A low gust of wind blew through a resplendent marble hall, black tinted windows spreading an ominous light that gave the chamber a feeling of desolation and horror. Dark shards of jagged metal and crystal pierced through the ceiling of the room, their sharp edges glinting dangerously in the weak illumination of a single light that hung in the center of the endless hall.
A majestic throne lay at the end, made entirely of black obsidian and spiked grey metal. A splash of red streaked across its arms, as though signifying the blood spilt under the blade of its owner. A gnarled tree fashioned out of metal branched out from one corner of the room, its brittle branches shrouding the empty throne in prickly shadows.
Slowly, wisps of black shadows congregated at its center, forming the silhouette of a lithely built woman. A pale leg, adorned in boots of the darkest purple, stepped out of the shadows, slowly walking towards the end of the chamber.
The woman stopped at the foot of the throne, her silver hair dancing in the breeze as she bowed her head in reverence. She rose elegantly, an infatuated look flashing through her eyes as she gazed fervently at the empty throne.
"The ritual has succeeded, my liege. The vessel for your return has been found." she whispered, her voice echoing through the silent throne room. "May the dark moon rise in all its splendor."
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"Everyone."
Headmistress Azael's voice rang through the dining hall as she entered, making all conversation cease immediately.
"Don't overwhelm him." she said simply before stepping aside, revealing a petite figure behind her.
Large red eyes blinked innocently at the occupants of the room, greedily roving around and drinking in all the new details. Ivory hair framed angular cheekbones, contrasting beautifully against the splash of red that dusted his skin. The lines of his chin were hidden under the collar of the brown coat that he was wearing, making him appear smaller than his actual build. The corners of his lips were turned up in a slight smile, giving him an affable and confident aura.
The mouths of some of the children were wide open, shocked at the young boy's presence in the hall, while others nervously glanced at each other, unsure of what to say or do.
Avon strode towards the only empty seat in the room- which happened to be next to Reas- and sat down elegantly, ignoring the smug smile that Reas was currently donning.
"Hello." he said simply, before grabbing his knife and fork and digging into his food with great gusto.
He ignored the tense silence and burning gazes of his housemates, only letting out a wry smile in answer.
"…Avon?" A feminine voice broke the silence, making him turn his attention towards its owner.
A girl, who appeared to be around the age of ten, looked at him incredulously, her blue eyes wide open. One look at her expression let Avon know that she was definitely astounded by the sudden changes in his temperament.
"Yes?" he asked, not bothering to follow etiquette as he turned his gaze back to his food while waiting for her reply.
"It-It's just… nothing, don't mind me." she stuttered, gaze dropping towards the surface of the table as she hung her head in embarrassment.
Avon let out a small sigh- making Reas chuckle lightly- before locking eyes with the many people surrounding him.
"I recently lost my memories," he explained patiently. "So I do not remember much about myself or about all of you. I hope that you'll all help me adjust properly."
A beat of silence filled the air, before a barrage of questions immediately flew at him, their voices turning into a confusing cacophony of shouts and exclamations.
Avon already regretted ever having appeared for breakfast.
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Sunlight streamed through the open windows, illuminating and highlighting the otherwise dark atmosphere of the room. Numerous shelves of books lined the walls, filling the air with the scent of browning paper and ink. On the otherwise empty oak tables in the room sat a young man with white hair and eyes the colour of spilt blood, his elbows leaning against the hardwood.
Avon let out a small sigh as he finished flipping through the worn book that he held in his hands before carefully placing it aside, adding to the mountain of books piled up beside him. He pinched the bridge of his nose lightly, trying to dispel the heavy feeling that had settled over him, before rising from his chair and stretching his body gracefully.
Groaning in exhaustion, he ambled towards the bookshelves that lined the room, his gaze roaming over the few books left that he had yet to read in his quest for knowledge regarding the world he was in, before randomly picking one and plopping back onto his seat. His lips twisted into a smile when he saw the words 'A Brief History of the Ancient Epoch' scrawled across its cover, his interest appropriately piqued.
Avon leaned against his chair, one hand reaching forward to fiddle with his half-eaten supper, while the other flipped open the thick book, sending motes of dust spiralling into the air. His eyes scanned through the inked letters on the parchment, carefully committing its contents to memory.
'The three races of the world worship the Six Gods of Seraph- Elaria the Goddess of Spring, Gaia the Goddess of Time, Devania the Goddess of Light, Aurus the God of Darkness, Cerberus the God of Death, and Anael the God of Space.
