News quickly spread of the cult’s movement. Thousands of members joining the call, these groups undertook a long pilgrimage to fields of battle. Supplies were stifled as the cult pressed their influence on nearby caravans. Each passing day more sects arrived forming a grand perimeter around the academy. The headmasters tried to negotiate with the cult, but their messages were quickly rebuffed. Each one directed students to reinforce the walls and to prepare for a siege if their relations soured. After a tense week, the [High Father] stepped into the field. His voice was mighty as he channeled the divine might. His speech was long, accusing the academy of breaking oaths, how they committed sacrilege within its walls, and how justice would be swift. Any who were tainted with deathly magics would be executed. Only by surrendering would they have a chance of surviving. Seeing the lack of response, the [High Father] signaled his army and the assault began.

A combined prayer rippled through the masses. Each offering up a piece of themselves to invoke Deas’ blessing. Their combined might unleash the winds of death. A freezing cold that tore across the land, the deathly chill siphoning the warmth of life. It was nearly invisible, only the trails of frost indicating where it passed. Yet, for all it’s might, it couldn’t penetrate the school’s wards. Runes appeared on the walls as ancient spells activated. Amongst the gale of death, the magical barrier stood strong. Chromatic colors filled the sky as the bubble of magic enveloped the school, cutting it off from the outside world.

But this was only the start, Deas was relentless. A second miracle appeared, a thick cloud of dark smoke crept along the ground. Globs of negative energy coalesced within and splattered against the earth. While slower than the winds of death, it was far more potent. The choking miasma turned anything it touched into muck. The air itself darkened as the negative zone siphoned and fought against the sunlight. Slowly, the dark magics engulfed the academy. The barrier intensified as it withstood the deadly smog. Yet, it stood strong. Frustrated, the [High Father] began another round of prayer. They were going to unleash miracle after miracle until those walls fell.

Since the army arrived, the various leaders argued on the best action. Sides were quickly drawn as each made their case. Unfortunately, for three of them, they had no idea that necromancy had even been studied. Each had been so focused on their own paths, they shut out the world around them. Now they had to face the consequences of their ignorance. Zenos the [Archmage of Sympathy], Illoneus the [Ritualist of Splendor], and Oreas the [High Alchemist of Transmutation] angered at the other two. IF they knew what was going on, they could have stopped it! The oldest, Zenos, had dealt with the cult once before and knew the horrors of battle. IF it wasn’t for the other two, he’d have fought them on the spot for such treachery. They had put all this work in danger, so much would be purged when it was over! Meanwhile Illoneus and Oreas tried to offer up scapegoats. Maybe they could help some of the students escape the cult’s wraith or use various enchantments to cut off their access to death magic. Anything to form some compromise. Yet Zenos knew it was impossible. Deas was not a merciful god. He was fair, but brutal.

Then there was Arceus the [Enchanter of deathly Illusions] and Cirhan the [Archmage of Grotesque Creations]. They were true magi, both focused on the pursuit of knowledge. With so much powerful magics, they assured the others of victory. With the cult eliminated, they would be free to study without restraint. A subsect of summoning would be available to students, whole new classes developed, and new magics created. They could be the catalyst for change, the first to establish necromancy as a legitimate profession. It would usher in a whole new era of magic!

But they didn’t buy it. The cult had influence, nearly every city was intertwined with death. Their priests are solemn and fanatical. Now that the academy was targeted, they would never relent. Even if they somehow won, they’d be assaulted until the end of time. And if they lose? All their work would be lost, all their studies gone. Centuries of knowledge would be burned to the ground, nothing would remain as the cult purged all records. The risk was far too great for one aspect of summoning.

Their tensions finally reached their crescendo on the first miracle. Even though the wards held, seeing the powerful intervention was terrifying. One mistake in their defense and death would come. Without any other options; Zenos, Illoneus, and Oreas united in their demand. Those others had to surrender or flee. They would not shelter any of their kind. . Only then could they try and negotiate with the [High Father] and try to salvage the academy. It would be hard, but if they volunteered to be subjected to The Eye, they may be spared. But the two didn’t relent, aether began to gather in the room as their emotions flared. Suddenly Illoneus turned…

“Arceus…” Illoneus called out, his tone dripping with spite.

