Flaring Ambition

Summary:

Within the mountains of the Alf's Royal Forest lies a monk order known as "The Teachings of Belenus," and within that order lives Josiah Salamand, next (and only) in line to carry on his family's duty to watch over the temple. However, this self-proclaimed "archmage prodigy" has a different idea, Step one. Learn magic; check. Step two. Head to Orario; Step three. Gather wealth, fame, and power. And finally, step four. Win the love and affection of the woman he's been dreaming of for years (and who also doesn't even know who he is), Riveria Ljos Alf. Because, come on, have you seen her eyes?

Not to be cliche or anything, but is it really wrong to try and seduce the high elf princess?

Prologue: From a Spark

I can feel the arcane circulating through my body. To some, it's a caring embrace; to others, a creeping chill; for me, It's a flame. I focus intently on keeping the blaze controlled; not enough pressure, and it becomes an inferno. Too much, and it fizzles out. It's a delicate balance, to be sure, but the feeling of zen you achieve once you've got it feels truly serene.

I'm not sure how long I've been in this trance: the ebb and flow of time is hard to track once you reach in and take dominion of your soul.

It's in this moment of peace that I feel something graze me, then again, and once more, it gets rougher and rougher until I realize someone's trying to get my attention. I let out a mental groan and released the flame, A sense of disappointment at such a loss of progress. This better be important.

My eyes open to find the Abbot of this monastery, my father, standing above me. His jet-black hair, pale skin, and yellow eyes mirror my own, though he stands much taller than me. I get the diminutiveness from my mother.

"It's time," he said before turning to the door.

I let a smile cross my face; how couldn't I? Years of pushing myself have culminated in this moment. The moment when I finally have something to show for the countless hours of meditation and conditioning, more sleepless nights than almost anyone else at this temple, and all the pain I've pushed through to achieve this goal. Today marks my tenth year since birth.

Today is the day I learn magic.

I waste no time donning my crimson robe and quickly follow my father. As we weave through the temple's maze-like hallways, I notice how the usually drab grey walls seem quite vibrant today. though, that's probably my imagination.

I must restrain the child-like glee from spreading to my face and fight the urge to break into a skip. Despite my age, I've built a reputation among the other monks of maturity; I can't lose it now.

We head deeper into the monastery, further than I've ever gone. We pass a few monks, one whom I recognize to be Estel, the steward of the order; his platinum-blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and sharp ears make him easy to pick out, as is the case with most elves; he gives me a smirk and a small thumbs-up before turning back around to give out orders.

The lack of windows this deep within the temple leaves me with no clue as to what time of day it is or if the sun is even up at all, the only light coming from the magic stone lamps within the ceiling. I'm so enraptured in my thoughts that I nearly don't notice my father's abrupt stop.

In front of us stands a metal door about seven feet tall and half as wide. Painted onto the door is a tapestry of a man with flaming hair riding a chariot across the skies and shedding light behind him, a painting for the spirit of fire, the very person this temple and its ways are dedicated to, our ancestor, Belenus.

It's a beautiful piece; whoever the artist was must have been exceptionally talented. The door gives off a soft yellow glow where Belenus lightens the sky; peculiar, I reach out with the arcane, and my worldview changes.

Everything but the door and my father has lost its color. The eyes of a Salamand allow us to see and feel magic, both dormant and active, in ways others cannot, a byproduct of our ancestor, Eden Salamand, who fell in love with the great spirit and married him. It's one of the few gifts our bloodline possesses.

I dispel the magic from my eyes as I feel the beginning of a headache start to form, and everything returns to its standard shade. I catch my father eyeing me with pride evident in his eyes; he had only learned to use his eyes late into his teen years, and though he'd never say it out loud, for not even the love for his son could pierce that stubborn soul of his, I know I've earned his respect.

"Impressive as always my son, though you need to work on the art of subtlety," he says in the closest tone you'll get to amusement from him.

I smirk and respond in a clueless voice "Oh? What gave me away?"

"The fact that your eyes shone even brighter than they already do" he replies.

My cheeks gain the faintest tint. Note to self, work on eye glowing.

"So, do you think I'll pass?" I ask in a drawn-out expression.

His eyes meet mine, annoyance clear as day. "If your current record is anything to go by then I'm sure you'll do just fine. Now quit stalling."

He figured me out! And I'm not stalling, I'm... Mentally preparing myself, yeah.

He pulls a key from one of his inner pockets and unlocks the door, slowly pushing it open and signaling for me to step inside.

