Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

"Standard rules."

Professor Crowley stood in the academy's training grounds, morning light casting long shadows across the grass. The copper circles beneath their feet had seen countless duels, worn smooth by generations of students.

Around them, crystalline pillars hummed softly, ready to contain any wayward spells.

"No lethal spells, no strikes to vital points. Basic enhancement and defensive arts only - nothing beyond second-year curriculum." His voice carried across the field. "Remember - you are mages of Xerkes. Honor that."

The usual chatter from the stone benches had died away. Even the birds seemed to have gone quiet.

Duels always had that effect. For some reason.

Adom studied Karion across the circle. The other boy's hands were steady, his stance balanced - no swagger. Just focus.

The copper circles began to glow as both drew power. Around them, the crystal pillars hummed, barrier spells shimmering into place.

"This counts for ten percent of your finals," Crowley said. "Remember - the moment you step outside your circle, the duel begins. Victory by yield, incapacitation, or ring-out." He looked between them. "Ready?"

The silence deepened.

Neither boy moved.

Neither blinked.

Crowley raised his hand and let it hung in the air, suspended between one moment and the next.

And then it fell.

"Fight!"

Adom wove a barrier - no gestures, just pure intent shaped by will. A heartbeat later, Karion's force bolt crashed against it, bright and violent.

Fighting another mage was like playing three games of chess at once while running a marathon. Every spell cost mana. Every defense needed maintenance. Every moment required complete awareness - of your reserves, your opponent's stance, the dozen possible counterspells you might need in the next breath.

Adom let his barrier fade and launched three quick bolts of his own. Karion deflected two, dodged the third, his hands tracing the standard defensive forms. Those precious half-seconds of gesture-weaving gave Adom the opening he needed. He layered a subtle binding spell beneath his next attack - basic second-year magic, but perfectly timed.

Karion saw the obvious strike coming. He didn't notice the trap until his shield spell snagged on the binding, destabilizing both. His recovery was fast, but Adom was already moving, pressing the advantage with a series of precise, mana-efficient strikes.

This was the core of magical combat - not raw power, but the interplay of technique and timing. Every spell was a commitment of energy. Every defense had its blind spots. Victory went to the mage who could think three moves ahead while executing the current one perfectly.

Karion switched tactics, abandoning complex shields for quick deflections. Smart - less mana drain, more mobility. But Adom had anticipated this. He wove his attacks into patterns, each spell forcing specific responses, gradually limiting Karion's options. Like a net slowly tightening.

But lately, these pure magical duels had started feeling... sterile. Adom couldn't quite place when the restlessness had begun. Was it puberty increasing rashness as Professor Mirwen had so diplomatically suggested? Or maybe after everything he'd been through, he'd simply developed a deep, personal appreciation for solving his problems with a well-placed punch to the face.

The cause did not matter that much. He liked it that way.

Adom began closing the distance, weaving his spells tighter, shorter. More personal.

Karion noticed.

A grin spread across his face. He understood.

Karion Dimitri, heir to the Dimitri Barony in the northern reaches of Sundar. They weren't friends, barely spoke outside of classes, but everyone knew of his family. The Dimitris were an old bloodline, notorious for their unique approach to magic. While most noble houses focused on pure spellcraft, the Dimitris had maintained their warrior-mage traditions for generations, blending physical combat with magical theory.

The boys met in the middle of the arena. Adom's barrier deflected a force bolt while his left hook sliced through where Karion's head had been a moment before. The other boy moved like water, his counter-spell flowing into an elbow strike that Adom barely blocked.

This was better. This was alive. More challenging. Pure spell-weaving? Adom clearly had the edge there. But here, in this dance of fist and force, technique and timing? Here, Karion was in his element.

Magic crackled between punches. Basic spells woven in split seconds, defensive barriers snapping up and down between exchanges. Adom's straight right connected, backed by just enough force magic to make it sting. Karion answered with a sweep enhanced by momentum spells.

