Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

No matter how much she gauged Jaegar, it became increasingly clear that he was only at the level of an apprentice. Yet, the sheer raw power he exhibited at this level was staggering, far beyond what anyone should be capable of.

She couldn't shake the thought—if Jaegar's abilities at the apprentice level could amount to such a destructive force, then what would happen once he reached the master level? Or worse, if he ascended even higher?

The very idea sent a chill down her spine.

Jaegar wasn't just strong—there was something unnatural about his power, something primal and dangerous. She had faced many powerful individuals before, those who could bend the elements to their will and who commanded respect and fear in equal measure.

But Jaegar? He was different. His strength was raw and unrefined, and yet there was a controlled chaos to it, as if he was holding back something far more terrifying than anyone could fathom.

She could feel it in the air—that electric pulse of energy that radiated from him when he was angry or focused. It was like standing near a dormant volcano, knowing that at any moment, it could erupt and reduce everything around it to ash. The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she became.

Jaegar was no ordinary apprentice. He was a monster in the making, and she feared what he would become once he fully understood his potential.

For the first time, she understood why Lady Angelina had taken such an interest in him. Lady Angelina wasn't one to show favouritism, especially not to men, but Jaegar had something no one else did—an untapped well of power that, if nurtured correctly, could shape the very foundations of the world around him.

It made sense now, why Angelina had taken him under her wing, why she had guided him, trained him, and moulded him.

"He's dangerous," she muttered to herself, watching Jaegar from a distance.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The hostility that radiated from Keeling and the other inhabitants of the Spire wasn't born solely from Jaegar's current actions.

No, it ran deeper, rooted in events of the past—events involving Lady Angelina.

To them, Lady Angelina was more than just a powerful witch or a respected leader. She was a figure of reverence, almost godlike in her status.

And Jaegar, in their eyes, had committed the ultimate sin. He had exploited her, used her in ways they couldn't even bring themselves to fully contemplate. That's how they viewed her teaching him. The mere thought of it filled them with a mixture of rage and disgust. Lady Angelina, their beacon of power and wisdom, was now in a confined state because of Jaegar's actions.

It was a fact they couldn't digest—a betrayal so profound that it transformed Jaegar into their most hated enemy. Every glance thrown his way was filled with loathing, every word spoken to him laced with venom.

But if they thought their hatred would cow Jaegar, they were sorely mistaken.

In response to Keeling's challenge, Jaegar's expression hardened, his eyes glowing with an inner fire that spoke of power barely contained.

Without a word, he summoned his signature magic—The Purple Mist of Chaos Art.

The very air shimmered around him, then darkened as tendrils of vibrant purple mist began to materialize. It swirled around his palms, ethereal yet somehow menacing, before creeping up to envelop his forearms.

"Where is my aunt?" Jaegar's voice was low, almost a growl. "Where is my master?"

The questions were not new, but the power behind them had grown exponentially. As if in response to his rising emotions, the purple mist surged forward, sweeping past Keeling with frightening speed.

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It enveloped the nearby guards, lifting them into the air with an unseen but undeniable grip.

Keeling's eyes widened in shock, but her years of training kicked in almost instantly.

Her staff came up in a fluid motion as she began to chant, her voice rising and falling in the complex cadences of a high-level spell. The empty space around her shimmered with power as her magic took effect, countering Jaegar's mist and freeing the suspended guards.

But Keeling wasn't content with mere defence.

In the same breath, she transitioned into another spell; her staff now pointed directly at Jaegar.

The tip of the staff glowed white-hot for a split second before unleashing a ferocious attack.

A stream of thick, roiling fire erupted from the staff, hurtling towards Jaegar with devastating intent. The heat was so intense that the very air seemed to warp around it. But before Jaegar could even react to this initial assault, Keeling's staff flashed again.

This time, a stream of frost shot forth, a stark contrast to the flames that preceded it. The ice crystals sparkled in the light, beautiful yet deadly, as they raced towards their target.

The dual nature of the attack—fire and ice, heat and cold—was a testament to Keeling's skill and power as a high witch.

The two elemental forces, seemingly at odds with each other, twisted together in a double helix of destruction aimed squarely at Jaegar.

As the combined assault bore down on him, Jaegar stood his ground, his purple mist swirling around him like a protective cocoon. His eyes, filled with a mixture of rage and certain calmness, locked onto Keeling's.

The fire and ice were mere inches from Jaegar now, their combined power enough to overwhelm most wizards and witches. But Jaegar was not most wizards, a fact that was becoming increasingly clear with each passing second.

As the elements were about to make contact, Jaegar's purple mist suddenly expanded, forming a swirling vortex around him. The air itself seemed to bend and warp, reality twisting under the influence of his chaos magic.

The commotion had reached a fever pitch.

Bystanders froze in their tracks, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the spectacle unfolding before them. The girls who had been casually strolling towards the Spire's entrance now stood rooted to the spot, their earlier laughter replaced by gasps of shock and fear.