(Rating: 3/5 (typical ABDL), CW: magic, bullying, curses, mental regression, heavy diaper use (messing), public humiliation.)

“Whenever you’re ready, Alcyon.”

Twenty feet away from the instructor, a dummy made out of wood and straw stood on a pole, ready to get hit. Alcyon, self-proclaimed prodigy of the Academy of Dark Arts, rubbed his handsome chin with a smile. With a few hand gestures, he captured the mana from around him, compressed it in his fist until he felt its intense heat, then projected it forward with his personal incantation:

“Phoenix Burst!”

The dummy exploded in a cloud of fire which spread outward like gigantic bird wings. Every student standing in a circle around the training grounds felt a powerful heat wave hit them. A round of applause erupted from the crowd as the young man hyped himself up after his success.

“Yeah! Still got it!” he shouted as he high-fived his friends. The man had not usurped his reputation as a sorcerer of great talent. A bit of a showman, yes, and one who could not resist working his family crest - a phoenix with widespread wings - into every spell he cast. But the results were there.

“Very good, Alcyon, as always,” noted the instructor as the dummy was doused in water and removed from its burnished spot. “I can’t give you anything but full marks.”

“Hey, what can I say?” said the student with a cocky smile. “Any black mage can conjure flames, but it takes a real champion to do it with style!”

Alcyon’s friends reacted loudly to the boast, cheering and hollering, while the instructor gave him a contrite smile. It seemed like the star student was never seen anywhere without a gaggle of sycophants ready to cheer on his every word. Ignoring the instructor, he hyped himself up some more, listening to his followers telling him how awesome he was and how his spell was like no other. It felt good to be seen and congratulated, even for the simplest things.

“Amelia, you’re up,” called the instructor once a new dummy was put in place. The next student walked to her mark without a word.

She was as different from the star student as it could possibly be. Where Alcyon was athletic, Amelia was skinny. Where his skin was tanned and healthy, hers was pale and sickly. His clothes were made of the finest velvet, her dress was a patchwork of discarded fabrics. From Alcyon’s point of view, Amelia’s only quality was that she was second to him… in alphabetical order.

Yet, the sorceress in training projected an aura that wasn’t too dissimilar to his. Other people were fascinated by her, but also scared by her attitude, and only watched her from a distance. If the cocky sorcerer was admired, Amelia was respected.

The witch stood firmly on her mark, wordlessly conjured mana around her, then gave a simple twist of her hand. The results were not nearly as impressive as the previous spell cast on a dummy. The target shivered and produced a cloud of smoke, not unlike it was comically passing gas. Then slowly, flames appeared in the straw at the bottom of its frame and began to consume the wooden manikin.

The instructor could only shake his head in disapproval. “Do you want to try this again?” he asked with concern.

Amelia returned one of her patented half-gazes to him. “Don’t we both have better things to do with our time?” she snapped back.

“I guess we do,” he replied with a shrug. “That’ll be a passing grade, Amelia.”

“Hey, what?” interjected a suddenly concerned Alcyon, walking away from his gaggle of friends. “Are you joking? How is that a passing grade?”

“This doesn’t concern you, pretty boy,” stated Amelia with an annoyed expression as she noticed the magical jock invade her private space.

“Amelia isn’t specializing in the same domains as you do,” pointedly added the instructor. “In her cursus, a basic understanding of elemental spells is all that is required to pass, and she demonstrated her ability on this subject. Barely.”

“Come on!” interjected Alcyon. “I’ve seen first year trainees do better than that pitiful flame spell! If it were up to me, that kind of display would send her back right to little witches’ kindergarten!” The dig got a few chuckles from the jock’s entourage, who were waiting a few paces away.

“And every night, I thank the dark gods that you’re not the one in charge,” countered Amelia as she turned her back on him. “Now if you excuse me, I have a potion brewing.”

This ticked the young prodigy, the same way waving a red cloth “ticked” a raging bull. This was not how things were supposed to go. Normally, he would make a burning remark, the audience around would be impressed and rally behind him, and the insulted party would cower in shame and humiliation. That’s how he bullied his way through life, and the fact that she hit him with even the slightest comeback was infuriating to him.

