The Sorcerer Who Loved Magic But Hated Reading

Elyas and Claire hurried toward the clearing where Alaric was fighting. As they arrived, they saw him locked in a fierce battle with a man radiating power. The man hurled spells at Alaric, who dodged each attack with quick movements.

Claire turned to Elyas. "We have to help him!" she urged.

Elyas hesitated, his expression serious. "How can we help? We'd just get in his way."

Claire frowned. "Then what should we do?"

"Right now," Elyas replied firmly, "we watch and wait."

They stood at the edge of the clearing, their eyes fixed on Alaric as he avoided another blazing fireball. The heat scorched the air around him, but he remained focused. Memories of training with Elyas surfaced in his mind. Back then, they had practiced a powerful spell together—what was it called?

Alaric dodged another attack, struggling to recall the spell's name. His mind raced, but the answer eluded him. The man smirked, preparing to unleash an even stronger attack.

"Alaric!" Elyas suddenly shouted from the trees. "Doom's Cascade!"

The name struck Alaric like a lightning bolt. That was it! He gathered his focus, his hands glowing with energy as he prepared the spell. The air around him trembled as he cast Doom's Cascade directly at his opponent.

The man's confidence faltered as he realized the power of the spell coming toward him. Panic flashed across his face, and he muttered, "This magic… it's incredible. He might even rival my master."

Before he could react further, the spell hit him. A brilliant explosion of energy lit up the clearing, forcing Elyas and Claire to shield their eyes. The ground shook, and when the light faded, the man lay defeated, smoke rising from where the spell had struck.

Claire gasped. "He did it…"

Elyas nodded, awe in his voice. "Alaric is stronger than we thought."

Alaric stood in the clearing, catching his breath. For the first time, he felt the true weight of his power—and the danger it carried.

As the light of the explosion faded, Claire turned to Elyas, her voice filled with wonder. "What was that magic Alaric used? I've never seen anything like it!"

Elyas furrowed his brow, still catching his breath from the intensity of the fight. "That… That was Doom's Cascade," he said, his tone both surprised and thoughtful. "It's a spell we practiced together about a week ago."

"Did he practice that?" Claire asked, her amazement growing.

Elyas nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, but back then, he struggled to cast it. He could barely control the energy. I guess in the heat of the moment, he forgot its name, so I reminded him." He glanced toward Alaric, who stood in the clearing, still catching his breath. "But to pull it off like that, with so much power…"

Claire shook her head in disbelief. "I didn't know he was this strong. At this level, he might even be equal to a vice-captain!"

Before Elyas could respond, Alaric's sharp eyes caught movement in the shadows of the forest. A lone figure, limping and clutching his side, stumbled through the trees. It was one of the bandits, clearly trying to escape.

Without hesitation, Alaric narrowed his gaze and took off after him.

"Wait!" Claire shouted, but Alaric was already moving too fast.

"Alaric, slow down!" Elyas called, grabbing Claire's arm. "Come on, we have to catch up before he gets himself into trouble again."

The two sprinted after Alaric, weaving through the trees as they tried to close the gap.

The fleeing bandit, panting heavily, finally reached a small clearing where the bandit base stood hidden among the trees. It was little more than a cluster of makeshift huts and tents, with a few crude wooden fences surrounding it. Gasping for breath, the bandit staggered toward the entrance, shouting, "They're coming! There's a mage in the forest, and he—"

Before the bandit could finish his sentence, a shadow loomed behind him. Alaric appeared, his expression calm yet intense. With a swift blow, he knocked the man unconscious, letting him crumple to the ground.

Elyas and Claire finally emerged from the forest, just in time to see Alaric step into the bandit camp.

"Alaric, wait! You can't just go in alone!" Elyas called, but Alaric hadn't heard them.

The bandits outside the camp turned toward the commotion, but before they could react, Alaric moved with speed and precision. One by one, he struck them down, dodging their weapons and retaliating with powerful blows. In moments, the camp's perimeter was cleared.

Alaric stood in the center of the camp, scanning the area as he caught his breath. "So, this is your base," he muttered to himself, his voice cold and steady.

Claire and Elyas hurried to catch up, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of the defeated bandits scattered across the ground.

Alaric, you didn't have to do this alone!" Claire said, her voice filled with both awe and exasperation.

But Alaric didn't respond. His focus was already on the entrance to the bandits' main base—a dark, narrow opening leading into the heart of the forest. Without waiting for his companions, he stepped forward, disappearing into the shadows.

The air inside was damp and cold, the faint scent of mold lingering in the dark corridor. Alaric's footsteps echoed softly as he walked deeper into the base, his senses on high alert.

Elyas and Claire exchanged a worried glance before following him into the darkness.

"Do you think he even has a plan?" Claire whispered.

Elyas shook his head. "With Alaric, it's hard to tell. But we can't let him face whatever's inside alone."

As the trio ventured further into the bandits' lair, the silence grew heavier, broken only by the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance. Alaric's hand tightened around his weapon, his eyes scanning every shadow with a sense of determination. Whatever awaited them deeper inside, he was ready to face it.