5 Chapter 5 I wasn't jealous.

Clarissa closed the book on the podium before her and walked around it, approaching me with her hands clasped in front of her. "I must admit to curiosity, my lord. While you are improving faster than I had anticipated, I must ask why you pursue this path at all. The power of Hellfire and Wind eclipses that of anything I could teach you."

Clenching my hands into fists, I dispelled the magic I had been maintaining. "It is not about pure power, Clarissa. If I only focused on making the biggest explosion possible, then I would inevitably meet someone who could make larger explosions than me and I would wind up dead. Just look at Lord Lucifer. I will never be able to stand up to his power. Ergo, in order to combat beings stronger than I am, I need versatility. It is a lot harder to dodge a wall of Hellfire when curses are hampering your movement."

Clarissa's eyebrows narrowed in thought as she absorbed my words. "That is a perspective sorely lacking among Devilkind, my lord. Where is your pride in yourself? In your family? Surely a scion of the great Phenex pillar would be able to defeat any foe?" Her last words were said tauntingly, as if she was trying to get a rise out of me.

I looked up at her – I abhorred being short – and raised an eyebrow. "Pride is stupid. I won't get myself killed because someone called me a chicken. People can think whatever they want about me. In the end, all that matters is what I can accomplish and what those close to me think. Everyone else can rot in Cocytus."

Clarissa smiled at me, seemingly content with my answer. "A healthy perspective. Arrogance has been many a Devil's downfall. Though be sure that the opposite is not your own. Whether you like it or not, the opinions of others mean more than can be measured in the supernatural world." Her wisdom dispensed, she reached into her robe and produced a small, leather-bound book. "Read this before our next meeting. I expect you know that you are not to–"

"Use any of the spells, hexes, rituals, or otherwise nasty magical powers found within until I have supervision. Yes, I know." Clarissa was rather strict about that rule. Any headstart I would make by practicing on my own would be drastically offset by the month or so I would have to go without training if I was caught. It wasn't worth it to even try.

"Good." Clarissa said, an amused smile on her face. She looked over her shoulder at a clock on the wall and tutted disapprovingly. "You are late for your swordsmanship lessons. I do hope that–"

Whatever else she had been saying was lost to me as my body turned into a raging inferno and a gust of Wind propelled me out the door. Belford made my life painful enough when I was on time – one of the few downsides to regeneration, my teacher knew that I could regenerate from anything he dished out so long as he used a basic sword – I didn't need to give him an excuse to tan my hide any further.

As soon as I was out of Clarissa's research laboratory I shot towards the ceiling and followed the small braziers hanging there towards the training hall Belford would be waiting in.

I still could not navigate by sight or sound when in this form. I could feel the area immediately around me by probing with my wind, but it was unreliable for navigating large distances. To allow myself to travel around the Castle in my fire form, I set up a bunch of small beacons throughout the castle to help me get around. Every ten or so feet, and at every intersection, there now hung a small iron brazier that burned with my fire. This ensured I had a map of the house I could access whenever I entered my fire form. It also meant I could rush as fast as I wanted along the ceiling without needing to worry about crashing through someone walking the halls. That…may have been an issue in the past. I made sure to apologize, but I was still grounded for a week.

Why did my mother delight in grounding me so much? I didn't think she ever grounded Ruval or Raycal, and I knew for a fact that she never grounded Ravel, my younger sister who was born just a few years ago. My parents absolutely adored Ravel. They spent almost as much time with her as they didn't with me. That wasn't something I was overly jealous about though. I had other things to occupy my time. Really. I wasn't jealous.

Forcefully shoving the illogical, childish jealousy down, I gave the best approximation a manifestation of fire was able to of a sigh. Being young messed with my ability to let things go and my overall approach to pretty much everything. I just wanted to grow up already. Logically, I knew they cared. I was their son. They didn't need any reason to care other than that.

I refocused on my Wind-propelled flight through the house. While I could have just shot out my wings and flown that way, I was faster like this. I loved my wings, but they were more for combat than anything else. I could still use my swords and magic with my wings out. While I was pure fire I could do little other than run and heal, occasionally cutting something close to me with a Wind blade or two and scorching someone with the Hellfire I left in my wake.

It wasn't a perfect means of transportation, I would still need to work something out for traveling outside the house, but it was sufficient to let me practice. Or, as it were, to get to my swordsmanship lessons as fast as possible.

I exploded through the training hall's double doors like a ship crashing through a wave and quickly shifted out of my fire form. Training dummies and weapon racks lined the walls, but the stone floor itself was open, leaving a wide space for sparring. Various shapes were painted into the stone to help facilitate various training exercises.