The Academy has long been recognized as a prestigious institution within the Kingdom of Antanta, revered for its rich history and commitment to the pursuit of magical knowledge. Founded centuries ago by the visionary wizard Zephyr SunFire, the Academy embodies his bold ambition to create a better world through the understanding and mastery of magic. Its towering spires and ancient libraries are a testament to the dedication of countless scholars who have walked its halls.
Throughout the years, the Academy has nurtured a diverse array of talented wizards, many of whom have left an indelible mark on the world, becoming the stuff of legends and urban myths. From groundbreaking research to the invention of new spells, the discoveries made within these walls have fundamentally altered the way society perceives and engages with magic.
Two centuries ago, the innovative wizard Ba made a significant breakthrough by discovering the technique known as Hermit Mode. This method enables practitioners to harness natural mana from their surroundings, significantly increasing their own mana capacity. However, this powerful process comes with a grave consequence: the ecosystem from which the mana is drawn suffers a detrimental impact, leading to a period of barren desolation. While the precise duration of this ecological recovery remains shrouded in mystery, it is commonly believed to last around twenty months, prompting debates among scholars and practitioners regarding the ethical use of Hermit Mode in their practices.
At the Royal residence
"Father, Sidonia dared to speak to a worm from somewhere in District X," Albert declared, his chest swelling with pride as he leaned back in his chair, a triumphant grin stretching across his face. "And she even—" he began to elaborate, his excitement palpable, but his father abruptly interrupted him, a harsh edge creeping into his voice.
"Enough, Albert." Their father's piercing gaze shifted sharply from his son to Sidonia, the weariness etched into his features momentarily replaced by an unsettling intensity. He slowly set down his glass of water, the crystal surface shimmering in the flickering candlelight, before directing his full attention to his daughter.
"Is it true, my dear? Did you speak with that citizen from District X?" he inquired, his tone steady, yet laced with an urgency that filled the air. A sprinkle of salt fell onto his halfway eaten plate, the metallic clinking sound echoing harshly in the tense silence that enveloped the table.
Sidonia swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her father's scrutiny bearing down on her. She placed her spoon down with a soft clatter against the porcelain bowl, and replied, her voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, Father, it's true. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have been admitted. I'm sorry." The apology lingered heavily in the room, thick with regret and uncertainty.
"No, my dear, you did what you thought was right, and I'm proud of you for that," he countered, a gentle smile breaking through the tension like sunlight through clouds. "Did that boy get in as well? A gesture like that should not go unrewarded." His tone softened, revealing a father's compassion hidden beneath his stern facade.
"Unfortunately, he passed too, but I don't think it's fair," Albert interjected, frustration tinging his voice as he recalled the events. "That worm didn't get through the gate in time. He started pounding on the barrier as if he possessed the strength to shatter it, his desperation and confusion etched across his face." A deep ache resonated within him at the image of Ajin's futile struggle, powerless against the unforgiving obstacle.
"No, I think it's perfectly normal," his father replied, deep in thought, his brows furrowing as he processed Albert's words. "He earned his place. What did you say his name was?"
"Ajin," Sidonia responded, her eyes darting away, feeling an unsettling silence settle over the room.
As soon as their father heard the name, he dropped his spoon with a sharp clatter that sliced through the stillness like a knife. Shock flared across his features, an expression of grave concern crossing his face as he leaned in closer, his voice lowered to a near whisper.
"Repeat that," he demanded, his tone low and almost tremulous, as if the very name conjured something sinister.
"Ajin. Is there a problem with him?" Sidonia asked, her concern deepening as she noticed the abrupt shift in her father's demeanor.
He fell silent, his gaze fixed on the table, lost in a labyrinth of contemplation.
"Dear, you don't think he's the one, do you?" his wife interjected gently, reaching out to touch his hand, her warmth grounding him amid the weighty uncertainty.
"Maybe. I'm not sure," he admitted, rising abruptly from the table. The chair scraped harshly against the floor as he stood, the tension rolling off him in waves as he struggled to process the implications of her words, the atmosphere thick with unspoken fears.