Whispers of Destiny

In the heart of the illustrious Ebon Citadel, the Ebon Institute of Sorcerers stands as a testament to the convergence of magical artistry and academic excellence. Its grand spires, adorned with shimmering aetherium crystals, pierce the sky, casting an ethereal glow over enchanted gardens and arcane laboratories. Within its hallowed halls, the Grand Library of Arcana harbors the wisdom of ages, guarded by the Council of Elders—an assembly of venerable sorcerers. Mentors, seasoned in diverse magical disciplines, guide novices through the rigors of initiation, progressing to adepti and eventually to the coveted title of Magus Scholar. The institute’s authority, vested in the Council of Elders, ensures the governance of its curriculum and disciplinary measures. As a beacon of magical enlightenment, the Ebon Institute of Sorcerers shapes the destinies of sorcerers, weaving together the threads of arcane mastery and preserving the kingdom’s mystical legacy.

Secret

His crimson eyes alight with a mix of excitement and trepidation, crossed the threshold of the Arcane Haven, the dormitory of the Ebon Institute of Sorcerers, he felt the immediate embrace of an enchanting atmosphere. The foyer welcomed him with softly glowing orbs, each responding to his magical presence as he navigated the ethereal space. The doors, etched with ancient runes, opened before him, unveiling a sanctuary uniquely attuned to his essence.

Within his individual chamber, the walls resonated with deep hues, pulsating with a subtle magical energy. Luminescent crystals suspended from the ceiling cast a gentle radiance, creating an ambiance that transcended the mundane. The bed, cloaked in enchanted sheets, awaited him with the promise of restful nights. A desk, adorned with quills that transcribed notes at the mere thought, and reading materials that shifted in response to his syllabus, stood as a testament to the seamless fusion of magic and convenience.

Aetherium-infused mirrors adorned the walls. The communal areas beckoned him—a study lounge alive with the hum of collaborative learning, plush chairs inviting exploration of magical tomes, and a dining hall where tables and chairs seemed to cater to diverse culinary whims with a simple wave of the hand.

As he ventured through the corridors of the dormitory, a sharp ache gripped his heart, an unsettling sensation that lingered in the background of his every step. Coughing abruptly interrupted his exploration, and he instinctively covered his mouth, a reflex born from a deep-seated need for secrecy. Hastening toward the bathroom, a sense of urgency painted his movements.

Upon reaching the sink, he doubled over, coughing up blood that stained the pristine surface. The metallic tang lingered in the air as crimson droplets tainted the porcelain. “The price was too much,” he muttered, his voice carrying the weight of a sacrifice made in the shadows. To conceal his inhuman nature, he had deliberately broken his own fangs.

As the crimson stains mingled with the water in the sink, he confronted the consequences of his choice. Breaking his fangs had not only weakened him physically but had also heightened the relentless hunger within. Suppressing his instincts and bloodlust had become an arduous task, compounded by a self-imposed abstinence from killing and drinking blood for two agonizing weeks. “My hunger only grows,” he confessed, wiping the blood from his face with a trembling hand.

In the mirrored reflection, he saw the turmoil etched on his pale features. With grim determination, he whispered, “I must endure.” Splashing water onto his face, he cleansed away the traces of his internal struggle, the dormitory’s pristine surroundings bearing witness to the silent battle waged within him.

Section

As the semester unfurled its wings at the Ebon Institute of Sorcerers, the Arcane Auditorium buzzed with the anticipation of newfound knowledge. Towering bookshelves lined with ancient tomes and illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted orbs created an ambiance steeped in magical history. The professor, adorned in a flowing robe etched with intricate runes, commanded the attention of the assembled students with a presence that echoed centuries of arcane mastery.

Among the diverse array of students, Rufeal Ryuk found himself concealed in the shadows, absorbing the professor’s wisdom with his keen, crimson eyes. Donned in the official uniform of the Ebon Institute, Rufeal blended seamlessly with his fellow scholars. The uniform, a manifestation of the Institute’s tradition, consisted of a deep onyx robe adorned with silver embroidery that traced intricate magical symbols. A silver insignia, representing the institute’s crest, graced the left breast, signifying unity in the pursuit of magical enlightenment.

