On Monday afternoon, I was once again at Emberheart's study.

  Having trained more over the weekend—at least during the time I wasn't stuck at the welcome party—I'd finally mastered my first magic circle. I wasn't anywhere close to Aurora or the Prince's level, but I felt like I was decent for a first year now.

  Emberheart seemed to agree. He nodded with approval when I demonstrated the spell, my force push actually knocking over the practice dummy he'd set up.

  "Good progress," he said, preparing tea with those precise movements he always used. The study was pleasantly warm as always. "Now, do you remember what I taught you about magical combat being fought with swords?"

  "Yes. It's a versatile one-handed weapon that leaves your other hand free for casting."

  "Correct. It can also be imbued with magic more easily than other weapons, though you're not enrolled in Magical Imbuement yet." He handed me a cup of tea. "You'll probably need to wait until next year for that class."

  "So am I going to have to learn swordsmanship?" I took a sip. The tea was some kind of herbal blend that tasted faintly of cinnamon.

  "I considered it." He leaned against his desk, his dark red hair tied back today in a low tail. "But we have a problem. We've been working on your defensive magic so you have time to use your ability in combat. That's fine against average opponents. But it still leaves you vulnerable to two things."

  "Which are?"

  "Strong physical strikes that can overwhelm your barriers, and agile enemies who can simply dodge your magic." He looked at me directly. "Enemies like Aurora."

  I remembered her speed during the competition. The way she'd moved faster than I could track. "I don't think I could stop her even with a sword," I admitted.

  "Probably not with your current skill level," he agreed bluntly. "Which brings us to the question: is there a spell that blocks physical attacks effectively?"

  "Isn't there?" That seemed like it should be a basic thing.

  "No matter how skilled a mage you are, swinging a sword will always be faster than drawing or materializing a spell circle, at least when facing an opponent of equal skill." He set down his own tea. "Your other option would be more permanent shields, barriers that stay active. But remember that your opponent is also a mage. They can respond with offensive magic that breaks through shields."

  "Then what's the problem with just using a sword?" I asked. "Is it my skill level?"

  "No. It's the number of hands you have." He said it completely seriously.

  I paused mid-sip. "I always thought two was the correct amount."

  He smiled slightly at that. "For a normal mage, yes. Draw magic with one hand, defend or attack with the other. But you're different."

  "How so?"

  "Without your rules, you're just an average mage." He said it gently, but it still stung a bit.

  "Ouch."

  "I apologize for being blunt." He did look genuinely apologetic. "But I hope you understand that I'm training you to be more than that. You have the potential to be one of the greatest mages of your generation if we can solve this problem."

  That was... a lot. "No pressure or anything," I muttered.

  "Exactly the right amount of pressure," he corrected with a hint of amusement. "So. Your problem is that you need to do three things simultaneously but only have two hands. Writing rules, casting magic, and physical defense."

  "Yeah, that's a problem." I thought about it. "Could I use the same hand for magic and rules? Switch between them?"

  "We could try that approach," Emberheart acknowledged. "But if your opponent is skilled enough, they could put enough pressure on you that you wouldn't have time to switch. Remember the combat between Aurelius and Aurora?"

  "Hard to forget."

  "Aurelius barely had time to use his natural lightning affinity. He couldn't draw even simple spell circles because Aurora didn't give him space to breathe." Emberheart gestured expressively. "Now imagine that same situation, but you need to write ancient script instead of just channeling natural magic."

  "Yeah, that sounds impossible."

  "Which is why I took some time to look into alternatives." He moved toward his desk, rifling through some papers.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  "Are there any good ones?" I set down my tea, interested now.

  "Several, actually. Magical combat is always evolving. People constantly innovate, trying to find new techniques and combinations." He pulled out a few diagrams that looked like combat formations. "I researched dual-casting techniques, automated defense enchantments, even some experimental methods using familiar bonds."

  "And?"

  "None of them were interesting or effective enough for your specific situation." He set the papers aside. "So I had to resort to desperate measures."

  His expression darkened, like he was remembering something traumatic.

  "What did you do?" I leaned forward, curious now. "Some kind of forbidden magic?"

  "Worse." He looked at me with genuine suffering in his eyes. "I had to ask Silvani for help."

  I had to physically cover my mouth to avoid laughing out loud. Their rivalry was genuinely one of the most entertaining things at this academy.

  "Is she good at magical combat?" I managed to ask.

  "No, not particularly." He turned away, moving toward something behind his desk that was hidden from view. "But she cannot stand an unsolved puzzle. And this situation was exactly that—a puzzle with no obvious answer."