There had been a few people who resisted him before. He always solved those problems after class, behind the lockers, with a couple of underlings. After a roughing up or two, they bowed down to him, like they should. And now that he had magic at the tip of his fingers, the method had proven even more efficient than before.

With a simple gesture, he convoked his clique around him, and in a well-rehearsed act, they all began to power walk behind the impertinent sorceress. Like a flock of ravens, they turned around her, croaking menacing words.

“Hey! Where are you going?”
“You think you’re so clever, girl?”

“I wouldn’t disrespect Alcyon if I were you. He can break you with a single spell…”

“Yeah, I wonder what would happen if he tried that fire spell on you?”

“Hey, too far, dude.”
“Why are you walking so fast? You got somewhere to go? Can we come?”

“Hey! Answer us! You think you’re too good for us or something?”

Amelia rolled her eyes and picked up the pace, trying to put some distance between the group without deigning to answer their menaces. This was going nowhere, and Alcyon knew it. If you want to taunt people, you gotta hit them where it hurts. And if she was anything remotely like him, then he knew that she wouldn’t suffer her pride to be questioned.

He silenced the group with just a flick of his hand - no magic here, he had just trained them well - then spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

“So, specialist domain, eh? I’ve heard of those, bunch of people doing weird stuff instead of real magic. Maybe I should join your class? I’m sure I’ll reach the top in no time at all!”

Amelia stopped dead in her tracks. The jock knew how to shoot a taunt straight.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied coldly.

He pressed further with a cocky grin. “Do I? Really? Because if that pitiful fire spell is all it takes to get a passing grade in your little special program, it can’t be that difficult. I’ve been top of my class ever since I set foot on this academy. What’s so special about your parlor tricks that I couldn’t master them in a week?”

She turned to face him and shot a death glare. Oh yeah, he had struck gold here, questioning her abilities in front of everyone. If she hadn’t been so naturally pale, she would be livid right now.

“That wet sponge you call a ‘brain’ wouldn’t understand the subtleties of my Art,” she growled menacingly. “You think the Dark Arts are all about flashy spells and big explosions. You can’t even grasp that there’s an entire universe of possibilities outside of your little flaming bird tricks.”

“Hey, if it works, it works,” he taunted her as he walked towards her. “There’s always demand for a good arcanist outside the walls of the Academy, and I’m the best at what I do. I’ll be a star once I’m done learning here.”

He reached the witch and stood aggressively a foot away from her, invading her space so thoroughly that she had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes. The tension between the two was so electric that it could have killed on the spot anyone who dared to get too close.

“If your magic is so great, so much better than mine, then prove it, little witch.”

“I have nothing to prove to someone like you.”

“Oh, I think you do. Because you’re full of hot air and I know it. All talk, no show. How you can get the respect of anyone is beyond me.”

“I’m not really surprised, a lot of things are beyond you, Alcyon.”

“Fine,” he growled in turn. He practically shouted at her face: “I challenge you to a magical duel, Amelia! A public duel where everyone can see with their own eyes how much of a fraud you truly are. What do you say, witch?”

Their little altercation had attracted the attention of many students around, who were now listening to the shouting match with bated breath. Amelia looked around, saw how many witnesses were on the scene, and shook her head with a defeated smile.

“You sure you want to do this in public, big boy?” she replied with bravado. “Counter-proposal: just you and me, in a closed room, and I’ll show you the extent of my powers.”

“Nuh-uh. Too easy. Anything can happen behind closed doors, and then you’ll tell your friends whatever story you’ve concocted to feel good about yourself. If you even have any friends, that is. No no, I want your humiliation to be public. I want everyone to see what the great Amelia is truly capable of, and how much better I am than you!”

The sorceress stood silent for a moment, but a wicked flame lit up her green eyes. She straightened up, her body language expressing a confidence she didn’t usually convey.

“I was doing you a kindness, Alcyon,” she spat loud enough for the audience to hear. “But very well! I accept your challenge. See you in an hour at the dueling circle. And bring your clique with you, if you’re so desperate for an audience.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about it, the whole Academy will be there to see you crushed under my heel!”

