So, this was bad. Which was sort of an understatement, but it should still be said… it was bad. Three mages were after Michael, his friends didn’t look like they had enough magical learning to equal even one of them and the teacher was oddly not flying anywhere near them. Not even looking in their direction, Michael noticed.

She’s been paid off. Or brokered a deal with one or more factions.

And their pursuers were still coming. Michael could see them gaining up on them, laughs and shouts of glee announcing their arrival. How would they deal with these three and the band of merry assholes?

Surprisingly, the solution seemed to present itself.

“Gentlemen, might I propose a truce?” the ascentionalist said. “At least until we deal with the pretend mages.”

“Sure. But let’s be quick about it. I’ve got places to be.” The martial said.

The one on Ravena’s side only shrugged and nodded, before casting a Spell.

“|Lure of Prey|”

The advancing group of mages stopped. They were still grinning and joking, but they weren’t advancing. They were just gathering up in one spot. As if they couldn’t tell they had stopped.

“The magic will wear off when you attack them. But they should be good for now.”

“Good.” The rocky one grinned. “Make sure these three don’t wander off. I’ll handle the children.”

“Allow me to assist.” The ascentionalist said. “|Triple Layered Barrier|”

A wide glowing shield, appeared in the air, covering the two mages advancing on the massed group. It didn’t look like it had three layers, but Michael was no expert.

What came next could only be called a thrashing. The two mages opened fire on the group. The others broke off from the illusion Spell and tried to return fire, but mostly they just got in each other’s way. What Spells they did manage to send their way ended up splashing ineffectually on the magical barrier. And during all this, the martial and ascentionalist mages kept hitting them with more and more exotic Spells, almost as If they were competing.

It was showing Michael the caliber of his opponents, but it also gave him time to breathe.

“Micah, that mage. You know him?”

“Uh, I’ve seen him around. But I don’t personally know him, no.”

“Could you persuade him to let us go?”

“No…” he said, wincing. “That’s not how we do things. If I try, he might just grin and use me as target practice.”

“Mhm. He also said that your leader wants me. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Look, Michael.” The lycan said, growing unusually serios. “That’s not how my faction does things. If Ravena wants something, she can barter for it. That guy probably accepted. I don’t have to. So no, I’m not turning tail.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Any chance of beating him?” Bob asked.

“Not one.” Micah laughed. “Not with my magic, anyway.”

“And the three of us combined?” he insisted.

“…maybe? Like I said, I don’t know him that well.”

“We might as well try.” Michael said, looking back.

The two mages were now doing trick shots, trying to one up each other. Headshots, hitting the knees and freezing the mages as they fell. But even if they were taking it slow, they still had very few mages to fight with. Especially since a lot of those that had survived the first waves of Spells were now running back and trying to find another way across.

“They’re not that strong.” Bob said, guessing Michael’s thoughts. “Yet they attacked from a vantage point. And they are senior students.”

Michael just nodded, looking at Ravena’s pupil?

“So, are we doing this?”

“Yeah.” Micah said. “Who knows, might even win me some renown.”

“I do not back away from a challenge.” Bob grunted.

It was good that they were aligned. It was not so good that they didn’t bother to discuss a plan of action, since Bob, after making his statement, dashed forward. He kept his head down and rushed almost exactly like a charging rhino.

After only a second of confusion, Michael charged ahead too, going to the side, trying to flank the mage. Micah was doing the same on the other side. The mage looked surprised, since he didn’t rec for the first couple of seconds, before sending a trio of Spells, one after the other at their charging friend. Yet all three splashed harmlessly off Bob, who kept charging. A second before he made impact, the mage danced out of the way, while Bob kept running.

That’s it.

Truly, why fight if you could run?

Michael and Micah dashed after him, intent on getting as far away from the mage before he regained his wits as they could. Yet Ravena’s pupil was a senior student too.

“|Lure|!”

The three stopped. They didn’t want to. But they did. And then, slowly and surely, they turned around. Michael could feel the foreign impulse overriding his own thoughts. He felt that he could charge the mage. Attack him. But he couldn’t run away. Every fiber of his being wanted to get closer to him.

“We have to take him out.” Bob said.

“Got it. |Flame Bolt|!” Michael cast. “After him!”

They charged again, only this time the mage was prepared. His first Spell was a type of wind Spell, only it left cuts across Bob’s body. And still he charged. Fearlessly, almost as if he had no regard for his own safety.

