End of Prologue: The Headmaster
'You may Enter,' They say. "Obey the rules of the capital"
"Thank you once again"
They just nod.
The gates groaned shut behind me, sealing with a finality that rattled my teeth. Elenos' capital sprawled ahead—a land of spellcraft and apparently machinery. At least, from first glance, nothing seems to have been changed.
Elenos — a sovereign city-state of arcane supremacy, where the very air thrums with the heartbeat of ancient magic and the weight of dynastic ambition. Each pillar that surrounds the city, etched with luminescent runes that pulse like veins of living light.
The streets, filled with mana-infused pavement, shimmer with residual mana, casting prismatic halos over palatial academies adorned in the royal triad of white, gold, and cerulean—colors that mirror the Elenos crest, a a twisted loop, a rectangular strip, a half-twist and joining its ends, creating a surface with only one side and one edge. Its continuous, one-sided structure defies conventional orientation, making it a mathematical and philosophical symbol of infinity and paradox. Yes, the crest of Elenos is a Mobius Strip.
Here, architecture transcends mere grandeur. Beaux-Arts facades fused with arcane engineering boast colossal columns crowned with titanic statues of mages, their stone eyes tracking visitors with imperious disdain.
Below, subterranean ley lines converge beneath the Stormbreak Spiral, channeling raw lightning into the city's core, fueling laboratories where reality itself is dissected. To walk Elenos is to tread a labyrinth of living history and lethal opulence, where every cobblestone whispers secrets—shadow sovereigns who sculpted this realm not as a sanctuary, but as a theater of dominion, eternally illuminated by the cold, electric glow of ambition
Shops peddled catastrophe: "Fresh warhawk eggs, 20% off!" "Feathers as solid as steel!"
This wasn't the orderly academy-city from EAA's lore. This was Elenos breathing—chaotic, hungry, alive with secrets. I feel like an imposter. Yet it feels all too familiar.
I follow along the Four Arteries of Elenos—colossal roads etched into the earth by the Institute's founders, each a testament to their elemental creed. Four roads, Four Main Elements. The primordial forces made manifest.
The Pyreway: A molten river of crimson cobblestones, its surface perpetually rippling with heat mirages. Fire attuned mages streak across it like comets, trailing embers that bloom into ephemeral roses before dissolving.
The Marid's Spine: A canal of liquid sapphire, its waters alive with arcane currents. Water attuned mages glide atop tidal steeds, their passage leaving ripples on the banks.
The Terra's Vein: A cobbled path of shifting geodes, where Earth attuned mages command the stone to carry them like a humble servant, leaving crystalline wakes.
And finally,
The Zephyr's Ascent: a ribbon of pure current, unseen yet undeniable, where the very atmosphere coils like a serpent eager to hurl its chosen forward. The Wind attuned mages become living projectiles—some sprinting atop the gale's back as if it were solid ground, others surrendering to the updraft. The wind does not merely assist; it obsesses, amplifying each movement into a ballet of velocity.
This will be the path I take, I'll first check in on the main cast. If possible, I'll try registering. A laughable notion, really. No noble patronage. No legacy of scholarly accolades. No whispered name to open doors. Just raw, untested potential—as flimsy as a beggar's claim to royalty. The equivalent of an F Student applying for Oxbridge.
I take a steadying breath. Before me lies the border of the city, and beyond it, the academy's vast campus—a perfect circle, two kilometers across, sitting like a fortress at the heart of the metropolis. Seventy-three kilometers from me and it. A brutal distance, but not impossible.
The current of The Zephyr's Ascent hums beneath my feet, its energy coiling around me like a living thing. I can already feel it—the surge, the pull, the promise of speed. If I push hard enough, I'll make it in an hour. Maybe less.
I've done it so many times that it's second nature now. I cast:
"Wind Walker"
And I sprint. Fast is the only way I can describe the experience.
.
.
.
After nearly an hour of twists and turns—darting past shadowy figures and weaving through the tunnel's labyrinthine passages—I finally emerge at the foot of the academy. The axiom of all magic. The heart of the main story. The cradle of my brightest joys and deepest regrets.
Elenos's Institute of Magical Academics (EIMA).
And he appeared as I gaped at the campus, Pressure first. All-devouring pressure, like a whale sucking krill. The headmaster, the martyr to end all martyrs. Headmaster Orthellius Sol Tharis.
I mutter in my mind, mustering all the strength to do so,
"T-temporal A-an-anchor, inhabitant in line of sight"
Name: Orthellius Sol Tharis
Class: Paragoned-Class Mage
Title: Unreadable, your difference is too great
Stats:
- Strength: Unreadable, your difference is too great
- Vitality: Unreadable, your difference is too great
- Agility: Unreadable, your difference is too great
- Intellect: Unreadable, your difference is too great
- Stamina: 100%
Attributes:
- Unreadable, your difference is too great
Element Affinity:
- Unreadable, your difference is too great
Mana Remaining: Unreadable, your difference is too great
I collapsed against a wall, nose bleeding.