And just like that, the two wizards turned their back to each other and went their separate ways. Before any of them had reached their bedroom, the whole campus was aware of the upcoming duel. One student was even clever enough to prepare vast quantities of popcorn.

When the two sorcerers met on the sacred dueling grounds, there were dozens of students on the benches, forming a surprisingly wide audience for that kind of petty squabbles. Of course, Alcyon had gathered every minion under his thumb to show off with the biggest fan club. Amelia’s fans were scarcer, gathering only a few curious witches that weren’t quite as loud as the other side.

The two contestants stood proudly in the middle of a circle, next to the referee - another of the jock’s friends, of course. Referees were more of a tradition than really helpful: it was usually pretty easy to determine who was the winner once the spells were done flinging.

Alcyon was cocky as always, but the witch was just as confident as him. She was the one who asked: “Last chance to give up before it gets nasty?”

“You wish!” scoffed the sorcerer. He wouldn’t back down from this fight until his victory was absolute.

As the duelists looked at each other in defiance, the referee mumbled a few traditional words: “While death is but a passing moment on our way to the Other World, we require each duelist to refrain themselves and not reach such extremities. Step away from each other and place yourselves on opposite sides of the circle. The duel starts once one of you begins to gather mana. It will end once any contestant yields to the other or is rendered unconscious. May the darkest one prevail.”

The two wizards walked away from each other, took their marks, and then gazed at each other for what felt like an eternity. Tension was palpable, and even birds seemed to have stopped chirping in anticipation of the duel’s start.

Alcyon already had a plan. He knew that he had to defeat her with the spell she mocked this morning, burning her on wings of Phoenix fire. But he couldn’t start with the final blow, could he? He had to play with her first, like the prowling cat with a helpless mouse. He knew so many disgusting spells to torment her: the Rack of Immobilization, the Infernal Sparks, the Master’s Flogging, the Overwhelming Shadow… Oh yeah, she was going to beg him to stop. And maybe he would, once his bullying desires were satisfied.

Yet right now, as the duel was about to begin, his opponent looked composed and relaxed, crossing her arms on her chest in a sign of defiance. She refused to be the first to gather mana, letting seconds expand into minutes as she did absolutely nothing. It was a provocation. She expected him to make the first move like an impatient child, and she was right on the money. Her cocky smile rubbed Alcyon the wrong way, until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

In what would be his last relevant move in this duel, he gathered the winds of magic around his fingers in an instant, pointed them towards her opponent, and shouted:

“Suffer the thorns of Sy-”

“Cécité.”

The witch's spell was so fast that Alcyon couldn’t react in time, as a strip of darkness struck him straight in the eyes. His own spells twisted out of control and struck the ground, where viny thorns sprouted out of the grass in curled lashes.

Alcyon let out a scream of pain, and the audience gasped. The sorcerer tried to clear whatever she had thrown in his eyes, to no avail. It burned like acid, and between the spell and his own tears, he could only perceive the world in shades of light and darkness, his sight rendered nearly useless.

He cursed: “Aaaugh, you fucking-!”

“Mutisme.”

Amelia’s voice was closer than when the duel had begun, but Alcyon couldn’t have guessed where she was, blinded by her first spell. He felt a tingle around his neck, which began to hurt. It felt like someone was crushing his throat from the inside.

He tried to invoke a counterspell, but his voice only produced a muffled croak. That’s when he knew what she had just done to him. The grip on his throat wasn’t there to make him gasp for air, as his heavy breath wasn’t impeded, but to silence him. Admittedly, it was a brilliant move: how can sorcerers cast powerful spells without speaking their invocations aloud? He’d be limited to cantrips at best.

From his own point of view, however, that was a cheap shot that only showed she was unwilling to fight like a real man. Err, a real wizard.

Alcyon’s curses came out as raspy wheezes, as he was unable to articulate a single word. His head whipped left and right, trying to locate his opponent. She might have stolen his sight and voice from him, but he still had ears. He heard steps in random directions, like Amelia was skipping around him in circles. He tried to scream “Stop this foolery and fight me!”, but all that came out were formless whimpers.

