The farmers were shocked to see Araven and Ferguson return carrying Nero and Sharmon. Herbert ran out of the farm towards them.

"What happened?", he asked.

"We don't kno-"

"Nero suffered a decompensation. I need a bed for him to lay so I can do a proper examination on his arcana.", Araven interrupted Ferguson, "also, please allow me to remind you not to run. Your leg is still healing."

"Never mind my leg! Give it here, I'll carry the boy. You help Ferguson."

Herbert was not taller than Araven, but he was far stronger and had no problem carrying the unconscious boy to the barn where they kept some beds for the farmers. Ferguson placed Sharmon on a bed next to Nero's and took a step back.

"Alright. I'll need everyone to keep calm and give me a minute. I'm going to run an exhaustive analysis on Nero's arcana first."

"Is there anything I can do to help?", said Herbert.

"Well... I would appreciate a cup of syrup. I'm really thirsty."

"Of course. What else?"

"Nothing else right now. I'll send Ferguson if I need anything else, I don't mean to interrupt your work."

"You can't possibly expect me to work in peace knowing he's in this state...!", he protested.

"I understand your concerns, but I'm the only one who can do an arcana check on him.", said Araven.

Herbert sighed in frustration.

"I'll... get you your syrup. If there is anything, and I mean anything else you need, send for me."

"I appreciate your assistance. You're a good man, Herbert.", smiled Araven.

"No, not at all, it's nothing... I'll be right back."

----------------------------------------

image [https://i.imgur.com/deJ1JWr.png]

A loud roar forced Nero to open his eyes. He was sitting on dry, dusty ground, his back against a pretty big rock, and the earth was trembling under him.

"Damn it...!"

"It's gonna explode...!"

Nero looked to his left.

A very tall and muscular man wearing a heavy armor was next to him. He was bald, had a prominent black mustache, and was holding on to his sword and shield.

The boy had never seen this man in his life, yet seeing him brought about a sense of familiarity. Warmth... and pain.

"Excuse me, sir? What is going on here...? Where am I...?"

"You stay there! Don't even think about moving!", he replied, furiously.

"There's no time to argue, Olaf. Raise your shield and protect everyone from the aftermath. I'll do what I can."

The voice had come from behind Nero. Upon turning around, he saw a man in his early twenties sporting a shoulder-long dark brown mane. His expression was serene and confident.

Even more than Olaf's, his face was more than familiar, like he had just seen him the other day. In fact...

"Cervantes, wait...!", Olaf shouted, but the younger man got up and ran ahead towards the light without listening.

Nero tried to look in that direction, but there was a blinding light keeping him from seeing anything.

Behind the warrior, further to Nero's left, there was another rock, where a girl dressed in black looked in horror as the mage got up and jumped into the danger.

BADUMP.

The second Nero saw her, his heart beat so hard he could almost hear it with his own ears.

"Cervantes...! Wait, don't do it...!"

Her hair was a brown so light it was almost blonde, and she wore it in a very cleanly cut bob hairstyle. Her athletic figure was complemented by a light leather adventurer's gear, with a metal shoulder pad here and a metal knee pad there. Her big pupils were a beautiful red so dark they looked black, but the light reflection on them gave away their true color, much like how it happens with wine.

Never in his life had he imagined such a beautiful woman could possibly exist.

"Shit...! What is he planning...!?"

"Olaf...!", shouted a blonde woman dressed in a white robe from behind another rock. Her hair was long and straight-laced, and her peaceful eyes an interesting grey, "remember your duty!"

"Here goes...! I'll cast my spell...!", said Cervantes from within the light.

"No...! Don't do it...! Cervantes...! NO....!!!!"

She tried to get up, but was immediately held back by a blonde man who was also wearing an adventurer's attire.

"Garnet, what are you doing...!?"

"Let go of me! I won't let him die!"

"Take her away, Arwin! She doesn't have to see this!", Olaf shouted at the blonde guy.

Nero saw the man named Araven drag that girl away from the light, towards another set of rocks.

So her name was Garnet...

BADUMP.

Again, his chest hurt like hell.

Nero looked around him and noticed there were about a dozen people hiding from the light, and nobody was paying him any attention. A man with his eyes bandaged over there, a tall, dark skinned man with a blue armor and a long lance nearby...

That one had a pretty nasty looking injury on his arm, and was clenching his teeth in frustration.

"Are you... alright?"

