Juan panted, sweat dripping from his brow as he stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding a lance of light that burned the air beside him. Frankfield Lightspawn, his enigmatic teacher, stood in front of him, arms crossed, an unimpressed expression on his sharp, golden face.

  "You're holding back, Juan" Frankfield said, his voice firm but devoid of anger. "You think too much, you hesitate. Magic does not wait for the cowardly. It answers only those who act."

  Juan gritted his teeth, fists clenched in frustration. He had never wanted to be a soldier, much less a magic wielding one. All he wanted was to drink, gamble, and dance, to live life the way he chose. Yet here he was, stuck in a world he didn't recognize, forced to train under an elf who barely acknowledged his existence beyond what was necessary.

  "You think I ain't tryin'?" Juan snapped, his thick Spanish accent bleeding through. "I ain't some kind of wizard genius, hombre! I don't even know what I'm supposed to do!"

  Frankfield sighed. "Mana is not logic. It is will, desire, instinct, imagination. And right now, your instincts are screaming at me in fear, not in power."

  Juan scowled. "Yeah? Well, maybe that's 'cause you're shootin' freakin' laser beams at me!"

  Frankfield ignored the outburst and raised a single hand. A new blast of light shot toward Juan, faster than before. Juan flinched, raising his arms in defense, willing whatever weak shield magic he could muster to protect himself.

  Then, it happened.

  A ripple of energy pulsed around him, different from before. The familiar translucent barrier that usually flickered into existence instead extended outward, sharper, thinner, almost imperceptible. Before Juan could react, Frankfield's light construct slammed against the invisible force. A sharp crack echoed through the air as the attack was severed cleanly in two.

  Silence fell.

  Frankfield's sharp blue eyes widened, the first sign of genuine surprise Juan had ever seen from him. The elf's gaze flickered between the broken remnants of his attack and Juan's outstretched arm.

  "What... did you just do?" Frankfield murmured, more to himself than to Juan.

  Juan looked at his own hands, then at the space before him. A faint shimmer of energy lingered where the shield had been, but unlike his usual magic, this had an edge, a blade-like quality. He had never seen anything like it before.

  "Hah!" Juan smirked, shaking off the tension. "Looks like I ain't as useless as you thought, eh?"

  Frankfield ignored him, his expression contemplative. "I have lived for 138 years," he said slowly. "And in all that time, I have never seen a mage pull something like this. Shield magic is purely defensive, it does not cut. It does not attack. Yet you..."

  Juan puffed out his chest. "Guess I got a lil' somethin' extra, huh?"

  The elf's gaze darkened. "Or something unnatural."

  Juan faltered slightly, but before he could respond, Frankfield suddenly lunged. Without warning, the elf struck Juan square in the chest with a powerful light-infused palm strike, sending him sprawling to the ground.

  "Gah! What the hell?!" Juan groaned, gripping his ribs.

  "You're getting ahead of yourself, Castillo," Frankfield said, looming over him. "Power means nothing if you lack control. Confidence means nothing if it's built on arrogance."

  Juan coughed, rolling onto his side. "So what, you want me to sit here and act all humble while you keep beatin' me up?"

  Frankfield smirked. "No. I want you to learn. Now, get up."

  That night, Juan sat alone in the small stone chamber he had been given for rest. A single candle flickered beside him, its warm glow doing little to ease the weight in his chest.

  Maria.

  He had been trying to avoid thinking about her, about what he had left behind. But now, in the silence, her face surfaced in his mind. The way she used to scold him for staying out too late drinking, the way her lips curled in exasperation when he told her another one of his wild, drunken stories. He had never been the best husband, and he knew it. He had never even wanted to be married. Yet now, in this foreign world, he found himself missing the familiarity of her presence.

  "I ain't even know if she's alive right now..." he muttered to himself, rubbing his face.

  A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Frankfield stood there, his expression unreadable. "Come. Training continues."

  Juan sighed, pushing himself to his feet. "Yeah, yeah. Lemme grab my boots."

