Trinity of Magic [Progression Fantasy]

Jaihar gazed up into the sky, squinting at the sunlight. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the lizard familiar was purposefully positioning himself in front of the sun. However, he knew such a level of intellect and strategic thinking was impossible for the familiar of a measly True Mage.

But did he really?

He shaded his eyes with his left hand, trying to make out the silhouette of the giant, flying reptile. His right, he raised above his head, palm out. He was prepared to lose a flurry of spells at the drop of a hat. However, the thing seemed content to circle high above, far out of reach.

Jaihar’s eyes were inadvertently drawn to the back of his palm, aiming upward. The hand he extended to the sky was trembling, and not just a little bit. It was shaking like the hand of an old drunk who had not gotten his daily dose. He grimaced, remembering the reason for his current state.

That roar—that primal, terrifying roar.

The moment the beast had growled at him, he almost lost control of his bladder. His knees had felt like pudding, and his mouth had gone dry. It had been the single most terrifying experience of his entire life. If he was being honest, the mere fact that he had managed to stay upright was a miracle in and of itself.

He had been so certain that this was the right course of action—that he could solve his problems with this challenge. Heck, he had been so certain that he had bet his entire fortune, everything. All he had left of his family’s vast fortunes was now in the possession of those snakes of the Varun family—all for the promise of vengeance.

They promised that the boy would agree to his challenge in order to save that little girl. Jaihar had believed them, desperate for a way out of his predicament, and, to his utter relief, they had been right.

He had actually agreed, all but throwing his life away.

The stupid little True Mage had actually agreed to fight him one-on-one. Him—a Grand Mage with decades of experience fighting in the Rings. Oh, how elated he had been. His entire world seemed to light up with endless possibilities, and for the first time in a long while, he had dared to dream of the future. Of all the things he would accomplish once the specter of death no longer hung over him.

However, his pleasant dream was shattered the moment his opponent stepped into the arena. With his pale, bloodless face and sunken cheeks, the boy looked about ready to collapse. Yet death followed on his heels. With razor-sharp teeth the length of a hand, the beast had eyed him with its canny, predatory gaze. For a moment, Jaihar thought the creature was taking his measure. Its eyes slid over his frame as if sizing him up.

It was then that Jaihar realized the easy victory he had imagined was now out of reach.

The shrieks of the crowd brought him out of his musings and Jaihar focused on his opponent again and saw that it had started to dive. Its speed was breathtaking, and a moment later, it was already in front of him. However, he was ready.

With a loud bellow, Jaihar unleashed a torrent of flames. With his left hand, he cast [Inferno], while his right conjured one [Fireball] after another. Despite the weakness in his knees, he remained confident of winning. No matter how intimidating it appeared, there was no way a creature summoned by a True Mage could withstand a barrage like that.

Straining his Core to the limits, he let it all out, screaming all the while. In his mind, he could already see that wailing beast crumbling to the ground; its rider burned alongside it. The image brought a smirk to his lips.

Yet, when the flames died down, the scene that greeted him was completely different. Panting, he scanned the space in front of him. There was no beast, no rider, no smoldering corpses. In fact, the area was entirely empty. Hearing a low growl, Jaihar jerked his head up only to see the beast circling again. It peered down at him, and when their eyes met, he got the distinct impression that it was smirking.

He clenched his teeth, and his balled fists trembled. This time, it was not out of fear but anger. He had been tricked—tricked by a mere beast. However, before he could think any further on this, his opponent dove again.

Jaihar watched the approaching beast, a flame simmering in the palm of his hand. Yet, he was hesitant. He couldn’t let himself fall for a feint again. His previous attack had already put quite a strain on his Core, and he wouldn’t be able to repeat such a feat too many times.

Then he saw it. At the very last moment, the reptile tilted its wings, aborting its descent. He smiled as he let the spell fizzle out. Did that thing really think it could fool him twice with the same trick? However, to his great horror, the reptile continued on its course. The feint had been a feint!

With a panicked yell, Jaihar released his strongest attack. [Spreading Fire] flared out in all directions, with him at the center. It was the spell he was most proficient in—a spell that had saved him many times in the past. Against close-quarters fighters, there was nothing better than an instant, unavoidable area attack.

Jaihar was panting, surveying the scorched sand all around him, its cracked and blackened surface a testament to the power of the spell. Yet, once again, there was no beast and no rider. Almost unwillingly, Jaihar looked up, dreading what he would find. The beast was circling again, lower this time, as if daring him to attack.

Their eyes met, and Jaihar finally understood. This wasn’t a fight. Not really. The monster was simply toying with him. Whenever it struck, he had to counter with full force, depleting his Mana and straining his Core. Meanwhile, the beast could advance or retreat as it pleased, controlling every aspect of the encounter. And worse, it knew it, too.

