Time flies. Two years have passed.
Seven hundred days on the vast Wizard Continent were more than enough for many significant events to unfold at the Black Sota Wizard Academy.
Grimm, silent and focused, swept the corners of the library with his broom. This job, arranged through the Blood Sail Alliance, earned him two magic stones each month. Though seemingly humble, this position was fiercely contested when it opened, and only thanks to Lafite's influence within the alliance was Grimm able to secure it.
With a monthly income of four magic stones, Grimm should, by all accounts, have progressed smoothly into a magic apprentice within the three-year protection period provided to newcomers. Yet...
"Was I wrong?" Grimm muttered, his brows furrowed in frustration.
Over these two years, he had mastered only a single spell—Hunter's Nose Reconstruction. Initially, Grimm had completed the spell within six months of enrolling at the academy. By standard practice, he should have balanced meditation with acquiring new spells, steadily outpacing most novices given his monthly income.
However!
Grimm wasn't content merely to follow the instructions in a spellbook. He sought to unravel the mysteries, decipher the principles, and comprehend the profound truths hidden within. In doing so, he squandered invaluable time. For example, his two-year study of Hunter's Nose Reconstruction yielded only one ambiguous piece of knowledge: Why is Hunter's Nose Reconstruction not classified as a bloodline spell?
But what good was this revelation?
Would such knowledge empower Grimm to survive the trial awaiting him in a year?
"Give me infinite knowledge, and I will use myself as the fulcrum to move the boundless world." But is knowledge truly this vital? Was I mistaken?
Grimm's growing sense of confusion was inevitable. The three-year protection period for newcomers was nearing its end. Soon, the academy's infamous trial—its deadly rite of passage—would begin. Following that, bimonthly mandatory missions awaited.
From the older generation of wizard apprentices, Grimm had learned the true nature of the trial: a blood-soaked crucible designed to sift the qualified from the unworthy. During the trial, the mortality rate among those who hadn't mastered three spells was over ninety percent. Even among magic apprentices, the death toll exceeded forty percent.
Such was the cruelty of the trial, known among veteran wizard apprentices as the Grindstone of Blood.
"No! Ahh—!"
Suddenly, a harrowing scream pierced the library. Grimm froze before hastening toward the source of the commotion. Upon arrival, he found four or five individuals already gathered, standing mutely and doing nothing to aid the writhing figure on the floor.
Grimm's pupils contracted as he recognized her. "Lynnze!"
The female wizard apprentice writhing in agony was Lynnze, one of the first in their cohort to become a magic apprentice and a renowned figure within the academy. Her beauty had earned her no shortage of admirers among male wizard apprentices.
Yet Lynnze had a "flaw"—she refused to cultivate Parasite Familiars. This aversion was understandable; for ordinary people, the idea of one's body crawling with grotesque insects was nightmarish. Even Grimm had initially felt strong resistance toward the practice.
Parasite Familiars represented an early application of soul power, wherein a wizard allocated part of their energy to insects with unique abilities. These creatures grew stronger by consuming the blood of powerful organisms. While capable of defensive functions, their primary purpose was to bolster a wizard's resistance to curses and illusions.
Watching Lynnze's anguished cries, Grimm sighed. Yet another wizard apprentice was succumbing to a cursed death.
Over the past two years, Grimm had witnessed countless such deaths. Curses were one of the academy's most insidious methods of murder, often leaving no trace for the enforcers to investigate. A morbid curiosity flickered in Grimm's mind: Would Lynnze's death involve flesh-eating insects reducing her to a skeleton, her blood solidifying into a suffocating mass, or her bodily functions draining away in an instant like the last victim he had seen?
Her screams intensified, accompanied by the faint smell of burning.
Lynnze's crimson skin began to shrivel, her body collapsing as if her bones had liquefied. Within moments, she disintegrated into ashes from the inside out, leaving her clothes eerily intact and perfectly laid out on the ground. The sight was chillingly surreal.
"A self-combustion curse," a wizard apprentice ahead of Grimm murmured before walking away, indifferent. This death was just one among many in the academy's deadly ecosystem.
The three years leading to the trial marked the peak period for "accidental" deaths among novices.
A cold sweat broke across Grimm's back. He had seen such deaths before, yet the uncertainty of his own fate made each encounter profoundly unsettling.
Night fell, and the Blood Sail Alliance convened.
The former five-king leadership structure had given way to a council of twelve elders. Among the original kings, only Fireball King and Puppet King had failed to ascend to elder status due to "accidents." The remaining three kings had secured their places, joined by nine other prodigies.
Grimm sat with Lafite, Yorkris, Yorklianna, and Bingham, their bond of friendship unbroken despite the passage of time. Yet, Grimm couldn't shake a sense of melancholy.
Yorkris whispered, "Grimm, last week Lafite led us into the Bramble Forest. It was risky, but each of us earned seven magic stones. Want to join us next time?"
Feigning nonchalance, Grimm shook his head. "Forget it. You know I'd only drag you down. Even…" His gaze flicked toward Yorklianna. "Even your sister has surpassed me now."
Yorklianna had already mastered three spells and become a magic apprentice. Her supportive spells complemented Yorkris so well that together, they rivaled even some elder-level apprentices.
"Grimm, stop being so stubborn!" Lafite's voice broke through, her tone urgent. "If you keep this up, you'll spiral into mediocrity. Is that what you want?"
"I…" Grimm hesitated, but a voice interrupted him.
It belonged to Amida, a bearded wizard apprentice and one of the alliance's twelve elders. A loyal admirer of Lafite, he possessed exceptional magical talent. "Stop pressuring him," Amida said. "When you think you're helping a friend, have you considered his pride? Your generosity can feel like condescension."
Turning to Grimm, Amida offered a sincere smile. "It's fine. You're Lafite's friend, which makes you my friend. No matter how weak you are, neither I nor the alliance will abandon you."
Grimm smiled, his face betraying no emotion as he nodded in gratitude. Yet, deep within, his heart ached.
Once, his friends had been comrades in shared struggle. Now, they extended their hands from the heights of success. And Amida—someone who hadn't even been part of the original alliance—offered kindness from a position of magnanimity.
Their words, though well-meaning, cut into Grimm like blades.
After the gathering, Grimm wandered alone to the desolate Black Sota Mountains. In a secluded corner stood an ancient weathered stone, bearing an inscription that had once inspired him:
"Give me infinite knowledge, and I will use myself as the fulcrum to move the boundless world."
He read it again, a bitter smile forming. How naive he had been, clinging to the ideals of an ancient wizard whose achievements towered beyond reach.
Yet, as Grimm stared at the stone, something stirred within him.
"Infinite knowledge… a fulcrum to move the world. But who provides the knowledge? Knowledge is elusive…"
For the first time, Grimm sensed the profound despair woven into the words—a lament for the endless struggles, obstacles, and sacrifices demanded on the path to wisdom.
A fierce resolve ignited within him.
The path he had chosen—a pursuit of knowledge and truth—was fraught with despair and death. But he would rather walk this road than tread forever in another's footsteps.
Grimm returned to his small chamber, his steps firm and his gaze unwavering. A new conviction burned within him: to persevere in his search for truth, no matter the cost.