The enchanter grinned with such smugness. He’d been caught. Using [Double Speak], [False Whispers], and [Alter Self]. He formed a disguise allowing him to chant without notice. The moment the assault started he began his most powerful spell [The World Turns Against You]. Sure there were more flashy options when he leveled, but the man was one subtlety. It was quite insidious, nearly invisible to the untrained mind. At its core, it made simple adjustments. Tones became more aggressive, doubts were amplified in the brain, and the occasional threat was whispered on the wind. All senses were disrupted, objects were slightly off. They’d trip over pebbles they didn’t see, drop objects by misjudging the weight, even smell foul substances at random. A constant stream of minor inconveniences would pile up, the illusion shifting to make life a living hell. But the danger was its simplicity. Everything could be written off as either bad luck, stress, lack of sleep, or just brain fog. Even still, recognizing that they were cursed was only the first step. Shattering the spell required otherworldly skills. Runes couldn’t be drawn properly, wording for incantations forgotten, and reagents would disappear from view. The spell would actively hinder any attempts of removal. Only through outside help did they have a chance of breaking free. Usually by then, they’d have lost their friends from lashing out. Lost their homes due to accidents, or even lost their lives from misjudging a sword swing. But it mattered not, he was already on the final stanza, one more phrase and this fight would be over.

Realizing the danger they were in, Illoneus immediately activated his own capstone–[Rebound:Grand Ritual]. His ring shattered into a cascade of white light. A scintillating flare that engulfed the room in his magic. Arceus cursed, he was too far into his spell to cancel. Thankfully, Cirhan was quick. The Summoner pricked his finger and fed the blood to a gem on his wrist. In a cloud of smoke, his prized golem Zolam appeared. The animated mass of rock was embedded with various runes and magical gemstones. His arms were made of concentric rings that constantly rotated. As they shifted, the runes quickly aligned into one of anti-magic. The air deadened as the golem began to absorb the ritual. His body glowing as the precious gems filled with aether. One by one they were overloaded and exploded with a resounding crack. It didn’t need to stop the spell, only allow Arceus to finish his own.

Illoneus realized he was moving too slow. He’d need to end this now. Swapping targets, he quickly used [Mass Teleport] to escape alongside the other headmasters. His original plan was to just transport the betrayers directly to the cult, but this was his second option. Unfortunately, by adjusting the ritual mid-cast, he couldn’t designate their destination. Instead he offered up his second ring as a sacrifice. It was something personal and of great worth, thus they were each transported to a place of personal significance–their labs.

There would be no compromise. With the lines drawn, Arcues immediately initiated his contingency. Tapping the scryglass, he triggered his latent spells hidden throughout the academy. A signal to the sect of death that negotiations failed and they would need to fight. In that single moment, the halls turned into a battlefield.

Halting his spells, the wonders of necromancy were revealed to all. Layers of deceit and illusion were pulled back showing how far the sect had grown. Shrouded students transformed into wraithful creations. With their shackles gone, they immediately turned towards the other. It was a bloodbath, unprepared students were ambushed by the deadly creations. Bloodied claws tearing into flesh and devouring the innards. Vermin and other minor creations tore through the walls as they swarmed the retreating students. Shadows grew and twisted as dark beings appeared. They crept along the floor and ceiling, each jumping between various areas of darkness. Their ethereal hands reaching out and through the flesh. A necrotic touch that rapidly rotted anything in their grasp. Blobs of living flesh slithered through the vents and drains. Tendrils of glistening viscera reaching out to bind those passing. Strong acids digesting the flesh and slurping up the soupy mass.

But this wasn’t just the creations, the students themselves joined in the fight. Alongside the wave of deathly constructs, terrible spells were unleashed on their fellow man. Razor sharp ice pinning people to the walls. Grand fireballs igniting robes and flesh, Blasts of sand stripping off skin and muscle. Those that tried to fight back were rapidly cursed by the various enchantments, the stumbling students only food for the growing army of undead. Screams of agony echoed through the halls. What was once thought as safe is now a killing ground. . This wasn’t a fight, it was an extermination. Within the first few moments nearly a fourth of the student body had perished.

