The Demon Lord and his Hero (BL)

"No!" Magnus groaned in abject suffering when he saw his opponent.

"If you forfeit the match, you'll have to start looking for a new roommate," Artemus flatly informed the fire mage. "Don't keep Rowan waiting."

Magnus reached the battle stage and smiled sourly at the blonde anti mage, "couldn't you have picked a different slot?"

"Not my decision Magnus," Rowan shrugged lightly. "Are we still pretending that you're not going to cut the match short like you do every other year?" Rowan said the second part low enough for Magnus alone to hear.

"I don't know what you're talking about blondie."

"If you say so," Rowan replied and lit up 8 gems.

The fire mage felt the suppression and responded with 7 gems. Sorry, Rowan, he regretfully thought to himself, I can't go all out when they're watching me.

After their match, the quarterfinals ended with Unri beating Rain. It had been a very close fight as Unri had grown in leaps and bounds under the combined pressure of Artemus's power and the threat of his teammate's ice coffin. It had allowed the mage to break through with a new technique that led to this victory.

The fighters that were cleared for the semi-finals were – Syryn, Unri, Rowan, and Vincent. Syryn had been hoping to face Rowan as soon as possible but luck did not favour him. His opponent was Vincent.

Facing each other on the stage, the two fighters had a short conversation amidst the raucous heckling and the cheers that erupted from the crowds when Syryn took to the stage. The alchemist's purple gold schoolmates had been won over so thoroughly by his kick that they made it known to him in deafening volumes.

"Syryn, if you think you can pull off another stunt like you did with Dorian, you will find yourself on the back foot. I suggest you use magic." Vincent crossed his arms and narrowed his golden eyes at the kid who looked to the world like he was just taking a stroll. Vincent hadn't faced an opponent that hadn't been intimated by his strength - until Syryn.

"Really? Too bad for me then. I have very little to no magical aptitude," Syryn bravely said it out loud for the world to hear. "That's why I spend so much time and effort into mastering potions." He added with a sunny smile aimed at the stunned Vincent.

"I'm- sorry," Vincent's eyes were round with surprise and sympathy. For a mage to have a low magical aptitude, it was the absolute worst fate in the world!

"It's fine. This is why I practise martial combat! Don't feel sorry for me." Syryn rubbed the back of his head with an embarrassed smile.

The mages were losing their collective minds inside the tent. No magical aptitude?? Who was it that turned them into ice blocks every day at practice?? Artemus shook his head at the tragedy he knew was about to unfold on stage.

"Rowan, did I hear right? The mages sent a mage who can't use magic?"

The blond anti mage was also confused. It seemed like a good explanation though for why Syryn was so terrifyingly good at everything else.

"I was right!" Rain crowed happily. "He's not a powerful mage like you thought."

"Let's see," Rowan replied sceptically.

The two fighters met in the middle of the stage, 5 gems reluctantly alight on the anti mage side. The bell went off and Syryn extended his hand towards Vincent with a bright smile. "Good luck Vincent! May the best fighter win!"

"Thank you! Good luck to you too Syryn," the anti mage took the friendly hand for a shake.

Too cold! He realised Syryn's hand was as cold as a block of ice. His eyes went wide in horror and understanding but it was too late! Under the shocked gazes of the audience, Vincent was turned into a giant ball of ice.

Gingerly, Syryn toed the ice ball and tipped it off the stage. The frozen anti mage came to a rolling stop in front of Rowan's placid face. The blond anti mage had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back any outburst of inappropriate laughter at the expression on Vincent's face. Rowan slowly let out a controlled breath and looked to his scheming alchemist. Syryn had done it again!

"He- I can't believe he played us all like a fiddle!" Rain pointed to the stage, slack-jawed and a tic developing on her eyebrow.

"8 seconds," Rowan's eyes were shining with admiration, "that's all the time he took." This year's friendship meet was taking unexpectedly thrilling turns. "What devious mages," Rowan murmured as he turned to look at Magnus and Syryn who were bumping fists.

"Syryn you devil!" Lensa squeezed the boy in a hug that was reminiscent of a boa constrictor's deadly attack.

A hard slap to his back then almost bent him in half, "Syryn teach me your ways!"

"I'll get killed by my own teammates before that happens," he grumbled back to the green-haired mage.

Unri's match against Rowan was as spectacular as Syryn's match had been shocking. The mage had expended every drop of mana in his body before the bell ended their match. With Rowan still standing strong, it was obvious which fighter was the victor. The mage had however earned the approval of the audience. Unri would receive many invitations for employment at his graduation.

The final fighters – Syryn and Rowan were announced for their face-off after an extended break. During the said break, Syryn had a visitor in the form of a half-elf alchemist with a black ribbon holding together his shimmering blonde ponytail.

"Salem," Syryn greeted the alchemist whose necklace had saved him from a curious anti mage's prodding.

The blonde alchemist offered Syryn a single yellow blossom. This flower, known as a Hermit's cup, was notoriously difficult to cultivate owing to its finicky growing requirements that could not easily be replicated. It was the symbol of Mesetre – a male deity of luck and herbal plants.

"Thank you," Syryn said to the taller alchemist. He would not turn down a token of affection that conveyed the giver's good wishes.

