The currents of Cyrus' mind ignited like a cinder. It was a mere spark that any small breeze could snuff. Yet it warmly swept Cyrus' body in warm, pulsating waves. Each surge alighted his fire runes with an intermittent glow, daring to consume everything in its path and grow.

Grow. Grow. Grow.

While Cyrus was lost in his ascension, Lord Dílis silently materialized before the burgeoning mage. Steady, silently, he produced a transparent orb and infused mana into it, which began to illuminate the area. Yet the orb remained unresponsive, showing no reaction to Cyrus whatsoever.

Strange, Lord Dílis mused inwardly, his dark brown eyes fixed unwaveringly on Cyrus. I can't seem to find anything, no matter what I use. That sharp gaze narrowed on Cyrus' visage. What are you hiding, Cyrus?

Unaware of the outside world, Cyrus was consumed by the flickering embers within. It wished to devour, consume, and ignite into an inferno of infinite proportions. Not wasting his chance, he channeled mana into the proverbial ember, coaxing it, feeding it with all he had. The cinder grew brighter and brighter until it erupted into a blazing inferno. And with it, flames plumed from Cyrus' chest.

Oh, that was fast. Lord Dílis silently leaped off the platform at incredible speed.

He stood before the edge and watched the bright red flames continuously bursting off his chest for ten seconds until nothing was left but a warm breeze. At the same time, Cyrus witnessed his runes become just a bit more tangible. And with it, his runes felt more connected, akin to the cells across his skin.

I did it. He broke into a smile. I'm an official fire apprentice!

Cyrus then immediately returned to his body and revealed a mana crystal. Once his mana pool was satiated, he converged most of his fire runes into his hand and channeled his mana through them.

One second. Two.

Soon, a great roaring flame, the size of his torso, shot from his palm. And while he couldn't feel its heat, Cyrus knew it would be disastrous if inflicted on a human, not that he would ever wish to. Still, the flame's size and heat were nothing he could achieve before. Well, there was the fire breath he launched back... then. But those were strange circumstances.

Cyrus broke into a genuine smile. "If I can accomplish this with one hundred and fifty runes, who knows what I'll achieve with three hundred."

But his reverie was interrupted by Lord Dílis' arrival on the platform with a faint smile adorning his face.

"Congratulations on becoming a fire apprentice—Oh, such a powerful flame there. You're actually a threat with it now."

"Thank you... Cosan." Cyrus stood up and brushed his pants. "But it's just 'more' of what I could already do. I want to cast spells and such, so I'm not satisfied until then."

"Come now, Cyrus," Lord Dílis began, a smile playing his lips. "Who says you can't do more? Think about the ascension and process it. Maybe there was something you could learn from it."

Cyrus' expression shifted to one of thoughtfulness. At the time, the cinder in his body was weak, barely able to sustain itself. But with the introduction of a fuel source, it grew into unpre—Wait.

"I feel like I've stumbled onto something," Cyrus abruptly said, his hand eagerly flexing to try it out.

Lord Dílis smiled encouragingly. "Well then, what are you waiting for? Let's see what else you can do."

Cyrus nodded, and a smoldering flame appeared on his palm. He then tried to shape it into a sphere, but as soon as it reached a half shape, it popped like a bubble. The result left the two standing there in awkward silence.

Cyrus coughed, embarrassed. "Uh. T-that wasn't it."

So he tried again—another failure, then more. Frustrated by the constant failure, Cyrus stopped and contemplated the issue.

His shaping was too unrefined, for sure. Moreover, even if he could shape anything, the moment it separated from his palm, it would shrivel and unwind. Worst of all, he could do nothing with the latter, and it would be more months of training for the former.

Cyrus glanced at Lord Dílis, but looking at his expectant gaze, he decided to hold back his question, knowing what would happen. They had hammered it into his head time and time again: your experience is worth more than the result.

So, he fell back into silent thought. His flame would unravel at a certain size, shape, and distance... but what if he took all those out of the equation? For what Cyrus wished to accomplish, size and shape didn't matter, only distance.

He then recalled when he became a biomancer apprentice. On that day, Dílis had explained to him that his mana wouldn't be able to last long—two seconds. But maybe that was enough?

A lot could happen in two seconds.

With that thought, Cyrus' gaze sparked. As he channeled his mana, he reminded himself of the ember's unending hunger and infused it into the barely noticeable cinder on the flat of his palm, along with a dab of mana to feed on its journey.

And then he threw.

With a flick of his hand, it effortlessly sailed through the air, landing at the platform's edge before fading away. Cyrus remained frozen, shocked.

But a small smile dawned on his face.

"Well, now I can at least now hurl something," he remarked, trying to seem cool and collected as he turned to Lord Dílis. "Could you make a wooden dummy I could practice with... Cosan?"

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Of course."

With a graceful nod, Lord Dílis tossed a seed at the center platform. With the crackle of twisting wood, it then sprouted and shaped into some wooden humanoid figure bearing tiger-like features.

"Go ahead, Cyrus. Give it a try."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow but complied nonetheless. He tossed another tiny ember, observing as it landed on the statue's torso. But he wasn't prepared for the results.

The moment the two made contact, the statue was instantly engulfed in flames. But it didn't stop there. With the crackle of burning wood, the flame dug deep into the statue, voraciously eating it at unprecedented speeds to fuel itself.

"Ho," Lord Dílis murmured, his gaze narrowing slightly. "That could quickly spell death for the unprepared or at least force someone to change their priorities, being lit on fire and all that."

