Mortis began his journey back to the academy, his mind filled with calculations and strategies. As he moved swiftly through the dense forest, his senses heightened as he navigated the familiar terrain. He considered what to tell the academy about the mission. The deaths of Lena, Kael, Garrick, and Jareth needed an explanation, but Mortis knew that their fates were probably insignificant to the academy. The academy is a dark Magus organization after all and they would care little for the loss of a few untalented apprentices. The only potential danger comes from their families, as their mentors likely won't even care about their deaths,
The encounter with the cave's monstrous guardian had been a stark reminder of his current limitations. Despite his power and skill, he was still just an apprentice. To survive the next encounter and seize the treasures within, he needed to become at least Rank 1 Magus. He also needed to devise a strategy to deal with the beasts, possibly using other students as human shields. The thought was cruel, but Mortis was pragmatic to a fault.
Approaching the gates of the academy, Mortis could see the grand archway looming before him, adorned with intricate protective runes that pulsed faintly with magical energy. The massive iron gates were slightly ajar, guarded by two stern-faced sentinels. Their eyes were like those of hawks, scrutinizing every passing student with an unwavering vigilance. The outside world, with all its dangers and opportunities, seemed to recede as Mortis stepped closer to the gates.
The sentinels' eyes narrowed as Mortis approached. They inspected him thoroughly, their gaze lingering on his disheveled appearance and the faint scars marking his skin. After a tense moment, they nodded, allowing him to pass. Mortis felt a rare sensation of relief as he entered the familiar confines of the academy.
Without delay, he set off towards the mission area. He moved with purpose through the winding halls. His footsteps echoed off the stone floors, blending with the distant murmurs of students discussing and the occasional crackle of a spell being practiced.
He passed through several grand archways, each more ornate than the last, adorned with intricate carvings and protective runes that glowed faintly. The academy was a fortress of knowledge and power.
As he neared the mission area, the ambient noise grew louder. The quiet murmur of the corridors gave way to a bustling cacophony. The mission area was one of the academy's most active sections, a hub of constant movement and energy.
Finally, he reached the large double doors that marked the entrance to the mission area. Pushing them open, he stepped inside. The vast hall beyond was filled with students of various ranks each engaged in their own tasks. The air was alive with the hum of conversation, the scent of blood, and the unmistakable touch of mana.
He observed the scene with a detached interest, noting the details of the current atmosphere. Students moved between the mission wall and the counter where missions were confirmed and rewards were claimed.
Mortis navigated through the crowd of students with ease. He noted the various groups huddled together, whispering strategies and exchanging information. The more powerful apprentices stood out immediately as ever, their auras radiating strength and confidence.
His destination was the counter where he had confirmed his mission seven days prior. The same older man with a gloomy expression as last time was behind the counter. His face was lined with age, and he seemed burdened by a lifetime of hardships as ever. A small line had formed in front of the counter. Mortis waited patiently, his mind already planning his next steps.
When his turn came, he stepped forward and addressed the man behind the counter. "Mortis Nacht," he said, his voice steady. "I am here to report the completion of my mission."
The man looked up, his weary eyes meeting Mortis's. "And the others who went with you?" he asked, his tone indifferent.
Mortis had his answer ready. "During our patrol, we encountered much stronger monsters than expected," he began. "Lena was killed by a Razor Beast. Kael, Garrick, and Jareth died when we were ambushed by a pack of Mordrakes—twenty-five of them. I survived only by sheer luck, managing to escape after they were all killed."
The man behind the counter intently looked at Mortis silently for a moment. Then, he reached under the counter and retrieved a big storage crystal. He activated it, entering the details of Mortis's mission.
"Your mission is recorded as completed," the man said finally. "The reward was five hundred contribution points, to be divided among the participants. Since you are the sole survivor, you will receive the entire amount."
Mortis nodded, hiding his satisfaction. Inside, he felt a surge of joy. The reward was more than he expected before accepting this mission 7 days ago. The man behind the counter continued, "Your points are now recorded in the academy's storage crystal. You can use them for any purchases by providing your name."