He didn't answer. In fact, he did not even acknowledge Nero's presence.

"What the hell...? It's... as if I'm not even here.", he murmured.

"That is because you are not."

Nero looked up. Sharmon was standing up in front of him, arms crossed.

"Pick yourself up. You are in no danger."

"What is this place...? Where are we? What happened to Armorica, Araven, Ferguson, Elena...?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"They are all doing fine in the real world."

"Then... is this a dream?"

Sharmon shook his head.

"Not a dream, boy. A memory. We are deep within the sea of your consciousness."

Then, the entire place vanished. Sharmon and Nero were now standing in an empty white space with nothing, and no one else.

"...I think I would remember something like that if I had lived it, though."

"That was the memory of an event that took place here a long time ago."

"I see... I saw a man... Cervantes, the most famous mage in the history of Nycea, run towards a very bright light."

Sharmon nodded.

"You just saw the events that took place on the day Cervantes died in an attempt to save his comrades -the other eleven Warriors of Justice. The Ancient Twelve is how they are known today throughout Nycea and the continent."

Nero crossed his arms and thought hard.

"...he succeeded, didn't he? The other eleven survived and went on to do great deeds in his name."

Sharmon narrowed his eyes.

"This memory is not yours, but mine, boy."

"...huh? But didn't this happen over a century ago...?"

"Now is not the moment to discuss that. I believe it is about time I indulged you and told you a few things more about myself. Things you must know before we return to Nycea."

Nero gulped. Was Sharmon finally going to reveal something about himself...? He wanted to ask so many questions, but decided against it, afraid it would make him apprehensive and close himself again.

"I'll listen to anything you have to say.", said Nero, hoping to motivate Sharmon to reveal as much as he could.

"Surely you are aware that were it not for me, you would have never made it this far into the exams for the College.", started Sharmon.

"Yeah. I am.", Nero nodded.

"Why do you think I accepted the summoning?"

The boy sighed.

"Well... I figured out you were a criminal before you confessed to it on the road. So I'm thinking you're running away from the law?"

Nero wasn't so sure anymore, considering what Sharmon had said about the memory being his.

"Hm. All heroes are villains to their enemies.", said the sorcerer.

"Uh... you lost me, there."

Sharmon looked at Nero for a moment.

"I am not here to run from the law, boy. I am here to kill the remaining Warriors of Justice."

Sharmon spit those words with absolute contempt, to Nero's horror.

"No way... you!? An enemy of the Ancient Eleven...!?"

"A villain, they called me. Deemed my powers too great for them to control, and was banished to an arcana prison as a result, and been chained to it for the past hundred and fifty years... until a door opened. Your Blood Pact was the only way for me to step out of the arcana prison, and it took me a while to decide if becoming the blood familiar of a snotty brat was a fair price for my freedom. But then you shouted that you wished to become a mage, and decided to accept the terms and make you my apprentice. I could regain my powers if I made you stronger."

"But that's impossible...! No one's even heard about you!"

Sharmon chuckled.

"On the day Cervantes died, I was born.", he said, looking at his own, black gloved hand, "It is a dark chapter in history, boy. Not the heroes' proudest moment. Sharmon is, as you might have guessed, a name I chose for myself to hide my identity here. That, paired with the heroes' silence on my sealing, erased me from history and the collective memory of the continent."

"That's just bullshit!", Nero spit out.

"I offered my help after Cervantes' death.", Sharmon continued, "The group needed a mage, and what better candidate than the very best sorcerer in the world?"

Nero took a step back, though there was nowhere to go. He was trapped inside his own mind with him.

"I was... happy. I felt like I belonged somewhere. They accepted me among them, and together we set out to make the lands around the Caledon Sea a better place to live."

Sharmon, still looking at his palm, closed his fist.

"But they lied to me. They knew my powers were far beyond the scope of their control. They could only try to persuade me, but never force me, to do or not do something."

Nero noticed that Sharmon's tone was growing more bitter by the word. The sorcerer was showing more emotions in a few minutes than the boy had seen in weeks.

"In the end, I was not him. I was not Cervantes. I could never be, and so, I was no good."

BADUMP.

Nero clenched his teeth, and took his hand to his chest.

"Damn... why is my heart hurting now?"

"That pain you feel... is my pain, boy."

"Pant... pant...", the pain was growing stronger.

Sharmon took another step towards Nero.

"The anguish of having those you trust turn their backs on you. See you as a monster, a creature that must be dealt with. The fear in their eyes when realizing you cannot be destroyed."

