The headmaster peered down onto the battlefield, his gaze unwavering as it swept across the forces below.

Weirdly, as he observed the Dark Elves charging at the High Elven ranks, memories of his childhood resurfaced.

As shadow mage, his powers had awakened at a young age, and he had often been compared to the Dark Elves due to their similar magic. This unfortunate comparison had resulted in him being ostracized from society and even from his own family.

Eventually, he had forged a place within the High Elven society for himself, and the experience had driven him to strive for the position of headmaster at Lothern Academy. His goal was to ensure that all High Elves, regardless of their magical abilities, found a place to grow and learn. He understood that the High Elves needed every bit of power and magic they could muster to overcome their enemies.

Shaking off his reverie, the headmaster unleashed another shadowy spike into the advancing Dark Elven ranks. Regrettably, in situations such as this, shadow magic paled in comparison to other arcane schools like fire magic when it came to crowd control.

His frown deepened as waves of Dark Elves relentlessly crashed against the front lines of the High Elves. The High Elves held firm, skillfully fending off the assault and incurring minimal losses.

Yet, therein lay the issue. The headmaster had engaged the Dark Elves in battle many times, including during his tenure in the military. He had always regarded them as astute, calculating, and cunning adversaries—the very attributes that made them formidable. However, this level of unbridled aggression and heedless wastage of life was unprecedented. It seemed as if casualties held no meaning for them, their relentless advance undeterred. The headmaster knew that something was wrong, something was causing the Dark Elves to act, or react this way.

His mind raced, pondering trying to understand the underlying cause. With each moment, he alternated between these thoughts and flinging more shadowy projectiles from his elevated vantage point along the wall.

Could this be merely a diversion? No, that seemed improbable—too costly a tactic to be mere misdirection. And where was their Chosen in all of this?

Just then, a sudden glint in his peripheral vision interrupted the headmaster's musings.

Is.. is that an academy uniform?

The Headmaster’s eyes squinted in recognition as he saw the academy uniform. A figure dressed in an academy uniform was fighting off the Dark Elves along the front line. Then his eyes widened quickly in surprise.

Was that the uniform of a first-year student?

Just as the headmaster came to this realization, a commanding voice reverberated right beside him.

“Caledor!” The words carried a fierce resonance, bolstered by wind magic. "Is that an academy student?" The utterance held a blend of both anger and bewilderment.

Turning his gaze in the direction of the voice, the headmaster beheld the individual who had called out to him. It was none other than the captain of the city guard, stationed upon the towering wall. With an outstretched arm, he pointed unmistakably toward the very figure that had captured the headmaster's attention just moments ago.

"Yes, that's an academy student," the headmaster confirmed, his eyes never leaving the figure amidst the battle. "I can’t make out the features of the student, but he is wearing the robes of a first-year academy student.”

The captain's eyes widened in surprise. “A first-year student fighting on the front lines? This is madness! He's risking his life and the people around him," he exclaimed, his gaze darting around the chaotic battlefield before returning to the headmaster.

"Look, I can't afford to deal with this right now. I am going to let you call the shots here. Whatever you do, don't mess up my formation!" The City Guard's captain's voice was resolute, though he quickly shifted his attention elsewhere, barking out urgent orders across the war-torn terrain.

Stolen story; please report.

The headmaster nodded grimly in acknowledgment, his mind now divided between the unfolding battle and the unexpected presence of the academy student.

The headmaster's mind raced as he assessed the situation. The sight of a first-year academy student risking his life on the front lines was indeed alarming and unexpected. It seemed the chaos had drawn in individuals who should have been far away from the battlefield.

"By Augustus," the headmaster muttered to himself, "what is he thinking, charging into battle like that?"

The headmaster understood the desire to help and protect one's home and people, but it was reckless for an untrained student to be in the midst of such a deadly conflict. The first-year students at Lothern Academy had not yet completed their basic combat training, and their magical abilities were still being honed. Engaging in battle against a Dark Elven army of this magnitude was a death sentence for someone without proper training and experience.

