The mysterious old man turned toward them, his face bearing a remarkable balance between sharpness and beauty, adorned with a light beard that added to his solemn presence. A calm smile played on his lips as he spoke in a cryptic tone:
"It seems that the sorcerer William Kideon… has finally arrived."
William glanced at the old man with half-closed eyes before murmuring to himself:
Does this old man know something about me?
He smiled faintly and replied in a soft voice:
"I was looking for something to break the routine… I got tired of sitting around the academy."
The old man stepped away from the table and stood before the trio. His gaze was gentle as he spoke in a soothing voice:
"Man needs change, to see the world with his own eyes… not remain trapped in his tiny shell."
Then, in the same calm tone, he added:
"And I suppose you've come for some missions, haven't you?"
Victor nodded and answered in a low voice:
"We need to evolve… There's a major tournament coming up at the academy."
William was surprised by the news, but he didn't let it show on his face. He muttered to himself under his breath:
A tournament at the academy?… I don't remember anything like that in this body's memories. But… this could be an excellent chance to dig deeper into the academy, to grow stronger… and to catch the clown killer.
The old man placed his forefinger on his chin, thinking, before speaking with a balanced tone:
"I've heard of that tournament… They say it's the biggest in the academy's history, and many high-ranking figures will attend."
Sophia Ascot stepped forward and spoke with a melodious tone:
"That's why we need your missions… The competition in the academy is nothing to scoff at."
The old man nodded again and replied softly:
"Well said… which is why today's missions will be special, since you've brought Mr. William Kideon with you."
Then, he continued as he pointed with his finger:
"But the reward this time… will not be ordinary. It's a rare red elixir. It enhances perception significantly… but it also increases the Sequence, though only slightly."
Victor raised an eyebrow, questioning:
"But… if it only boosts perception and doesn't raise the Sequence much, what's its real benefit?"
In an instant, the old man vanished from his spot and reappeared behind the table, as if he'd never moved at all. He took out a red glass vial from a small box and gently pulled out the stopper. As soon as it opened, a strange crimson light spilled out, and within it, a pair of piercing eyes and a frozen, unsettling smile slowly took shape.
The three of them stood frozen in shock. It didn't feel like a potion—it felt alive.
But only William could sense the terrifying aura that dwelled within it… as if the elixir itself was staring back at him.
Am I the only one… who sees this elixir staring at me?
William muttered softly, his eyes fixed on the red orbs dancing within the liquid, watching him with a twisted grin.
The old man's voice turned faint but carried a shadow of seriousness:
"This isn't an ordinary elixir… but a sleeping entity, wrapped in ancient magic. It grants fluidity… it opens your mind to the flow of magical energy, as if the walls between thought and action vanish."
He raised his hand slowly, and in a sudden flash, his palm ignited in a burning red flame that lit up the entire room. The aura that surged from his hand was suffocating, saturated with a power beyond the natural.
William felt something pierce his skin… a strange tremor, as if something inside him had begun to respond.
Magic here… isn't summoned just by will. It's fed… nourished by these elixirs. Every dose brings you one step closer to something else… something I don't yet understand.
He closed his eyes, mind swirling with analysis.
Then, with a sudden force, the old man clenched his fist, and from the fire, a blazing sword burst forth, writhing in the air like a red serpent. The sword felt real… too real. The heat it emanated was no illusion.
The trio's shock was evident, but Victor voiced his amazement aloud:
"We've known you for a while, but… you never told us your Sequence. Your magic… it's beyond the norm."
Sophia nodded, adding with a calm smile:
"You even use forbidden magic… and that alone requires special permission."
The old man smiled, coldly, as he gently stroked the flaming blade:
"I… don't have a Sequence. I never attended the academy."
A silence fell over the room. It was broken only by Victor's sarcasm:
"That excuse again…!"
A light laugh rose from the three… except William. His eyes were still locked on the sword, examining it as if it had just emerged from the pits of hell.
The old man returned the sword to his palm, and it vanished as if it had never existed. Then he spoke in a low voice:
"Now… let's talk missions."
He uttered one word, "Archimedes," and in the air before them appeared three spectral pieces of a sword: a blade, a hilt, and a sheath.
The old man spoke in his mysterious tone:
"I want you to collect these three parts. If you succeed… the elixir is yours."
Victor stepped forward and asked:
"And where can we find them?"
The old man closed his eyes, as if gazing into another world:
"Sophia… your destination is the ruins of Cathedral Mariam. There, you'll find the blade."