"That won't do Syryn," Salem replied with a tap against his cheek.

Syryn's jaw fell open. Salem wasn't asking for a kiss on the cheek in public, was he?

"Oh? Guess I won't be receiving one today then," Salem sighed at the reluctance on Syryn's face. "Anyway, I just came to wish you luck. Rowan is a tough nut to crack but you've proven yourself more than capable of cracking anti mages."

Perhaps it was the excitement of the tournament or the prospect of facing Rowan that had scrambled his brain. Syryn pulled Salem by his lapels and kissed him right on his lips. Thanks to Artemus, Syryn had found a new fondness and craving for kisses. Why hadn't he kissed people before? It was a wonderful experience! The tingle of excitement in his belly matched the pleasant feelings of intimacy that kissing gave him.

"I don't feel so embarrassed about this anymore," Syryn informed the alchemist who was owlishly staring at him.

"First time?" Syryn proudly asked, "It's even better when you use your tongue. I-"

"Syryn that's enough," Artemus came to the rescue of the half-elf alchemist who was blinking down at his irresponsible student. He had a feeling Syryn had just taken Salem's first kiss and that too in a public setting. The rumours would churn soon enough.

"You'll have to leave now Salem. Bring me something nice again and I'll reward you," Syryn roguishly grinned at the taller boy.

"Ok," Salem slowly replied after coming back to his senses. "Win the match and I'll get you something even better than the necklace."

"Wow wow wow," Rain whistled. "Salem and Syryn huh? Not even shy about PDA."

Rowan had seen the entire exchange. A sense of irritation was lodged in his chest. "He's my –" no that wasn't right. Just because Syryn was his alchemist, it didn't mean that Syryn belonged to him in every sense. Rowan brushed away the useless train of thoughts that followed the annoyance he had felt.

"Hmmm? Are we jealous?" Rain peered up at the blonde.

"Maybe," Rowan didn't deny. "I don't like sharing."

Rain stopped in her tracks and yanked Rowan's arm, "Oi, are you- you know? Interested in men?" It made sense, right? Rowan had never batted an eyelid at the more than friendly overtures extended by Lillith - who was a beauty that even Rain conceded to.

"What?" Rowan chuckled. "No. I don't have to be romantically interested in Syryn to want to monopolise his attention. I haven't even progressed to friendship with him. It makes me bitter that Salem of all people has gotten so much further ahead."

"Oh. And do you think you'd want to get to the point where you're exchanging saliva with him?" Rain crudely asked.

"No, not really," Rowan replied after mulling it over. He really wasn't thinking that far ahead. Rowan didn't care for romance and pleasures of the flesh that boys his age were exploring. His priorities were pinned to goals that demanded he grow in strength as soon as possible. Maybe someday he would want to find a partner to share his happiness with, but today wasn't it.

"Heh," Rain's eyes were shining gleefully. It had been a good day to have eyes.

The sky was losing light quickly and the air was getting nippy. Bright torches lit up the arena unbothered by the wind that blew through the battleground.

"Syryn, this is it," Magnus gripped his friend's shoulders. "Remember the discussion we had?"

Syryn matched the smile that Magnus beamed down at him. There was no pretence of laziness and apathy in the fire mage's smile.

"Like I would forget. It's why I came to Elysium," he huffed.

"Good. Rowan deserves a real fight!" -one I can't give him.

"You know I won't disappoint"

He then turned to Artemus, "Professor, I need a favour from you." Syryn put his hand inside the professor's pocket and dropped an item inside.

"I uh- if I go a bit crazy up there or start acting weird, use it on me. Forfeit the match even." He told Artemus. The professor frowned and wrapped his fingers around the object in his pocket. "Do I want to know?" Artemus replied with brows raised.

"Yes. But I won't tell you!" Syryn merrily informed the anti mage. "Can I get a kiss on the cheek for luck, professor?"

The young man had kept Syryn's secret and had so far done nothing to threaten the boy. This made him want to tease the professor just a little bit.

Artemus' raised brows looked like they were attempting to just leave his forehead and ascend to the heavens. "You are going to get me fired," he replied with exasperation evident in his tone.

The moment Syryn stepped onto the battle stage, there was a renewed surge of the current that thrummed between him and Rowan - two fighters unable to restrain their excitement to do battle.

Cerulean blue eyes were bright with a fire that could have burned a hole through the mage. He was the recipient of Rowan's attention, all of it like they were in empty space and Rowan was a star whose light shined only on Syryn. Even before the ringing of the bell, Rowan's anti mage field crashed towards the mage in a wave so thick - it blanketed Syryn and buzzed against the magic that was gathering on the surface of his skin.

The mage breathed deeply and revelled in the feeling. Just like old times, except younger Rowan's suppression was weaker. Grown-up Rowan's field felt like iron bands wrapped around every single inch of his body. Right now, he only felt a sensation akin to moving through molasses. This was no challenge to a Syryn that had been subjected to adult Rowan's full-blown strength.

The bell rang and Syryn briefly released his magic. A single gem began to glow. Compared to Rowan's 10 bright gems that were glowing like the sun, Syryn's output drew a hush of murmurs from the audience.

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