The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

Marina Lainsfont’s mini-arc. 3/4.

***

 

For the briefest of moments, Marina saw magic concentrated into the size of a pea. 

Arcane energy wrought and bent like iron upon an anvil, the telltale hiss of death and the acrid smell of burning iron meeting her, before expanding outwards with all the force of a dragon’s breath.

Marina still had enough time to click her tongue. Just before replacing the sight with a fire of her own.

“[Ignite]!”

Fwumph.

Thrusting her arms out, she discharged the flames in her hands. The air between them raged as her spell struck the headmaster’s. Magic met magic. And the result was lashes of molten liquid writhing like burning rivers fighting over a canal.

“Ghhhhhhhrrrrr …”

Marina clenched her teeth before the dance of flames. But not due to the strength of the headmaster’s opening spell. No–his [Focus Detonation] boasted all the subtlety of a stoneworker cleaving a boulder in two. She would not be matched in raw power.

Rather … she was simply furious with herself.

The mindless flamboyancy had worked. 

She’d actually been distracted enough to fail to account for a mirror image. A mistake her ears would doubtless pay for all the way until she set this man’s vocal chords alight. 

“Offence over defence,” came Headmaster Alberic’s musing voice behind the wall of melting air. “Bold … arrogant, even. But arrogance is not one of the fundamentals of magic, is it?”

He revealed himself with a casual wave of his hand, extinguishing the wall of flames no differently than were he blowing out a candle.

“I’m not familiar with the standard curriculum,” said Marina, snatching at the fleeing flames. In a single movement, she strung them together as a burning chain before whipping them towards the exposed mage before her. “You made sure of that.”

“Indeed, I did.” Headmaster Alberic flicked the chain away. It fell as a string of multicoloured flags of the continent. “Not my most mature decision, but I was young … er and prideful. Much like you are now. I’m sure you’d do the same if slighted by a child.”

“My days of being insulted by children are over. A pity. It looks like insults become worse with age.”

Headmaster Alberic gave a modest chuckle, trying and failing to have his youthful appearance make any impact on Marina’s conjured image of him. Instead, he circled his hand, drawing forth a crystal platter filled with tableware more intricate than anything an artisan could craft in a year.  

“Then allow me to offer my apologies with a long overdue lesson, for your sake as well as mine. Safety, after all, is the most important rule we hold here in the Royal Institute of Mages.”

“I’d rather eat a blighted toad.”

“Yes, well, that can be the follow-up lesson. Now pay attention. Technique. Stability. Efficiency. These are the fundamentals of magic.”

Marina waited, despite herself.

After a few moments of silence, she raised her palms in disgust.

“... Is that it?”

“Yes.”

She hadn’t paid a single crown for that lesson. And still the part of her that remained a shopkeeper felt robbed.

“That was worse than every lesson I’d yet to receive.”

“There is a part two.”

“Another three words, perhaps?”

“Just the one, actually–to demonstrate what failure to follow these fundamentals results in. [Shatter].”

“[Molten Barrier]!”

Before the words had even left her lips, an umbrella of flickering lava enveloped her. The magical barrier hissed as it absorbed the crystalline shards erupting towards her, melting them as easily as leaves in a hearth. 

“Technique. Stability. Efficiency,” repeated the headmaster, his darkened silhouette leaning forwards to study Marina’s shield. “By order of importance, but all three must be observed. Failure to adhere to the fundamentals will result in a very shortened lifespan. Before you can wield fire, you must first learn to respect it, lest it burns more than your hand. Which is why I must offer you an important chastisement. Your magic is far too wild, Miss Lainsfont.”

“My magic is my own,” she replied, waiting for the moment he leaned closer like the curious buffoon he was. “And the spells I cast are considerably improved to those wielded by anyone unfortunate enough to have ears in your presence.”  

“Ah, yes. I can see it already. The tinkering. Like a new student on their way out via a hole in the wall. A basic [Ignite] should not be able to match the destructive force of a [Force Detonation]. Dangerous, Miss Lainsfont. There is a cost to all things. And mages pay it with more than crowns or beads of sweat. Arrogance is no recognised currency. It is a pitfall. For example–[Gale Blast].”

Pwooomph.

All of a sudden, a strike like a hammer blow slammed into Marina’s barrier.

Her entire body shifted, soles sliding against the wilting carpets as the spell almost threatened to send her backwards as a human cannonball. She held instead, her surrounding flames raging angrily towards the man whose smile she could sense, even if her eyes were spared the sight.