Those not killed in the initial assault quickly regrouped around their own headmasters. Pockets of resistance began to appear in the onslaught of death. Ever prepared, Zenos immediately began to counter. Directing his students, they rapidly shifted the room into a kill zone. Walls were shifted and reinforced, traps created with their magics, and all restraints of magic lifted. While some froze in the face of death, many stood firm. Zenos stood proud, as long as their resolve held, they had a chance.

He watched each with a critical eye. Offering advice on how to use their skills for offensive purposes. They’d only have a few moments before the second wave hit. His prized pupil had shifted and molded metal into makeshift swords. Connecting the metal to a top, he let it spin on the floor. The result was a deadly wave of spinning blades that eviscerated the lesser undead. Others were a bit more blunt in their application of sympathy. Forming links between stones, they would lift debris into the air and let it smash down on the invaders. While effective, it was quite an inefficient use of magic. There were many variants of sympathy, each one as deadly in their own way. Satisfied with their defense, he turned back to his workshop. He had an idea in mind, but would need a lot of time to accomplish it. Restarting his great furnace, he began gathering fuel. This spell would require a ton of energy to work.

Illoneus wasn’t as lucky as the others. He only had enough levels to store 3 grand spells. With mass teleport used and the second sacrificed, he was left the most dangerous of all. It was a last resort and one he wouldn’t use lightly. Unfortunately, he had studied grand magic. Things that were a spectacle to the eye, massive effects that required much planning to set up. Outside of the basic [Fireball] or [Ice Spike] he was short on true offensive magics. Instead, he relied on his pupils for the defense. Walking around his spire, he activated various wards and barriers. While these were primarily used to stop backlash, they should at least delay the army. He quickly commanded his students to prepare their spells. With a flick, he unlocked his storage allowing them to use any reagent no matter the cost. Bidding them luck, he climbed the stairs to enact his own plan. Contacting the cult, he could only hope they would agree to his terms.

Meanwhile Oreas was having the time of his life. Alchemists were always a bit crazy, the toxic fumes doing something to their brains. His capstone skill [Linked Storage] while innocuous was quite effective. It was simple, anything in his lab he could “grab” from any range. Standing at the forefront of his students, he threw potion after potion. The moment one left his grip, another appeared. A maniacal cackle left his throat as he witnessed their effects. He rarely could trial them on flesh. Yet this was the perfect opportunity for knowledge. As they landed into clumps of undead, various effects were unleashed. Some turned to glass before shattering on the floor, others melted into viscous puddles of slime, another group transformed into stone statues, and even more burst into flames. Pausing to message his arm, he sipped a focusing potion and glanced around. Like him, his students were using this time to the fullest. His prized pupil unbothered by the commotion was rapidly taking notes on what potions did what. Various annotations on ideas to improve their efficacy underlined for future testing. Others were working in groups to perform their own experiments. One team unleashed a corrosive haze that slowly stripped those caught to bone. The flesh melting and dropping to the ground below. While it greatly weakened the attackers, the bones were unaffected. As such, all they accomplished was transforming a group of ghouls into animated skeletons. Thankfully, those were quickly torn apart by some transformed pupils. Various animal extracts distilled into a singular substance, their bodies melding with the beast’s essence forming chimeric monsters. While their intelligence dwindled, their strength drastically increased. Rampaging brutes tore through the undead flinging bodies into the air, their thick hides protecting them from the bites and claws.

However, while the headmasters were able to protect some students the others only delayed the inevitable. Many barricaded themselves in classes, they did their best to halt the flow of undead. But once a few other mages joined in the assault they were quickly eliminated. Their bodies rapidly reanimated and joined the ranks of undead. Even those of great talent struggled in their defense. While they could win in a mage duel, it was nigh impossible to focus when surrounded by an army of undeath.

“Is it time?” Cirhan turned to Arceus

The two were swapping between scryglass, assisting their students where they could. While they wished they could do more, it was time to focus on the army outside. With the paladins, warpriests, and other attackers stepping onto the field; it was time to unleash their grand spell. Both paused for a second, staring each other in the eye. After casting this, there would be no going back. They’d be marked for life. With a mutual understanding, Arceus grabbed Cirhan’s hand and offered up his own well of mana.

