The clearing was quiet the next morning. Eerily quiet, considering the destruction Sirius had caused the day before.
The trees leaned away from the crater as though instinctively fearing another outburst. Birds perched far from the area. Even the wind seemed to tread lightly.
Aria stood with her hands on her hips, eyes blazing both with determination and a little fear.
"Alright, Sirius," she said, tapping her foot on the uneven ground. "Today… we begin spell lessons. Officially."
Mira sat on a stump nearby, drinking water and watching them with tired but attentive eyes. "Please," she murmured, "let this be less explosive than yesterday."
Sirius stepped forward, towering over Aria. "I will follow your instruction exactly."
Aria exhaled. "Good. And please, PLEASE, use as little mana as possible. Like… the amount a baby chicken would have."
"I do not believe chickens possess mana."
"JUST USE LESS."
Sirius nodded.
Aria lifted her hand and summoned a small blue sphere the size of a ping pong ball.
"This," she said proudly, "is Water Shot. Perfect for beginners. Simple structure. Simple execution."
Sirius observed the spell closely.
Mana-to-element conversion. Compression sequence. And directional output.
Conceptually? It was child's play but he didn't dare to say that aloud.
Aria continued, demonstrating the internal structure with drawn diagrams on the soil:
"Step one, you generate the water. Diameter should be half a foot. No more."
Sirius nodded. "Understood."
"Step two. Compress it into a BALL. Small size. Not fist-sized. I repeat, NOT fist-sized."
"I understand." Sirius nodded.
"Step three. Shoot at fifty kilometers per hour. Not faster. NOT FASTER."
Sirius tilted his skull. "Your concerns are noted."
"Good," Aria said, relieved. "Alright. Try it."
Mira leaned back nervously. "Here we go…"
Sirius raised his hand and he felt the structure of the spell. He understood the flow. And then he shaped the mana exactly the way Aria instructed, or… so he thought.
A faint blue glow appeared.
A swirl of moisture formed in the air. A sphere of water took shape… And grew.
And continued to grow.
Aria's eyes widened. "S-Sirius… how big is that…?"
The "half-foot water mass" was now the size of a full barrel before compression.
Sirius calmly responded, "I created the minimum amount of mana required for stable conversion."
"That—THAT IS NOT THE MINIMUM!"
Mira shouted, "Compress! Compress! QUICKLY!"
Sirius compressed it.
But unlike Aria's ping pong ball sized Water Shot, his compressed shot ended up the size of two full fists pressed together, glowing with unstable pressure.
Aria stumbled back. "THAT IS A WATER GRENADE!"
"I followed the spell's instructions precisely," Sirius said.
"No, you followed them incorrectly and with too much mana!"
Sirius turned to the target tree.
"I will now fire it."
"WAIT—NO—NOT YET—"
But the spell was already released.
The gigantic water sphere blasted forward with shocking speed as it launched at nearly one hundred miles an hour.
The tree in front of him, a thick, ancient trunk, was obliterated.
It was not cracked nor damaged.
It was completely obliterated.
The water shot didn't stop there. It tore through the tree, plowed into the ground behind it, shot upwards in a diagonal arc, and vanished somewhere far into the forest with a long whistle.
A second later...
Kaaaabooooooooom!!
A distant explosion echoed through the woods.
Aria and Mira stared, mouths hanging open.
Slowly, very slowly, Aria turned back to Sirius.
"…That," she whispered, "was supposed to bruise someone or worse, break a bone."
Sirius lowered his hand. "It appears I miscalculated."
"You think?" Aria squeaked. "Your water shot just committed a war crime! Spam that ik a war and you'll wipe out the enemy lines yourself."
Mira wiped sweat from her forehead. "S-Sirius… please tell me that was the smallest you can make it…"
"I believe I can reduce the output by two percent."
"THAT'S NOT ENOUGH!"
Despite the catastrophic results, Aria begrudgingly realized something important.
He had mastered the structure almost instantly.
Even Mira noticed. "He performed the conversion and compression on the first try."
Aria placed her hands on her hips, thinking. "Yeah. The problem isn't skill. The problem is mana. He has too much. Even trying to be gentle is still… not gentle."
Sirius bowed his head. "I will attempt again."
"NO!" both girls shouted.
Aria sighed miserably. "Let's… let's move to another spell. Something not water-focused. Maybe another affinity will behave better."
"Very well," Sirius replied.
"But first," Aria said sternly, "you absolutely MUST promise not to put more mana than I say. I mean it. This is life and death."
Sirius touched his chest. "I will restrain myself to the best of my ability. You should also be aware that I cannot go below a certain level too."
Mira muttered, "That is not reassuring."
Aria drew a small circle in the dirt and demonstrated a tiny spark of red flame at her fingertip.