Amelia didn’t intend to play fair, and she got him right where she wanted him to be.

That’s when a voice erupted from the crowd: “She’s behind you, Alcyon!”

Both sides of the crowd immediately voiced their displeasure at this flagrant display of poor sportsmanship, but Alcyon had gotten exactly what he needed from it. Thanks to one of his loyal fans, he had a chance to counter-attack. Since he didn’t need words to conjure simple flames at the tip of his fingers, he turned abruptly on himself, swinging a fist bathed in arcane fire. It lacked finesse and precision, but if it hit, she would be smacked down and hurt badly…

But the haymaker failed to connect, and a fraction of a second later, he felt a pressure on his belly. A finger, pushing firmly on his belly button with the distinct tingle of mana at the tip of it.

“Empoisonnement.”

Alcyon keeled over and fell on the ground, his breath taken away by a pain that originated from his stomach. The pain grew quickly, coursing through his veins until it reached every point of his body. It made him intensely sick, and he retched in the most undignified fashion. Between two dry heaving, he heard a disgusted murmur coming from the crowd. It must not have been a pretty sight.

“Right,” chimed in Amelia’s voice, “I think it’s time for a lesson in sorcery, pretty boy.”

The witch gave a light kick to the jock, who fell on his back. His limited sight allowed him to see a dark shape towering over him, shielding him from the sunlight. The witch was literally looking down on him.

“The Dark Arts are not about flashy explosions and overwhelming torrents of ethereal power,” she continued. “It has roots in the nastiest, least honorable kind of magical practice. The witches of old weren’t paragons of ‘proper’ magic like the legendary archwizards. They had precious few resources to spare… but they knew how to throw a good curse.”

She turned to the audience, climbing on a metaphorical soapbox as she taught them a lesson. “Why would I need to rain down a column of heavenly fire on this idiot, when I can beat him with just a few simple spells? Two curses, and he’s all but useless. Three, and he’s at death’s door. That is true Witchcraft, sisters and brothers. It’s not spectacular, it’s not pretty, it lacks any kind of honor, but it gets the job done. And too many of us have forgotten this truth.”

Uninterested in her speech, or maybe just too distracted by the pain, Alcyon tried to get back up on his feet. Before he could do so, Amelia was back to leaning over him.

“That last spell I cast on you, Alcyon? Pretty nasty stuff. It's a magical poison, a venom replica extracted from a beast that doesn’t exist anymore. Very efficient, very little mana needed to keep it going. And there’s no antidote, unless I voluntarily dispel it. Not bad for a ‘parlor trick’, don’t you think? I could let the poison kill you, you know. It would only take a few minutes until you won’t be able to recover, writhing in agony at every moment…”

Right on cue, Alcyon moaned in pain. The duel’s audience shivered in sympathy. The proud jock was having the worst time of his life.

“... but that would make for a dreadful show,” continued the witch, “and while I despise you, I don’t hate you enough to let you die. So here’s the deal, Alcyon: throw the towel, admit your defeat, and I’m dispelling every spell I put on you. What do you say?”

Amelia snapped her fingers, and the sorcerer felt the grip on his throat relax and disappear. She had given him back his voice, but the other curses were still in place. He coughed and gasped for air, then lifted his head in her direction, trying as best as he could to look her in the eyes. It took all of his courage and determination to scream:

“A pox on you, witch! Phoenix Bur-”

“Babillage!”

Once again, the witch was faster - or maybe she expected the betrayal. The last syllable of Alcyon’s spell devolved into a ridiculous mewl and a drop of spit. She had deprived him of his voice again, but at least he didn’t feel pain around his throat. He only felt it everywhere else in his body…

“Well!” shouted the witch with an uncharacteristic glee. “Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, it seems that once again, my unfortunate opponent is unable to quit while he’s ahead. Therefore, he’s going to learn his lesson the hard way! Keep your eyes peeled, because the real show is about to begin!”

Standing on all fours on the dueling ground, Alcyon was trying to claw his way back to the top. But he couldn’t think straight, his mind clouded by the poisonous pain and enraged by the lack of control he had on the situation.