Then he turned to Victor:
"As for you… head to Fulham Port. The sheath awaits you there."
Before either of them could respond, the old man snapped his fingers — and the two vanished.
William remained alone, staring at the empty space for a moment, then turned to the old man and spoke in a composed tone:
"You're not ordinary… you know too much and wield all kinds of magic."
The old man opened his eyes — they were like the mouths of bottomless wells — and said in a gruff voice:
"Complete knowledge… is the anchor point of this world. And you, what is your anchor point?"
William stayed silent for a moment, then lifted his head and spoke with sharp determination:
"To become the Lord… and to kill whoever rules this world from the shadows."
The old man paused, a disquieting smile forming on his face, and he said in his hoarse voice:
"And do you think you're capable… of killing those in the shadows?"
William extended his hand toward him, a confident smile on his face, before whispering in a voice that sliced through the air:
"Every being has end… and you are one of them."
His eyes widened as if seeing light for the very first time. He stared into William's eyes, which had turned crimson, and his face now bore the colors of yellow and red—like that of a clown.
The old man gave a cold smile and spoke in his cryptic tone:
"My dear, oh, my dear… William Gideon, the silent jester, possesses great and profound wisdom—for someone who has never seen the Great Ones."
William muttered to himself in a low voice:
"Hmm, just as I suspected… this old man holds some deep knowledge—knowledge that concerns me in particular."
"I don't need to see them… they're just things that created something to flaunt their power before humans like us," William said sharply.
"So the meaning behind your cryptic words… is that you seek the missing pieces?" the old man replied, his voice growing more intense as he folded one hand over the other.
"Magic isn't the foundation of power in this world… There are those who wield swords that have defeated sorcerers for centuries. But there exists a Sequence that has long been sealed," William said with a tone of insight.
"Boy, you're beginning to stir the horizon. A book—or the language of Hermes—have you studied it to gain such depth of knowledge, especially about that Sequence?" the old man asked with a sharp voice.
"The Language of Hermes hasn't revealed much due to the monopoly the Great Ones placed over that Sequence. As you can see, I'm the only one who fuses magic with the blade," William replied, a constant grin playing on his face, as though savoring every word spoken with this elder.
"We don't delve into that language often. Its complexity is immense… But it contains such dangerous knowledge that the Great Ones hid the most critical lines," the old man said with intensity, his eyes glowing faintly in the dimness.
Then, with the same tone, he asked an existential question:
"William Gideon, the sorcerer… do you fear the unknown?"
William looked deep into the old man's eyes—sharp, dangerous eyes saturated with the highest knowledge. He didn't speak for several seconds, then finally turned back to the man and answered with a voice filled with wisdom:
"Fear doesn't stop you from moving forward… but fear of the unknown—that's what truly terrifies me."
The old man smiled and said in his cold tone:
"That's a good thing. Fear isn't a flaw; it's a form of evolution. You can't grow unless fear becomes your greatest adversary."
Then, in the same tone, he added:
"Are you ready for your first mission, Mr. William Gideon?"
William smiled and replied with high confidence:
"Insight… the Sequence—it needs to evolve. That's why I'm ready for this mission."
The old man muttered to himself with a mysterious tone:
"This boy… it's as if he were Eliph Moonlight."
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Academy, Saint Edgar sat in the library, gazing out the window at the peaceful ocean while sipping a quiet cup of coffee—still as the sea.
On the couch across from him sat a mysterious figure, one leg crossed over the other. His features were obscured, as if the shadows themselves refused to reveal him. He was known as "The Purple Raven."
He spoke with a distorted voice, echoing off the walls as if coming from a nameless depth:
"Saint Edgar… what preparations have you made for the Centennial Tournament? It must be an event to remember. That is, unless it's ruined by that foolish clown."
Edgar calmly raised his cup, gazing at his reflection in the dark liquid, and replied in a voice as quiet as ancient commandments:
"The tournament will take place in three months… We're preparing everything—from the smallest detail to the grandest. A petty jester like that won't ruin a thing."
The still shadow shifted his position, clasped his fingers together, and stared at Edgar with violet eyes that shimmered like they held an ancient prophecy. He then spoke in a voice so low it could be heard in the bones:
"And do you have a plan to bring down the clown?"
In an instant, the coffee cup in Edgar's hands transformed into a vortex of sharp blood. Swords, spears, and strange waveforms that resembled shattered logic tongues emerged from it. He then answered, his tone dripping with dread:
"A plan? I don't need such things… Everything will be under control."