The Headmaster weighed his options carefully. He knew he had to intervene, but he also needed to do so strategically. Jumping into the fray without a plan would be just as reckless as the student's actions.

The headmaster found his options limited to a certain extent. The formation of the City Guard had deep roots, and abrupt alterations risked plunging them into chaos, potentially compromising their defense.

While observing the student, the headmaster noticed an object appear in the student’s hand. He couldn’t tell from the distance, but it seemed as if the object had just suddenly materialized out of thin air.

Could that be... a rock?

From his elevated position on the wall, the headmaster struggled to discern the object, though it certainly seemed like one. His attention held, the student proceeded to hurl the rock. Remarkably, it exhibited an unexpected force, reaching deep into the heart of the Dark Elven army where their mages were positioned.

Surely, he doesn't believe a mere rock can inflict any significant damage…

Just as doubt began to cloud the headmaster's initial assessment of the first-year student, a tremendous explosion erupted from the point of impact, momentarily overshadowing the cacophony of battle.

Swiftly, the headmaster's gaze fixed upon the newly formed crater, his eyes widening in astonishment.

Could that have been a mana bomb? Was the object the student had thrown, in fact, a mana bomb? How did he come into possession of such a device? And one of such formidable potency, at that.

A barrage of inquiries surged through the headmaster's mind, raising a myriad of red flags. Something about this student felt unsettlingly amiss.

Recognizing that he could no longer remain perched on the wall, the headmaster leaped down to the ground below, using his mastery of shadow magic to soften the landing. He made his way through the chaos of the battle, navigating the ranks of High Elven defenders, all the while keeping an eye on the first-year student.

Unfortunately, the Dark Elves had somehow realized that the first-year student was responsible for the mana explosion, and they were now relentlessly targeting him. Three Dark Elves had trapped the first-year student, cornering him away from the main High Elven frontline formation.

Despite his impressive martial skills, the Headmaster knew that the student wouldn't survive for long, exposed and separated from the main High Elven defense line.

Sprinting towards the student, the Headmaster helplessly watched as a Dark Elven blade closed in on the student's back. In a desperate attempt, the Headmaster tried to throw out a shadow spike, but he knew he was too late.

To his astonishment, before the blade could strike, the first-year student vanished. Yes, disappeared. One moment he was there, fighting the Dark Elves, and the next he was gone.

Looking around, the Headmaster saw the first-year student back within the frontline of the High Elves.

With their close proximity now, he could make out the student's features – dark silvery blue hair...

Then something clicked in the Headmaster's mind, recalling a peculiarity he had noticed months ago.

Memories came flooding back to the Headmaster. City guards describing a thief who would suddenly disappear when their weapon was stolen.

As the Headmaster stood there, stunned, watching the first-year student who he now knew as Aurelius, it happened again. Aurelius disappeared and reappeared a few feet away.

This time, the Headmaster wasn't the only one taken by surprise. High Elven city guards faltered momentarily as they witnessed Aurelius literally teleporting.

Continuing to watch, slack-jawed, the Headmaster saw Aurelius transform into a force of death. It was as if a dam had broken, and Aurelius had kicked into a higher gear. Moving like a blur, he teleported around the battlefield, mercilessly cutting down Dark Elves and leaving streaks of green in his wake. The Headmaster witnessed Aurelius infuse his sword with blue magic, throwing the weapon into a crowd of Dark Elves. Moments later, the sword exploded, sending shrapnel and mana in all directions, wiping out an entire group of Dark Elves. Before the Headmaster could blink, Aurelius vanished, only to reappear in a different part of the battlefield, wielding a new sword.

The Headmaster's mind raced as he witnessed this impossible feat unfolding before his very eyes. A final realization flooded him, confirming a suspicion he had held for a while. There was only one person, one being who could do what Aurelius was doing.