As soon as Pierre arrived home, he was welcomed by a wave of affection that filled his heart. His robot, as sweet and kind as his late Uncle Armel, was there, always attentive. Beside him, Lady Peyton awaited with a perfectly prepared breakfast, as was her custom. Without hesitation, Pierre hugged the robot, kissing it in gratitude. Despite the vastness and complexity of the universe, he never failed to value these small interactions that brought him comfort and memories of what once was home.
He had always been sentimental, and talking to Lady Peyton had become an essential part of his routine. The old robot, with her affectionate intelligence, had grown accustomed to Pierre’s declarations of love, and secretly, she even appreciated them.
During breakfast, Pierre consulted Lady Peyton about an idea that had been bothering him: enrolling in a galactic academy. As soon as he mentioned it, Peyton’s robotic eyes sparkled with unexpected enthusiasm.
“I think it’s a magnificent idea!” she exclaimed, the soft glow of her eyes becoming more intense. “Your mother, Sigune Volker, attended the academy on the planet Alliance Treon, did you know that?”
The mention of his mother always stirred a mix of curiosity and longing in Pierre. He looked at Lady Peyton, wanting to know more. And as if reading his mind, the old robot began to explain, with the tone of someone who had seen many eras pass.
“Alliance Treon isn’t just the political center of the universe, Pierre. It’s the place where the dragons ended the greatest wars that ever threatened our galaxy. Before the laws we follow today, the universe was ravaged by space pirates, raiders, and assassins. Entire civilizations were enslaved, and whole planets destroyed by their greed. Chaos reigned, and survival was a constant battle.”
Pierre listened attentively, each word from Lady Peyton seemed to carry the wisdom of centuries.
“The dragons,” she continued, “were the only ones capable of bringing order. They united, ending conflicts that seemed endless. And it was in Alliance Treon that the great laws were written, laws that maintain the balance of the universe to this day. Your mother, Sigune, was there, learning from the best. She was part of that history.”
Pierre remained silent for a moment, absorbing it all. He didn’t know much about the past, about how much the universe had suffered before Alliance Treon. It was almost impossible to imagine a time without these laws, without this order.
“But not everyone follows those laws, do they?” he asked.
Lady Peyton sighed, her robotic expression almost conveying a hint of sadness. “There are still those who challenge the balance. Space pirates still roam the galaxies, raiders lurk in the shadows, and slavers have never fully disappeared. The universe is too vast to be completely controlled, and there will always be those who prefer force over peace.”
“You have the potential to follow in your mother’s footsteps, young master,” Peyton continued, with a sweetness that blended encouragement and hope. “I know you will succeed!”
Pierre thanked her for the encouragement, and as the day went on, he decided not to waste any more time. He grabbed his galactic device and began researching the available academies. The desire to explore new horizons and the weight of his mother’s legacy now gave him fresh energy to move forward.
The next day, Pierre was preparing to leave. Lady Peyton watched him lovingly as he held a small magical gem in his hands, ready to open the portal that would take him back to Avalamite. He knew that reaching level 9 in magic was crucial, not only for his own protection but also to protect those he loved, like Lady Peyton herself.
As the portal slowly formed, with sparks of magical energy dancing around it, Pierre reflected on the abilities he could acquire by reaching the next level of power. He knew that one of the first decisions he would have to make would be choosing his familiar, but he still hadn’t decided which creature would be the best companion for his journey.
At level 9, the possibilities were endless. His transmutation magic would allow him to take the form of any creature, breaking the physical barriers that limited his body. With his imprisonment magic, he could trap any target underground or even summon a storm of meteors with flaming rocks, devastating his enemies with cosmic power.
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Pierre also knew that with the teleportation circle, he could move any being who stepped into it to distant locations, and the wish spell would give him power over reality itself, allowing him to confront the unimaginable and shape the future with his will.
Other powerful magics awaited him. He could dominate colossal monsters or control the minds of his adversaries with ease, draining their life energy. If he needed to disappear, he could transform into a ghostly form, wandering between planes like an invisible specter.
With his prismatic sphere, he could create nearly indestructible energy shields, and his ethereal form would give him the freedom to explore the Ethereal Plane without being detected. He thought of the Bunshii scream, capable of decimating hordes with a single sound, and the summoning of colossal monsters, imposing creatures that would fight under his command.
But these abilities came with a burden. He knew that the interstellar era didn’t offer the same protection as the ancient laws of Earth. There were no “human rights,” only the law of the jungle, the law of the strongest. The philosophy of the African savanna, of the Serengeti, governed everything: the struggle for life in its purest, most animalistic form. For the hunter, the prey was a feast; for the prey, every second was a fight for survival. “It’s a universal law,” Pierre reflected. “The law that governs not just the predators of Earth, but the forces that shape the universe.”