If a warrior manages to please the Gods, they will obtain power that will allow them to free themselves from the shackles that bind mortals. This 'divine power' is bestowed only upon mortals who manage to pass the three tests of fate given to them by the Gods. Those who manage to pass these tests receive a mark of power, and are henceforth referred to as 'the bestowed'.
Each bestowed is a precious existence; they are the only beings capable of fully killing those who are corrupted by Chaos' power. The Six Gods allow mortals to wield their powers in order to give them the ability to fight against the vestiges of Chaos and erase the last traces of his existence from the surface of the continent of Seraphix…'
Avon abruptly stopped reading, slender eyebrows furrowing when he noticed the lines of writing that were scrawled lazily in between the sentences. Marking the otherwise pristine page were slender letters written in a looped cursive, their contents completely at odds with the topic of the book.
The writing detailed the existence of a network of hidden rooms sprawled under the floorboards of the orphanage, and conveniently revealed the location and keys of each and every one of them- this was either a trap set by the writer or a generous gift, and Avon was eager to find out which it was.
"Oh?" his eyes sparkled. "Interesting."
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"Gods above..."
Avon gawked at the room sprawled before him, his eyes as wide as saucers when he noticed all the books and items that filled the room to its brim.
Rows of precious tomes were neatly tucked behind glass panels that were sparkling clean despite having been abandoned eons ago, their spines detailing the names of countless spells and techniques. In one corner lay an unassuming cupboard that was stuffed with herbs and liquids that gave out a heavy and comforting scent. Bands of elegant writing that detailed their names ran across the clear surfaces of their crystal cases.
A red and golden patterned rug lined the wooden floorboards, small indents appearing wherever the various pieces of furniture in the room were placed. A humongous desk took up the majority of the space in the room, countless alchemical artifacts and papers decorating its shiny surface.
Even without his memories, Avon knew that the contents of this room were something that many people would kill for, making him wonder how important the identity of its previous owner was. A thrill of excitement coursed through his body as he glanced at the spell tomes in particular, smiling brightly at the possibility of having the chance to learn powerful magic.
According to Reas- who had been irritatingly hounding Avon for the past few days- a large number of commoners were able to awaken their mana by the age of thirteen or fourteen, but even if they had the potential to become a great mage, none of them were able to do so since they couldn't afford to buy spell tomes or hire a teacher for themselves- but Avon was able to circumvent that problem by making use of this hidden study.
Finally snapping out of his amazed stupor, he immediately walked towards the desk, picking up a thick and heavy book that was labelled 'diary'. He hoisted himself onto a corner of the desk, narrowly avoiding knocking down a bejeweled sword as he tucked his knees under his chin and pillowed his head on his arms.
After ensuring his comfort, he cracked open the book's spine, slender fingers ghosting over the letters written on the pages.
'To my descendants,
I hope that you make good use of this room as I once did, and turn into powerful mages in order to raise the prestige of house Luca.
With loving regards,
Archmage Alexis Luca'
Avon's teeth dug into his lips as he tried to prevent himself from shouting in surprise. Eyes sparkling, an excited flush appeared on his skin as he reread the name and title of the diary's owner.
An archmage was an amazing existence, capable of wiping out an entire legion of soldiers with a single flick of the wrist. Unlike elves who were inherently in tune with mana and hence produced powerful mages, humans had less than twenty documented archmages in their entire history.
"I apologize." Avon whispered reverently. "In the end, your descendants weren't the ones who found your inheritance, but I'll be sure to use everything here to the best of my abilities."
His heart beat wildly at the thought of being able to use all the precious treasures hidden within the study, adrenaline thrumming through his veins as he placed the book down with trembling fingers. His gaze turned almost predatory as he greedily scanned the racks once more, a hand clutched against his chest as he sought to calm his chaotic heart.
Logically speaking, Avon had no use of reading the tomes at the moment as he had yet to awaken his mana, but his thirst for power and knowledge overpowered his reasoning, and he soon found himself cross legged on the plush carpet, stacks of books messily strewn all over the floor.
His perception of time disappeared as he slowly flicked through the innumerable pages, a maniacal grin unknowingly appearing on his visage as he comprehended chapter after chapter with relative ease.
Avon hungrily absorbed all the knowledge spread before him, feeling as though he were dining at the greatest of restaurants- languidly tasting and savoring the most highly sought after items in the entire world. He only stopped his frantic perusal when sleep overtook him, and he silently cursed at his young body as he helplessly slumped against the bookshelves, eyelids fluttering shut as he slowly drifted into the sweet embrace of dreams.
Unbeknownst to him, a black crystal that was embedded into the hilt of a sheathed sword started thrumming and glowing softly in the darkness, responding to his subconscious call.
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