Shifting his focus away from the animated undead, Cirhan turned towards the map on the table. It was a perfect replica of the underground caverns. The entire region is carefully carved out into a massive spell circle. At each point they had created a region of death. It was a masterclass in summoning and something he had been yearning to unleash. Cutting his finger, he touched the blood to the dark ink. A guttural chant passed his lips as he spoke the forbidden words. Deep in the underground, the carved runes lit up with the ancient magic. His pupils began to join the spell, each holding hands as they circled the zones of death. Negative energy whipped through the tunnels as aether connected each region. Bits of magic leaking from the spell circle and causing the ground to tremor. Within moments, the isolation runes disintegrated. Their actions now open for all to see. With such a powerful spell, mages from all over the world felt the shift in aether. Various skills activated as the world’s eye turned toward their academy. But it didn’t matter, in fact. Cirhan was happy all could see, they would learn the true power of necromancy!

But what the two didn’t tell their students was a spell this grand required a certain…sacrifice. As the final words left their mouths, they spell activated. Each room of negative energy rapidly expanded until it filled the entire circle. The students caught in the wild magics rapidly drained their life. Muscles atrophied, eyes began to wither, and a terrible weakness took hold. Some tried to flee, but they only stumbled a few steps before collapsing. Moments later they were nothing but desiccated corpses, their lives fuel for the grand spell.

Up above, a feeling of dread swept through the army. The [High Father] and his inner circle began chanting protective prayers. They were not sure what was happening, but they needed to be prepared. Calling for a retreat, the various groups tried to return to camp only for the ground to open beneath them. Giant chasms tore across the land, swallowing those too slow to flee. Screams of terror echoing through the deep canyons as the men fell to their doom. Huge plumes of decay shot forth draining the region of color. The scent of rot and putrescence lingering on the nose. Spells were cast and weapons were drawn as they stared into the gaping abyss. Terrible screams cried out from below, a chorus of hundreds piercing the air. It was pure blasphemy. A cacophony of anguished cries that grew by the second. Within moments, a pillar of corpses erupted from within. Dozens upon dozens of bodies melded together into a single column. The mass of bodies crashing down as a second appeared. One by one those others arrived, all connected to a singular body. .

It was a hand, a huge hand of animated flesh. Walking along the tips, it barreled through the army with brutal efficiency. Each digit slamming down with such force it left a small crater behind. Even at its size it was quite quick. It targeted any spellcasters, charging forward and quickly smearing them into a bloody paste. With the horror unleashed, the [High Father] shifted from casting miracles to empowering his army. Warpriests joined the chant as their weapons glowed with divine might. Every swing unleashed a flash of light that seared the flesh. Yet for all their attacks, the creature only regenerated. Each kill adding to his ever growing mass. And it was only the first of three…

The second soon crawled from its prison. A towering creation of flesh and tendrils. It had no defining characteristic, just a glistening blob of viscera. Slimy appendages slammed into the ground as the thing pulled itself forward. All it passed was left in a state of decay. Stringy globs of putrescence left a rancid slime in its wake. The rancid goo desecrated the land with pestilence. Puffs brown gasses wafted from seeping holes. A smell of rot and filth carried on the winds and assaulted the senses. Those nearby were overwhelmed with sickness and malaise. Many succumbed to the foulness, collapsing to their knees as they began to vomit. Eyes bled as they clawed at their throat, the vomit turning red as their innards began to rot. Congealing chunks of blood intermixing with the yellow bile. Some tried to crawl from the creature, but the effects were too great. The slug-like monster crept forward. Tendrils of flesh lashed out and pulled the men towards it. Upon contact, veins penetrated the skin crept beneath the surface. Their flesh yellowed as they melded with the monster, yet they didn’t die. Leaving their voices intact, it wore their screaming flesh as macabre armor.