In the interstellar era, the concept of “rights” was a fiction, a futile hope. The only truth that remained was the fight for power. Pierre was determined to be among the powerful. He needed these magics, not just for his survival, but to become an unbeatable mage, someone who could protect Lady Peyton and himself against any threat.
As he waited for the portal to fully open, Pierre pondered the nature of time. “What is time?” he wondered, fascinated. “What is a day but an artificial unit?”
He began reflecting on the arrow of time, and how, once passed, time never returns. “Thermodynamics teaches us that the past cannot be revisited,” he thought, “yet here I am, traveling between worlds where time and space intertwine in ways that defy physics.”
Thinking of an old scroll his uncle had found years ago, Pierre smiled. “This scroll was written three thousand years ago,” he said to himself, “and here it is, intact in the future. This scroll traveled through time. And in the same way, I, too, travel—not as an ancient artifact, but as a gift from the gods.”
He knew, deep down, that anything was possible. Time, space, magic—these were nothing more than threads of the same fabric, ready to be manipulated by those who understood the hidden laws of the universe.
With the portal fully formed in front of him, Pierre gave one last look at Lady Peyton, who watched with her robotic affection and took the first step toward the unknown.
As the portal finally stabilized in front of Pierre, he pondered one of the most important decisions he would have to make upon reaching level 9 in magic: choosing his familiar. It was a choice that would stay with him for the rest of his life, and the options were vast, each with its own powers and mysteries.
He had considered various creatures: ethereal ravens, colossal beasts, or even shadow felines that could vanish into the darkness. However, none of these options seemed to connect deeply with his essence. He knew that a familiar wasn’t just a companion creature; it was an extension of the mage, a reflection of his soul and destiny.
That’s when Volgrim, his enigmatic mentor, approached in silence. His gaze, always intense, seemed to pierce through Pierre’s thoughts as if he could read them. “You’ve been reflecting on your familiar,” Volgrim said in a firm tone, but not without a certain dose of understanding. “The decision isn’t easy, but I can offer you some advice.”
Pierre looked up at his mentor. He deeply respected Volgrim’s wisdom and knew that his experience gave him a vision that Pierre was still far from achieving.
“I suggest you consider the serpent,” Volgrim said, his voice filled with reverence. “Not just any serpent, but one distantly related to dragons.”
Pierre frowned, surprised by the suggestion. A serpent? He had heard stories about these creatures, but he had never considered them as his first choice. However, he knew that if Volgrim was suggesting this idea, there was something more behind it.
“Why?” Pierre asked, curious.
Volgrim stepped forward, his hands gesturing in the air as if sculpting the idea in front of Pierre. “The serpent carries an ancient connection, much deeper than you might imagine. Its scales, though small, are incredibly resilient, inheriting part of the dragons’ strength. They protect with an efficiency similar to draconic armor, making them nearly impenetrable. Unlike other animals that rely on brute strength or speed, serpents dominate the subtle. They observe, silent, move with precision, and when they strike, they do so with relentless lethality.”
He paused, letting the words sink into Pierre’s thoughts. “Furthermore,” Volgrim continued, “these serpents possess a draconic lineage lost in time. Although their ancestors were powerful dragons, serpents inherited the power of patience, adaptation, and instinctive intelligence. They sense the magic flowing through the elements around them, and over time, they can help you channel that energy with even more efficiency.”
Intrigued, Pierre considered this connection. He had always been fascinated by dragons and their majestic presence in the universe. A creature with such an ancient and powerful lineage could be the missing link in his own journey of evolution.
“They also have the ability to become enormous,” Volgrim said, a slight smile forming on his lips. “When well cared for, they can grow to colossal sizes, crushing your enemies or wrapping around you like a living armor. But their true power lies in accumulated wisdom. A serpent of this level isn’t just a guardian, but a counselor. It will understand your fears and doubts, and over time, it can offer you silent advice, watching the world through your eyes.”
Pierre felt a spark of excitement grow inside him. The image of a serpent with gleaming scales, moving with grace and power by his side, filled him with a new kind of energy.
“And don’t forget,” Volgrim added, “by choosing a serpent, you are affirming your connection to the legacy of the dragons. There’s an ancient honor in that, something the mages of the old order understood well. The serpent is a symbol of transformation, of adaptation. It sheds its skin to grow, just as you are destined to do.”
Pierre now saw the serpent in a new light. He no longer viewed it as a crawling, silent creature, but as an ally, a being that carried within it the traits of greatness he sought in his own journey. The choice became increasingly clear in his mind.