence radiated heat—as though he was fire itself.

"Today," he began, his voice like flint striking stone, "we ignite our first flames. This is not about power. It is about control. Fire respects only those who understand it."

He turned, snapping his fingers.

A small ember danced to life above his palm.

"This is sparking—the core of all fire spells. You will summon flame through concentration and inner heat. Not everyone can do it... and that's fine. Know your element. Respect the others."

Whispers stirred among the first years. Some looked excited. Others nervous.

The students fanned out, each in a marked zone. Sylves stood with calm confidence, Ashia beside him, wringing her fingers. Serena, several steps away, clenched her jaw as though willing her nerves to disappear.

Sylves extended his palm and focused. A soft hum of mana pulsed through him—and with a thought, a spark hissed to life.

"Ashia, are you okay?" he asked quietly.

She gave a tight smile. "I… I'm trying. But I feel nothing. No warmth. Nothing stirs."

Sylves nodded. "Then don't force it. Your magic lies elsewhere."

Nearby, Serena sat cross-legged, brow furrowed. Her palms were red from effort.

Professor Voltis stalked the lines, observing sparks sputter and flicker. When he passed Serena, he paused.

"No flame?" he asked sharply.

Serena stood and bowed her head. "No affinity, Professor."

He grunted. "Hmph. Rare is the spark in all. Fire is not meant for everyone. It's meant for those with heat in their blood. Try not to be disappointed."

Ashia received a similar response, though his tone was more neutral.

Meanwhile, Prince Elas grinned proudly as a dancing flame hovered in his hand—but it grew too quickly.

"Douse it!" Voltis barked.

Elas clenched his fist, extinguishing the burst before it grew wild. He nodded sheepishly. "Still learning…"

The professor turned to Sylves.

"Ellesmere. Let's see yours."

Sylves held his hand steady. A flicker. A pulse. A flame emerged, perfectly controlled, bright but compact.

Voltis stared.

"…You're not just talented. You've done this before."

Sylves met his eyes evenly. "Once. A long time ago."

The professor gave a short nod. "Good. But do not let early power make you arrogant. Even the strongest flame consumes itself if left unchecked."

As the session concluded, students murmured among themselves. Some had succeeded. Others had failed. And a few, like Ashia and Serena, had only silence in their hands.

But Sylves turned to them with a smile.

"It's not a weakness," he said. "It just means your strength lies somewhere else."

Ashia looked up, the disappointment softening in her eyes.

Serena managed a faint smile. "The manalith crystal showed light madixlc for me... But as you know it is possible to posses more than one element... So I checked for fire, and I failed."

Professor Voltis raised his voice. "Fire chooses its bearer. But greatness chooses those who endure. Class dismissed."

As the students filed out, the first spark of purpose ignited—not in their hands, but in their hearts.

Imperial Asphalia Academy – Wind Magic: The Dance of the Invisible

The morning air carried a refreshing coolness as students walked toward the lecture hall, their robes fluttering gently in the breeze. The heat of yesterday's Fire Magic class had passed, but the tension remained, especially for those who hadn't performed well. Today was Wind Magic—a subject both mysterious and elusive.

Inside the hall, a tall man with tousled grey hair and pale green eyes stood waiting at the front. His robe, embroidered with swirling cloud patterns, moved slightly though there was no draft.

"I am Professor Aeolus Krenn," he said with a voice as smooth as flowing air. "I shall be teaching Wind Magic—the art of subtlety, precision, and grace."

He raised his hand and exhaled lightly. A gentle spiral of wind flowed from his palm, snaking across the desks and sending papers fluttering—then returning like a ribbon of mist.

"Unlike Fire or Earth, Wind Magic is not brute force. You cannot command it like a soldier. You must invite it like a dance partner. Now… follow me to the East Grounds for practical training."

---

East Grounds – Wind Practical Training

They arrived at a sprawling meadow bordered by silver-barked trees, the leaves rustling softly. The air here felt alive—brimming with movement.

"Stand in a circle," Aeolus instructed. "Close your eyes. Listen. Wind is not summoned by shouting spells—it's drawn by stillness, by calm understanding."

The students obeyed.

Sylves exhaled slowly, raising his hand as his mana reached out. "Aero," he whispered.

A soft swirl of wind spiraled up from his palm, coiling gently around his arm like a living thread. Prince Elas did the same, conjuring a small but visible spiral that lifted his hair.

Ashia, meanwhile, stood quietly, her hand raised. She whispered the incantation—but nothing responded. Again. And again. Still, not even a gust.

"I don't feel anything," she muttered. "Not like Fire… not like anything."

Professor Aeolus passed behind her. "It's alright," he said gently. "Not every spirit answers every call. The Wind may not speak your language yet."

Ashia bowed slightly, trying to hide her disappointment.

Just a few steps away, Serena stood with her eyes shut, her hair fluttering in a breeze no one else could feel. She whispered "Aero" softly.

A gust bloomed around her feet. A quiet spiral swirled up, lifting her gently tousled chestnut hair. She gasped.

"I did it…!"

Sylves turned, watching her. "Well done, Serena. That looked effortless."

Serena blushed lightly. "It… felt right, somehow."

"Wind listens to listeners," Aeolus said, observing her progress. "And you, Miss Lawrance, are listening well."

---

Wind Magic in Action

As the practice continued, students gradually managed to create little breezes, gusts, or simply feel the flow of magic in the air. Sylves continued shaping controlled spirals with practiced hands. Elas worked on forming a steady breeze that could lift small pebbles.

Serena advanced surprisingly fast. She started shaping the wind into ribbons that encircled her arms and shoulders. Her control wasn't perfect, but it was fluid, responsive.

Ashia, however, was silent. She tried again and again, but even the grass beneath her feet refused to stir. She lowered her hands eventually, lips tight.

Sylves walked over to her. "Don't worry, Ashia. You're not alone."

"I couldn't summon a flicker. I have nothing for Wind," she said quietly. "No Fire. No Wind. Maybe I really don't belong here…"

Sylves looked at her firmly. "You do. Not every magic answers at once. And there are many more to try. Some people bloom slower—but they shine just as bright when they do."

Ashia nodded quietly but didn't smile.

Professor Aeolus raised his voice. "Gather around, everyone."

---

Lecture Wrap-Up

"Wind Magic," he said, "is often underestimated. But it is essential in both battle and survival. It conceals steps. It carries sound. It bends projectiles and disrupts balance."

He looked around, meeting the eyes of Serena, Sylves, Elas, and even Ashia.

"It slices, lifts, and binds. But most importantly—it listens. And it remembers who treats it gently."

A pause.

"To those who succeeded today, well done. To those who didn't—remember: the Wind doesn't always answer quickly. But when it does… it is the most loyal companion you'll ever have."

The class murmured as they filed out. Serena walked beside Sylves, her smile bright with newfound confidence. Elas chatted with him about creating wind barriers. Ashia followed a step behind, still quiet but thoughtful.

Professor Aeolus stood alone at the edge of the meadow, watching the clouds roll above.

He whispered to himself, "The Wind has chosen its listeners… and its future."

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