The Demon Lord And His Hero

Syryn's third experimental round of potions began with an unfortunate accident. Neiro, the youngest of his assistants had painfully tripped on the water pipes and emptied his basket of wet ingredients onto Blaze, their resident hot-headed alchemist.

With a sigh, Selene, the most competent and level headed one in the group, promptly stepped aside. Things were about to get hot.

"You bastard!" Blaze hissed. "Are you fucking blind?!"

Neiro who was still kneeled over on the ground raised his head and saw the mess on Blaze. "Oh." It wasn't the apology that Blaze expected.

Syryn was seated on the overhead ramp humming a tune and calculating the amount of mud-fish scale powder needed for the potion when the fight started. Blaze lunged at Neiro with his leg aimed at the younger alchemist's face.

Neiro reacted quickly by throwing himself to the side, avoiding the kick. Unfortunately for Blaze who had acted without thought, his momentum carried him forward and the outstretched leg hit the iron cauldron with a loud thunk! The enormous cauldron expectedly began to precariously tip from side to side over the stove. Even the temporary anchors that held the cauldron steady were showing signs of strain from how hard it was kicked.

"Gods damn it! Blaze Neiro!! Didn't I warn you I'd feed you your intestines?!" Syryn flung a ball of ice at his two assistants who were locked in a tussle the likes of which Syryn had only witnessed amongst stray dogs.

Neiro and Blaze, he had come to find, were both excellent alchemists that he intended to cultivate for his personal use. But right now, Syryn considered cooking them both inside the cauldron. It was only day 1 and Syryn was already entertaining thoughts about burning his contract.

"You look tired."

Syryn sighed and allowed Magnus to take the stack of parchments he was carrying to Lord Peltner's office. "I have two problem children in my team," Syryn replied wearily. 'Children' was an apt word to describe Neiro and Blaze who were both students of King Hill. Recognised for their excellence at alchemy, they had been placed with Syryn to learn from him. Neiro and Blaze were both in class 6, just a rung shorter than the one Syryn was placed on.

"Can't you just throw them out?"

"No, they're irreplaceable," Syryn replied and there was an edge of amusement in his tone. "Never mind that, are the tryouts being held today?"

"Mhm, you'll get to meet the rest of the team today." There was a touch of excitement in the way Magnus grinned at Syryn.

The two mages hurried to drop off Syryn's reports with the Head Magister's assistant, a middle-aged lady with curly blonde hair.

"Thank you, boys, have a wonderful evening." She was just as friendly as Lord Peltner. Syryn was refreshed by her energy and by the time he made haste to the Hall of wisdom, the weariness had faded.

Artemus hadn't arrived yet but there was a small group of eye-catching mages that formed their own circle in the Hall. They were given a wide berth by the other students. Syryn could see stares of worship and envy that were being sent the way of those mages.

"Let me tell you a little something about your future teammates." Magnus pulled Syryn down to the floor and sat with his back against the wall.

"That pretty young girl over there with the grey hair is called Lensa. She can and will boil you alive in steam extracted from the air if you so much as call her a hag, which is exactly what Corvus over there does all the time." Magnus then drew Syryn's gaze to a tall boy with Mossy green hair. The colouring was typical of those that were from the stone tribe of the Southern Sigil kingdom.

The stone tribe got its name from the genetic lineage that gave its members a special ability. It allowed their mages to secrete a semi-liquid substance that leaked out through the pores of their dermis. This substance would harden in the air and create a protective covering on exposed skin. With constant use of this gift, the layer of 'stone' was known to get harder and harder and morph from the consistency of a paste to an obsidian black rock.

"You probably already know what his powers entail," Magnus allowed, "So let's move on to Drake. He's the younger brother of Lillith, 3rd prince of the Sigil kingdom. Drake, like his sister, wields the power of light, but unlike Lillith, he uses it in an offensive capacity."

From what Syryn could see, Drake and Lillith were both winners of the genetic lottery. The teenage boy was already showing signs of an angular jawline that could potentially cut Syryn's hopes and dreams into ribbons.

"And our final fighter, Unri. Lightning is his friend."

