Lipines Kingdom - Thamuz the Scholar

After breakfast, Lyra checked the time crystal embedded in her bracelet and gave a soft sigh.

"I'll be heading off now. The new volume of Eternal Sighs is supposed to be in stock today." She paused, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And maybe… a few dresses."

Jace gave her a lazy nod. "Don't forget the snacks you can't shut up about."

"I'll bring some if you survive this scholar business," she quipped with a playful smirk.

The two parted ways on the cobbled street, melting into the gentle bustle of the Lipines capital. Jace followed the directions Mana Maniac had scribbled in erratic handwriting—"Tower east of the central canal, by the old clock spire. Knock if it doesn't eat you first."

Weird wording, but he'd come to expect that from the eccentric professor.

As he walked, something caught his eye. A merchant with strange tan skin and sun-bleached robes was roasting slabs of crimson-striped meat over a flaming crystal. The scent was rich, spiced, and completely foreign.

Jace slowed down and tilted his head.

"What kind of beast is that from…?" he wondered, eyes narrowed. It didn't feel magical, but something about the meat hummed faintly, like it had absorbed elemental mana over time.

He shook his head. No time for snacks.

Finally, he reached the foot of the tower. It was tall, crooked, and patched together like a half-forgotten relic of a different era. The stones were dark, etched with lines of faded runes, and the door itself had no handle—just a smooth wooden surface, slightly warm to the touch.

Jace pressed against it.

Nothing.

He waited. Knocked. Waited more.

An hour passed. Still nothing.

He was just about to give up when a soft voice behind him said, "Why are you loitering here?"

Jace turned, and his eyes widened slightly.

A girl in a high-collared academy uniform stood before him. Familiar chestnut curls, sharp hazel eyes, and a faint scent of powdered perfume. Princess Talia. The girl he had once bumped into.

She didn't recognize him.

Well, no surprise there. He wasn't in dusty robes or covered in monster blood this time. Instead, he wore the deep navy cloak Lyra had picked for him—plain, but tailored. A clean white tunic. A silver pin at his collar. He looked like a noble apprentice, not some back-alley adventurer.

Jace didn't bother with introductions. He simply pulled out the scroll from his inner cloak and held it up.

Talia's brows knit together as her gaze landed on the mana seal. The threads of red light shimmered in the air, forming a faint crest.

Her expression froze.

"…Where did you get that?"

"A lunatic professor back at the academy," Jace said calmly. "Said it was for someone inside this tower."

She didn't say another word.

Instead, the tower groaned. Runes along the edges of the door flickered one by one—gold, then violet, then a sharp cerulean glow. With a click and a hollow thud, the door swung open inward.

Talia stepped aside slightly and glanced at him.

"Let's not wait for the Grand Scholar Thamuz," Jace said calmly, his eyes scanning the quiet hallway outside the Grand Archive. "We're already late. Let's just go in."

Talia gave a small nod and pushed the door open.

The scent of old paper, dust, and faint traces of alcohol greeted them the moment they stepped inside. Towering shelves overflowed with books and scrolls, some of which had fallen onto the floor. In the middle of it all, slumped over a cluttered desk, was an old man snoring—his head buried in an open tome, and a bottle of strong dwarven brandy clutched loosely in one hand.

"There's the great Grand Scholar," Talia muttered under her breath.

She walked over and tapped the man's shoulder. When he didn't respond, she gave him a firm nudge. "Thamuz. It's already past ten."

The scholar grumbled, coughed, then slowly raised his head, squinting through his fogged-up spectacles. His messy gray beard twitched as he looked around in confusion. "What... what time is it?" he slurred, then blinked at the two of them. "Who are you?"

Jace stepped forward, unfazed. He reached into his robes and produced a sealed scroll. "I'm Jace Valemere, scholarship student. This is the scroll from Professor Kael."

He held it out respectfully.

Thamuz took the scroll with a grunt, broke the seal, and skimmed through its contents. As he read, the drunken fog began to lift from his face, replaced by a glint of sober recognition.

"Oh," he muttered, suddenly sitting up straighter. "So you're that student."

Thamuz muttered under his breath as he finished reading the scroll. He glanced up at Jace, eyes now far more alert.

"Let me see," he said simply, waving Jace closer.

