Reborn as the Archmage's Rival
Chapter 31: Elements in Motion

Chapter 31: Elements in Motion

The dorm room erupted into chaos the second the screeching bell sounded.

Darius sat up with a jerk, sheets tangled around his legs, blinking against the morning light slanting through the window. Across the room, Kai was already halfway into his robes, trying to yank his boot on one foot while hopping in a small circle.

"We’re late," Kai said, not panicking—yet.

Aiden groaned from the top bunk and rolled over before pushing himself up, bleary-eyed. "Bell rang early or we slept like rocks again?"

Darius glanced around and scrambled out of bed. The room was a mess—robes flung over chairs, boots half-kicked off near the foot of the beds, someone’s journal pages scattered on the floor. He grabbed for the cleanest-looking uniform shirt he could find, yanking it over his head while trying to locate his belt.

"I swear I heard nothing," Darius muttered.

Kai pulled his jacket over his shoulders and summoned his schedule scroll with a flick of his fingers. A neat projection floated mid-air, shimmering faintly with golden lines. He squinted at it and groaned.

"Elemental class first thing."

Aiden, now brushing his teeth with his hair still sticking up like a brush, made a noise that could only be interpreted as despair.

Darius grabbed his own scroll and activated it. Sure enough, the same glowing text stared back at him: Elemental Manipulation – Professor Ignatius – Room 5, South Wing.

"Of course it’s him," he muttered.

"What?" Kai asked, strapping on his belt.

"Nothing."

They rushed down the hallway, practically jogging down two flights of stairs. The academy’s morning buzz was already in full swing, with students walking briskly in every direction, robes flaring behind them. Someone bumped into Kai in the hallway, muttering a quick apology as they disappeared around a corner.

The three of them slowed just enough to grab something from the breakfast kiosk—some kind of warm, wrapped bread and fruit drink—before heading toward his class.

"You think Ignatius will roast us if we’re late?" Aiden asked, biting into his wrap.

Kai snorted. "He probably already has the speech memorized."

"Maybe he won’t notice," Darius offered, though even he didn’t believe that.

They reached the hallway outside the classroom just as the rest of the students were filing in. The door was still open, thank god, and Darius exhaled a small breath of relief.

The classroom was as he remembered it: rows of desks arranged in precise lines, the glow-crystal lights set into the walls casting a warm, balanced hue across the space. The center of the room was empty, reserved for spell demonstrations, while the blackboard shimmered faintly with lingering glyphs from whatever had been taught the day before.

The air felt charged.

Darius stepped inside, not bothering to hide how relieved he was they made it before the door sealed. Aiden and Kai flanked him, casual as ever.

From the front of the class, Professor Ignatius looked up.

His robe, as always, shimmered between flame-toned gold, ocean-blue waves, and drifting wind patterns, catching the light like something alive. His mismatched eyes—one golden like sunlight, the other oceanic and deep—locked on Darius immediately.

Professor Ignatius raised a brow, but didn’t smile this time.

"Find your seats, all of you," he said, voice even but firm. "You’re lucky class hasn’t begun yet."

Darius, Aiden, and Kai slid into the nearest available desks, and Darius murmured a quiet, "Apologies, sir," as he bowed his head slightly. He could feel the eyes on him. Again. But he stayed calm.

Ignatius studied him for a moment longer. His gaze dipped—not with judgment, but with something almost analytical, as if measuring something beneath the surface.

"Hm," the professor said thoughtfully. "Second time this week, Wycliffe. I expected better."

"Yes, sir," Darius answered quickly.

The professor didn’t press further. He stepped back toward the center of the room, but his expression lingered in subtle interest. "See me after class."

A few murmurs rippled among the students.

Darius straightened in his seat, trying not to show the wave of nerves building in his stomach.

Ignatius raised a hand and, with a single pulse of mana, the blackboard shimmered to life. Glyphs rearranged, forming the four core elemental symbols—fire, water, earth, and wind—each surrounded by faint diagrams of defensive formations.

"Let’s begin."

He turned back to the class, his expression now fully settled into teacher-mode—intense, charismatic, absolutely in control.

