“Wait...I can’t accept that–” Emilio shook his head.
“Please,” Jeane told him with a genuine smile, handing it over, “I’m just a first year student, but in Indasia Academy, my alchemy is looked at as just an inferior tool by the other mage students. But you...you showed a genuine interest and appreciation for my trinkets. You’ve spent a lot of time developing your magecraft, right?”
Emilio slowly nodded, “...Yeah.”
“Then I believe I’m right in giving this to you,” Jeane said.
Given no other choice, he accepted the tinkerer’s journal, feeling the weight of generations of knowledge in his hands now.
“Anyway, want to see what I’ve been working on?” Jeane asked.
“Do I,” Emilio happily obliged.
It was like delving into another world, sitting beside Jeane, who held an earnest smile like that of a curious child when talking about the trinkets he developed and those made by other masters.
“Most trinkets we sell are just novelty items–like love potions and truth collars. Normal people tend to really like this, but the main demand for magical tools are large orders from large adventurer expeditions or countries’ armies,” Jeane explained.
“...I didn’t think about that. I guess having readily available magic for normal soldiers would be a huge advantage,” Emilio replied.
“Mhm, though I don’t like it,” Jeane said, adjusting his glasses as he fiddled with a mechanical ball, “...Magic isn’t something that should be abused like that.”
There was no doubt that the art of magecraft was something that Jeane held dearly to his heart, if it wasn’t apparent by the countless time he seemed to sink in developing trinkets.
Before he realized it, Emilio had been sitting there for hours, only pulled away from it as the loyal servant of Mr. Merryfoot suddenly arrived.
“It’s time for your next match, Sir Dragonheart,” Ains said, standing in the doorway.
“–Wha? I don’t remember agreeing to a third match,” Emilio raised an eyebrow.
“The contract you signed had a minimum of three matches agreed,” Ains told him.
Emilio sighed out, “...Crap, that’s what I get for not reading the fine print.”
As he got up, Jeane was still tinkering with his gauntlet, fixing the runes inside of it before looking up at Emilio.
“Be careful,” Jeane told him, “I don’t say that lightly–I know how strong you are, but...the third match of an undefeated newbie’s career like yourself is something terrible.”
“Huh? What’re you talking about?” Emilio asked.
“They call it the ‘Rising Star’s Hazing’–just watch out,” Jeane warned him, “Either way though, good luck, I’ll be rooting for you.”
“Thanks,” Emilio said with a smile.
You’re kidding me–just how hard are that guy’s fists? Emilio questioned.
Though destroying a condensed form of water would normally not be an unorthodox feat, the caster was left stunned, for one good reason: each of the water sharks were reinforced to be as tough as steel.
Again, the golden-eyed, Danxian warrior vanished from before his eyes, moving at untraceable speeds before–
WHAM.
An unseen blow struck his cheek, though he didn’t see it come before another came.
“Gyuh–!” He spit the air from his lungs.
Straight into his gut, a blow landed before he could so much as tighten his core in preparation, resulting in the oxygen being pounded from his lungs. He was lifted a good several meters into the air from the blow, launching up before tumbling down.
As his lungs didn’t respond to him in the moment of shock for his body, receiving a blow powerful enough to make his stomach feel as though it was burning despite his draconic durability, he laid on the sand for a moment, heaving.
Who is this guy?...He’s this strong with just his fists, Emilio thought.
Though he planned on taking things somewhat casually within the Tower of Iron Magi, a sense of desperation came over him in the face of such an overwhelming foe as he picked himself up.
“Hah!”
Placing his hand close to his mouth, he conjured wind in order to reset his throbbing lungs, providing himself with air before he wiped the mixture of blood and saliva from his lips.
Raising his staff, heat gathered in front of it with the temperature rapidly rising in front of him, prompting Feiyu, who was reactive in the fight, to raise his guard.
“Inferno Salvo.”
In an instant, the air blared out, causing the sand to part and the audience to cover their ears as a volatile flame, rising to ludicrous degrees of heat, spewed across the battleground, chasing after Feiyu.
“–” Feiyu remained stoic, speeding around the perimeter of the battlefield.
As the destructive casting of fire touched the barrier, it resulted in multiple explosions, attempting to completely envelop the battlefield. It was a ‘scorched earth’ plan formed by Emilio; if his opponent was faster than him, he needed to cover enough ground to make that a non-factor.
I’m not done, Emilio thought.
Raising his staff to the air amidst the continuous streaks of flames and explosions that filled the arena, causing the announcer to go silent as he feared for his own safety along with the audience, Emilio conjured wind to combine with the territory of fire he had created.
It was the unison of two elements, creating a hellish environment in which life could not flourish:
“Gehenna’s Breeze.”
Rapid winds encircled the perimeter of the arena, sweeping the sands up and condensing a storm to the battleground, guiding the flames along with it as crimson heat filled it.
Feiyu began sweating, wiping droplets from his cheek as he set his eyes on the caster.
Small tornadoes of fire were born amidst the spell that reshaped the weather; though it wasn’t completely advantageous for Emilio, either.
He was forced to use his scale armor, giving himself some level of heat resistance, though his breathing became heavier and sweat dripped down his chin.
I’ve got you now, Emilio thought.