Chapter 238: Back to Holy Trinity [2]

The Magic Department’s training grounds were unusually crowded that afternoon.

With the practical assessments approaching, students who normally disappeared the moment their lectures ended had suddenly developed an interest in independent training. Every available arena had been reserved, and even the smaller courtyards were occupied by students practicing spells under the supervision of their instructors.

Ilya discovered this after making the mistake of arriving without a reservation.

"Nothing available?"

"Not until evening," the student responsible for the schedule replied. "You can check the eastern grounds, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up."

Ilya thanked him and considered his options. He had intended to spend the afternoon practicing the circulation technique Hakon had suggested, but the exercise required a proper training arena if he wanted to test it against an opponent.

He could always return later.

Before making that decision, however, he noticed a familiar figure supervising a group of students on the opposite side of the courtyard.

Tristan Amaury de Bellacourt.

The southern nobleman was watching two students exchange spells inside a reinforced arena, occasionally offering corrections whenever one of them made a mistake. Several others were waiting nearby, apparently taking turns.

Judging by the arrangement, Tristan had organized a group training session.

Well, that was convenient.

"Bellacourt."

Tristan turned toward him.

"Belozersky. What do you want?"

"Such a warm welcome. I was wondering whether you had room for another participant."

Tristan glanced toward the reservation board.

"Don’t tell me you came here without booking anything."

"An unfortunate oversight."

"How very unlike you."

Ilya decided to accept the criticism. After all, Tristan had anticipated the rush for training facilities while he hadn’t.

The nobleman eventually agreed to let him join, provided he followed the same restrictions as everyone else. His group had reserved the arena for another two hours, and an additional participant would give them an opportunity to practice against someone with an unfamiliar fighting style.

It was a reasonable arrangement.

Ilya spent the next several minutes observing the exercises while waiting for his turn.

The students had divided themselves into pairs, with each engagement ending when one participant surrendered or triggered the arena’s protective formation. Although most were competent, their approaches remained fairly conventional. They exchanged spells at a distance, established defensive formations, and attempted to overwhelm their opponents through superior magical output.

Ilya could understand why.

For a wizard, maintaining distance from an enemy was generally common sense.

Unfortunately, he had spent most of his childhood learning how to close that distance.

When his turn arrived, he was paired with a young man specializing in earth magic.

His opponent immediately raised a stone barrier before preparing another spell. Ilya recognized the familiar arrangement and released several ice javelins, forcing the young wizard to reinforce his defenses.

The javelins shattered against the stone.

However, their purpose had already been accomplished.

While his opponent concentrated on the incoming projectiles, Ilya used the blizzard to accelerate around the barrier and approach from the side.

The young wizard reacted quickly, raising another wall between them.

Ilya changed direction.

The blizzard carried him upward, allowing him to pass over the obstruction before his opponent could finish constructing a third defense.

By the time the young man realized what had happened, Ilya was already descending toward him.

"Ah—!"

The supervising instructor raised his hand.

"Stop! Victory, Belozersky."

Ilya landed a short distance away and allowed the cold surrounding him to disperse.

His opponent looked rather embarrassed.

"I thought you’d attack the barrier."

"That was the idea."

"You barely used any magic."

"I used enough."

The instructor seemed satisfied with the result, although he reminded Ilya to exercise caution when approaching an opponent at high speed. The protective formations could prevent serious injuries, but that didn’t mean students were encouraged to throw themselves at one another without restraint.

Ilya acknowledged the warning.

Considering some of the things he had done during the examination, he supposed the concern was justified.

Tristan, meanwhile, had watched the entire engagement with an unreadable expression.

"You haven’t changed much."

"Is that a compliment?"

"You still fight like someone who wandered into the wrong department."

Ilya laughed.

That wasn’t entirely unfair.

His inability to use Aura had made his years in the Knight Department miserable, but the training itself hadn’t been wasted. Even after transferring to magic, he still found it easier to approach combat through movement, positioning, and physical confrontation.

Niflheim simply gave him new ways to apply those skills.

"Would you prefer that I stand still and exchange spells?"

"I’d certainly appreciate it."

"Then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed."

Tristan smiled.

"Shall we?"

Ilya regarded him with interest.

Apparently, the southern nobleman had been waiting for an opportunity to challenge him.

Their previous encounter during the examination had ended under rather unusual circumstances. Tristan possessed a clear advantage in magical ability, but Ilya’s mobility and martial training had made him a troublesome opponent whenever he managed to close the distance.

Neither had forgotten the experience.

The instructor agreed to supervise their engagement, and the remaining students gathered around the arena.

Unlike the previous exercises, this match permitted both participants to use their normal combat techniques, though dangerous spells and excessive force remained prohibited.

