Selenas First Battle
Months rolled by like the turning of ancient pages, each day marking another step in Selena’s grueling ascent.
Ashenveli changed with the seasons—new houses rising from the charred soil, new faces joining the village, new fires lit in the hearts of the people who once lived scattered and afraid.
But no change was more striking than the transformation of Selena, the demi-human girl of the Whisperwood Forest.
She trained under Voltaro every dawn, every dusk, every moment the sun dared glance over the horizon.
What began as trembling meditation and unstable mana became controlled focus.
What began as failed attempts to move a pebble became the ability to freeze it solid with a single flick of her finger.
Where she once collapsed from exhaustion, she now endured with unshakable resilience.
Her body hardened.
Her spirit sharpened.
Her mana crystallized.
Selena discovered something unique within her—an affinity not for flame or wind or earth, but for ice. Cold, sharp magic. Mana that shimmered like frost bitten from the moonlight. A rare gift even in ancient times.
Voltaro understood this immediately.
“Your heart is calm by nature,” he had told her one evening as frost spiraled from her fingertips. “Ice answers to calm. It strengthens under discipline. That is why it chose you.”
Selena had bowed, tears prickling her eyes. “Then I will master it.”
And she did.
Her mana core expanded slowly but steadily, glowing with pale blue resonance.
Her spells grew from harmless frost to blades of glittering ice, spears carved from cold mana, and walls of frozen mist that shielded the trainees from incoming blows.
Voltaro guided her gently but firmly, pushing her limits again and again until her mana bent like metal under fire.
By the sixth month, Selena had reached Level 78.
A massive leap for any new mage—unheard of for a beginner.
Voltaro said nothing about her rapid growth, but he watched her closely. At night, when the rest of Ashenveli slept, he remained awake, observing her progress with a silent and unreadable gaze. She trained longer, harder, faster than most warriors. Her potential, he knew, was no passing spark.
She was becoming a pillar.
But power is not complete without battle.
And fate delivered her opportunity.
It came one chilly morning. The sky hung heavy with gray clouds, mist clinging to the ground like a shroud. Voltaro stood at the village center, Raven beside him, and Ashenveli’s soldiers waited in disciplined silence. Even the children sensed the shift in air and stayed quiet.
Selena approached, hair tied back, cloak wrapped around her shoulders, staff strapped to her back. Her mana pulsed cold in the air.
“My lord,” she said softly. “You summoned me?”
Voltaro met her eyes. “A scouting unit has failed to return from the western ridge. Tracks indicate a band of raiders crossed into our boundary.”
Selena’s breath tightened. “Raiders?”
“Ten to fifteen,” Raven reported. “Possibly slavers. They picked the wrong territory this time.”
Voltaro looked at Selena. “Today, you will join me.”
Her heart pounded. “My first battle…?”
“Yes.”
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. “Then I am ready.”
Voltaro nodded once. “Good.”
They moved quickly.
Ashenveli’s elite squad—Voltaro, Raven, three of the trained scouts, and Selena—set out toward the western ridge.
The path was steep, lined with trees whose branches hung bare in the cold air.
Frost coated the rocks. Selena sensed the mana in the air pulsing faintly around her, responding to her presence.
Voltaro marched silently at the front, every step confident, eyes sharp. Raven moved behind him, hands on his sword. Selena kept pace, her breath forming white clouds in the cold.
After an hour, Voltaro raised a hand.
Everyone stopped.
On the ground lay broken branches, boot prints, and the faint smell of blood.
Raven crouched. “Slavers’ marks, no doubt. Fresh.”
Voltaro lowered his voice. “Selena.”
She stepped forward. “Yes, my lord.”
“Sense the area.”
She closed her eyes. Mana unfurled from her body like a whispering tide. Her senses reached through frost and air, brushing against trees, rocks, distant movement…
Her eyes snapped open. “Six men ahead. Another group farther west—maybe nine.”
Voltaro’s lips twitched. “Your detection has improved.”
Raven raised an eyebrow. “Improved? That was perfect.”
Selena flushed slightly, but Voltaro was already turning to the others.
“We’ll intercept the first group. No survivors. They crossed into Ashenveli—they forfeit their lives.”
Selena swallowed but nodded. She had sworn to protect this place. Now she had to prove she could.
Voltaro gestured with a flick of his hand. “Move.”
They descended the slope silently. The first group of raiders came into sight—a cluster of rugged men around a small campfire, laughing, unaware of death approaching.
Voltaro didn’t waste time.
“Selena,” he whispered, “your first spell in real battle. Freeze them.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She lifted her hands. Mana surged through her, swirling around her fingertips. She focused on her breathing as Voltaro had taught her. Calm. Steady. Cold.
The ground beneath the raiders shimmered.
Frost spread outward like a silent spiderweb.
One raider shivered. “Oi, is it colder suddenly—?”
Before he finished, Selena clenched her hand.
The frost burst upward.
Sharp spears of ice erupted from the ground, skewering three raiders instantly. The others screamed, stumbling back.
“What the—!? Magic!?”
“Kill her! Kill—”
Voltaro appeared behind one of them like a shadow. His blade flashed once. The raider fell.
Raven crashed into another, sword sweeping in a wide arc.
