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홈 / Fantasy / The Demon King Chronicles; Demon-Named / Chapter Twenty-Five: An Experience Shared with Dimwits

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Chapter Twenty-Five: An Experience Shared with Dimwits

작가: The Concierge
last update 최신 업데이트: 2021-07-19 13:21:51

Spells were easy enough once the basics were known, though Kilvic wasn’t certain which was the easier of both requirements: infusing the words with reia or finding the words that attended the mind.

Lunch had ended a while ago, and following his request, Moss and Stratin had left for their lesson without him. And now he was left to rearrange the things in his possession almost appalled at how he’d waited so long to get things done. He held up the bottle of wine gifted for Drespard’s tale and put it to the side, beneath his bed, before returning to his sack and retrieving three silver coins, the reason he was here. Holding them palm up he wondered if perhaps this was a waste of silver, and if the other options open to him would be better substitutes. He had to conserve his finances, but then again, he had to conserve his reputation. He sighed. That was more than enough to make his decision. And wrapping up his sack, he placed the coins in his pocket and walked

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  • The Demon King Chronicles; Demon-Named   Chapter Forty-Five: Creepy

    Moss said nothing for a moment, and Kilvic continued to stare out at the arena, at their hall mates training. Lacra remained powerful, her attacks brutal. But Gyra remained standing, bracing against her charges, casting aside spells where he would, evading where he would. The boy was powerful for one his age.When Moss spoke he sounded more confused than irate. “It’s how you say these things with a straight face that’s creepy. I don’t know if you are angry, bored or worried. Which is it?”Kilvic thought about it briefly. It was a logical question. Why had he said it when he hadn’t needed to? Moss had given him a piece of advice, and he’d given one in return. Was it the reference to the magi that had spurred him to speak. Yes, the magi were what mages were called in the older times when they had engaged in combat from a distance. They were mages who had failed once their opponents engaged them in the melee, something very simila

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    “Did we win?” Stratin broke the silence that enveloped the arena, voice panting. “Did we?”Kilvic spared him a solitary glance. Did it matter? There had been four of them against one of her. Though victory should be taken in whatever form it came, this was a victory he cared nothing for. If your life was truly at stake you would. Kilvic almost frowned at his own thought. It was right. Still…He sighed. “Yes, we won.”As if released from a spell, Stratin slumped to the ground in relief.Ahead of them Fyodan approached. Behind them, Moss lumbered along damaged bones no doubt mending themselves. The amount of reia required to create, and operate such an arena needed to be greatly vast. Here, unlike the arena used for the winter hall fest, death was not circumvented. But a vast room that could heal wounds on the scale of even broken bones in mere minutes was powerful… too powerful.&ld

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    Wind magic has always been considered the easiest of them. Why? Because no place existed void of air. And air, unlike most other elements, is flexible, bendable to one’s will. Not much mental strength is required to manipulate it. It is, in theory, the best element to start a mage off with. But not the way Naesir made it seem.Kilvic jumped back with a speed that would have made a peregrine proud. A wind lance struck the sand covered ground where his feet had been a mere breath ago and dissipated almost immediately. He wondered at the verity of the training he was undergoing. His intention had been to learn the basics of wind magic from someone who was proving attuned to it by each growing day. He ducked and rolled almost immediately, his mind not given the time to contemplate the failure of his choice as another wind lance skewered the air where he should’ve been. Each wind lance was condensed enough to almost be mistaken for a true lance. Battle against a wind e

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    Ariadne was staring.“He talks in your minds?” she said, again, in disgust. “How do you allow that.”“He’s strong,” Stratin offered mildly. “I couldn’t shake him.”Moss shrugged. “Me neither.”To Moss, she replied, “Any oaf with half a brain could see that. You have the will power of a dead fish, Moss.” She turned her attention to Kilvic. “And you?”“He had something to say.” Kilvic thought about it, then changed his answer. “I thought he had something to say. But he was also helping me spar.”Ariadne raised a brow. “How?”“Pointing out my weaknesses. Showing me where I should’ve capitalized.”“Moss could help you with that. Heck, Lacra would be more than happy if Gyra refuses.”“Gyra has offered,” Stratin pointed out.Ariadne turned to him. &

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    Kilvic staggered backwards, his body held incline into a fall. His feet were the only things that kept him up. Counting away in multiple minute steps, they kept him up, kept him from the fall as he pushed away, increasing the distance. The deadman’s walk came easier to him now. Of all the moves they were taught, it came the easiest, the simplest. Perhaps it was his favorite now. Perhaps not. It definitely kept him away from the pain. After three breaths he staggered into position, returned into a defensive form.Naralayn had done much to remain his sparring partner, but ever since Stratin had proved more sufficient it had become harder for the young noble to choose him for a partner. Naralayn did not cease in his attempts though, until their instructor determined having Naralayn as a sparring partner was not good for the young noble’s development. So, today, Kilvic found Sharmin as his sparring partner. And Sharmin was an easier opponent to survive agains

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    Outside, the arena remained its cacophony of training, students panting with the exaggerated stress of those who’d worked themselves. But Vilan did not pant, and neither did Gyra. Vilan sat in the sand, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and face bowed in hiding. Around him reia worked. Unrefined lumps of sand the size of an adult’s head hovered about him, four orbs—if they could be called such. And before the boy, hidden from his view, a staff trembled in the sand. Kilvic paused to watch all this, ignoring Gyra’s noted attention on him.Ariadne stopped beside him, turned her attention to what had his, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Four links,” she gasped. Kilvic was not certain if she was impressed or underwhelmed.Seven, Kilvic corrected mentally. Barely perceptible, two clusters of air hovered, struggling to maintain their new nature. Ariadne had not counted the boy’s link to the staff either,

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