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Then the third arose from the ground. Unlike the first two, this one floated in the air. Three casters merged into one. Their crying faces were covered by boney hands. Dozens of other limbs haphazardly attached at the torso. The heads were spaced equally from each other allowing full view of the battlefield. Frost fell from the body as a terrible chill filled the air. Those it gazed upon felt their fragile mortality. However this one was far more blunt then the others. Each limb pointed at a target and a blast of decay shot forth. Each twitching finger unleashing a high tier death spell. The thing cried in sorrow as it murdered the cult, It begged for the priest to kill it, and screamed for the weak to flee. Every few moments pausing to unleash a wail of painful agony.

Cirhan nearly collapsed. Three monsters of legend summoned forth. Already he could hear The Will in his head, such a display of magic pushing him into the next level. But it would have to wait, each point was precious. Only after thorough research would he decide what to do. Gazing upon his creations, he felt powerful. That stupid cult was starting to falter. The bullies now faced something far greater than ever before. A gleeful laughter leaving his throat as the beasts slaughtered his oppressors. He felt an inherent connection with the death zone, every one that fell refilling his own mana. Each kill expands the zone slightly. There would be no mercy, he would hunt each and everyone down. This wasn’t some stupid post-battle horde either. Each was linked to his will. Whenever he noticed some resistance, he would disengage and focus on the unprotected. Their heroes called out as they chased the monsters down. Entire sects slaughtered as the lower-leveled members were targeted. He was going to destroy their foundation and allow the rest to topple from it.

While Cirhan dealt with the cult. Arceus returned to the academy. Leaving the others unattended was asking for trouble. Like Illoneus, he wasn’t one for direct combat…but that didn’t make him defenseless either. Instead he used his mind magic to link all his students into a collective. Their knowledge rapidly shared between groups as they worked as one. Taking a moment, he delved into the aether and felt the stirrings of something powerful. Sending a command to his students, he forced them to leave the others alone. They could cower for a bit longer, and besides after they had won they’d need fresh sacrifices to rebuild. With the plan set, the army of death assaulted the labs with a renewed vigor.

Zenos could hear his students start to fall. The group retreated back towards his reinforced laboratory as the assault intensified. Many already were suffering from burnout as they pushed their magic to the limits. The shattering of mana potions echoed in the room while cries of pain pierced the cacophony. Yet they still didn’t stop. Some even pushing beyond their limits, burning out in a flare of aether-light. But truthfully, Zenos didn’t care. They were all dead anyway, might as well go out fighting then a coward. Staring back at his flaring furnace, he felt a tinge of sorrow. This spell would destroy everything. He built this from the ground up, traveling the realm for exotic materials that could contain his powerful magics. Yet; magic was all about sacrifice and if he wanted to succeed, it would all have to go.

“MORE” He called out as students threw all they could into the flame.

The metal glowed red hot, the radiant heat burning his skin as he stared at the deforming furnace.

“This better work” he muttered as he pulled out a vial.

Oreas had concocted this potion from a lost bet years ago. It nearly killed Zenos when he first used it! He still wasn’t sure how, but that crazy man had distilled the essence of a volcano into this one small vial. One droplet was enough to set his old lab aflame, even still he could hear that man's cackle from the “Accident”. However, now he was glad to have such a powerful source. Slowly, he walked back to the field of battle, carefully stacking his skills to protect him from the grand spell. [Unnatural connection], [I am merely a conduit], [You are all one], [Reinforce Sample], [These Chains Shall Not be Broken]. As he concentrated, he gathered various samples from the ground chunks of rotted flesh, enchanted bone, and globs of shadowy essence. Once selected, he began chaining each to the invading army. An intense chill overwhelming his flesh as his vast pool of mana rapidly drained. His mind fogged as was pulled 1001 ways. Each passing moment, more were added to the spell until he couldn’t contain it.

“FUCK YOU BOTH” he cried out as he tossed the samples and potion into the blaring furnace. Flames erupted with such force he was sent flying across the room before smashing the wall with a sickening…

CRUNCH

“WHAT DID HE DO” Cirhan had to drop his connection with his army. His veins burned as the sympathetic magics tore through his creations.

Each one burst alight as the raging inferno transferred into the constructs. The heat was indiscriminate, even those not targeted were ignited from proximity. Those that didn’t sever their connections felt their blood boil from within. While members of the cult back off from the flames. Huge chunks of the army transformed into a raging bonfire, fats igniting and adding to the ever growing inferno. Deep, thick smog filled the sky as the corpses collapsed into smoldering fires. While it devastated the army, it did little to halt the rampaging monstrosities. However, the damage was done and the clergy was given an opportunity to regroup.

