The boy dragged his sleepy body down the ancient hallway of the Academy, into the training room for his daily training. His trainer for the day stood at the end of the training room, back facing him. The boy felt a sense of familiarity when he saw the silhouette of his trainer. It was only when the trainer turn around he realized why.

“Dad,” called the boy, “you are my trainer for the day?”

“In this place, I am not your father, I am your trainer,” said the Headmaster of the Red Arts, “Now, you will fight me.”

The Headmaster launched a fireball straight the boy, hitting him on this left arm striking him out of balance. Ignoring the burning pain, the boy stood back up and casted a shield just in time to block the next volley fireballs. The Headmaster let out a blast of red arcane flames which shattered the boy’s shield and knocked him back another step. This was quickly followed by another fireball hitting the boy right in the torso. He fell to his knees, fresh scarlet blood dripping out of his wound and tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Stand back up, you’ve got to show me what you can do.” said the Headmaster.

The boy stood back up, blood still tickling down this body, and immediately cast his shield again to block the attacks. But the attacks came faster and harder, pushing the boy back. Lightning shot out of the Headmaster’s hands, the air crackled as the Headmaster sent the bolt straight at the boy’s shield. The bolt slammed hard onto the shield and it once again shattered into millions of pieces, exposing the boy’s wounds.

“Stop hiding behind that useless shield of yours.” said the Headmaster as he turned and shot with perfect form, a bright blue bolt aimed straight at the boy’s chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ace woke up, his whole body drenched in sweat.

“Having bad dreams again?” asked the woman with blonde hair standing at the door.

“No,” answered the Ace, “Just family issues.”

The Ace walked out of the room, into the hallway, ready for his training.