“Had you correctly layered your barrier, you would have remained anchored to the spot. But that’s not where your spellwork’s true weakness lies. Not everyone uses magic as you do–brutishly like a knight swinging a mace. For those that do see all too late the dagger slipping between the armour.”

Without waiting for a response, the man’s finger once again pointed towards her.

“–And mine is exceptionally sharp. [Arcane Dispersion].”

Clink.

A heartbeat later, a thin shaft of light immediately broke through Marina’s [Molten Barrier]. Gone was the hammer and in came the chisel, her magic shedding as cracks streaked across the surface.

Cracks which gave way to molten shards more deadly than any dagger the headmaster wished to use.

“[Fiery Absolution]!”

Marina was ready.

As her barrier broke, she drove the collapsing  shards before her with a fling of her arms, a vulnerability turning to a volley of molten death. They were all met by a door, the shards impaling the enchanted woodwork like darts against a board. 

Other mages would stand and gawp. But she didn’t wait to see where he had shifted. 

She didn’t need to.

“[Conflagration Nova]!”

Denying the inevitable attack driven towards her back, she sent a wave of shimmering heat in all directions. The carpet became a receding wave of flames as the blast swept through the chamber, artifacts and trophies hurling from their podiums as the fiery tide smashed into the ring of surrounding shelves. Books collapsed and piled upon the floor, their covers aflame like smouldering embers, even if their contents remained warded and safe.

“Aha. A true classic. The good old exploding barrier into making a mess of my office trick. A handy thing, to make use of every scrap of magic there is. But also far too predictable.”

“Tch.”

Marina prayed for patience as she turned around.

There, now truly sat behind his desk, was a wholly unconcerned headmaster. 

Flicking the pages of his undamaged draft without reading, he glanced up as though she’d only just entered his chamber.

Mages.

Even as one, she couldn’t help but think the world would be better without them all.

“Remember, Miss Lainsfont–masking magic is good practice. But against fellow mages, it is critical. Blowing everything up is entertaining, yes, but not necessarily efficient or pragmatic. The surge is far too observable. If you’d like to learn about practical magical obfuscation, it actually comes included with my tutelage.”

Marina furrowed her brows as she studied what defences he had on his person. Or attempted to.

“It must be a short lesson, seeing the effectiveness of your glamour. The inconsistencies are so wildly amateurish that I can only assume it’s distracting on purpose.”

Headmaster Alberic raised an eyebrow, even as his smile remained undiminished.

“... I’d lament that your personality has changed. Sadly, I see that it hasn’t.”

“Good. It means I don’t need to restate my reasons for rejecting your subpar tutelage.”

“A mercy for us both, then. The petulance still nibbles at my memories.”

Marina just about held back a snort. She didn’t know what was more laughable. That this man considered indentured servitude to be a worthy price for his rambling musings, or that none of his spells helped him to see beyond his own nose.

“Petulence is barring any accredited mage from tutoring me,” she said plainly. “A level of spite I only wish I could use as a reagent. The efficacy of whatever I crafted would be insurmountable.”

“As I said–I have my regrets … although I should note they are relatively minor. This academy is no orphanage for the dispossessed. It is an institute of learning, with a corresponding price. Those who refuse to pay should not be led astray by those hacks I call my colleagues. That is, I believe, a far crueller fate than allowing such talents to naturally go their way.”

The embers simmering in Marina’s palms flashed to life once again.

“You failed. My flames burn more keenly than ever.”

Headmaster Alberic sat back in his chair and smiled.

“I shall be the judge of that. [Glacial Orb].”

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. One which came with a snowball leaving his palm, before immediately turning into a ball of shimmering ice. 

Marina was faster.

“[Incendiary Ray].”

Woooooooooooosh.

She met the oncoming sphere with a prolonged burst of flames. And unlike with the arcane wyrmlings, she had no need for discretion. Quite the opposite.

She wished to make a point as loud as her flames could sear.

The orb of frost slowed, its form hanging in the air before it stilled entirely. Such was its scalding cold that even as it was struck by Marina’s spell, it did not seamlessly melt. Instead, a hole appeared in its centre while its frame remained. And like a lance piercing through a shield, her spell plunged through the frozen orb and struck the sitting mage cleanly.

Or rather, the lightly shimmering barrier around him.

“An impressive feat.” Headmaster Alberic was unperturbed as he fiddled with his hair. “Were you an apprentice freshly dropped on my porch, that is. Ice is not to be melted like a snowman in the sun. It should be shattered, for it is as brittle as it is sharp. Rather than fire, I would suggest a blunt force instead–such as an [Arcane Fist].”