The adrenaline sang in Adom's blood. This wasn't just about mana management anymore - it was about reading muscles, anticipating strikes, feeling the flow of combat in bone and breath. Their spells became shorter, sharper, integrated into their movements. A barrier flash-formed to cover a dodge. A force push disguised by a feint.

Adom saw the trap a fraction of a second too late. Karion's apparent opening was a lure, his defensive stance a lie. That was when something strange occured.

Time. Time seemed to slow as Adom's body registered what his mind already knew - he'd overcommitted.

The world spun. When his vision cleared, Karion had him locked, position perfect, leverage absolute.

"I yield," Adom managed between heavy breaths.

[[Mana Manipulation] (Magic) has reached level 103!]

[[Boxing Mastery] (Common) has reached level 2!]

The training grounds erupted.

"Did you see that?!"

"Holy- that was incredible!"

"The way they switched from spells to combat-"

"Idiot threw away a perfect advantage-"

"Shut up, that was the best duel we've had all year!"

"Pure Dimitri style right there-"

The second-years were practically falling off the stone benches, their previous silence forgotten in an explosion of excited chatter and wild gestures. A few were already trying to mimic the moves they'd just witnessed, nearly smacking their classmates in the process.

Karion rolled off him, breathing hard, sweat darkening his uniform. He extended a hand down to Adom, who was still trying to remember which way was up.

"That," Karion panted, grinning, "was a proper fight."

Adom looked up at the offered hand, smiled, and grabbed it. As Karion pulled him up, he added, "Though you know you would've won easily if you'd stuck to pure spellwork, right?"

Adom laughed, wiping dirt from his clothes. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, I wanted to see if the stories about Dimitri combat magic were true."

"Speaking of stories," Karion said, rolling his shoulder where one of Adom's enhanced punches had connected, "I always see you in the library. Or used to, anyway. Then the rumors started about you going hunting in the forest preserve..." He gestured at Adom's improved physique. "Guess they weren't just rumors."

"Could've used my glasses though," Adom admitted, squinting slightly. "Pretty sure I missed some good openings there."

"You fight without your-" Karion started before Professor Crowley's voice cut through their conversation.

"If you two are quite finished with your mutual admiration society," he called out "we have three more duels to get through before lunch."

The boys shared a look and quickly moved to clear the arena, but Crowley pulled them aside as the next duel was setting up, speaking low enough that only they could hear.

"Excellent showing, both of you. Mr. Dimitri - 17 out of 20. Clean victory, good form throughout." He turned to Adom. "15 out of 20. Your initial spell work was exceptional, but deliberately abandoning a winning position during an exam..." He shook his head. "Test your limits on your own time, Mr. Sylla."

"Fifteen?" Adom frowned. He'd expected a deduction for abandoning his advantage, but that seemed...

"Not for your tactical choices," Crowley clarified, his voice dropping even lower. "You used Fluid. Just for a fraction of a second, but you did. I don't need to remind you that's forbidden, regardless of your year."

"You can use Fluid?" Karion whispered, eyes wide.

Adom opened his mouth to deny it, then hesitated. That moment when time had seemed to slow... had he unconsciously...?

"We'll discuss this another time," Crowley said firmly. "Now, back to your seats. Both of you."

The morning's matches continued, the arena's barrier spell humming back to life as Professor Crowley called the next pair.

Around the arena's edges, students and their familiars watched with varying degrees of interest. He felt something warm press against his leg. The black cat - still nameless, still mysterious - had decided to grace him with its presence. It now allowed him to scratch behind its ears, purring softly.

"That was amazing!" Sam whispered, still wide-eyed from Adom's match. " I mean, you lost, but still. When did you learn to-"

"Samenel Harbinsky and Reed Pierce, take your positions!"

Sam's face lost all color.

"Stop panicking," Adom said quietly. "Your spell weaving is good. Just be confident. Good luck."

"...Thanks. I'm gonna need it." Sam muttered as he stepped into the circle, adjusting his robes with trembling hands.

But as soon as Reed launched his first attack - a simple fire spiral that any second-year should be able to counter - Sam's shield crumpled like paper in rain.

Adom winced.