Closing his eyes to help his focus, the star student surrounded himself with as much mana as he could channel, and casted spell after spell, trying to find one that would give him the upper hand.

In his mind, he was incantating: Vigor! Circle of protection! Blinding Lights! Words of Terror!

But his mouth only said: “Aawwao! Flaafingongon! Bababayaya! Woooothplbth!”

“Aaaaw, isn’t he adorable?” cooed Amelia in a condescending tone. “I think little Alcyon is trying to do some maaaaagiiiiiic!”

Alcyon heard people laughing in the audience, and it caught his heart in a vice. Dang it! That blasted curse she put on him forbade him from casting spells, but in a much more humiliating way. And now people were getting swayed to her side, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted this duel to be. He should have emerged victorious and triumphant, while the witch would be put in her place once and for all. Now, even if he won the duel, everyone will be talking about this shameful display. It couldn’t get any worse!

But hearing the crowd gave him an idea. Even if his eyes were useless, he could still hear. And one side of the dueling circle was laughing a lot less than the other. He guessed that’s where his fanclub was watching… where his allies still wanted to see him victorious, if only out of fear.

Yeah… One of them had already broken the decorum by warning him of the witch’s position. If he got close enough from that side of the circle, certainly one of them could douse him with a counterspell and he would be free from the curses. A dirty trick, for sure, but she was the one who started with underhanded tactics. Then the field would be leveled again and the duel could start anew…

But right as he stood up, a doubt washed over his mind: where was the witch now? The answer immediately presented itself, as he heard her whisper to his hear from behind:

“Oh no you don’t. Paralysie!”

Alcyon felt an electric wave that started from his feet and rose up like ants crawling on his legs, and before long, he was laying flat on the ground again. His lower half wasn’t responding anymore, no matter how hard he tried to jitter his legs awake. But the sparks kept creeping up, and soon they engulfed his whole upper half, rendering his arms useless and his body heavy like a pile of bricks…

“Be a nice little boy and don’t move,” she mocked him, “this part is a bit more complex.” The witch began to gather mystical energies around her, mumbling a complex series of words under her breath.

Alcyon was quickly falling into a panic. His paralyzed body refused to move an inch, his efforts at conjuring a spell had all been fruitless, and now, he was at the witch’s mercy. His devolved language couldn’t even let him express his anguish and anger, as words came out of his mouth as nothing more than babbles and drops of drool. All he had left was screaming, crying, begging for help like a frightened child. He couldn’t have stopped if he tried: something was connecting his deeply rooted instincts directly to his mouth, and what came out was a loud wailing.

He was so scared that he didn’t even notice that the pain from the poison had all but vanished, replaced only by a dull ache in the pit of his stomach.

All around him, the audience was becoming unruly. While some were embarrassed at this strange display, many more were laughing and hollering at the disgraced champion. “Hey, where is your phoenix now, champion?” shouted someone from Alcyon’s entourage. Even within his gang of sycophants, the sorcerer had fallen off his pedestal, which was now metaphorically broken down into gravel.

Amelia finished her incantation with a flourish, and the paralyzed wizard felt a warmth washing all over his body, especially in his mid-section.

“There you go!” chimed in the witch. “My apologies, I’ll admit I’m not the best at conjuring, this took a bit longer than it should have. But you’ve been a good boy who stayed put for mommy, isn’t that right, you little rascal?” She pinched his cheek like she was smothering a child with affection, which infuriated the helpless and still paralyzed Alcyon.

“Time for some clean-up. Let’s get rid of these…”

She snapped her fingers twice, and two curses were lifted from him: his vision cleared out and the paralysis that weighed down how body vanished.

“... and add something new. Titubement!”

The new spell shook him from head to toe, and he could immediately feel his hands and legs shaking. What blasted curse had she put on him, this time?

“I’ll tell you what, Alcyon,” she told him in a playful tone. “I’m going to walk to the other side of the circle, over there. If you’re still strong enough to join me there, I’ll end the duel and leave you alone. You just need to walk a dozen paces, that’s all. Doesn’t that sound fair?”

Amelia all but skipped to the other side of the circle while the prone sorcerer desperately tried to grab her ankle to stop her. He missed entirely, his hand too clumsy to react in time.