In the midst of the lecture hall, Rufeal’s classmates exhibited a broad spectrum of magical prowess. A group of particularly formidable individuals, their uniforms mirroring his own, radiated an air of extraordinary strength. Each bore the insignia with pride, and their focused expressions hinted at an unwavering dedication to the arcane arts.

In the midst of the class, the professor clarified that the students would be divided based on their evaluation during the trials. Several sections were announced: Aetherial Arts Sanctum, Eclipsar Observatory, Arcane Artistry Atelier, Chronomancer’s Nexus, Shadow Veil, Celestial Divination Chamber, and Necrothral Sanctum.

The majority of the novices found themselves assigned to the Aetherial Arts Sanctum. It served as a starting point for them to delve into spellcasting and the history of Aetherium. Progressing students had the opportunity to move to other classes, depending on the nature of their abilities. Those selected for other sections were students from powerful sorcerer lineages, possessing prior knowledge of sorcery.

“As you all know, the Institute values the desire to learn above all. That’s why, every year, we seek those hungry for knowledge and those with the potential to transform that hunger into strength. Hence, we select 15 students annually, those who exhibit the most potential and the strongest desire to learn, for a special class—Mystic Vanguard Seminar. This class is taught by none other than one of the most powerful figures in the Ebon Citadel, Grand Sorcerer Arafeus Aristo Valerian.”

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At the mention of Grand Sorcerer Arafeus Aristo Valerian, a collective breath was momentarily held. Hailing from the Valerian Family of Sorcerers, Arafeus gained fame after slaying the Dragon of Darkness, Elborne, who had wreaked havoc throughout the Solarian Plains.

“Now, I shall name the 15,” the professor announced, and anticipation filled the room.

“Celestia Astrid, Leopold Valerian, Seraphina D’Amore, Maximilian Caelum, Isolde Ravenshaw, Lysander Malachite, Elara Nightshade, Thaddeus Ironsoul, Genevieve Thornfield, Percival Starbourne, Serenity Wyndham, Octavius Blackthorn, Rosalind Silvercrest, Reginald Stormwind, Rufeal Ryuk.”

Among the announced 15 names, 14 were highborn and already renowned among their peers for their capabilities. The name Rufeal Ryuk stood out, as no one had ever heard of the Ryuk family within the Ebon Citadel. This sparked murmurs among the students.

“Did someone from the lower class get in?” Curiosity rippled through the crowd, yet the identity of this mysterious person remained unknown.

Observing the confusion, Rufeal remained silent, deep in thought. He had excelled in the trials, but the higher-ups should be aware that he was not a citizen of the Ebon Citadel. He had claimed to come from a small village massacred by blood wolves. Yet, they placed him in a prestigious section among the best of the best, raising his suspicions.

The professor quelled the murmurs, explained more rules, and dismissed everyone.

Stormwind

Sighing, Rufeal reclined in his dormitory, pondering the day’s classroom events.

A knock echoed through the room.

“Hello. My name is Reginald Stormwind. Nice to meet you,” greeted a young boy in uniform, extending a handshake. “Ah, nice to meet you,” Rufeal responded, shaking his hand in return.

“Oh! I forgot to say, I am your roommate.”

Rufeal’s surprise was evident. The room did seem excessively spacious for a single occupant, and he had received only his room number without many additional details.

Reginald entered, and as Rufeal closed the door, a realization dawned on him. ‘There’s only one bed.’

“As I thought,” Reginald remarked, observing Rufeal’s closet. “You’re Rufeal Ryuk, aren’t you? The one who made it into the Mystic Vanguard Seminar.”

Rufeal’s expression remained unchanged. He cared little for secrecy beyond concealing his identity as an Upir. “You’re curious about how I know, aren’t you?” Reginald offered a friendly smile. “Three points. First, when the professor announced the name Rufeal Ryuk, your expression remained unchanged. Two, when I said I was your roommate, you showed no suspicion. Anyone familiar with our norms would know that those permitted to live in Arcane Haven receive a private room. Also, the only clothes in your wardrobe are the uniforms, and you have nothing personal. That, coupled with your lack of insight about this place, tells me you’re from outside. Third… oh, I’m babbling; sorry for that.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry if you’re offended.”