Ilya entered the arena and waited for the signal.

Across from him, Tristan raised his hand.

Several translucent planes appeared around the southern nobleman.

Ah, those things again.

During their examination, Tristan had demonstrated the ability to redirect spells through these planes, changing their trajectories even after they had been released. He could attack from unexpected directions, turn an opponent’s own spells against them, and establish a network that made approaching him extraordinarily difficult.

For a conventional wizard, it was a remarkable technique.

For Ilya, it was an enormous nuisance.

"Begin!"

A lance of mana shot toward him.

Ilya immediately accelerated sideways, only for the spell to pass through another plane and turn toward his back.

He felt the disturbance through Cold Sense and threw himself upward.

The attack passed beneath him.

Tristan followed with three mana blades, each approaching from a different direction. Ilya twisted between them, using the blizzard to change direction before the attacks could converge.

Unfortunately, Tristan redirected the blades again.

Ilya clicked his tongue.

The bastard was even more troublesome than he remembered.

Rather than continuing to evade, he formed several ice javelins and sent them toward Tristan. The southern nobleman intercepted them with his planes, sending two harmlessly into the ground while redirecting another back toward Ilya.

However, the last javelin had been aimed at the arena floor.

It shattered against the stone, spreading frost across the surface.

Tristan noticed.

"Planning something?"

"Just making myself comfortable."

"Then allow me to help."

"Fulmen."

Lightning erupted from Tristan’s hand.

Ilya immediately accelerated, but the bolt struck one of the translucent planes and changed direction. Another plane redirected it again, forcing him to retreat before he could approach Tristan.

The southern nobleman had learned from their previous fight.

Instead of allowing Ilya to gain momentum, he positioned his planes to control the available space, forcing him into increasingly unfavorable directions.

It was an effective strategy, especially when Tristan possessed more mana and access to higher-Circle spells.

Ilya couldn’t afford to continue trading attacks indefinitely.

He increased the intensity of the blizzard.

Snow swept across the arena as the frost covering the ground spread beneath his feet. Cold Sense allowed him to track the mana disturbances surrounding Tristan’s planes, giving him enough information to maneuver despite the worsening visibility.

Then he accelerated.

Tristan responded immediately, directing another spell toward the approaching disturbance.

Ilya changed direction and slipped past it, using the blizzard to launch himself toward the southern nobleman.

Five meters.

Three.

He was almost within striking distance.

Unfortunately, Tristan had anticipated exactly that.

A translucent plane appeared directly before Ilya’s extended fist.

His attack struck the surface, and the momentum of his arm was dragged sideways.

"Got you."

Tristan released a concentrated burst of mana.

Boom——!

Ilya attempted to retreat, but the spell struck before he could recover his balance. The arena’s protective formation flashed as he was thrown backward and landed heavily against the stone.

The instructor immediately ended the engagement.

"Victory, Bellacourt!"

For a moment, Ilya remained seated.

Then he laughed.

"Ah, damn it."

Tristan approached with a satisfied expression.

"Did you really think I’d let you punch me again?"

"I was hoping you’d be sentimental."

"Unfortunately for you, I have a good memory."

Ilya accepted the offered hand and returned to his feet.

The defeat was annoying, but he had to admit that Tristan deserved the victory. The nobleman had studied their previous encounter, anticipated Ilya’s preferred approach, and prepared a countermeasure that exploited his momentum.

More importantly, he hadn’t allowed the blizzard to distract him from the actual threat.

"That was a good counter," Ilya admitted.

"I know."

"You’re enjoying this."

"Immensely."

Well, at least he was being honest.

Their conversation continued as the next pair entered the arena. Tristan explained that he had been practicing the timing of his planes since the examination, specifically to prevent opponents from exploiting the intervals between their activation.

Ilya listened with interest.

His own training under Hakon had focused on improving the coordination of multiple currents of cold mana. He had made progress, but today’s engagement demonstrated that his approach still depended too heavily on committing to a single direction once he accelerated.

Against an ordinary opponent, that was rarely a problem.

Against Tristan, it was an invitation to be thrown across the arena.

He would have to address it.

As the remaining students completed their exercises, Ilya continued observing Tristan’s technique and asking the occasional question. The southern nobleman answered most of them, though he naturally refused to explain every detail of his spellcraft.

Ilya couldn’t blame him.

He wouldn’t have revealed all his tricks either.

By the time their reservation ended, the two had already begun discussing another practice session.

"Same restrictions?" Tristan asked.

"That works."

"Then I suggest preparing something better."

Ilya smiled.

"Oh, I intend to."

Tristan seemed pleased by the answer, although Ilya suspected he would have been happier if the next engagement ended exactly like this one.

Unfortunately for him, Ilya had no intention of making that easy.