Chapter 61. Stupid
"Haah... haah..."
Orion's chest heaved, each breath scraping through his throat like broken glass. His left eye was useless—completely useless—the entire side of his face already swelling from the hit he'd taken. A solid punch, and the boy had looked smug doing it too, which somehow made it worse.
Orion could taste copper. Blood, probably from where he'd bitten his tongue when his head snapped back. His legs trembled beneath him, muscles screaming protest as he tried to stay upright. Every part of him hurt. His ribs ached from an earlier spell, his knuckles were split open, and his shoulder felt like someone had driven a spike through it.
Part of him—a very reasonable, very sensible part—wondered why he'd gotten himself into this mess in the first place.
The answer came immediately: because that bastard had insulted Master Sael.
Actually, no, not just insulted. He mocked him. Called him a "washed-up relic playing at relevance" and suggested that anyone studying under him was wasting their time learning "outdated tricks from a man who peaked centuries ago."
Orion couldn't just stand there and do nothing.
The master-apprentice relationship wasn't some casual arrangement. It was sacred. Binding in ways that went beyond contracts or formalities. When someone took you as their apprentice, they were saying you were worth their time, their knowledge, their legacy. They were investing pieces of themselves into your future.
And when you accepted that apprenticeship, you became their successor. Their continuation. You carried their name forward, represented their teachings, embodied their reputation.
Orion was learning from Sael the Great. The Archmage. The man who'd shaped modern magic, and created or had been involved in half the spells people used daily. He was the hero who'd saved the world they were now all leaving so peacefully in, dammit.
That wasn't just an honor, it was a responsibility.
So when some arrogant prick with more ego than sense had decided to run his mouth, Orion had done what any proper apprentice would do.
He'd challenged him to settle it.
"Listen," the boy said, brushing dust off his academy robes with exaggerated casualness. "Just say you lost and give me the staff. That's what we agreed."