  The next day, Juan's training resumed with brutal intensity. Frankfield pushed him harder than before, forcing him to refine his newfound ability. The shield-blade, what Frankfield began calling the "Aegis Edge" became his focus.

  "Again!" Frankfield ordered.

  Juan gritted his teeth and summoned the barrier. This time, he willed it to sharpen, to extend just a little further. When Frankfield's next attack came, Juan stepped forward instead of back. The shield-blade met the elf's light construct, slicing through it like a knife through paper.

  Frankfield nodded approvingly. "Good. But not enough."

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  He retaliated, this time launching a barrage of rapid strikes. Juan barely had time to react, parrying with his invisible blade. The force of each impact sent shudders through his arms, but he stood his ground.

  Then, a mistake.

  He overextended. Frankfield feinted, ducked under Juan's swing, and landed a powerful kick to his stomach. Juan hit the ground hard, coughing.

  "You're improving," Frankfield said. "But you're reckless. You rely too much on instinct."

  Juan groaned. "You ain't gotta kick me that hard, man."

  "I did. Otherwise, you wouldn't learn."

  Juan scowled but didn't argue. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky. "So what now? You just gonna keep knockin' me down till I get it right?"

  Frankfield sat beside him. "No. I'm going to tell you the truth."

  Juan raised a brow. "Oh? This gonna be some kind of big, dramatic revelation?"

  Frankfield smirked. "Perhaps. Listen well, Juan Castillo Fabronas. Power alone is not enough. You will see battles far beyond your imagination, forces greater than you or me. If you remain a fool, you will die a fool."

  Juan frowned, his previous arrogance faltering. "...Yeah? And what if I don't wanna be a fool?"

  Frankfield met his gaze, eyes glowing faintly. "Then prove it, be a castle."

  Juan took a deep breath, pushing himself up. He dusted off his clothes, cracked his neck, and stretched his fingers. "Alright, alright. You win. Let's do this again."

  Frankfield smiled faintly. "Good. Now, begin."

  Juan squared his stance, sweat dripping from his brow as he stared down Frankfield.

  The elf was calm, composed, his golden skin almost glowing under the flickering torchlight. They stood in the middle of the training ground, an open courtyard surrounded by tall stone walls. The night air was cool, but Juan's body burned with exhaustion and adrenaline. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he refused to yield. Not now. Not after everything.

  "Again," Frankfield ordered, raising his hands. A bright sphere of light formed between his palms before it stretched and elongated, taking the shape of a glowing spear. His blue eyes flickered with intensity as he hurled the weapon at Juan with impossible speed.

  Juan barely had time to react. His instincts screamed, and he willed his magic into action. The shimmering shield he had been practicing with manifested before him, but this time, he pushed further, shaping the barrier into the razor-thin, nearly invisible blade he had discovered prior.

  With a desperate swing, Juan slashed at the incoming spear. The moment his shield-blade made contact, the magic construct split cleanly in two, dissolving into harmless particles of light. The sheer precision startled even him, and for a split second, he marveled at his own power.

  Frankfield was already moving. In the span of a breath, the elf closed the distance, palm glowing. He struck out with a blinding pulse of energy. Juan ducked, twisted his body, and instinctively slashed with his barrier-blade. The attack missed, but Frankfield was forced to step back, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face.

  "You're learning," the elf admitted, his voice edged with approval.

  Juan grinned, despite the ache in his muscles. "Damn right I am."

  Frankfield didn't let up. He lifted a hand, and suddenly, beams of light rained down from above. Juan rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the magical barrage. He raised his barrier again, but this time, instead of simply defending, he lunged forward. His blade met Frankfield's glowing arm, and for the first time, the elf didn't parry with ease. Their magic clashed, sending sparks flying. The force of the impact made Juan's knees buckle, but he pushed through, pressing the advantage.

  Frankfield smirked. "Better."