Nero feel on his knee.

"They conjured a trap to seal me with a series of spells over the course of the following weeks under the pretense of taking time off to get to know me better. I believed in them, boy. I believed in love and friendship. I believed in belonging and company. Your dreams and nightmares are not such, but my own memories flooding into your consciousness through the link made by the Blood Pact."

Nero knew he was just inside his own mind, so why was he feeling so out of air?

"This can't be... real...", he panted.

"It is a very long story. One you will hear in its entirety soon enough, this I guarantee. What you need to know right now is that you are bound to me, and I am bound to you. Whatever my fate is, you will be dragged into it as well."

Sharmon narrowed his eyes.

"And my fate, my purpose, is to have my revenge. I will kill the remaining Ancient Eleven, and you will help me accomplish this."

"WHAT!? NO! NEVER!"

The sorcerer stared at him with what Nero perceived was a hint of amusement.

"You cannot avoid fate, boy. What will you do when word gets out that I freed myself from imprisonment? What do you think will happen when everybody figures out that my life depends on yours? Killing me is too difficult, but if they kill the summoner..."

"I REFUSE!! I WILL NEVER COLLABORATE WITH YOU!! THEY'LL UNDERSTAND!!"

"They will not care, boy! No one cares about you!", said Sharmon, "It only takes a week in Trena to understand that mortals are selfish and arrogant."

"Grandma Lonia loves me...! She raised me even though we're not connected by blood!"

"Your dear grandmother could not possibly defend you from an assassin, brat. Only I am able to do such a thing."

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it!", said Nero, blocking his ears with his hands.

"THAT IS ENOUGH, BRAT!", shouted the sorcerer.

Nero froze up.

Sharmon took another step forward.

"Do you wish to die?"

"Huh?"

"Tell me, boy. Do you wish to die?"

"I... no!"

"If you wish to stay alive, then you must collaborate with me. I was sealed only because I could not be killed. Now that I am bound to you, it is inevitable that your life will sooner or later be in danger. There will be no sealing next time, only a swift, unceremonious death."

Nero gulped.

"You wish to be a sorcerer, boy. I can teach you everything I know. Shielding, counter-spells, arcana management, levitation. I can make you into everything you always desired to be. I can turn poor, miserable you into the greatest sorcerer this land has seen."

Sharmon knelt in front of the boy and looked at him.

"But make no mistake,", we continued with a calmer voice, "we shall have to fight for our lives; that is why we need allies. Captain Elena, Araven, even the miserable people of Trena. They can help us if we aid them in return."

"But... killing the Ancient Eleven..."

Sharmon got up.

"This is getting us nowhere. Let us strike a bargain."

"Huh...?"

"I will consider us even from this point moving forward. You freed me from the prison, and I helped you pass all your tests to enter the College of Mages.", he said, "now, for my proposal: I shall continue aiding you during your studies. I shall guarantee you a smooth student life. Any test you must pass, I shall prepare you for it. Every piece of homework you are given, I shall assist you with further explanation and extracurricular lessons; as many as you need. Any unexpected developments, I will be there to face them with you. In return, you will assist me in locating at least one of the Ancients. We can decide what to do with them later."

Sharmon extended his hand to the kneeling Nero.

"Take my hand, boy, and together we shall open the doors of greatness with our own hands. Deny me and your dream of being a mage is over today. We shall forget about the Ancient Eleven, but I will not assist you in the College. I shall leave you on your own for the rest of your life, and should I die somewhere, you too shall drop dead wherever you are, whatever it is that you are doing."

Nero stared at the black gloved hand stretching in front of him.

"...at this point, I don't even know if I have a choice anymore."

"You do have the choice, boy; it is simply not worth it. Cast your luck with me, and there may yet be a future for the both of us."

"Before I take that hand... I'll have you know: I have no intention of helping you kill anybody. The pirates were an exception, but I will not become a villain that goes about murdering the most revered figures in the history of Nycea.", said Nero.

"All I ask", said Sharmon, "Is that you promise to fight for your life if they come for it."

"...I don't wanna die. If someone tries to kill me, I'll fight."

Sharmon nodded.

"And I shall fight with you."

Nero pressed his lips and took a deep breath.

Then, he took Sharmon's hand and got up.

"Help me become a mage, and I'll help you have a talk with an Ancient."

"I accept your terms."

"Then... we have a deal."