Zenos wasn’t as lucky. The archmage had pushed himself beyond mortal limits. His skin burned black, his body failing. However in that singular moment, He showed the world why sympathy was the path to follow. One single spell and he had wiped out half the undead army. His surviving students did their best to alleviate his wounds, but his life was done. He could only hope that one of his pupils would surpass his greatness.

All could feel his passing, the incredible aura fading from the realm. Oreas and Illoneus filled with a deep rage. While Arceus and Cirhan were satisfied that one of their foes was gone. As the two worked together to regain control of their army. Illoneus stood in his tower surrounded by his injured pupils. Gaping wounds stuffed with gauze, limbs raised up in tourniquets, and a few unconscious from blood loss. He failed them, he was a grand ritualist, he should always be prepared for the worst. But he couldn’t dwell on it now, more would die if he didn’t take down these wards. Focusing above, he began to align the astralarium. Each star carefully shifted to channel the astral energies. Working through each ward, he slowly unwound the spells, neutralizing it layer by layer.

Oreas reached out and felt nothing in his hand. The alchemist finally understood his mortality. Most of his students had perished in the name of science. His scribes noted their cause of death for the archives. The bulk hadn’t even fallen by their enemies, instead their creations failed at pivotal moments. Transformations turning unstable and becoming a mindless mass of limbs. Experiments backfiring and coating the students in toxic liquid that rapidly aged the flesh. Normally, they had fail-safes to resist such reactions. However, in the field of battle it was do or die. Only when he witnessed the crowd combust did he relax. That old man finally did something. Suddenly his eyes widened as he felt the man’s passing. This wasn’t a game any more, he would end this even if it killed them all. With the attackers turned into a burning mess, he returned to his lab to craft.

While a major setback, it wasn’t the end. Since they had turned this whole region into a negative zone, it just took time to reanimate another group. Yes it wasn’t as strong, missing many of their more powerful undead, but it was enough. With an army of zombies and skeletons, the two headmasters resumed their assault. The normally jolly Cirhan was frustrated from the whole experience. Why didn’t they give up already? His creations had wiped out so many, but they kept fighting. His summons attack the flesh while Arceus invades the mind. They were both one man armies, tapping into the academy’s leyline, and still the cult didn’t give up!

“WHAT!” He cried out as Arceus tapped his shoulder.

“Look there…they are up to something.” Arceus pointed at the [High Father]. No longer were they actively trying to engage the undead.

Instead, the entire army had gathered into concentric rings. A living ritual of chanting men and women. The [High Father] leading the entire group in unison. Prays, offerings, and vows were committed as they yearned for their god. Their strongest warriors formed a perimeter to halt the advancing undead. Even the towering monstrosities struggled against the divine barriers. Letting go of the army, the undead turned mindless. Instead he focused the negative energy into his three most powerful creations. With the flood of undeath, they began cracking at the defenses while ignoring the heroes assault. near the [High Father] was an entire congregation.=.

“Working on it, take out the other headmasters! We need to crush them now. ” He replied.

However, at that moment they felt the barrier flicker. The two glanced at each other with mutual understanding: IIloneus. They were split, either stop the chant or keep the wards. However, with their defense down they had little to protect themselves from the army. Once more, Cirhan shifted his resources into the academy.

The ritualist realized his actions were discovered when the attacks reached a crescendo. New monstrosities appeared before his tower. Undead spellcasters, flesh beasts, and massive marauders. Each creature working in tandem to dismantle their defenses. The reanimated students are gifted with craving for aether. Their very touch rapidly drains the magical barriers, the flesh beasts lashing out and tripping those trying to flee, while the towering warriors execute those with a single swing.