Selena stepped back, breath steadying, her mana cooling the air around her. One raider charged at her, yelling wildly.
She raised her palm.
“Mist Cage.”
Cold vapor exploded outward, swirling around the raider like a living storm. He screamed as frost crawled up his limbs, freezing him mid-stride. His body turned rigid, white, silent.
Selena exhaled. “Level up…?”
Her mana surged. Her vision swam for a moment.
Voltaro glanced at her. “Good control.”
She steadied her breathing. “Thank you… my lord.”
They moved toward the second group.
The remaining nine raiders were camped deeper in the woods, weapons drawn, tension thick in the air—they had heard the earlier screams.
Voltaro didn’t bother sneaking this time. He stepped out into the clearing, his presence like a blade drawn across the neck of the air.
One of the raiders cursed. “It’s him! The shadow bastard from Eldrath’s slave market!”
Voltaro didn’t even blink. “Selena.”
She stepped forward.
Voltaro’s voice dropped into a commanding tone that resonated through her bones.
“Show me everything you’ve learned.”
She nodded, breath trembling—but her spirit roaring.
“Understood.”
Her mana core pulsed.
Ice spread beneath her feet.
She raised both hands, and the air temperature plummeted so quickly frost formed on the surrounding trees. The raiders panicked, scrambling for weapons.
“What’s she doing?!”
“Magic—?!”
“She’s just a girl—!”
Selena whispered the words that had taken her months of training to master.
“Glacial Torrent.”
The ground cracked.
A burst of icy mana surged forward like a frozen river unleashed from the earth.
The torrent swept through the clearing, engulfing the raiders in a storm of crystal shards and freezing wind.
They screamed as the cold wrapped around their bodies, locking them in place, turning their shouts into muffled echoes trapped beneath frost.
The trees shook. Ice climbed their trunks. Snow spiraled downward like winter answering her call.
The storm subsided.
Every raider lay frozen—immobilized, encased in ice from the waist down, their weapons trapped midair.
Selena’s chest rose and fell with sharp breaths. Her vision blurred for a moment, then cleared.
She felt it.
A pulse.
A surge.
Her mana core expanded violently.
LEVEL UP!
Selena – Level 5→ Level 15
Weapon _ wand
Elemen _ ice
The world steadied. Her breath calmed. Her mana flowed through her body like a silent tide of shining frost.
Voltaro stared at her—not with surprise, but with a deep, measuring gaze.
Raven’s jaw dropped. “She leveled—fourteen levels in one battle?! What is she, a mana monster?!”
Selena flushed, embarrassed. “I… didn’t mean to… it just happened.”
Voltaro stepped toward her.
“You controlled the spell perfectly. You didn’t lose yourself to mana fatigue. And you froze them without killing unnecessarily.”
Selena lowered her gaze. “I aimed to protect Ashenveli… the way you taught me.”
Voltaro paused for a long moment.
Then he placed his hand gently on her head.
“You did well.”
Selena froze—stunned.
Voltaro rarely praised anyone. Raven nearly dropped his sword when he heard it.
“W-wait—did he just…?”
Voltaro ignored Raven entirely and withdrew his hand.
“You are no longer a beginner. Today, you fought as one of Ashenveli’s pillars.”
Selena’s eyes shimmered, but she held her composure.
“I will become stronger,” she whispered. “As strong as you want me to be.”
Voltaro looked away. “Become strong for yourself. Not for me.”
“Yes, my lord.”
They began clearing the area, breaking the ice where needed, securing the raiders who still lived. Voltaro handled the final strike on those too dangerous to keep alive. Raven tied up the remaining survivors.
Selena watched silently, her heart strangely calm.
This was battle.
This was what her power meant.
This was the responsibility she had chosen.
Hours later, as the group returned to Ashenveli, villagers rushed out to greet them. Children stared at Selena with wide eyes. Warriors nodded in respect. Raven spread the story with animated excitement.
“Selena froze an entire squad! The ground cracked like winter itself! I swear she summoned a whole blizzard—”
Selena turned bright red. “R-Raven, please—”
Voltaro said nothing, but his silence held something like pride.
Night fell.
Ashenveli lit its torches. The tavern filled with laughter. The scouts celebrated their survival. And Selena—still exhausted—wandered to the quiet hill overlooking the village. The moonlight glowed on her silver-blue mana, shimmering around her like frost butterflies.
Voltaro approached quietly. “Why aren’t you resting?”
Selena shook her head. “I wanted to think.”
“About your battle?”
She nodded. “About… what it means to be a mage. To carry this kind of power.”
Voltaro stood beside her, arms crossed.
“Power changes many things,” he said. “But its purpose never changes. Strength protects. Strength defends. Strength stands between what you love and what seeks to harm it.”
Selena looked up at him. “And today… did I do that?”
Voltaro met her gaze.
“Yes.”
She inhaled sharply.
Voltaro turned away, cloak brushing the ground.
“Come. You earned rest.”
She followed him down the hill, her heart steady, her steps confident.
For she was no longer the trembling trainee of months ago.
She was the First Mage of Ashenveli.
A rising pillar of frost.
A force born from discipline and will.
And her journey had only begun.
Too be continue...