Magnus had very few introductory words for the last person. Out of all the others, Unri's appearance was the most striking owing to his head of shocking red hair that rivalled Lucien's. The boy also had on an eye-catching necklace of blue beads the size of marbles that rested over his chest. He was seated on the floor with his eyes closed but Syryn got the impression that he wasn't as peaceful as his posture implied.

Syryn then casually looked around him and saw that over a hundred mages had gathered for the tryouts. He hoped for Artemus to have a better plan than just sparring if he intended to finalise the team today.

On cue, Artemus showed up and the blues under his eyes were more bruise-like than Syryn had ever seen. Everything else about the man was well-groomed, clean and perfectly tidy. Syryn was aware of just how much willpower it took Artemus to drag himself out of bed and fight the lethargic paralysis that the poison was spreading through his mind and body.

The young teacher wasted no time. He turned to face the students as soon as he had arrived.

"I'm sure you're all here hoping for a spot with the team. Unfortunately, out of a hundred and forty six of you, there's only one slot remaining." Crisp and straight to the point, the professor continued in a level tone despite the protest that had broken out.

"Syryn Nigh'hart, you're number 6 on the team. Magnus, take him there." Artemus indicated to the other senior members of the team.

The Hall came to a hush as Syryn made his way to the corner where the four seniors waited. He could feel their eyes appraising him with cool gazes.

"Congratulations Syryn." Magnus happily bumped Syryn on the shoulder as they made their way to the front. "Turns out your fight with Artemus was a blessing in disguise."

"If anyone has complains about Syryn, you're free to challenge him for his spot after the final selection," Artemus spoke after raising his hand to quiet the whispering that had begun to get louder.

"Mages with martial ability at the foundational level and below, split to the right. Everyone else, move to the left." Artemus announced. The group of gathered mages shuffled to their groupings and Syryn could see that it was an uneven split. The foundational fighters were a majority in the ratio of roughly 80:20 to the ones that had better combat abilities.

Artemus paused to study the groupings. "Thank you for showing up to the tryouts," he angled his head towards the group on the right, "I wish you better luck next year." And just like that, he had eliminated 117 hopefuls.

"Professor, it's not fair!"

"This isn't a martial contest! My magic is strong. How can you just eliminate us this way??"

"I'm complaining to the Head Magister."

"This is what we get for training under someone so young."

"My father will hear about this nonsense."

Artemus silently studied the 29 students that were left. Sweeping back the straight dark hair that waterfalled past his cheeks, the professor's demeanour changed. In an instant, the Hall developed a high pressure that spread out slowly like a wave from its point of origin - Artemus. The sensation of running out of air assailed Syryn but he knew it was just his imagination - his lungs were pumping air just fine.

"To defeat the anti mage that you know as Rowan Windwalker, do you honestly believe that your magic is enough?" Artemus began in a low voice that carried despite how spacious the Hall was. His onyx eyes swept past the paling faces of students that had started a ruckus.

Artemus' anti mage field was just light enough to catch the attention of the furious students but it did more than that when they realised how far his field extended. Even in his weakness, the professor was not one to be trifled with.

"To take him down, magic is secondary. Rowan will crush you with the sheer force of his void. Do you understand this?" Without raising his voice, Artemus sent his point across to the students. But the more stubborn ones still clung to their pride and challenged him once more. Syryn was starting to think that Traxdart's method of using violence to suppress idiots was far more efficient.

"Syryn, come." In a cool tone, Artemus called him out.

"Go ahead challenge him then." The professor pulled a chair out and relaxed into it with folded arms. The way he closed his eyes and waited for whatever he was expecting to happen had Syryn suspecting that Artemus was about to fall asleep right there.

"Syryn Nigh'hart, I challenge you to arcane combat under the laws of Malocke."

Syryn, who was starting to get restless, rejoiced in his heart. He stepped forward with plans to have some fun when he heard a reminder from Magnus, "Make it quick. The good professor looks like death warmed over."

"Right," Syryn had forgotten about his plans to check on Artemus. It was unfortunate then for the mage that awaited him at the centre of the gathering.