"You’ve all spent time launching spells at targets, setting things on fire, breaking stone tiles, and feeling quite proud of yourselves for it." His tone had just enough sarcasm to draw a few quiet chuckles. "But any fool with a mana core and decent lungs can cast an offensive spell. The real question is: can you survive one?"

Silence.

Ignatius paced slowly across the room, hands clasped behind his back. "Magic isn’t about who hits first. It’s about who’s still standing at the end."

He gestured to the board. The elemental glyphs began to animate, showing stylized figures conjuring basic shields, domes, and barriers.

"Let’s talk defense. Each element can serve in a defensive capacity—but how depends on your approach."

He snapped his fingers, and the fire symbol flared bright red. "Fire: the most misunderstood element. People think of it only as chaos, destruction, raw power. But it can burn away spells mid-cast, create radiant walls to blind, or redirect heat to absorb impact. A defensive fire mage can ward off hexes before they take shape."

The symbol shifted to water. "Water, often mistaken as purely passive, is the art of redirection. It absorbs, it flows, it deflects. Defensive water mages can coil spells around themselves like armor—or disperse impact by manipulating pressure."

He moved to earth. "Earth is the fortress. Reinforcement, grounding, resistance. But more than that—it’s predictive. A good earth mage feels the vibration of the battlefield before anything hits. They don’t block. They prepare."

And finally, wind. The glyph swirled into a loop, like a moving current. "Wind is evasion. It bends. Disperses. Undoes. It’s the art of misdirection and delay. You don’t stop the spell—you make it miss."

He let that hang for a beat, then snapped again. All four glyphs reset.

"Now. Let me be clear. None of you are true elementalists. Yet. You wield affinities. You play at control. But to truly defend yourself using an element—one must become a part of it. That brings us to today’s focus."

The glyphs faded, and a new one emerged—different, more complex. A series of interwoven sigils surrounding a core node, almost like a heartbeat in a web.

"Elemental Body."

That got reactions.

A few students sat forward. Others whispered. Even Kai looked intrigued.

Ignatius didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

"This technique is ancient," he said. "And difficult. Very few mages achieve it, even fewer in their first decade of serious study. But it is, without question, one of the most powerful defenses in existence."

He extended his hand. A flicker of electricity sparked up his wrist, then vanished beneath his skin. "It requires you to circulate your mana through every part of your body—not just to cast, but to become. And then, you must infuse that flow with elemental essence."

He closed his fist.

"When done correctly, the body becomes a conduit. It mimics the behavior of the element so completely that other spells—especially elemental ones—pass through it as if it were part of the environment."

A student near the back raised their hand.

"Yes, Lysa?"

The girl adjusted her glasses. "Isn’t that just elemental resistance? Like using gear or buffs to reduce damage?"

Ignatius shook his head. "No. Elemental resistance is passive mitigation. A reduction. Elemental Body is deception. The spell doesn’t just hit you less—it doesn’t register you as a target at all. You become the element. Fire cannot burn flame. Water does not drown itself."

That drew a low murmur of understanding from around the room.

Another hand rose—this time from the boy next to Kai.

"Can anyone learn it?" he asked.

"In theory," Ignatius replied. "But theory and reality often part ways. It requires extraordinary control, constant mana threading through your body, and near-total alignment with your chosen element."

Darius swallowed hard, his skin tingling faintly.

The professor walked slowly down the center aisle.

"This isn’t just about survival. It’s about transformation. The ones who master Elemental Body are the ones who reshape magic itself. If you ever hope to become a visionary in your field... you start here."

The word landed heavy in the room. Visionary.

He returned to the front of the class and waved a hand. The glyphs faded. "Today, we begin with foundational defense forms. Stances, channeling posture, basic responses for each element."

Another wave. Symbols for the four elements appeared again—this time connected to basic footwork diagrams and gesture positions.

"Pair up. You’ll cycle through each element’s defensive form, even if it’s not your affinity. We start with understanding before specialization."

The students stood, chairs scraping softly.

But before the class began to fully move, Ignatius looked once more at Darius.

Not with warning. With expectation.

And Darius knew—whatever came next—he’d be watched closely.