A Magician’s Path Through Magica

The momentary thrill of my victory began to fade as I made my way home. The sky deepened into a dark indigo, and the first stars emerged, faint yet steady. In the distance, the lights of Mirnia flickered to life, their soft glow cutting through the encroaching darkness.

My chest tightened with anxiety. What had seemed like a bold adventure earlier now weighed heavily on my mind. My parents and grandparents were surely worried sick, and I hadn't even told them where I was going. Shame crept over me like a shadow, and I quickened my pace, hoping to ease their fears.

As I neared the edge of town, I spotted a familiar figure wandering the dim path. It was my grandpa, his weathered face etched with worry as he scanned the darkness. He carried a lantern that swung gently in his hand, casting flickering light across the road. The sight of him searching for me tugged at my heart.

"Grandpa!" I called out softly, guilt lacing my voice.

His head snapped toward me, and as the town's glow illuminated my figure, relief washed over his features. He hurried toward me, his pace brisk but unsteady, his concern evident in every step.

"Where have you been all day?" he demanded, his voice firm but laced with worry. "Your parents, your grandma, and I were out of our minds with worry! You should've told someone before going off like that." He exhaled sharply, his words coming quicker. "Your mother was ready to strangle me. Do you know how dangerous it is to be out in the woods at this hour? The monsters—this is the time they wake to hunt. You don't want to end up as prey, do you? And…" His gaze fell to my hands. "What is that?"

I hesitated, then held up the wolf's severed head, its lifeless eyes now a dull gray. Blood still dripped from its fur, staining my hands and tunic. "I'm sorry, Grandpa," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "I didn't mean to worry anyone. I just…" I swallowed hard, choosing my words carefully. "I wanted to thank you. For everything. For training me, for teaching me how to fight, for believing in me. I wanted to prove to you how strong I've become because of you."

His expression shifted from confusion to a mix of pride and exasperation as I continued. "I remembered the story you told me about the child who was taken by a wolf, and… I thought I'd bring you this. To show you what I've learned. To thank you." I held out the wolf's head. "This is for you."

Grandpa stared at me, his eyes glinting in the lantern's light. He shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "You didn't need to kill a wolf to prove yourself to me. I already know you're strong." His voice softened. "You're my grandson, after all."

Tears welled in my eyes, and I broke into a run, throwing myself toward him in an attempt to hug him. But just as my arms reached out, a sharp rustling sound came from the bushes behind us.

Grandpa froze, his lantern swinging as he turned toward the noise. My heart skipped a beat. Something—or someone—was there. 

As I turned my head toward the bushes, I caught the gleam of light reflecting off two enormous, glowing yellow eyes staring at us. My breath hitched. Before I could react, the creature emerged, muscles tensed and claws ready—it was prepared to attack.

The beast lunged straight at me, its claws slicing through the air. I froze, the moment stretching into an eternity, but just before it could reach me, my grandpa moved. He used a spell—something like Phantom Step, but far more advanced. In a blur of motion, he grabbed me and pulled me to safety, narrowly avoiding the beast's strike. While the wolf's head flew clean off, severed in the chaos.

As he let go of me, we both turned to face the monster, dread settling like a weight in the pit of my stomach. It was a warg—a colossal wolf-like creature with razor-sharp claws, a mouth bristling with jagged teeth, and eyes that burned with ferocity. Such monsters were only known to roam the Whispering Highlands.

"A beast like that shouldn't be here," Grandpa said, his voice sharp with both worry and urgency. His eyes never left the warg. "Arthur, go home. Now! Find your father and tell him to call for reinforcements from the Adventurers' Guild. I'll hold it off while you run!"

I tried to move—tried to obey—but my feet felt rooted to the ground. My heart raced as the thought of leaving Grandpa alone gnawed at me, flooding me with doubt and fear. He was strong, but he wasn't in his prime anymore, and the Guild was still five kilometers away. Reinforcements wouldn't come in time.

I clenched my fists. How could I leave him? My thoughts spiraled into chaos. How can I possibly help him? I'm no match for a beast like this. I'd only get in the way. My eyes darted to the warg, its attention fixed solely on Grandpa, and a new wave of fear surged through me.

"Come on, Arthur! It's not the time to space out!" Grandpa shouted, his voice breaking through my turmoil. "You need to move—now! Don't worry about me, just run!"

"I—I'm so-rry, Grandpa… I just can't leave you alone here," I stammered, my voice trembling.

Grandpa's gaze softened for the briefest moment. "I know you're afraid, Arthur, but you have to trust me. I won't go down so easily!"

The warg snarled and charged at Grandpa, its massive frame a blur of dark fur and fury. In response, Grandpa conjured a whirlwind of flames, the fire wrapping around him like a blazing tornado. The warg struck over and over, each blow deflected by barriers of shimmering light or shields of flickering flame. Sparks flew, illuminating the grim scene as Grandpa stood his ground.

But I could see it—the slight steps backward, the sweat on his brow. He was holding the beast off, but the relentless onslaught was wearing him down. And still, I stood there, paralyzed by the battle raging not just before me, but within me.

What should I do? I thought. Should I act? Should I stay? Will Grandpa lose if I don't help? What if he gets hurt—or worse? What if… I die?

The questions clawed at me as fiercely as the warg clawed at Grandpa's magic shields. My mind became a battlefield, fear warring with the small flicker of courage buried deep inside me.

Then I noticed something—the warg wasn't even looking at me. Its predatory gaze never left Grandpa, as though I wasn't even worth its attention. Just like the bullies, I thought bitterly.

A memory flickered to life—the day I fought back against those older boys who had underestimated me. The same fear had gripped me then, but I had overcome it. I had shown them what I could do.

