Mortis led his team through the bustling trading post with a sense of urgency. Their wounds, though somewhat mitigated by the Lira's healing potions they had already consumed, still ached and throbbed, reminding them of the harrowing self-destruction of the apprentice they hunted. His destination was a familiar shop—a place he knew well from past visits, renowned for its high-quality magical items.
As they approached the shop, Mortis's familiarity with the establishment became evident. The shop was a permanent fixture amidst the ever-changing stalls of the trading area. Its well-maintained exterior, adorned with protective runes and intricate carvings, spoke of both its prestige and the expertise of its owner.
The moment they entered, Mortis's previous visit made navigating the shop a seamless experience. The interior was dimly lit but organized meticulously, with shelves lined with an array of magical items. The shopkeeper, a corpulent man in a black robe, greeted Mortis with a knowing nod. His eyes, sharp and discerning, flicked over the group, assessing their condition with practiced ease.
"Back again?" the shopkeeper asked, his tone casual but tinged with curiosity. "What can I help you with this time?"
Mortis, his face set in a grim expression, wasted no time. "We need high-tier healing potions. Our recent mission left us severely injured, and we need the best recovery options available."
The shopkeeper's eyes gleamed with recognition. "Ah, I see. You're in luck. I've just received a new batch of top-tier potions." He moved to a section of the shop, where vials of various sizes and colors were displayed.
Mortis followed, his gaze scanning the array of vials. The potions ranged from a deep emerald green to a vibrant, pulsating blue, each vial sealed with a wax emblem to ensure its potency. The shopkeeper selected several vials, handling them with care.
"These are high-tier healing potions," the shopkeeper explained. "They're designed for severe injuries and will expedite your recovery significantly. They come at a premium, but they're worth every contribution point."
Mortis's eyes examined the vials with a practiced gaze. The magic emanating from the potions was potent, promising rapid healing and relief. He turned to his team, who were visibly weary but hopeful at the prospect of their imminent recovery.
"How much for each vial?" Mortis inquired, his tone pragmatic.
"One hundred contribution points per vial," the shopkeeper replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "Given your condition, I'd recommend acquiring at least two."
Mortis nodded, already calculating his remaining points and the importance of their purchase. "Then, We'll take six"
The shopkeeper nodded, his hands deftly wrapping the vials in protective cloth. Mortis's mind, however, was already elsewhere. He considered the events of their mission, the loss of Aric and Rael, and the unexpected decision of the apprentice to self-destruct. Despite his safe return to the academy, Mortis knew better than to rest on his laurels. Every encounter was a lesson, every failure a stepping stone to greater power.
As they completed their purchase, Mortis turned to his team and said. "We need to recover separately. Take your potions and go to your quarters. Ensure you're at full strength as soon as you can."
Thalor and Lira nodded, understanding the implicit command. Each took their allocated potions and headed to their individual rooms. Mortis watched them go, his mind already slightly relaxing.
Mortis reached his quarters, a small but well-appointed room that contained only the necessary items. He closed the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet space. He uncorked his potions, the vials emitting a faint glow in the dim light. As he drank, the healing properties coursed through his veins, mending tissues and soothing pain.
The healing potion worked rapidly, and within moments, Mortis felt the familiar surge of vitality returning to his body.
The quiet of his room allowed Mortis to think clearly. The loss of Aric and Rael was a slight setback, but it also weakened Daniel's forces which was good for him. Mortis had long since abandoned any notions of morality or compassion. Such weaknesses were for those who sought fleeting comforts. His goal was singular and unwavering—immortality, and the limitless power that came with it.
Hours passed as Mortis delved into his plans. He reviewed the mission's details, the apprentice's self-destruction, and the implications of such a desperate act. The apprentice's power was greater than anticipated, a reminder that even seemingly weaker opponents could pose a significant threat if they are underestimated, even slightly.
A soft knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. Mortis ignored it at first, his mind too engrossed in his thoughts. But the knock came again, more insistent this time. He stood and walked to the door, opening it to find Thalor and Lira standing there, their expressions serious.
"We've recovered," Thalor said, his voice steady. "What are our next steps?"
Mortis looked at Thalor and Lira, his eyes piercing and thoughtful. "For now, nothing," he replied calmly. "We will continue our studies and improve our skills here at the academy. Until we receive our next mission or other orders from Daniel, you are free to do as you wish."