  And then, with the speed of a striking snake, he twisted his wrist and sent a blast of energy straight into Juan's chest. The human barely had time to register the hit before he was sent flying backward, slamming hard against the dirt.

  Juan groaned. "Mierda..."

  Frankfield approached, looking down at him with an amused expression. "You did well. You almost landed a hit."

  Juan coughed, rubbing his ribs. "Yeah, yeah. Just lemme rest a minute."

  The elf extended a hand. "Training is over for today."

  Juan hesitated before taking it. His whole body ached, but he felt something different this time. Pride. He was getting stronger. He could feel it.

  That night, Juan lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion seeping into his bones. His mind drifted back to Maria again. Would she even recognize him now? Would she care? He had been a selfish husband, always drinking, always gambling. Now, he had a chance to be something else, something more. But was that what he wanted?

  A noise outside snapped him from his thoughts. Footsteps. Heavy ones.

  Juan sat up, listening closely. Then, the door burst open.

  Three figures stood in the doorway, their faces partially obscured by the dim candlelight. But Juan recognized them instantly.

  The goons from the gambling den.

  "Well, well," one of them sneered, the burly orc standing nearly nine feet tall. "Look who we found."

  Juan's heart pounded. "Listen, amigos, I ain't got your money-"

  The orc grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up like a ragdoll. "You think we care? You ran. Nobody runs from us."

  Juan's instincts flared. Without thinking, his magic responded. A shimmering barrier formed between him and the orc, sharp as a blade. The magic was raw, instinctual, reacting faster than his mind could comprehend.

  The orc barely had time to react before a gash appeared across his arm. He roared in pain, stumbling back. The other two thugs hesitated.

  Juan stared at his own hands, horrified. He had never actually hurt someone before. The sight of blood sent a cold shock through him, but his body refused to falter. His power had acted on its own, as if it had been waiting for this moment.

  But they weren't backing down.

  The other two lunged at him. Juan reacted purely on instinct, sweeping his barrier-blade in a wide arc. A burst of force sent one of them sprawling, while the other barely dodged, eyes wide with shock.

  The orc, clutching his bleeding arm, growled. "You're gonna regret that."

  Juan didn't wait to find out what he meant. He turned and ran, his breath ragged, his heart hammering in his chest.

  Frankfield listened quietly as Juan recounted what had happened. The elf stood with his arms crossed, expression unreadable.

  When Juan finished, he expected scolding, disappointment. But Frankfield merely nodded.

  "You defended yourself," the elf said. "Good."

  Juan blinked. "You ain't mad?"

  Frankfield sighed. "Why would I be? You didn't seek violence. It came to you. And this time, you didn't cower."

  Juan scratched the back of his head. "Still feels weird. Ain't never really hurt nobody before."

  The elf placed a hand on Juan's shoulder. "You will have to get used to it."

  Juan frowned. "What do you mean?"

  Frankfield's face darkened. "I can't stay here, Juan. My homeland, Glux'n, is on the brink of war."

  Juan's stomach dropped. "What?"

  "The neighboring country has demanded we hand over our solarite reserves. We refused. Now, they prepare for battle." Frankfield exhaled. "I must return."

  Juan's hands clenched into fists. "And what? You're just gonna leave me?"

  Frankfield nodded. "Yes. You are not ready for war."

  Juan scowled. "Like hell I ain't."

  "You still think of yourself as the man you were before."

  Juan stepped forward. "You don't get to decide that for me."

  Frankfield's eyes softened, but he shook his head. "You will only slow me down."

  Juan glared at him. "So that's it? You train me, teach me all this, then just ditch me?"

  Frankfield turned away. "This is not your fight."

  Juan's jaw tightened. But deep down, he knew the elf was right. He wasn't ready. Not yet.

  But that wasn't going to stop him.

  As Frankfield prepared to leave the next morning, Juan followed him from the shadows. The elf thought he was leaving him behind.

  But Juan Castillo Fabronas was never one to back down from a challenge.