  He bent down and lifted something, then placed it on the ground in front of me with a solid metallic thunk.

  It was a sphere, roughly the size of a child's ball. The surface was covered in large metallic hexagonal plates, six in total, one facing each direction. The metal was a light gray color, almost silver, with subtle etchings along the edges of each hexagonal panel. The whole thing had a mechanical look to it, like it could open or shift somehow.

  "What is this?" I crouched down to examine it. "Am I supposed to kick it at enemies?" I imagined myself needing to channel my inner egoist, it didn’t seem like a good idea.

  Emberheart actually laughed at that, a genuine sound that made the room feel warmer. "No, though that would be entertaining to watch. This is called a combat orb. It's been experimented with by various mages over the years."

  "What does it do?"

  "You control it using your mana, creating a mental link with the orb. Essentially, you get a weapon that doesn't require a hand to wield." He gestured at it. "It can block attacks, strike enemies, even channel magic through it if you get skilled enough."

  "That sounds incredibly powerful," I said, studying the hexagonal plates more carefully. "Why isn't this more popular?"

  "Because it requires tremendous effort for minimal gain for most mages." Emberheart sat on the edge of his desk. "A normal mage would get only modest benefits from an orb, since they already have their weapon and their magic to manage. The mental bandwidth required to control a third element in combat is significant."

  "So it's not worth the trouble?"

  "Not for most people. The only mages who used combat orbs successfully were those who dedicated their entire training to mastering them." He picked up his tea again. "They would improve the orb, imbue it with magic, draw runes on its surface, essentially making it their primary weapon. They'd keep both hands completely free for precise control and fight from medium to long range."

  "So I'll become a long-range mage?" That wasn't exactly what I'd imagined.

  "That's entirely up to you." Emberheart's expression became more serious. "But remember, you have your power. In your hands, this orb isn't limited to conventional uses. With your rules, it could do anything. Serve any purpose you need in the moment."

  I looked at the orb with new understanding. "I could make it faster. Heavier. Give it different properties depending on what I'm facing."

  "Exactly. Most mages are limited by the physical properties of their orb and how much magic they can channel through it. You can simply rewrite what those properties are." He smiled slightly. "It's actually quite elegant. Silvani figured it out faster than I expected. Without even knowing about your ability"

  "How long did it take her?"

  "Three days of constant theorycrafting and sending me increasingly long letters." He shook his head with something like fond exasperation. "She was insufferable about it, naturally. Made sure I knew how brilliant she was for solving my 'impossible problem.'"

  I couldn't help but grin. "You two really are something."

  "Yes, well." He cleared his throat, moving past the topic. "You can take it. The orb will need time to attune to your mana signature. You'll need to do this manually—hold it, channel mana through it regularly, let it adjust to your energy."

  "How long does that take?"

  "A few weeks, typically. Then you'll need to train with it extensively, learning to move it, control it, fight with it." He picked up some papers from his desk. "When you feel comfortable maneuvering it around, we can incorporate it into your combat training properly."

  He handed me several new spell circle diagrams. "Until then, here are some new circles for you to practice during our sessions and throughout the week. We'll be increasing complexity gradually."

  I looked at the diagrams. They were definitely more intricate than the force push circle, with multiple components.

  "And the orb?" I asked.

  "Practice with it whenever you can. In your room, walking between classes, whenever you have free time." He gestured at it. "The more time you spend with it, the faster you'll attune and the more natural the control will become."

  "Got it." I gathered up the diagrams and crouched down to pick up the orb.

  It was heavier than I expected, solid and cold in my hands. The metal felt strange, slightly rough from the etchings but otherwise smooth. When I channeled a tiny bit of mana into it experimentally, nothing happened. It just sat there, inert and unresponsive.

  "Don't expect immediate results," Emberheart advised. "Attuning takes patience. Just keep working with it."

  "I will." I stood up, holding the orb awkwardly. "Thank you. For researching all this, for asking Silvani, for... everything."

  "It's my job to help you reach your potential." He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Now go practice those circles. I expect to see improvement by our next session."

  I left the study, carrying the orb carefully. Students in the hallway gave me odd looks as I passed, probably wondering what the strange metallic sphere was. I ignored them.

  The orb was heavy, cold, and felt completely unfamiliar in my hands.

  But I'd change that. I'd work with it until it became an extension of myself, until controlling it was as natural as breathing.

  I had a lot of training ahead of me.

  Time to get started.