Marina didn’t know where it was coming from. But she knew it was coming.

Knowing her [Molten Barrier] hadn’t yet recovered, she opted for the next best thing–and ducked as a fist of pure light passed where her head had just been, smashing instead the marble bust next to her. 

For the first time, the headmaster wore a look of mild surprise.

“Hm. I wasn’t aware you had the agility of an adventurer. That duck seemed very much instinctive.”

Marina clenched her fists. The accusation disgusted her–precisely because it was something adventurers would do. But life was a learning lesson, and if she’d learned anything from her encounters with … those two, it was that ducking solved more problems than she cared to admit.

Her next action would be far more refined.

“I take it the book on your desk is warded against all forms of magic?” she asked, rising to her feet.

The headmaster looked palpably insulted.

“Naturally, it is! Rest assured, there is nothing you can–”

“Good.” Marina’s eyes flashed as power surged within her, unmasked and unbridled. There were no guardians here to stop her. They’d all been destroyed. And perhaps she’d ask his corpse why. “... [Sacred Hexflare Incineration Blast]!” 

For a moment, black smoke billowed from her hands. 

The magic defending Headmaster Alberic’s form shimmered slightly as he reinforced it, a note of curiosity in his eyes as he viewed a rare spell he had never seen before.

Bwooooomph!

Then, the sound of a magical barrier promptly breaking filled the air. A noise atop the cacophony of a concentrated inferno as the heat sought to devour life and bones whole.

It failed.

Headmaster Alberic gazed from sleeve to sleeve as the flames dispersed, seeing his colourful robes untainted by a single scorch mark. 

He gave a neutral nod, foretelling the judgement he was about to offer.

“Hmm. A [Minor Inferno] as its base, but reconstituted into something smaller in radius, yet no less potent. That spell would be worth an upper grade. Sadly, I’m afraid it would take something truly beyond your ability to break through my elemental armour. As I said, layers.”

Marina wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. 

She blew the trails of smoke from her hand before allowing her arms to fall by her sides.

“I wasn’t aiming for you,” she said, her lips twisting into a small smile.

The headmaster paused for a moment. He looked once again at his robes. And then he spied the scorched floorboards beneath his chair, bent and twisted. And the fireball merrily burning away like a campfire directly beneath him.

He looked up and scoffed.

“Miss Lainsfont, this will never–”

“[Ignite].”

Bwoomph.

An explosion of fire engulfed the annoyed form of the headmaster … just before the floor crumbled in a circle around him. Down went his figure, disappearing alongside his chair into whichever dimensional storeroom was kept beneath every floorboard.

Marina calmly approached the desk and picked up the book.

Then, she waited.

“As I was saying,” said a mildly irate headmaster as he levitated up through the hole. “This will never–”

Crack.

Once again, the headmaster was unable to finish his sentence.

Yet this time, it wasn’t due to any scorching flames Marina had readied for his reappearance.

Rather … it was because his magnum opus, Observations Of The Grave, definitive 13th edition, had crudely met the side of his head like a broomstick whacking away a rat.

An ugly noise immediately ringed the chamber as a tome, enchanted to be impervious to all magic, broke through the headmaster’s elemental armour. The magical defences nullified, it was just an overly cumbersome, hardback book. And the head it struck was just an elderly man’s skull.

The result was suitably grim.

Where his face had only moments ago been looking at Marina, it was now looking almost behind him, his neck having twisted at an impossible angle. His life’s work had been his death.

Except that far from tumbling through the hole, the headmaster continued to levitate.

Awkwardly and silently … but the levitation magic was still in effect.

Marina clicked her tongue.

She was somewhat impressed. That annoyed her.

“Here’s a question for you, Miss Lainsfont,” said the headmaster towards his own back. “How is it possible for one to have their cervical spine shattered and still remain whole and hearty?”

The young woman bit her lips. 

She rather wished she didn’t know the answer. But it didn’t take a mage or an alchemist to know there was only one possibility.

“No response?” said Headmaster Alberic, chuckling again as he merely brushed down his robes as opposed to fixing his head. “In that case, I suggest you turn to the latest chapter of my book. The part I’ll likely be redacting upon the final release.”

Marina, for once, opted to do as requested.

Flicking through pages of universal drudgery, she eventually arrived at a chapter so recently scribbled that the ink had scarcely set.

The heading, she felt, would have made for a marginally better book title.

Even if it was a single word.

Lichdom.