What a sorry state Alcyon was in... He realized it as soon as he was able to put himself on all four and tried to stand up. His legs failed to support his weight and he fell back to the ground, a pratfall punctuated by the audience’s laughter. His arms and legs felt exceedingly wobbly, uncoordinated and weak. He couldn’t stand up. At best, he would be able to crawl, and the witch knew that when she moved away from him. She wanted to see him wiggle impotently on the ground.

Gritting his teeth, Alcyon began to crawl in her direction. It was agony. Every swear he muttered under his breath came out as garbled nonsense, drool spitting down his chin. His shaking limbs made progression awfully difficult, and he moved inch by inch on the sacred stones of the dueling grounds. In addition, his stomach felt queasy and painful, like he had gorged himself on food the day before and still felt the effects of his excess. The feeling was less intense than burning poison, but also more and more uncomfortable as he moved forward.

To top it off, his restored sight made looking around all the more painful. Hearing the mockeries of the audience was something, but seeing everyone around the circle taking joy in his humiliating situation was a hundred times worse. There were pointed fingers, insults being thrown, people imitating his helpless state from the sidelines. Their laughter felt like so many daggers stabbing his pride in the back. Everyone, including those who were cheering his awesomeness this morning, were having a blast from witnessing his demise.

Alcyon found himself thinking “Please don’t look at it, please don’t look at me, please…” as he crawled pitifully on the ground.

He was about halfway from reaching Amelia when something unsightly happened: strained by all the unusual movement from his crawling, his belt unbuckled. With each move, his pants dragged a bit more behind him. The mockeries rose in volume until suddenly, a voice erupted above the crowd’s rabble:

“By the gods, what is he wearing?”

There was nothing special under his trousers, Alcyon knew that. What were they all pointing at? Moved by a morbid curiosity, he turned on himself to see what was so remarkable.

His underwear were… different. Thicker, that’s for sure. A good inch of white cloth wrapped around his buttocks and between his legs, making his midsection look round and puffed up. Alcyon reached an uncertain hand to his crotch, feeling odd layers of airy cloth and metallic pins on his flanks. The whole garment painted a distinctively infantile picture, one that everyone would be familiar with.

No… It couldn’t be… She wouldn’t have…

“I see you’ve discovered my gift!” shouted Amelia, standing proudly with her arms crossed like she had done in the first moments of their duel. “I’ve conjured it while you were having a little tantrum earlier. It felt appropriate, seeing as you were acting too big for your britches…”

The crowd erupted in laughter at her corny joke. The witch had diapered the sorcerer with magic. And the humiliating underwear was exposed for everyone to see. Alcyon felt tears fall down on his cheeks. His reputation was done for, forever. He would never live it down. He would forever be the wizard who had to crawl on the dueling grounds wearing a diaper. No hazing had ever gone that far at the Academy!

If only he had known how much worse it was about to become...

“I made it resistant and reusable for you,” continued the witch with a fakely concerned tone. “It will last you a lifetime if you’re careful. A most useful gift, and a useful one at that. After all, we never know when an accident could happen…”

As soon as the witch spoke the word, Alcyon felt his guts churn violently and keeled over in surprise. He understood too late what was going to happen, and no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t able to stop it in time.

With a disgusting wet sound, a wave of mud escaped his bottom and splashed against the fabric wrapped around his waist. Like a river flowing free out of a dam’s open doors. Alcyon let out a squeak, trying to clench his muscles and prevent a further disaster. But his shaking legs turned to spasms under the effort, and a second wave quickly followed the first, marking an obvious stain on the white cloth.

Already, the crowd was split evenly between laments of disgust and howls of laughter, but the poor man-child was far from being done. His guts were still moving all manners of foul matter inside, and he knew the accident was far from being over. Tears flowing freely on his cheeks, he gave up trying to stop it… and pushed.

More waste was now being loudly expelled, clashing wave after wave of smelly catastrophe in the back of his adult-sized diaper. He let out his body empty itself for what felt like an eternity, pushing more and more as his body shook from the effort.