Michael’s own Spell was dodged by the mage, but he saw his eyes narrow and got a nasty feeling.

“|Water Jet|, |Frozen Wind|”

The floor became wet and frozen in less than a second. And slippery too. Slippery enough that Bob went sprawling. Michael did too, for all he tried to skid forwards. Alas, it seems the tricks Legolas managed to pull of were best left for movies.

Yet the now grinning mage miscalculated. Sure, someone like Michael going down on ice meant that they stopped after a few feet. But Michael was a human. Decently tall, slim. He didn’t weight too much. On the other hand, Michael didn’t even want to know how many pounds Bob weighed.

His friend didn’t stop as he went down. He had too much momentum for that. Instead, he skidded forwards and barreled into the mage before he could get out of the way. They stopped in a heap of limbs, but Michael noticed that the mage was trying to get up, while Bob was desperately trying to cling on to one of his arms and legs.

Here’s my chance.

“|Flame Dart|”

“|Barrier|”

His Spell splashed on the newly appeared barrier, while Ravena’s mage finally managed to get Bob off of him, by blasting him with fire and using a Spell to blast him back to Michael.

“You’re welcome.” The ascentionalist mage said, as he and the martial one returned to them.

It seemed that they were finally done with their play time. Just in time too, otherwise the now rising mage would have been out for the count.

“Much oblig-“

Yet the mage didn’t manage to end his thanks. A vine shot out from the ground and grabbed one of his arms, pulling it to the ground. He was hunched and looking around desperately. His eyes focused on something that Michael didn’t see, but it was already too late. He tried to raise another hand, but it was yanked down.

“|Spectral Claws|”

Michael heard that. He also saw… what came next. The mage’s throat opened up, blood gushing everywhere. It even landed on a humanoid form…

Micah.

The lycan reappeared into view. He had been hidden somehow… magic made him unnoticed.

“Told you it’s good to make trades.” The lycan grinned, holding up a faintly smoking talisman.

“Micah!” Michael shouted. “You’ve killed him.”

Behind him, Bob was slowly getting up.

“Wh- No, I didn’t!” the lycan shouted back.

The sheer stupidity of that comment left Michael without words.

“Look at him!”

The mage was thrashing to the ground, still trying to get one hand loose. Meanwhile his blood was painting the floor red.

“Your little friend is right, Michael.” The rocky humanoid graveled. “We all carry Health Potions. Though that’s a nasty cut, I’ll admit it. Good on you, kid. Now heal him!”

Micah smiled, nodding and bent over. He unclasped one of the mages potions and poured it on its neck. The wound healed, his bleeding stopped and the mage finally stopped thrashing, seeming to lose consciousness.

“I always found the Naturalists ways to be so off putting.” The ascentionalist mage said.

“We like them.” The martial shrugged. “Like I said, good instincts, kid. Now, go to sleep. |Stone Bolt|.”

His Spell hit Micah’s forehead before the lycan even had a chance to stop grinning. He dropped, out like a light. The ascentionalist scoffed.

“What? He took out one of us, I took out one of theirs.”

“There is no ‘us’, warmonger. I am still unsure if I shouldn’t be fighting you.”

“Hey, there’s no bad blood between our leader. Why should there be bad blood between us?”

“Is that why you’re charging a shield breaking Spell?”

“…maybe?”

“Regardless.” He said, before turning to Michael. “Make your decision or I will take out your other friend.”

Michael could hear Bob grunting behind him, but he held out a hand, motioning to him to stop.

“Hah!” the martial laughed. “The big one wants a fight. Good spirit!”

“Choose!” the other said.

“Think you can break through his shields?” Michael whispered.

“Think you can tank his hits?” he answered.

In response, Michael just grinned and dashed forwards. Behind him he heard Bob do the same. He had his wand out. His bracelet should allow him one hit. And the mage before him might have been a senior student, but he was still that. A student.

“|Fire Bolt|!” he shouted.

The martial abandoned his own casting in favor of swatting Michael’s Spell away from his face. Yet that was only the first Spell. Hidden behind it was a second one. It was true that one could cast Spells without verbally casting them, but that was mentally intensive work. Odd on a battlefield, excepting experienced users. However, muttering Spells? That was another thing entirely.