"This one is very simple. It creates a thin line of compressed flame that can cut weak objects like rope. Nothing big."
She gestured to the spark.
"Mana amount. No more than enough to light a single candle. Got that?"
"Yes."
"Compression should be thin. Very thin. Thread-like."
"Understood."
"And speed should slow. A gentle flick. Like a burning string."
"Clear."
"Okay… try it."
Mira began praying quietly.
Sirius raised his finger.
He carefully summoned the amount of mana equivalent to lighting a candle.
Except…
His "candle amount" was the equivalent of a bonfire's worth of magical energy.
A dense, roaring swirl ignited at his fingertip—the flame so compressed and so hot that the air shimmered around it.
Aria choked on her own breath. "SIRIUS, WHA... WHAT IS THAT?!"
"That is a flame thread."
"No, THAT is FIRE DEATH!"
Mira dove behind a rock. "Fire it upward! UPWARD!"
Sirius nodded calmly.
He flicked the flame thread toward the sky.
It didn't float gently. It didn't flicker.
It screamed upward like a flaming whip, slicing through the air, leaving a trail of molten steam behind it.
The sky brightened.
Clouds parted in a vertical line, split cleanly like sliced fabric.
The spell vanished into the heavens.
A moment later, the sky cracked with a distant thunderclap as the residual heat detonated.
Aria stared upward in mute horror. "…The sky… is broken…"
Sirius lowered his hand. "The compression appears stable."
"STABLE!? YOU CUT THE CLOUDS!"
Aria collapsed to her knees. "You're a demon. A terrifying, spell-learning demon."
Sirius kneeled to her level.
"Does this mean I am performing adequately?"
"NO! It means we need to adjust literally everything!"
Mira walked over, exasperated but impressed. "He learns too fast. And with too much power. Even simple spells become catastrophic."
Aria groaned. "We need to change the teaching method. No more normal spells. I need to create adjustments for him. Lower-tier mana structures. Training-limiter diagrams. Something that won't kill us."
Sirius tilted his head. "Shall we continue?"
Aria held up both hands. "NO."
Then she let out a long breath. "Okay… maybe one more spell. Something stable. Something harmless."
She thought for a moment.
Then smiled weakly.
"Air Cushion. It's literally a pillow of air. Even you can't destroy something meant to be soft."
Mira whispered, "Please, gods, let her be right…"
Sirius raised his hand again.
Compressed the air.
Formed a mana structure.
Converted it into a cushion.
Except… It was not soft.
Not gentle. Not harmless.
The "cushion" was a compressed field of air so dense and explosive that it hummed with internal pressure.
Aria's smile froze.
"Sirius…"
"Yes?"
"How… soft… is that supposed to be?"
"Air density is increased by 10—"
"SIRIUS—"
The cushion detonated with a thunderous blast, blasting a divot into the ground and sending all three of them flying backward.
Sirius landed on his feet.
The girls did not.
Aria groaned from the dirt. "I hate… training…"
Mira wheezed, "Everything hurts…"
Sirius looked down at them, genuinely concerned.
"It seems Air Cushion is more dangerous than I anticipated."
Aria stared up at him, hair sticking out in all directions.
"Sirius… there is no such thing as a dangerous air pillow. YOU made it dangerous!"
He tilted his skull thoughtfully. "I see."
Aria dragged herself up, trembling but determined.
"One more," she whispered. "But a different affinity. Earth. Earth is stable. Earth is calm. Earth does not explode."
Sirius nodded.
Aria shaped a simple earth spike—small, blunt, barely dangerous.
"Do this," she said. "As gently as possible."
Sirius complied. "Earth Spike"
He placed his hand on the ground.
Channeled mana.
Converted it into earth structure.
And created a spike the size of a building pillar that tore upward with such force that the ground ruptured outward in a shockwave.
The spike shot ten meters into the air.
Mira flew backward.
Aria fell on her back and stared at the sky.
Sirius lowered his hand slowly.
"…I believe earth magic is also problematic."
Aria whispered, "You don't say…"
By sundown, the clearing was a wasteland of craters, scorched lines, shattered earth, and one very traumatized spell instructor.
Sirius looked upon his work.
Then turned to Aria, who lay on the ground like a dying animal.
"Aria," he said calmly.
She lifted a shaking hand. "Yes…?"
"You are an excellent teacher."
Aria blinked. And blinked again.
Then she burst into hysterical laughter, tears streaming down her face.
Mira patted her head. "He means it. Just… accept the compliment."
Sirius stepped closer.
"Tomorrow," he said, voice steady, "we continue."
Aria stared at him like he was a monster.
Mira smiled weakly. "But for today… you mastered three spells, Sirius. Even if the village might die if you cast them."
Sirius nodded.
"Progress," he said.
Terrifying progress.