Illoneus could barely stomach the massacre. Heads smashed into the ground, bits of brain matter splattering the earth, glistening viscera and gore stained the marble, and captured students were eaten alive by the wave of dead. He couldn’t watch any longer. But should he do it? Fiddling with his final ritual ring, he heard a student begging for his family. His arm twisted and bent as a ghoul pulled on the limb. Damn the consequences, he couldn’t delay anymore. the warriors executing those in a single swing. He could barely stomach the sight of heads flying. Glistening viscera stained the cobblestones the students tried to slow the assault. He couldn’t delay anymore, he had to unleash another spell. Twisting his ring, he activated his capstone once more. [Rebound - Grand Ritual] [The World is but a Single Moment].

A flash of light erupted from the shattered jewelry as a wave of magic swept through the academy. Anything it touched slowed to a stop, the attacking army paused mid swing. Everything went silent as the spell took hold, seeing the effects of it all filled him with a sense of joy. Yet, the sacrifice wasn’t over. Before the second part to hold, he felt the eyes of Zixais gaze upon him. A deep, resentful wave of hate smashing into his mind’s eye. The God of Time and Destiny tore through his soul, stripping it of memories. He would never know what was taken, but it was necessary to save his students. His thoughts must have reached the deity as the hate shifted into pity. At that moment, the ravaging stopped and he was freed from the God’s grip. Uttering the second half, his allies were freed from the effects. Each one immune to the time anomaly created.

He ordered them to retreat. Zixais was fickle and quite demanding. IIloneus had already spent 10 years of his life performing this ritual. And in return, he was gifted a single minute of pause. Many thought he was stupid dedicating so much to this single minute. But Illoneus knew that a brief moment was all one needed to change history. With his students safe once more, he activated the last bits of personal wards. The others channel their mana into the various barriers as reinforcement. They just needed to stall a bit longer. Using up the last few seconds, he tore through another layer of the academy’s ancient magics. The sound of the world returned and time resumed. This would be their last stand.

Once more Arceus felt victory snatched from him. He was systematically destroying that proud man, and now they teleported to his most inner sanctum. Still, it was a delay and only that. Tapping into the leyline once more, he personally worked on dismantling that final barrier. His army waited outside, eager to tear into the soft flesh of the remaining students. It was a race to finish, Illoneus working as fast as he could. While Arceus fought against the top pupils. Yet, he was too slow. That stupid man had destroyed their main protection. The grand barrier began to disintegrate, the magics floating away as sparkling dust. Illoneus had done it, he collapsed onto the ground with joy. All they needed to do was hold out for rescue.

The [High Father] smiled. That mage had done it, unfortunately there would be no rescue. His god demanded retribution, instead he would dedicate a day of mourning for the man’s sacrifice. Deas would reward him greatly in the afterlife.\ Reaching the crescendo of their prayers, the congregation performed one final bloodrite to summon Deas into the realm.

The sky parted as the world was cast into darkness. Everything stilled as their God began the final miracle. Ghastly light flicked above and coalescence into the image of a massive clock. A reverberating gong shook the land as light burst forth from the construct. Nothing was safe for their God’s ire. All things were touched by the light regardless of the protections held. Each and everyone embraced in the cold arms of Deas. Those touched soon saw their own clocks form. A decrypt device hovering in the air behind. With the curse set, panic set in. Yet, no matter what they tried they couldn’t dispel the effect Moments later, the [High Father] began to float high above. His body channeled the essence of Deas himself. His voice is deep and powerful. Only a single phrase was uttered

[All Life Ends in Death] and the clock began ticking to midnight.

“TAKE HIM OUT NOW!” Archeus cried out.

“WE HAD A DEAL” Illoneus was distraught, he was to die with the rest.

In those last twelve minutes, Cirhan and Arceus unleashed every skill they had. Yet it was nothing in the wake of a god. His monstrosities smited down with a flick, the slug exploding into a pile of filth, the hand torn apart corpse by corpse, and the mage crushed into a cube of meat. Swapping to his golems, they arose from the ground and charged forth. Yet the devout congregation didn’t give in. Each pounding fist, a few collapsed. But the others only chanted harder.

Arceus was erupting with divine energy as he went head on with the [High Father] he tried every enchantment he learned, anything to distract the man and interrupt the miracle. Each assault cost him far more than the damages he did. Yet, he couldn’t even insert doubt into the man, his faith far too strong for the mind mage. It couldn’t end like this. Every passing minute at heavy gong would indicate that death loomed. They had so much to teach, so much to learn, so much to uncover. Tears streamed down his face as they entered the final minute.