With one last gas passing through, the deed was done. Alcyon’s diaper had ballooned with his mess, and the gross mass of refuse was weighing down the diaper like a brick. The sorcerer put his head on the ground, sobbing, while the crowd was growing further out of control. This was the worst day of his life.

“Come on, baby boy, you’re almost there!” cheered the witch that had not moved an inch from her spot. “Just come to me and everything will be over. Don’t let a yucky accident break your spirit!”

His spirit was very much broken at this point, yet the sorceress was right. At this stage, there was nothing left to do except moving forward. Gathering every ounce of strength he still had left, Alcyon began to crawl again. The mushy feeling of his soiled diaper sloshing against his legs with every movement made him wince with disgust. Never, in his whole life, was he more disgusted with himself.

After minutes of effort that could as well have been years, he finally reached the witch’s spot. He looked up, his face washed with tears, and awaited for the promised end of the duel that had broken his entire life.

“Well, here we are, Alcyon,” she said as she leaned over the pitiful sorcerer. “I’ve got only one curse left in stock for you, something to make you into the drooling idiot that you truly are, deep inside. But I wanted you to understand what was going on, first.”

She gestured widely to the hollering crowd and chided him: “I wanted you to see everyone betraying you as soon as you showed weakness. I wanted you to hear their mockery at your failure. And above all, I wanted you to understand that you did this all to yourself. You had many occasions to back down, but your hubris was your downfall, and you deserved every bit of humiliation you received. You owe them to a lifetime of bullying your way to the top. You had it coming for a long time, truly. I’ve just forced the hand of Fate so it would happen a little quicker, that’s all.”

“These curses I’ve put on you,” she continued, “I’ve been working on them for a while. It will cost me very little mana to keep them active - and nobody can break them, except myself. I’m willing to sacrifice some energy to keep you as a pathetic, drooling, stinking baby for a little while. A month, two? Maybe three? I’ll see when I get bored of you. In the meantime, I hope someone will be generous enough to wipe your ass and feed you from a bottle. Although after such a shameful display, I'm not sure you still have many fans… Maybe you’ll end up in the ‘little witches’ kindergarten’, hmm?”

After that verbal barrage, Alcyon had no words left to counter her arguments, none that he could speak out loud anyway. Unable to express his distress, he began to wail, sounding almost exactly like an infant crying for his mother - a loud overgrown toddler.

“Yes, you big baby, cry some more. Cry as much as you want! That’s all you’ll be able to do once I’ve cast my last curse, anyway. Maybe when my spells vanish into ether, months away from now, you’ll have cried enough to be worthy of a second chance? But you’ll have to get it somewhere else, I’m afraid. Your reputation at the Academy will never recover from today!”

She let out a crystalline laugh that pierced poor sorcerer’s ears. “Well then… bye bye, big baby Alcyon. Enjoy the trip!”

She pressed her index on his forehead and pronounced the spell: “Immaturité.”

And Alcyon’s mind… flew away. His distress was still there, his pain and despair still present in his mind, but his adult thoughts vanished into thin air. Gone were the adult words, the magical formulas, the pride, the bravado, the reason why he wanted to fight this duel in the first place. All that was left were simple infantile thoughts, and a deep feeling of shame that he could not escape, even if he didn’t understand why he was feeling it anymore.

He was sad. He was yucky. He wanted to hide from all the noisy big people. He wanted a clean bum. He wanted his mommy. And since he had none of those, he would cry and cry until someone gave them to him.

In the silence that fell on the arena, the referee’s voice muttered: “Hum… I… I declare Amelia winner of this most sacred magical duel?”

Leaving the bawling husk of a man behind her, Amelia left the dueling ground, beaming a proud look and a wicked smile to the audience gathered around. There were so many people around them, much more than when the duel had started; most of the Academy, actually. Thanks to this duel, her reputation was now set in stone. Nobody would ever dare to cross her again. She had made an example out of the star pupil of the school, who now laid down broken and smelly at her feet. She was willing to do it again to anyone who annoyed her in the future.

In fact, she kind of hoped someone would be dumb enough to try. She still had a few curses she didn’t have the opportunity to use on that idiot.