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips as Jaihar let his hands fall to his sides. His breathing was heavy, and he could feel the first signs of Core depletion. If he had paced himself, he could have dragged the fight out longer. However, in his panic, he had not held back at all. At most, he had a single attack left in him.

“Come and fight me, if you dare!” he yelled at the sky, trying to lace his voice with a courage he didn’t feel. However, this was his only choice. If he couldn’t settle this fight with his next attack, he wouldn’t have the strength to resist anymore.

The reptile met his gaze once more, and this time, Jaihar felt it. With this one quick glance, he finally understood. Those were not the eyes of a beast but those of a superior being. It knew everything. His plans, his schemes, his strategy, his weakness, his everything. The reptile, no, the Dragon, had seen through his entire being. Jaihar wanted nothing more than to break eye contact with this unnerving creature. Yet, before he could, he heard a deep, rumbling voice in the depth of his mind.

“As you wish, fleshling,” the Dragon said. Then it came for him, and Jaihar knew that this time, it would not be a feint or a trick. The Dragon’s pride would not allow it. He prepared his favorite spell, determined not to use it until the very last moment. He could not afford to miss.

Jaihar took one last deep breath and focused. He was ready. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as all his attention was concentrated on the approaching monster. It was fast, but not fast enough to escape his sight. Then, it flapped its wings—almost leisurely, and it was gone.

Jaihar looked up at the sky, confused. What… happened?

Then, his senses returned to him, and pain flooded his system—pain like he had never felt before. With that came the realization of his current state. He was lying flat on the ground, embedded in the sand. His ribs were broken, and his legs had snapped under the pressure of the scaly claw that was now resting on his torso. That was all it had taken—a single attack.

“Curse you, monster!” he rasped, blood seeping from his lips. Jaihar was dying; he knew it; it was only a matter of time. Even the pain was fading now, a sign that his body had already given up. Yet, Jaihar was unwilling to accept this unfair outcome.

He focused his blurry eyes on the figure sitting on the Dragon’s back, glaring with as much venom as he could. “This is all your fault. Why the fuck did you have to come along and ruin everything?”

The boy looked back at him, his complexion already much improved from earlier. Yet, his eyes were cold, and so was his voice. “Are you done?” he asked.

“Bastard! What do you—” Jaihar attempted to speak, but the flood of blood in his throat muffled his voice, turning his next words into a gurgle.

The boy atop the Dragon sighed. Next, he did something Jaihar didn’t expect. He slid off his mount and tapped its side. “This will do for now. Thank you.”

In the next moment, the body of the Dragon liquefied. A part of it, the boy absorbed. Most of it, though, uselessly splashed on the ground, bathing the arena in a crimson hue. For a while, Jaihar saw nothing but red. Yet, his eyes never left the figure of the boy standing over him. His complexion was already back to its normal color, and his weakened limbs seemed to have regained their strength.

Then, his cold eyes turned to face him.

***

Zeke rotated his shoulders and flexed his muscles. The satisfying pops and cracks of his joints were a welcome sound after this bout of weakness.

Next, he peered at the figure on the ground. The once cocky Grand Mage had been reduced to a terrible state. His arms and legs were clearly broken, jutting out at odd angles. However, those injuries paled in comparison to the state of his chest. The Dragon’s claw had struck true, caving it in.

Honestly, he was surprised Jaihar was still alive. Yet, he held no pity for the man. Just the opposite, in fact. When Zeke looked at him, all he felt was the pain of a missing arm—burned to the shoulder. He saw Vulcanos collapse, starved and exhausted. Gravitas followed. He saw his own figure dragging them through the desert. He saw the mutilated body of their guide. Ripper’s lifeless eyes after they had crippled her limbs…

And yet, Jaihar had the gall to claim it was his fault things had come to this?

Zeke kneeled down, meeting the dying man’s eyes. “Do you want to know a secret?” he whispered. Before Jaihar could respond, Zeke came closer, bringing his mouth next to the prone man’s ear. “When a Mage dies, their Soul leaves their body and returns to the Mana. I don’t know where they go, but I like to think that there is a place where all Souls gather after death—a place where the dead can meet again.”

His voice was barely above a whisper. Yet, Zeke knew that Jaihar was listening. “In that place, your father, brother, and uncle are already waiting for you.” Then his voice turned cold. “However, you are not going to that place. Oh, no. I’ll not let you off that easily. The moment you croak, I am going to eat your Soul, erasing you completely.”

With those words, Zeke stood again, gazing down at the helpless man beneath his feet. Jaihar had wide eyes as the horror of his current situation sank in. A small kindling of flames appeared on his hand, yet Zeke mercilessly stepped on it, quashing even this last act of rebellion.

Aside from this, he did nothing, watching as the man slowly succumbed to his injuries. And then, when Jaihar’s eyes finally turned glassy and his heart beat a final time, Zeke devoured his Soul.