But there was still one final trick to be had. Oreas was giggling with glee as he watched the panic ensue. Such a grand display of might and he got to witness it first hand. His twitching eyes carefully watched the timer above. He hoped he measured the right dosage or his own finale would be the biggest flop of all. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out two potions from the reserve. While he used some in the battle, this was going to be a true test of his talent. As the final ten seconds arrived, he tossed both into the air, and chained together many of his skills. [Mass Replication][Friendly Fire][Special Delivery][Delayed Dosage][Temporary Boost] and finally [Trademarked by Oreas]! That last one wasn’t necessary, but he didn’t want any sleuthing spies to steal his formula.

The two portions quickly replicated over and over. Their trajectory flew across the academy as they honed in on their targets. Anyone deemed a “friend” was in for a wild surprise. The small ampules smashed into the cowering students. Most didn’t even notice as they held their friends. Death was coming and they couldn’t stop it. Yet the effect was nearly instantaneous, the ritualist smiling as he saw what Oreas had done.

“You dirty bast…” and the final potion smashed him right in the face.

The clock hit midnight and a wave of terror erupted from the skies. It was quick, brutal, and efficient. Nothing was safe as it tore through the various buildings. Shadowy hands reached from the heavens and swept through the grounds. Beings of pure necrotic energy reached into the living and tore out their screaming souls. Hundreds of offerings forcefully taken back to the realm of death. Only those carrying the god’s mark were spared. The rest were transformed into withering husks of rot. There were no second chances, everyone only had one life to live. A ghastly chill reaching into the body and tearing out the soul With their mission complete, the sky closed and the [High Father] gave one final thanks.

Sending in his scouts they found a peculiar sight. All throughout the academy were frozen statues. Rock creations in the exact replica of the students. They approached with caution only to be started by the sound of shattered glass. Quickly retreating they watched as the stone façade melted away into gasping students

“Survivors…?” They were astonished and called for backup.

Thankfully, they surrendered. Each explaining what happened and agreeing to be examined for any taint. Those that resisted the call of necromancy were lauded as heroes, while those that embraced the temptation buried in mass, unmarked graves. Once more, the cult and the academy worked together to rebuild. Only now, they took a far more active role in the teaching of the next generation.

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Eldor did as he was told and only taught the most fundamentals of necromancy. With a priest of Deas watching, he couldn’t deviate from the pre-written script. He encouraged the students to practice with the priests and learn ways to counteract the horrific magics they may encounter. Warning them one final time, that if they ventured onto this dark path. That none would come to protect them from the wrath of the god. However, if one good thing came of it. With Archeus gone, he was quickly elevated to head of enchanting…

“As for our final lessons, I’ll cover a few unclassified or historical systems”

Witchcraft.

“I’m sure you have heard about these…alternative ways of magic. But you must be able to separate a witch from a mage. The class is one of emotion and power. Witches are versatile spellcasters who supplement their mana with…craft. What each witch does is dependent on their background and specialties. I cannot go further on this, but just be warned. There are no good witches in this world…”

Dreamwalking

“I wish I could say more, but even I dare not venture into these realms. As you may have heard, the primary expert was lost while on an expedition. However, if you have a heart for adventure, I will not stop you. Dreams are games, dreams are puzzles, dreams are…weird. They do not give traditional spells, instead completing a dream bestows a boon. Within our library, we have a variety of mapped realms but take this as a guide not fact. Many times the rules shift and change, adaptability is key to surviving these realms. However, if blessed with a powerful boon, you can perform feats equal to the greatest of spells…but are you willing to take the risk?

Druidic

“We have not seen a druid since society has rapidly expanded. Many theorize that this is due to our reliance on skills and industry. While many have tried to re-establish their connection to nature, none have yet to succeed. However, for historical purposes we do have some writings on the subject.”

With the last bit finished, he raised a hand.

“That is it for today, I will see you all back in two days for your first test. Study each of the path’s carefully. Each of you will randomly select one to be quizzed on. Welcome to the academy and good luck on your path towards enlightenment”