Talia lingered nearby, arms crossed but eyes sharp with curiosity. Despite her royal upbringing, she didn't say a word—just watched silently, trying to understand what made Jace so unusual that even the Headmaster would personally send him here.

Jace stepped forward and stood before the old scholar.

"Remove your shirt," Thamuz said bluntly, already drawing symbols into the air.

Jace didn't flinch. He calmly slipped off his outer robe and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a lean, pale torso lined with faint, rune-like scars—almost like etchings burned into him by something unnatural.

Talia's eyes widened, and her cheeks turned a faint pink. She looked away immediately, pretending to examine a nearby bookshelf, though her ears betrayed her embarrassment with their deep flush.

Jace sat down on a low wooden stool beside the desk, unfazed by either Thamuz's tone or Talia's reaction.

Thamuz raised both hands, and ancient glyphs sparked to life, forming a glowing circle beneath Jace's seat. Arcane lines branched out from the center like veins, connecting to the books, the walls—even the floating mana lamps in the room began to pulse.

"Good," Thamuz muttered, then turned to Talia. "You. Princess. Come here."

Talia blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Put your hand on my shoulder. I need a stable, clean mana conduit."

Hesitant, but intrigued, she stepped forward and gently placed her hand on Thamuz's shoulder. A faint glow radiated from her fingertips, her royal bloodline giving off a clear, refined mana flow.

Thamuz's eyes sharpened. "Perfect."

He pressed his palm flat against Jace's bare back. At first, nothing happened. Then his magic circle flared, and Thamuz's eyes rolled slightly as he dived into the depths of Jace's mana field.

His breath caught.

Inside Jace's body, amidst the swirling torrents of mana, something was moving—lurking. A grotesque, skinless equine figure with a rider fused to its back, its hollow, glowing eyes peering straight at him. The creature's entire form pulsed with dense, corrupted mana, and it snarled silently as if it sensed the intrusion.

"The Nuckelavee..." Thamuz's voice came out in a whisper.

The beast twitched. Mana flared violently. Thamuz felt a pull—not toward Jace, but toward the creature. It was trying to devour him.

He tore his hand away with a gasp and stumbled back, breaking the magic circle in a blink.

Panting, he gripped the desk for balance, sweat beading on his wrinkled forehead. "What in the frozen hells have they done to you, boy...?"

Thamuz leaned heavily against the desk, still catching his breath. His fingers trembled as he wiped the sweat from his brow, his gaze locked on Jace with a mix of awe and fear.

"That thing inside you... it's not just some cursed beast," he said hoarsely. "It's a mythical creature. One of the old horrors written about in forbidden tomes—older than kingdoms, older than the gods most people worship today."

Jace narrowed his eyes. "What was that thing?"

"The Nuckelavee," Thamuz whispered, voice dry as parchment. "A demon of decay and madness. In its full form, not even the Five Great Heroes of the last war couldn't stop it combined. But what's inside you... it's only a fragment—a quarter of its true self."

Talia's breath hitched behind him.

"Its power has been sealed and fused with your body," Thamuz continued. "You're what we call a dual-type. A rare kind of mage that can fight on the frontlines like a warrior while casting spells mid-combat. Because of that beast, your mana body was forged to survive what would kill normal mages."

He pointed a trembling finger toward Jace's chest. "You've been reforged in the image of a monster. But you still have control. For now."

Jace remained still, stunned. "But... I can't cast anything stronger than Tier 1 offensive magic," he said slowly. "When it comes to healing magic, I don't even know what tier I'm using. It just… works."

The silence was thick. Then:

"What?" Thamuz stared at him.

Talia blinked in disbelief. "You can cast both offensive and healing magic?"

Jace nodded once.

Talia shook her head. "That's… that's impossible. That kind of dual affinity—no one has ever recorded such a thing. I've read nearly every arcane theory book in the Royal Archives. There's no mention of anyone doing that."

"Only one," Thamuz said suddenly, his voice grim. "Only one in all the records I've read. A man known as Jaden the Healer. A hero of the war. A mad genius who used forbidden healing spells to bring fallen warriors back to life. His magic twisted them—turned them into relentless, undead berserkers that fought until their bones cracked."

He looked at Jace with a strange expression—part wonder, part fear.

"You… may be walking a similar path."

Talia's eyes flicked between the two men. Jace was silent, digesting the weight of what had just been revealed.