My fear began to crumble, replaced by something new—determination. This warg thinks I'm no threat, I thought, my confidence stirring like a fire rekindled. But it's wrong.

I clenched my fists, my pulse steadying. I beat those bullies. I can face this, too. I just need to show this monster not to underestimate me.

As the flames reflected in my eyes, my resolve solidified. The fear was still there, lingering like a shadow, but now something stronger had taken its place—my will to fight.

I stepped forward, charging a fireball in my hands. My grandpa noticed me out of the corner of his eye as he skillfully parried the warg's relentless attacks. With a swift motion, I hurled the fireball at the warg's head. It struck perfectly, flames erupting on impact. The warg snarled in rage, its eyes snapping toward me, now recognizing me as a threat.

I began to move, circling the creature while keeping a cautious distance. My grandpa took the opportunity to attack as well, unleashing a barrage of spells: Firewave, Burning Meteor, and his most awe-inspiring ability—God's Strike. This devastating spell called forth a bolt of lightning from the heavens to smite its target with divine fury. The warg tried to evade with its lightning-fast reflexes, but the spells were too quick and precise.

Frustrated and cornered, the warg unleashed one of its natural abilities. Unlike spells that required learning and mastery, this was an innate skill—an inherited power unique to its species and refined over generations. It activated Shadow Hide, an ability that allowed it to meld with the shadows around it. The warg vanished into the darkness, its form dissolving into the shadows as if it were never there.

Shadow Hide was an exceptionally dangerous skill. It didn't just conceal the warg; it let it travel within the shadows and emerge from any dark spot it chose. Worse still, it was nighttime—shadows were everywhere, making the creature's next move unpredictable. My breath quickened as I scanned the darkness, knowing the warg could strike from anywhere. 

I glanced around frantically, panic tightening its grip on my chest. The fear that the warg might attack me from behind was overwhelming—so intense it felt like my mind was spiraling into madness.

In stark contrast, Grandpa stood calm as ever. He closed his eyes, his breathing steady. Was he meditating? Sensing the warg's mana? Or maybe he was simply sharpening his focus, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Seconds stretched into eternity as we waited, every muscle in my body coiled with tension. Then it happened—the very thing I dreaded most. The warg burst from the shadows right behind me, its jaws wide open, aiming to maul me.

Time seemed to freeze. I could feel death creeping toward me, it's cold breath on my neck. For a moment, I was certain it was the end.

But Grandpa wouldn't let that happen.

In a flash, he threw himself between me and the beast. Just before its fangs could sink into my flesh, Grandpa shielded me with his own body.

I spun around, my heart pounding in my ears. Relief surged through me when I realized I was unharmed—but that relief vanished as quickly as it came.

Blood poured from Grandpa's right arm and chest where the warg's teeth had sunk deep. The sight of the crimson flow made my stomach churn, and tears welled up in my eyes. Guilt hit me like a tidal wave. This was my fault. He was hurt because I couldn't protect myself.

But Grandpa wasn't one to falter. Even with blood soaking his clothes, he stood firm, locking eyes with the warg. His sheer willpower and strength made the beast hesitate, its movements faltering as tremors ran through its body.

Grandpa wasted no time. Chanting a spell, he conjured a short black sword in his left hand. With a swift, precise motion, he slashed the blade across the warg's throat.

The beast didn't even have a chance to react. Its body slumped to the ground, lifeless, its teeth still embedded in Grandpa's flesh. 

At that moment, I wanted to cheer—but I couldn't. Grandpa was gravely injured.

He collapsed to the ground, his legs unable to support him any longer. I rushed to his side, kneeling down to check on him. Gently, I lifted his head onto my knees, hoping to offer him some comfort. His face was etched with pain, but when he saw the tears welling in my eyes, a faint light flickered in his expression.

Blood poured from his arms and torso—more blood than I'd ever seen in my life. It painted his clothes and the ground beneath him in deep crimson.

He opened his mouth to speak but grimaced, struggling to form words. After several agonizing seconds, he finally whispered, "Are you okay, Arthur?"

"Yes," I managed to reply, my voice breaking as tears streamed down my face.

"Good," he said softly, pausing for a moment.

"Arthur…"

I nodded, my throat tight, the taste of salty tears on my lips as they fell like waterfalls.

"I… I'm proud of you," he said, his voice trembling with pain yet laced with pride. "I never thought… you'd become this strong. You fought like a true warrior, Arthur."

His words hit me harder than any blow could.

"Even if I will not be here anymore," he continued, his voice weaker but still resolute, "you need to keep training. Work hard to achieve what you want, no matter what. You don't need me anymore… Arthur. You're stronger than me. Trust me."

"No!" I cried, shaking my head as I wiped my tears on my sleeve. "Please, don't leave me! How can I become the strongest mage without you?"

"You don't need me, Arthur," he said, his breathing shallow. "You only need to believe in yourself. That's all it takes. True strength… it comes from the heart of those willing to fight for it."

His words felt like a dagger to my chest. I couldn't stop the torrent of emotions—fear, regret, despair—all crashing over me. My body trembled uncontrollably, my heart pounding as fast as a galloping horse.

Grandpa looked at me one last time. With the faintest smile and a hint of irony in his voice, he whispered, "What a crazy day, huh, Arthur? Come on… smile—"

He couldn't finish the sentence.

His eyes went still, the light fading from them. His body grew cold and pale in my arms.

That evening changed everything. My life turned upside down.

I stayed there, clutching his hand, tears streaming endlessly. The silence of the dark sky was broken only by the flickering light of lanterns drawing closer, their glow piercing through the night.