"And it could come in handy if I need to make a quick getaway." A dark thought flickered in Cyrus' head. Not to mention its potential for a surprise attack.

If he kept his hand barely open when casting it...

A small smile tugged Cyrus' lips. One that quickly disappeared as he beheld the burning statue. What would it look like when it eventually hits a living person? Her face flittered in his thoughts.

Forget it. All Cyrus could do was hope that when the moment arrived, he wouldn't hesitate.

Meanwhile, Lord Dílis remained as if entranced by the burning statue. That was until he quickly resumed his usual friendly demeanor.

"You'll be venturing beyond the wall soon, Cyrus," he began, shifting his attention to the young man. "Did Latriaen mention where he plans to take you?"

Once started out of his reverie, Cyrus met his gaze, shaking his head. "No, he didn't. It seemed like he just wanted me out once he realized I wasn't a fire apprentice yet."

Cyrus didn't feel particularly perturbed by the situation; he could understand the frustration of being forced to mentor someone against one's wishes. And before him was the orchestrator of his predicament.

Lord Dílis shook his head. "Don't worry. If you find that Latriaen hasn't upheld his end of the bargain upon your return, I'll withhold the payment I owe."

Cyrus furrowed his brow, curiosity piqued. "What did you offer him that changed his mind? I still recall the heat... and it looked to me that he was pretty mad."

"Oh, he was, Cyrus. Don't make a mistake like that." Lord Dílis smiled, the flame's light dancing in his gaze. "As for the negotiations, his demeanor shifted when I proposed four years' worth of cherries."

"That's it?"

Cyrus doubted something like... money would move a gruff ork who was born outside the city-states. One that was an arcanesmith, too.

Lord Dílis nodded. "You'd be right with your skepticism. On top of that, I offered a fixed monthly amount of metals, priority access to highly concentrated fire, earth, and order crystals, rare magical metals, and first access to any enchantment designs we possess or come across." —A small smile grew on his face— "And to satisfy a special request."

Cyrus stilled. This was too much. He had anticipated Lord Dílis might offer a year's pay in mana crystals at most, but after hearing this... he had no idea what to think.

"Are master mages are that expensive?"

Lord Dílis shook his head. "No, most master mages work under a subsidy for the rest of their lives. But Latriaen is an arcane blacksmith, somewhat a rarity in itself. We're compensating him for time loss on top of having him fulfill the previous quota of enchanted weapons the city buys from him."

"That makes sense," Cyrus remarked, tilting his head. "If it were me, I'd consider just dropping the tasks and moving on.

Lord Dílis nodded in agreement, elaborating, "Indeed. Moreover, Latriaen is an exceptional arcane blacksmith, capable of imbuing weapons with multiple elemental properties without compromising their enchantment integrity."

"I assume that's quite impressive?"

"Indeed," Lord Dílis chuckled softly. "Think of arcane smithing like creating a magic circle. And all enchanters know circles become more and more unstable the more elements you add to the equation. Now, imagine making an enchantment on a piece of equipment that is meant to take blows that would shatter and twist metal?"

Cyrus hadn't considered that. What would happen to a sword's arrow sling if the blade were bent into a corner? Would it explode?

But Lord Dílis' clap brought him out of his reverie. "Alright, Cyrus. Well done on completing your ascension. I think that's worthy of a delicious treat, no? Maybe some brumbleberry pie?" He swiped Cyrus away toward the platform's edge. "Head over to the kitchen and retrieve your reward. I'll clean up the mess here lest the flames spoil my garden. Now, off you go. Tata!"

"Uh, sure..." Once off the platform, Cyrus scratched his head. A bit pushy, ain't he?

But the buzz of making a bona fide new cast still coursed through his veins, so Cyrus felt he deserved a nice treat. So off he went as he flickered on and off flame on his trek to the manor.

This could come in handy, but what I really want is to conjure a fireball. Perhaps I should ask Lord— Cyrus' thoughts paused as he turned his gaze back to Lord Dílis.

And there he stood before the blazing statue. Lord Dílis appeared at a loss, transfixed as the searing and crackling wood slowly turned into ashes and char.

Cyrus stood there briefly before ultimately shaking his head. It's none of my concern.

Thus, he turned around and left for the manor.

***

The days flowed like the current of a stream as Cyrus dedicated his time to training and preparing for his journey beyond the walls, occasionally taking a break to tell Bird a story or two. But soon, the day arrived. The morning was just like any other. Except when it was finally time to leave, Lord Dílis accompanied him to the carriage.

The two stood beside each other in silence. One that was quickly broken when Lord Dílis smiled and offered a handshake, which Cyrus accepted.

"Honestly, I hadn't expected Latriaen to take you outside so quickly." Lord Dílis' handshake was firm. "But I have the utmost confidence in him. And in you, Cyrus. I have no doubt you'll return even stronger than before."

Cyrus hesitated for a moment before a sigh escaped him. "Thank you for all your guidance, Lord Dílis. for everything."

"It's been a pleasure, Cyrus," Cosan replied warmly. "Watching you brings back memories. And seeing you slowly grow step-by-step shows me that a remarkable Wayfarer is waiting to be born." He then focused on Bird, who perched himself on the young man's shoulder. "Keep him safe, okay? You two are partners now."

Chirp!

The two hands clasped firmly, each harboring their thoughts, before releasing their hold.

Cyrus offered a slight bow and uttered, "Clear skies," before stepping into the carriage. And soon, he was off.

Lord Dílis observed as the carriage began to roll away and pondered silently.

How far will you go, Cyrus? And what will your actions speak of you along the way?

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