Thalor and Lira exchanged glances but nodded, accepting Mortis's orders.
"Very well," Thalor said, his tone resigned but respectful. "We'll focus on our training and studies."
Lira gave a curt nod, her expression determined.
"Good," Mortis said, his voice firm. "Dismissed."
With that, Thalor and Lira left Mortis's quarters, each heading off to pursue their individual studies and training. Mortis remained in his room, contemplating the recent events and planning his next moves. He knew the importance of constant vigilance and improvement, and he would not allow himself to be caught off guard again.
The following weeks passed in a blur of activity. Mortis devoted himself to his work, studies, honing his skills and expanding his knowledge of magic.
During this time, the academy buzzed with its usual hum of activity. Students, including Mortis himself, went about their routines, unaware of the significant changes that were about to unfold.
A month passed in this manner, each day blending into the next as Mortis continued his work and studies. Then, one morning, a strange sensation washed over the academy. It was as if a silent voice filled the air, not loud but unmistakably present, echoing through the minds of everyone within the academy's walls.
"All students, please assemble in the central courtyard. The head of the academy has an important announcement."
The message reverberated through the halls, clear and commanding. Mortis paused, recognizing the significance of the call. He quickly stood up and made his way to the central courtyard, joining the stream of students converging there.
The courtyard was a sprawling open space, surrounded by the grand buildings of the academy. The air was thick with anticipation as everyone awaited the head of the academy's arrival.
Mortis scanned the crowd, noting the presence of Thalor and Lira among the gathered students. They exchanged brief nods, a silent greeting. As they waited, whispers and murmurs spread through the crowd, speculating on the nature of the announcement.
Finally, a hush fell over the courtyard as the head of the academy, Rank 3 Magus Kaelith, stepped onto a raised platform. He was a figure of imposing stature, his robes shimmering with magic particles. His presence commanded respect and attention, and all eyes were fixed on him as he prepared to speak.
"Students," Kaelith began, his voice resonating with authority. "I have called you here today to announce an upcoming tournament between academies."
A ripple of curiosity spread through the crowd as Kaelith paused, letting his words sink in.
"Starting today, we will be preparing for an upcoming tournament between academies—both from the Light Magi and Dark Magi organizations. This tournament is designed to improve relations and foster healthy competition. The academies participating will be the Cult of Eternal Damnation, the Academy of the Forsaken, the Academy of the Arcane Light, the Academy of the Radiant Dawn, and Yin-Yang Paradise."
A murmur of excitement spread through the courtyard, but Kaelith wasn't finished.
"Additionally, those who excel in the tournament, based on the weight of their achievements, will be rewarded personally by the head of the academy. And the top performer will receive a unique prize: an ancient potion from the academy's vault. This potion is designed to significantly strengthen and stabilize your foundation, making future breakthroughs, such as from Rank 5 Apprentice to Rank 1 Magus, much easier."
The announcement left the students buzzing with anticipation. An ancient potion of such potency was a rare and valuable reward, one that could greatly enhance a magus's power and potential. Mortis could feel the excitement and determination radiating from his peers, but he remained calm, his mind already planning how to secure this prize for himself.
"And now," Kaelith continued, raising his voice to quell the rising murmur, "I have one final announcement. The tournament will take place exactly three months from today. The event will be held at a specially prepared location that will be revealed to you only as the date approaches. During these three months, the academy will undergo significant changes to better prepare you for this competition."
The crowd fell silent, their curiosity piqued. The prospect of such a grand event held at an undisclosed location added an extra layer of intrigue and challenge. Kaelith's words hung in the air, filling the courtyard with a sense of purpose and urgency.
"In the meantime," Kaelith added, "to aid in your preparation, all items and resources provided by the academy in the trading post will be substantially discounted. Take advantage of this opportunity to acquire the best possible potions, spell charts and other things to strengthen yourself. Every slight advantage counts in the tournament, and now is the time to prepare."
With that, Kaelith gave a nod, signaling the end of the assembly. The students dispersed, their minds racing with plans and strategies. Mortis, however, remained focused and composed. The upcoming tournament was not just an event to prove the academy's power but also an opportunity to advance his own goals.
As the crowd thinned and the courtyard began to empty, Mortis felt a renewed sense of determination. The next three months would be a critical period, one in which every action and every decision would need to be calculated and precise. He would use this time to hone his skills, gather resources, and develop strategies to ensure his dominance in the tournament.