Alaric awoke in a puddle of his own sweat. He hugged his knees close to his chest, his breathing slightly erratic and his eyes unfocused. Those same nightmares kept coming back!

Images of a shadowy figure wearing a crown of bones appeared in his dreams, rendering him sleepless and terrified. Those god awful cackles kept on resounding in his ears, like an unending broken record from hell. He glanced at the magic clock, its hands moving precisely to the next digit. It was now six in the morning.

Alaric shook his head. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. It was time to start his day. He got changed into a fresh set of clothes, tossing his sweat drenched tunic into his washing machine along with his other clothes, then dropped in a few cups of washing fluid. The contraption hummed softly, as the barrel within the machine stirred and rotated.

Alaric fetched a small pot of water and began to boil it. He sliced open a loaf of bread, slathered on some butter. He took a bite out of it, then drank some water. He threw in some tea leaves into the same pot of boiling water and looked on with a bored expression as he waited.

The gas stove sputtered and coughed as it lived on its last legs. Alaric looked on with pity as he attempted to restart the fire with no luck. Darn technology… he shrugged it off and headed to work.

His hands felt numb after the umpteenth time he swung his pickaxe, the impact of the hit reverberating throughout the wooden handle and travelling into his hands. Oh, how he longed to escape this fate of his. Alaric looked around for any bystanders, before he felt the familiar pulse of mana flow throughout his palms, as he circulated it around his arms to soothe the soreness and pain.

The city had outlawed the use of magic and technology related to it, to "curb and stop the resisting threats to Elysium". Alaric felt that it was unnecessarily difficult to switch abruptly from a lifetime of magic use to that of the industrial level. Not to mention, due to such a sudden change, famed wizards and witches lost their jobs and were consigned to become manual labourers, their talents wasting away as years passed.

This had been the sixth year.

Alaric couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration as he saw Holic, an ex grand wizard, forced to mine coal ore with a shoddily made pickaxe. Holic seemed to have felt Alaric's burning gaze on his back. He turned to meet Alaric's gaze. Holic smiled and waved, before returning to his work.

Realising that the sun had set and the day had ended, he set down his pickaxe. The warden's whistle sounded, signalling the end of work. Alaric's bones ached with a dull pain.

He trudged home on the path of dirt leading back to the city with everyone else, his body like lead.

He pretended to have lost something along the path, telling the other workers to go ahead. Under the guise of finding his lost belongings, Alaric slipped into the woods, along the beaten path barely noticeable from the main road. He also saw some freshly made footprints, but it could just be his imagination.

Alaric now stood in the clearing of the woods where he often practised magic. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and funneled mana into his palms, then rubbed them together to feel the familiar spark of power. He stretched out his hand and attempted to lift multiple rocks. He concentrated the mana around his arm, then imagined the same energy wrapping around the rocks and lifted it with his mind.

To his surprise, the rocks followed as he did, rising high up into the sky just below the treetops. Alaric gently lowered them to the ground where they belonged. He exhaled, as he was holding his breath during the entire duration of his cast.

Likely, he had expended all his mana into spellcasting. He felt a little dizzy, but felt good enough to walk home.

On the way back, he heard a soft rustling of bushes. Then, he realised that the fresh footprints made next to the path must have belonged to this figure. Regardless, his curiosity got the better of him. Alaric trailed behind the mysterious hooded figure in the woods. Excitement and anticipation rose inside of him. He heard collective murmurs of chanting deep inside of the forest, the shadows flickering and the wind howling next to his ears.

Alaric then saw the largest enclave of figures he had ever encountered in his life. A circle of mages surrounding a magically lit campfire with no smoke, deep in the woods, chanting a prayer- about some shadowy.. king?

"O' light spirits, grant us the strength and power to defeat this evil that plagues Gaia. With this offering of our mana and magic, we bestow upon you our will and faith."

To Alaric's astonishment, the spirits seemingly responded, flashing their lights in harmony as they gathered around the campfire. The mages bowed their heads. They sat down by the campfire and began to read their tomes. A figure with the largest witch hat among all of them rose to their feet and began to speak.

"Witches and wizards," Her voice was powerful, yet gentle. "We know that our kind and mage craft is all but allowed. However, against all odds, our apprentices have emerged successful in their endeavour to learn mage craft. It is of my greatest pleasure that we announce the bestowing of hats to our newly announced mages."

Applause resounded throughout the silent evening, the smiling faces of the crowd was evident in the shining light of the campfire. The newly appointed mages grinned as they took their hats and shook hands with the grand mage.

Alaric felt stunned by the sight he saw, joy filling his heart as he realised that there were others like him.

Within Elysium, mage craft held supreme. That was until humanity harnessed the power of technology - be it for good or bad. There were many kingdoms before, but many fell to the unparalleled power of magic. With technology, some kingdoms were able to match the destructive power of magic with warheads and weapons.

Unsurprisingly, the new kingdoms felt the need to outlaw magic and destroy any form of mage craft. However, how was magic capable of such disaster, like bringing an entire kingdom to rubble? Alaric couldn't help but shudder at the thought of such omnipotent magic.

"It seems like now," the grand mage gazed in his direction, "the graduation ceremony has come to an end. Please get some rest and we'll continue our activities tomorrow."

Before Alaric could even react, he felt the tip of a stave dig into the small of his back.