"A wandering soul?" His voice was a scalpel sliding between ribs. "How… quaint."
The man matched EAA's descriptions: early 50's, silver-streaked hair, eyes that had seen too many forbidden magics. His robes shifted colors—a walking privacy filter.
I spat blood. "Spare…"
"Spare?" He crouched, tilting my chin.
"You reek of Stormbreak's dust. Yet here you stand, unsponsored, unskilled…unfiltered. Tell me, little moth—why shouldn't I burn you to ash?"
A gentle smile.
Gamble everything. Now
"I know things… that most don't" My voice steadied.
"A student that will usurp even you in terms of potential will enroll soon."
His grip tightened. "A theory?"
"A fact."
"Tell me more"
"He will be the nexus of the most problematic year to date. He will befriend and come to love 3 of the most influential students in the institute. He too will bend the light to his will… just like you"
I cough up blood once more
Silence.
"Hmmm. You do not seem like a scholar nor cultivator, yet you know about my unique, personal element?"
"Light… Magic. The full mastery of all 4 main elements"
"How very interesting, and what are you doing near my academy foreigner?"
Now's my shot
"To enroll… to study… and to usurp you myself"
Laughter like shattering glass. That's how I can describe his laugh
"Do you have the qualifications for enrollment? The funds?"
"Neither"
"Then how do you plan on enrolling?"
"..."
"Scholarship student" he declared.
"Prove your knowledge and survive one term. Die? I'll dissect your corpse to discover how you know so much."
"With pleasure, Thaumaturge Supreme"
Another dry chuckle escapes him. His grip on my neck doesn't relent as he murmurs an incantation—
"Flight"
The world lurches, and suddenly we're weightless, gliding through the air like leaves caught in an unseen current.
The transition is so seamless I barely feel it until my feet touch down in his office. The space is deceptively warm: shelves bow under the weight of leather-bound tomes, golden plaques glint modestly in the lamplight, and the scent of aged parchment lingers. A carefully curated image of humility—one I know due to his later compassion.
With a flick of his wrist, he commands me into the chair opposite his desk. The wood creaks under me, too loud in the silence. Then comes the slide of paper—my
scholarship form, pristine and waiting. His smile doesn't reach his eyes as he offers me a pen. I take it. Fill in the blanks.
Personal Information:
Name: Isaac Mun Gender: Male Originating Kingdom / Nationality: Unknown Magical Affinity: Wind Ambitions: Magical Theory, To surpass the current headmaster of Elenos's Institute of Magical Academics
The headmaster chuckles as he sees me write.
Academic Information:
1. Previous Institution: Null
Grade / Year of Study: Null Field of Study: Null Cumulative GPA / Percentage: Null
Scholarship Information:
Scholarship applying for:
"Uhm…"
"Let me help"
With a fluid motion of his quill, he completes the remaining fields himself - his elegant script blooming across the parchment like ink-spun poetry. The pen hovers briefly over the final line before sliding it back to me with deliberate grace.
My fingers brush against vellum still warm from his touch as I add the last details. The scratch of my signature echoes loudly in the quiet office. He retrieves the document with ritualistic care, his eyes scanning each line with the precision of a scholar examining ancient runes. A beat of silence. Then - the decisive thud of the Elenos crest meeting paper, biting deep into the fiber as wax pools like molten gold around its edges. The sound resonates through the room, final as a judge's gavel.
"It's settled. Welcome to Elenos's Institute of Magic Academics Mr Mun. You may be dismissed."
"Thank you, truly sir"
The office door clicks shut behind me.A grin splits my face—wide, unchecked, triumphant.
Perfect. Utterly perfect
Every move I calculated beforehand, every word measured. Just enough truth to sound convincing, just enough deception to stay intriguing. I played my hand like a cardsharp dealing a winning flush.
And now?
I've secured an indefinite stay within one of the safest places in the kingdom. No—better. Within EAA itself. One of the most impenetrable fortresses of knowledge and magic in the world.
Good job, Isaac.
Better than good. That was just a taste—a fleeting sip from the chalice of true mastery. The electrifying rush of knowledge wielded like a blade, carving reality to my design. A feeling I'd starved for, a hunger now awakened.
And now?
I'm addicted.
I swear by my breath, by my blood, by the very threads of my fate: I will consume this game whole. Every hidden truth, every buried sin, every fragile lever of power—I will make them mine.
One: I will peel back the lies of this world like layers of rotting parchment until only the naked truth remains.
Two: I will sculpt its destiny with these hands, bending it toward the ending it deserves. No—the ending I choose for it.
No hesitation. No regret. Why should I care? I'm not just a foreigner to this kingdom. I'm a foreigner to the world.
Cold as those physics equations. Calculating as the math I did in Uni.
Just like the game. Everything up till now was the prologue. I'll shall begin my main story.