"DIE!" Francis voiced, a single word, tinged by a spray of spittle, a handsome man, marred by his own erraticness.
But all his icy attacks had achieved was a cloud of dust and obscurity. Dominus emerged, unfazed, his sword still calmly by his side.
"Juvenile," he told him, his voice betrayed no anger.
That single word was enough to cut right through the heart of Francis' being. It was the same look that he had seen others give him, men of higher status, the old professors that had seen promise in him. It was pity, mixed with something else. Was it disappointment? Whatever it was, it was an infuriating concoction.
Francis had the might of the world at his fingertips, or so he felt. His mage was only limited by his imagination and his efficiency. His lack of known spells did not prove to be an issue any longer, for he did not need the comfortable scope that a spell provided. His mana was so vast that he could simply force his magic into existence.
"EARTH HANDS!" It was not a spell, it was merely the image that he had in his mind. He wanted to crush Dominus like the bug he was. He wanted to demonstrate the difference in power between him and the man in front of him. The difference between Francis the Mage, and those dogs that followed the traditional path, those that had scorned him.
At his words, two hands of earth – three times the size of a man – sprung up out of the ground, either side of Dominus. Before the villagers could even register what it was they were seeing, the hands slapped angrily together, without a shred of resistance.
A brief pause.
Dominus sighed. "This is the sort of man your country could have had a use for, Lombard," he said, speaking back of his shoulder. Though he was quite a distance away by now, his words reached the Captain. Lombard found himself looking at the mage with a frown.
"Indeed," he thought. "I would have a use for that, in the same way, a man needs a solid trebuchet for a siege."
Francis cast another spell in fury, he knew they were mocking him. He started to play with more of the elements now, things that he had been unable to tap into before, before these long preparations, and before this vast power. He hit Dominus with fire.
He swept his hand aside, and a tsunami of flame blossomed in front of the path that Dominus walked. Dominus paused in front of it, as though alarmed – but there was a grin on his lips. He stepped through it without further hesitation. Not even his clothes caught aflame.
At this, the villagers did gasp. They'd managed to summon the barest fragment of an emotion that they did not have the energy for. Their hearts began to realize what it was that their eyes were seeing – a master at work. The strongest warrior in all of Stormfront. They did not know it quite in those terms, but their heart put it in other words for them: 'to the front, there stands a great man.'
It was not a suspenseful fight, like that they saw from Beam. There was no will, no passion, no frantic pounding against the doors of fate, demanding that they be let through. This was the chill of seeing a master at work, someone unparalleled in his profession, and none felt those chills greater than Tolsey and Lombard.
"FOULNESS! TRICKERY!" Francis said in dismay, horrified to see his powerful magic cast aside so easily, as though it was nothing more than a sharp breath of cold wind, something to be overcome merely by tolerating it.
"Trickery?" Dominus said, regarding the flames. "There's no strength in this. This is mere ordinary fire. Do you only know how to increase the size of your magic? Have you not strength?"