Mortis thanked the man and turned to leave. His next destination was Valthor's study room. It was time to report his return and begin his preparations for the future. As he walked through the academy, Mortis's thoughts were already on his next move. He needs to become a Rank 1 Magus as fast as he can so he can return to the cave for those things he left there.
The corridors of the academy were bustling with students and mentors, each engaged in their own activities. Mortis moved through them with purpose, his mind focused on the path ahead. He passed through several hallways, each one lined with doors leading to study rooms and laboratories. The air was filled with the faint scent of alchemical ingredients and the hum of magical energy.
As Mortis approached Valthor's study room, he felt a familiar sense of anticipation. Valthor was a powerful Magus, one of the few individuals in the academy whom Mortis respected. He was also Mortis's mentor, having guided him through magic and imparted valuable knowledge
Mortis reached the door to Valthor's study room and knocked. The door opened silently, and Mortis stepped inside. The room was as impressive as ever, filled with magical artifacts and ancient tomes. Mortis felt a familiar surge of greed, quickly suppressing it as he greeted Valthor.
"Mortis," Valthor said, his voice calm and measured. "You have returned.
"Yes, Master," Mortis replied. "The mission is complete."
Valthor studied him for a moment, his gaze piercing. "Tell me everything."
Mortis took a deep breath and began recounting the events of the past seven days. He described the various encounters with the dangerous beasts of the wilds, detailing the ferocity of the Venom Serpent that had claimed Jareth's arm, and the vicious Razor Beast that had taken Lena's life. He spoke of the relentless pack of Mordrakes that had ambushed them, emphasizing the sheer number and ferocity of the creatures.
"I managed to fend them off as best as I could," Mortis continued, keeping his voice steady. "But in the end, it was a matter of survival. I was able to create a diversion, which gave me just enough time to escape. The others weren't so lucky."
Valthor listened intently, his expression unreadable. Mortis was careful to leave out any mention of his direct role in the deaths of his companions. He portrayed the situation as a desperate struggle where he had done everything possible to survive.
"As I made my way back, I encountered several other dangers, but nothing as severe as the Mordrakes. I kept moving, using my skills and knowledge to avoid further conflict until I finally returned here."
As Mortis recounted his story, he was acutely aware of the secret he was withholding—the discovery of the cave and its monstrous guardian. He knew the significance of what he had found, and the potential it held for his future. Telling Valthor or anyone else about it would only invite unwanted competition and interference.
In his mind, Mortis made a firm decision: This is my secret. I cannot allow anyone else to discover the cave and its treasures. Not until I am ready.
When he finished his account, Valthor nodded slowly. "You survived a difficult and dangerous mission, Mortis. Not bad, but you're still too weak."
Valthor's gaze softened slightly as he continued, "After what you have experienced in the last seven days, you should take a break for today. Go and get some rest."
Mortis nodded, grateful for it. "Thank you, Master. I will do that."
"Remember, Mortis," Valthor added, his tone serious, "your strength and knowledge are your greatest assets. Do not let your guard down, even in rest."
"I won't," Mortis assured him.
With that, Mortis left Valthor's study room, his mind a mix of relief and determination. He navigated the corridors of the academy.
He made his way to his quarters, a small but well-appointed room in a quieter section of the academy. The familiar surroundings brought a sense of comfort as he entered and closed the door behind him. Mortis removed his clothes and boots, feeling the weight of the past week's ordeals lift slightly.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he allowed his thoughts to wander briefly. The image of the cave and its monstrous guardian lingered in his mind, a constant reminder of what he needed to do. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the immediate need for rest.
Mortis lay back on his bed, closing his eyes. The sounds of the academy, the distant murmur of students, and the faint hum of magical energies, all faded into the background. His body ached with fatigue, but his mind remained sharp.
As sleep began to overtake him, one thought remained clear: he would return to the cave, stronger and more prepared. The secrets it held were his to uncover, and he would not let anything stand in his way.
For now, though, he would rest.