"Precisely," Ronan affirmed, nodding slightly. The entire process, from selecting the target to releasing the spell, had unfolded in less than a second. To an outside observer, it would have seemed instantaneous, yet to Frieren, the impact was profound. Several seconds passed before she could fully process what she had witnessed, her eyes wide with astonishment.
What?
The question echoed in her mind like a sound bouncing off ancient stone walls. She blinked, her gaze drifting from Ronan to the charred remnants of the leaf, still curling slightly as it cooled. What had she just seen?
Why had the leaf spontaneously combusted?
There had been no incantation, no elaborate gestures, not even a hint of mana disturbance. It simply ignited. No flare of energy, no shimmer in the air, no rise in temperature before the flame burst forth. Just a soft snap of the fingers, and then fire.
Had there been a mana fluctuation?
Frieren reached inward, trying to recall the moment the spell was cast. She probed for the signature of magic, the familiar ripple it always left behind. But there was nothing, no magical scent, no pressure on her skin, no resonance in her ears.
She strained harder, her brows furrowing in concentration. Had Ronan done this?
Her surprise was understandable; his spellcasting had no discernible prelude.
Most mages required structure, verbal, somatic, or at least a concentration of mana. Even the most accomplished among her people had visible tells when casting. Powerful magic left traces. Yet Ronan had left none.
Drawing a slow breath, Frieren's curiosity settled upon Ronan. "How did you do that?" she asked, wonder lacing her voice. "Ignition point… what is that? You learned this spell in such a short time? You only received the book this morning. How is this possible?"
Her words came in a rush, faster than she intended. For an elf, rapid questioning was rare. They were creatures of patience, of centuries. But the curiosity burned too brightly within her.
Her mind buzzed with questions. Elves could express themselves when necessary. Her fear of darkness and enclosed spaces, for instance, required a lit lamp for sleep; the absence of light triggered a torrent of tears.
She had always been ashamed of that fear, though she'd never admit it. But this, this was different. This was awe and confusion, a dawning realization that the human before her might be extraordinary.
"Fast?" Ronan responded with a calm smile. "It's merely adequate. If I hadn't focused on minimizing mana usage while remaining undetected, I could have been much faster. As for the ignition point… your understanding of that concept is somewhat limited, and a full explanation would take time. Perhaps a reciprocal exchange of knowledge: I teach you these principles, and you share the magic you have mastered. After what you've seen, I believe you'll agree I have an aptitude for magic. A mutually beneficial arrangement, wouldn't you say?"
There was charm in his tone, but the underlying proposition was sincere. His confidence wasn't arrogance; it was simply truth. Frieren hesitated, thoughtful.
Indeed, Ronan's aptitude was unlike anything she had encountered. In mere hours, he grasped a spell she might have spent a lifetime mastering. Logically, she should accept his proposal; magic was her passion, worth any sacrifice.
A trade of knowledge. Such a simple idea, yet one she had never considered. Elves shared knowledge slowly, afraid of misinterpretation. She had never imagined offering what she knew directly.
But a reciprocal arrangement? This was new. Ronan's talent was prodigious; what if she proved inadequate as a teacher? The thought filled her with apprehension. Yesterday's conversation had been casual; today, the stakes were higher.
She chewed her lower lip, fingers curling into her sleeves. She had taught before, sparingly and cautiously, but never someone like him. Never someone whose progress might eclipse her own.
Her heart felt heavy with indecision.
Ronan, observing her struggle, refrained from pressure. He folded his hands, patiently awaiting her response.
The silence stretched, but not uncomfortably. Outside, a breeze rustled the trees, and a bird chirped its solitary song. Time in the elven village moved slower, as if even the winds respected the weight of decisions made within its bounds.
After a long silence, Frieren raised her head. Drawing a deep breath, she nodded firmly.
"Very well," she said, her voice resolute. "I agree. However, I have a condition. As the Hero, you won't remain here long. Therefore, on the day of your departure, when our arrangement concludes, we shall both relinquish any magical knowledge acquired during this time. Is that acceptable?"
She paused, her voice faltering slightly. "If not, it's alright. You'll find a superior teacher; I understand that." Her voice trailed off. "Your talent is unparalleled, even…"
Before she could finish, Ronan's reassuring voice cut through the air.
"Agreed, Frieren. You mustn't undervalue yourself. I believe you are already the finest teacher I could hope for."
For he had encountered only her, thus making her, by default, the best. And as for his own aptitude, even if he studied independently, the outcome would be no different from learning from Frieren. The teacher-student dynamic was merely a pretext. Learning from a beautiful elven maiden was far more agreeable than poring over dusty tomes alone.
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