The archmage stood over his traitorous student, his eyes burning with anger and betrayal. "I don't think you get it," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I didn't give up the sword because I am only good at magic or frail and weak. In fact, I was too good at it and that bored me."

The student scoffed and crossed his arms. "You expect me to believe that? You took that hit like a bitch. You're just trying to cover up the fact that you're too afraid to fight like a man."

The archmage's eyes narrowed, and an expression halfway between confusion and amusement crossed his face. "I'm not afraid to fight. I've been fighting for decades, defending this kingdom from all sorts of otherwordly foes, including some more terrible than you could imagine. But I've come to realize that physical violence is not the only way to solve problems. Sometimes, there are other ways. Ways that don't involve killing everything in sight."

"That's a weak excuse," sneered back the student. "You're just trying to justify your cowardice."

"I am not a coward," replied the archmage, his patience visibly running thin. "I am a man whose old age has granted him greater insight into the meaning of life. And if you can't recognize and respect wisdom when you see it, then you are not ready to be my student."

The student's face contorted in rage. "How dare you speak to me like that, after having just taken an ass-whooppin'? I should have known you were too soft to be a true master."

The archmage's anger boiled over at last. As the walls of the chamber grew ominously dark, he boomed, "You are no longer my student. You are a damnable traitor that is only alive this moment thanks to nothing but my scorned mercy, and I want nothing more to do with you. Begone! Out of my sight, and never return."

The student cowered in fear before a side of his master he had never seen before. Without speaking a word, he fled out of the chambers, his heart filled with bitterness and resentment. A single tear rolled down his cheek, but he wiped it away in embarassment. He was hell bent on getting revenge. Revenge for the shame he had brought upon himself.