As I enter the room, I notice that four monks wearing more ceremonial robes reside, sitting on their knees around a magic circle engraved into the floor. In all my study of the arcane, I've never seen such an intricately designed circle; I can't make out what most of it is for, but from what symbols I recognize, it seems to be an input class circle, one that you pump magic into, with a central rune made to imbue this input into whatever lies atop it. I can also see that the outer rims of the circle are lined with control runes to prevent any arcane from seeping out of the ritual.

I look upon the ring with equal parts elation and loathing. All of this, all of this blood, work, sweat, and tears, just to achieve something that can't even mimic a fraction of the power a falna may just hand out on a whim. No, I must not let envy cloud my vision; this is but a step toward my dreams. Slow and steady wins the race, though I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish there was a quicker route.

I gain control of my breathing and walk toward the middle of the circle, sitting down as if I were about to begin meditating. I can hear the door to the room shut behind me and watch as my father walks to the forefront of the circle. Now, with my father in front of me and two monks on either side, the ceremony may commence.

A bronze ball about as big as an apple is placed in my hands: it's completely covered in ornate carvings, the most prominent being that of an unlit torch, and it's warm to the touch. I'm tempted to peer at it with salamand sight (name pending), but I know that doing so in a room packed with magic would result in a throb worse than when I got caught sneaking food out of the dining hall's pantry. Luckily, enough begging stopped Clarice from telling the whole temple, a big mouth, that one.

I look up to find my father holding a similar item, though his is distinguished by its rune picturing a sun rather than a torch. We lock eyes, and I nod my head. All four monks began their chant as I dived into my soul; I only caught the first few words before I was immersed in darkness.

I'm in a void. The only thing here is me and the flame. I have no lungs, yet I feel the air circulating through me. I have no eyes, yet I see the light of the fire. I have no body, yet I feel everything. Even the slightest ripple of the flame flows through me like a warm breeze. This is zen; a perfect intake and outflow of your body's magic results in total control.

It doesn't last long; I can feel the inflow of magic increase, and in doing so, the flame, which was once but a feeble light, roars into a raging inferno. My body feels like it has been set aflame, and I let out a scream that never comes. The pain almost leaves me unable to think, but I prevail; steeling my resolve, I look towards everything I hope to achieve: the fame I so desperately desire, the strength I reach for daily, the wealth I yearn for, the inferno is forced down.

Yet it still isn't enough.

It's still too large.

I'll pass out before the ritual is complete at the rate things are going. Nonexistent tears begin to leak from the very essence of my soul. I need to think: what should I do? What would she do? The woman whose beauty I've only ever seen in paintings, whose emerald eyes and jade hair take hold of my thoughts whenever they can. Whose words I only ever hear through books and whose adventures only ever through hearsay.

How can I even claim to want to be with her if I can't get through this?

I squash my fears and begin to chart a course. I can't control the incoming magic. There's simply too much. What I can do is direct it. By widening the hole from which magic flows and increasing the amount I take in, I can significantly reduce the savageness of the flame.

Taking in so much more arcane energy than what I'm used to is painful, incredibly so, but I can hardly feel it. The sight of what was once an uncontrollable inferno now turned into a sizeable bonfire leaves me in too much ecstasy to even notice the agony. But we aren't done yet.

Reaching out, I squeeze the fire, narrowing the tube where the magic exits, and begin absorbing even more of it. Seeing the flame die down brings out a laugh I didn't know I was holding in, which quickly descends into a laughing fit more appropriate for a madman than a mere child. Between laughs, I snag a glimpse of my work. It's ugly. And it's amateur at best. But for now, that's fine.

The next moment, I'm back to reality. The room is lit with the soft orange glow of the magic circle, and monks once again surround me. My robe is drenched in sweat that pools down to the floor, forming a puddle around me. The ball holds a subtle shine. I look up, daring to meet my father's eyes. His face has no emotion, but his eyes tell me everything.

"Congratulations, Josiah, you've passed." the words barely leave his mouth before I'm on the floor.

Notes: Okay, that'll end off my first-ever dive into writing, well, anything. I'm trying to make this a more realistic dive into the world of Danmachi. I realize starting with an epilogue that is almost entirely inner monologue was probably boring, so I'm working on putting out some new chapters where we actually get to the dungeon. Feedback of any kind is welcome, and please let me know if I get something wrong. As I said earlier, I'm trying to make this series a deep dive into the life of an average adventurer. Well, as average as someone born with spirit blood and trained in magic since boyhood gets. I plan on a lot of the main cast being made up of background characters and other OCs. Not to worry, though. The actual cast will still be a huge part. And a big thank you to everyone who decides to support this story. See you next chapter.