Curse of Lysertis

William Gillian ascended to the position of headmaster of Moro Academy immediately after earning the title of Archmage. At just twenty-five years old, he had shattered centuries of precedent, for no one before him had ever achieved such a rank before the age of forty. Even now, seven years later, his name remained unparalleled among his peers. His early rise spoke of unparalleled talent, the kind that left even the greatest mages in awe.

His reputation extended far beyond the academy's walls. Archmages had always been seen as humanity's greatest hope—a beacon of power, wisdom, and stability. And now, as he stood in the heart of the dungeon beneath Moro Academy, his very presence commanded the air around him.

His mana felt different from the dark energy that had seeped through the chamber mere moments before. It was powerful, unwavering, yet warm—an undeniable force of authority.

No one moved. The professors, the students, even the culprit himself—Richard Lancer, the fallen professor—all stood frozen in the suffocating silence. They waited for the Archmage to speak.

At last, William exhaled, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of an unshakable verdict.

"You've put yourself in a very unfortunate position, Richard."

His words, spoken with neither anger nor cruelty, only deepened the oppressive stillness.

"If you surrender now, the High Mage Tribunal will grant you mercy. Your life will be spared. I will see to it personally. But if you try to escape—or worse, if you attempt to fight back"

His golden eyes locked onto Richard's.

"We will end you here and now."

The choice is yours.

For a moment, there was no response. Then, suddenly, Richard threw back his head and laughed—a sharp, mocking sound that echoed against the stone walls of the dungeon.

"Mercy? From the Tribunal?" he sneered, spreading his arms wide in a theatrical gesture. "Don't make me laugh, William. You think your words will change anything?"

His lips curled into a bitter smile.

"I know exactly what I've done. I've committed an unforgivable crime. Do you really think the Tribunal will let me live? Even your word as an Archmage won't mean a damn thing in court. Nice try."

Then, without warning, the blood coating Richard's hands ignited. Massive pillars of flame erupted, engulfing the chamber in searing heat.

With a furious motion, Richard thrust his hands forward, sending an inferno barreling toward the professors and the Archmage.

But before the fire could reach them—

William was already there.

In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance, seizing Richard's face mid-air and slamming him against the far wall with devastating force. The impact sent cracks rippling through the stone, massive chunks crumbling to the ground as dust filled the chamber.

Yet Richard's flames had already been unleashed. The raging inferno surged toward the professors with terrifying speed.

But Adrian was ready.

With a single swift movement, he raised his hand, summoning a barrier of pure light. A luminous wall formed before them, absorbing the fire's fury in an instant.

Against the far wall, Richard struggled beneath William's iron grip. With sheer effort, he wrenched himself free, gasping for breath. Without hesitation, he launched another volley of fire directly at the Archmage.

William didn't even flinch.

Moving with inhuman speed, he dodged the attack effortlessly before driving his fist into Richard's solar plexus. The force of the blow pierced straight through his body.

Richard's face contorted in agony. Blood spilled from his mouth as he staggered back, his hands trembling, his breath ragged. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, desperately clutching his wound.

But it was futile. A pool of crimson quickly spread beneath him.

William stared down at him, his voice laced with regret.

"I'm sorry it had to end this way, Richard. But you left me no choice."

Richard coughed violently, his body shuddering. He tried to laugh but only managed a weak, rasping whisper.

"G-go to hell…"

His bloodied lips twisted into a mocking smirk.

"Don't pretend you feel sorry. You don't. You just like playing the noble hero. I don't need your pity."

Then, as his body trembled, his voice shifted. It deepened, turning almost inhuman. His once-blue eyes darkened into a blood-red hue.

William's gaze sharpened.

"Who will make it happen?"

But Richard gave no answer.

His body fell limp.

The fallen professor, the man who had once been one of the greatest minds in Demonology, was dead.

With a simple wave of his hand, William extinguished the lingering flames. Adrian lowered his barrier.

The Archmage turned away, walking past the stunned professors. He stopped only a few steps ahead before speaking.

"We won't be able to hide what happened tonight."

The weight of his words settled over them.

"The students are terrified. Their parents will demand answers. And they will blame us—for allowing this to happen."

He exhaled slowly.

"I'll handle it. Leave this to me."

A silence stretched between them before Berendor hesitated and spoke.

"Headmaster… Richard had a son. That means the boy is now an orphan. We can't just abandon him."

William closed his eyes briefly, then nodded.

"You're right."

His voice softened.

"Children shouldn't have to suffer for the sins of their parents."

He glanced at Richard's lifeless body.

"No matter what Richard did tonight, it doesn't erase his contributions to this academy. He was a genius in his field. His work won't be forgotten."

Some would call it favoritism. But it wasn't.

Moro Academy had always supported the orphans of Archoville, granting them aid, opportunities, and, above all, an education—so long as they had the gift of magic.

The news spread like wildfire. A professor had attempted to break the seal of the most dangerous creature in the world—right beneath the academy itself.

Fear took hold.

Fear became resentment.

Parents threatened to pull their children from the academy. But Headmaster William Gillian assured them all:

This would never happen again.

Three days later, William was summoned by the High Mage Tribunal to present a full account of what had transpired beneath Moro Academy.

The Tribunal was located in Eldoria, the wealthiest and most powerful kingdom, within its grand capital, Lavenheim. For centuries, this institution had been responsible for granting the title of Archmage and overseeing all magical affairs.

William stepped into the vast courtroom, standing before the Council of Jurors.

"Speak." One of the elders instructed.

William's gaze remained steady.

"What is there to say? You already know everything."

"Not everything. We need to hear your account."

William sighed.

"Richard Lancer attempted to unseal Lycertis. But the seal was beyond his control. He failed. Though… considering his expertise in Demonology, he should have known better."

A juror leaned forward.

"And what about his son?"

"Adam?" William exhaled. "He knew nothing. His father never involved him. And even if Adam ever learns the truth."

His voice rang clear, unwavering.

"I will personally ensure that history does not repeat itself."

His golden eyes locked onto the council.

"You have my word as an Archmage."

The jurors exchanged glances, but none opposed him.

The gavel struck.

"This session is closed."

Without another word, William turned and left.

He stepped outside. With a snap of his fingers—

He vanished.

A heartbeat later, he reappeared in his office, standing by the window.

And there, he remained, gazing into the distance.

Waiting for tomorrow to come.