The Arena, to many who hear this word think of one thing. Fight. The Arena was outside of the School limits and was requently used by all who wish to duel, spar, or settle some personal business. But oddly it was quite desserted. Only person there was the Pyro-summoner Jaq Draco. He sat to the side where the fans would watch in safety. He rubs his chin and stares into the center of the ring, eyeing it deeply. He has never been in a fight, never been hit, never challanged. Oh how he longs for something to come his way. This hunger for violence grows big, but contains it deep within. He wouldn\'t provoke anything against himself. He would just let everything slide by. He was a fan of the arena watching other students or teachers fight each other with great skill. He would study how they did things, how they would lunge, how they would cast, how they would win. It was not so easy, each oppenent had his or her own unique way to win.
Feeling the great urge to fight he jumps into the arena and imagines a horde of assassins surrending him. One by one, he would dodge, duck and counter each blow thrown at him. He had no weapon of his own, but what he lacks their he makes up for in his art. His eyes shot caught fire, his hands leak molten lava, steam could be sense off of his body. He then twirls, arms extends outwards and a cone of fire roasts all of the assassins.
He stops and takes a deep breath, his eyes returning to normal. Hands no longer leaking. The steam vanishes and his was just a plain student. He stands in the middle of the arena and smiles. He could imagine himself fighting such great being and conquering them. He sits down on the floor and lays back. Head back in the clouds, wondering if it could happen