Rufeal was indeed curious, such as how Reginald knew which door to knock on and there were also too many pupils for someone to tell his reaction apart, but he didn’t dwell on it much. Rufeal never considered the caliber of his fellow students or how he would interact with them. He was extremely cautious about hiding his race and everything that could expose it. Beyond that, he paid little attention. His goal was to gain knowledge about Aetherium, different arts, and to get stronger. As he shook Reginald’s hand, he felt a dormant power within the young man. While he had never thought about enjoyment, a small part of him believed the academy might not be so dull after all.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. I am familiar with everyone else in our section, so I wanted to see what kind of person you were,” Reginald explained with a laugh.

“And what was your impression?” Rufeal inquired.

Reginald stopped laughing. “Well, by your name, you have no family connection. When we shook hands, I sensed no essence of Aetherium within you, meaning you have no foundation in sorcery. But…” He paused. “Even without all that, you not only passed the trials but were selected as one of the 15 Vanguards. You must have some monstrous potential.” He smiled. “And I am the type to be friends with everyone. So, if you need anything, just let me know.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Rufeal replied.

And thus, the two monsters crossed paths.

Valerian

Grand Sorcerer Arafeus Aristo Valerian meticulously perused the list of students admitted into his esteemed academy, his keen eyes scanning each name until they alighted upon one in particular: “Rufeal Ryuk.” With a furrowed brow, he delved into the details of this seemingly unremarkable candidate.

“Not of noble birth, nor possessing exceptional magical aptitude,” he murmured to himself, poring over the trial report. “Ah, but here lies an anomaly—extraordinary physical prowess and resilience. Why, then, dispatch him to a sorcerer’s academy instead of a knight’s academy?” His gaze lingered on the parchment, piecing together the puzzle. “Ah, I see now.”

Grand Sorcerer Arafeus Aristo Valerian, a man in his seventh decade yet bearing the visage of one half his age, sat within the confines of his opulent chamber. The room itself was a testament to his wealth and power, adorned with tapestries depicting ancient battles won, shelves brimming with arcane tomes of boundless knowledge, and relics from distant lands whispering secrets of forgotten magics. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, its tendrils curling lazily in the dim light cast by flickering candle flames.

His piercing crimson eyes, reminiscent of coals burning in the depths of a forge, darted across the room as his mind whirred with calculated thoughts. Long strands of fiery red hair, akin to the hue of the Valerian family sigil, cascaded down his shoulders, framing a countenance that exuded an aura of authority and wisdom honed over decades of wielding the arcane arts.

“Rufeal Ryuk,” he mused aloud, the name rolling off his tongue like a whispered incantation. “A curious choice indeed.” His fingers danced across the parchment once more, tracing the lines of fate that had brought this unexpected pupil to his doorstep. “But perhaps… just perhaps, there is more to this young apprentice than meets the eye.”

As he delved deeper into Rufeal’s history, Arafeus stumbled upon a tale of tragedy—a village massacred by bloodwolves, leaving Rufeal as the lone survivor, driven by an unrelenting thirst for vengeance against the beasts.

“Hmm,” Arafeus muttered to himself, his brow furrowing as he considered the implications of Rufeal’s tragic past. “A survivor of a bloodwolf massacre, seeking vengeance… A compelling backstory indeed.” His gaze drifted to the trial report once more, tracing the lines that described Rufeal’s remarkable physical prowess and resilience.

However, a nagging doubt crept into Arafeus’s mind as he weighed the authenticity of Rufeal’s tale. “Is this all truly as it seems?” he mused, his thoughts swirling with suspicion. “Or is there more to this young apprentice than meets the eye?”

The grand sorcerer’s doubts lingered like shadows in the recesses of his mind, casting a veil of uncertainty over his perception of Rufeal Ryuk. Despite the compelling narrative woven into the boy’s history, Arafeus couldn’t shake the feeling that there were hidden depths yet to be uncovered.