It seemed Ezra had underestimated his teacher far too much. After what felt like the hundredth time he was slammed against the wall, he stopped keeping count. His body was battered, bruised, and bloodied, with a sharp pain in his ribs that he was pretty sure signaled a few fractures.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he spat onto the ground, struggling to catch his breath.
Meanwhile, his teacher remained untouched, not a single scratch or mark on him. He stood there, relaxed and unfazed, a bemused expression on his face as Ezra stumbled back into the center of the arena.
"You're not bad for a beginner," the teacher remarked, his tone light and mocking, as if this were all part of the lesson. "But you've still got a long way to go, kid. If you want to reach his level, you'll have to put in a lot more effort."
"Whose him?" Ezra asked, still struggling to catch his breath, blood dripping down the side of his face.
"A former student of mine," the teacher replied nonchalantly, a faraway look in his eyes. "That little rascal grew up to be a fine young man. He promised to drop by once in a while, but it seems he's forgotten about me." He said it with a dramatic sigh, feigning sadness.
"Yeah, you're pretty forgettable," Ezra muttered, wiping blood from his lip, his frustration bubbling up.
" Alright that's it for today i suppose . Ahh ,I have a task for you that you should complete everyday. There's this fruit up that mountain you see over there . I want you to get it for me every morning before sunrise "
Ezra looked up, his heart sinking as he stared at the distant mountain.
The mountain loomed far in the distance, its peak barely visible through the fading light of the day.
"Are you serious?" Ezra asked, disbelief coloring his voice. "You want me to climb that thing every morning before sunrise?"
The teacher shot him a casual glance, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Does it look like I'm lying?" he replied, his tone smooth and unfazed.
Ezra groaned inwardly. His body already ached from the earlier training, and the thought of climbing a mountain before dawn was enough to make him want to crawl back into bed. "What's so special about this fruit anyway?" he muttered, already dreading the task.
The teacher's grin widened, as if he were savoring Ezra's frustration. "Oh, it's not about the fruit. It's about the journey. You'll learn something from the struggle. And maybe, just maybe, you'll learn how to push yourself further."
Ezra shot his teacher a look of exasperation but said nothing. It was clear that arguing would be futile.
He stretched, groaning as his warm white flames flickered to life around his hands, igniting briefly before a cold splash of water drenched him. He gasped, startled by the cold.
"Hey! What the—?" He started, but his teacher was already standing at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, looking unbothered.
"No cheating," the teacher said, his voice cold but amused. "Go to the infirmary and get that patched up. You'll need your energy for the climb tomorrow."
Ezra shot his teacher an incredulous look, his frustration bubbling over. "What? Why?"
The teacher only gave a small shrug, his expression unphased. "We'll do this the old way. No healing yourself until I say so," he replied nonchalantly, his tone dripping with amusement as if this was all just another one of his lessons.
Ezra clenched his fists, his body sore from the relentless training. His mind raced, but he bit his tongue, knowing that any protest would fall on deaf ears. With a frustrated sigh, he turned toward the infirmary, each step heavy with the weight of his teacher's demands.
"Fine," Ezra muttered, barely audible. "But you owe me one for this."
The teacher's laughter followed him, light and carefree. "We'll see," he called after him. "Get patched up and be back tomorrow, no excuses."
The infirmary was close to his dorms, and Ezra walked there with a slow, painful gait, groaning with each step. He really had gotten a good beating, and maybe he deserved it—he hadn't expected his teacher to be this relentless.
When he reached the door, he knocked hesitantly. The door opened almost immediately, revealing a young woman standing in the doorway. She was around the same age as Eli—or maybe a bit younger—and had a kind but slightly amused expression on her face as she noticed Ezra's bruised state.
"Well, you look like you've been through a war," she remarked, stepping aside to let him in. Her voice was light, with a hint of playfulness, as if she had seen this sort of thing many times before.
Ezra glanced up at her. She had vibrant ginger hair that fell in soft waves around her face, and her crystal blue eyes were framed by round glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her expression was kind but sharp, as if she could read him better than he'd like.
"Come in, come in," she said, ushering him into the room. "Let's get you patched up."
She wore a doctors coat as he fiddled around looking for gloves as he sat on the hospital bed . He read her name tag 'Dr Hopkins'.
Ezra winced as the disinfectant stung his cuts, the sensation sharp and cold against his already sore skin. He shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed, trying not to flinch too much.
"Well, it's a long story," he started, unsure of how much he should reveal. "I got my ass handed to me by my teacher… He's not exactly the type to go easy."
Dr. Hopkins chuckled softly, not seeming too surprised. "Sounds like you're in the hands of someone who knows how to push people to their limits. That's the sort of thing you get here, right?" Her voice was calm, almost maternal, as she worked efficiently, cleaning the wounds and applying ointment where needed.
"Yeah," Ezra muttered, finally relaxing into the bed as she finished tending to his face.
"Something like that. It's all part of the training, I guess." He glanced up at her, trying to gauge whether she thought he was just a pushover or if she understood.
Dr. Hopkins didn't seem bothered. She finished applying a bandage to one of the cuts and met his eyes with a knowing smile.
"You'll get used to it. The thing about Blackspire is, it doesn't care about how hard you fall. It's about how you get back up." She patted his arm gently before stepping back, grabbing more supplies from the counter. "Now, let's see to those ribs of yours. Don't think you're getting away with just a face treatment."