Michael’s |Flame Dart| was faster than his |Fire Bolt| and it was right behind it. The martial managed to swat away the first Spell, but not the second. It hit him in the face and even though he had literal rocks for skin, his eyes still looked fleshy. He screamed and patting at his face.

Which was when Michael charged him.

“|Barrier|”

His Spell only came to life in the very last second, but it allowed him to shoulder charge the mage. It toppled him, even as heavy as he was and Michael was on top of him in a second. His wand was pointed directly down and was two inches inside the guy’s mouth. He didn’t mind him barfing on his wand, if it also meant taking him out.

Unfortunately, Michael didn’t know if shooting a fire Spell directly inside someone could be fixed with a Healing Potion. And he wasn’t Micah. So he gave the martial one chance.

“Your faction is honorable.” Michael said. “Promise that you will accept defeat and walk away and I won’t need to find out if Healing Potions can heal roasted insides.”

The rocky martial mage hacked out a laugh, even with the wand inside his mouth, before saying something that sounded an awful lot like ‘good spirit’.

He then bit down on the wand.

The magical explosion hurled Michael away. When he got to his sense, he only saw the mages’ body lying prone on the ground, his head smoking lightly.

Shit! He killed himself!

That fact that he lost his wand almost didn’t even register with Michael. Yet the loud thump next to him did. He turned and saw Bob, slowly getting up from the ground. The tip of one of his horns was blackened. His robe was ripped apart and his skin had cuts, burns and bruises all over. And still the mage was getting up.

“Still have some fight in you? I’ll admit, you’d do well as a martial. Then again, seeing as how that idiot probably offed himself, perhaps that faction isn’t a good fit for anyone.”

The mage was slowly walking towards them, no care in the world.

“I broke his shields. But he just made more of them.” Bob quietly said.

Michael nodded.

“I am done with waiting. And your friend is out of breath. Decide or I will blast him to bits.”

Michael was really sick of this ‘might makes right’ bullshit. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, maybe what faction he chose wouldn’t matter that much. But he didn’t like being strongarmed, not one bit. It also spoke to others. If he could be strongarmed to do this, he could be strongarmed to do other things as well.

Yet, he wasn’t being asked to choose a particular side. Just a side.

He still didn’t like the idea. Whether he went with the idea that this world was a game or the real deal, it didn’t matter. Choosing a side… it almost always meant that he would miss out on the benefits of choosing other sides. It was readily apparent that he couldn’t stay independent, but… damn it, this was a magical world! If you couldn’t have the cake and eat it too, then what was the point of magic?

If only he could play multiple characters.

But… well, not technically, but… sort of.

He thought back to what the ascentionalist mage said. About how Bob would make a good martial.

Perhaps there is a way.

But I need more time.

“I’ll choose. But not now.” Michael said.

“Sure.” The mage scoffed. “I’ll believe that. Not. That is the oldest trick in the book, begging for more-“

“I’m not begging.” Michael snapped. “Regitris himself, the head of your faction met and spoke with me. On his name and on my honor, I’ll make a decision by tomorrow evening. But I need until then.”

The mage still looked skeptical, but looked to be coming around. He needed more to believe. Michael also needed something… since trust alone wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t in the real life and it probably wasn’t here either.

Maybe there’s a chance to kill two birds with one stone.

“But I’ll need something to assure me that your faction would honor their deal. A… magical contract or something.”

“Us? You want to bind us to a deal?” the mage disbelievingly said.

“Like I said, Regitris wants me. And so do the Martials and Ravena. I’m a hot topic right now. You want me, not the other way around. So, if you want me to pick and you want me to pick you, then you better make a show of faith. Got any magic that could hold your faction to account?”

“I… I’ll have to speak to my superiors. But I know of Blood Contracts that do as you request. Perhaps they will not affect an entire association… but it will affect the senior mages. If they agree.”

“Good. Then, by tomorrow morning, I want that Blood Contract. To inspect its magic. And if I receive it, by tomorrow evening I will pick. Who knows, I might even pick the Ascentionalists.”

The mage looked warry, but also reluctantly impressed.

“Very well.” Was all he said, before he departed.

That was how Michael’s lesson ended. He failed it, not managing to reach the other end of the arena. But since most students failed the test and since their teacher was guilty of consorting with others, she let it slide.

That was how the day ended. With him getting his ass kicked. But coming out on top. Sort of.

Right?