Elijah silently followed the man in the black suit through the narrow alley. His steps were quick but controlled, cautious. The man didn't turn, but as they reached the far end, he suddenly spoke without looking back:
"Don't use Musagi."
Elijah's eyes narrowed.
"It's a cursed blade. If you keep using it, you'll be addicted. The blade drinks not only blood... but reason."
Before Elijah could respond, the man vanished—like a shadow into mist.
He stood still for a moment, staring at the empty space where the man had been. Then, he slowly turned back and walked toward the station, his mind weighed down by the warning.
When he returned, his friends were happily shopping at the nearby stalls.
Ayn waved. "Where were you?"
Elijah simply answered, "Walking."
Now the sun began to set. Evening painted the sky in deep orange and purple, and the cool sea breeze touched their faces. The boat to Constantine High stood ready near the shore—large, ancient, and glowing slightly with enchantments.
Just as they were preparing to board, a sudden scream broke the air.
A boy ran toward them, panicked. "Is there... is there any space left on this boat!?"
Ayn looked at him and smiled. "Yes, there is! Come on!"
The boy jumped aboard, panting. He had short, slightly messy long red hair that almost reached his shoulders and sharp emerald green eyes.
He wiped his forehead and said, "Thanks… I thought I'd miss it. I'm Daud Iraqis."
They all introduced themselves. Daud explained, "I'm from the West Village, near the Blackridge River." he added. "Takes a full day just to get to the harbor."
"Blackridge River, huh?" Elijah said, glancing at him for the first time with faint interest. "I heard it flows right through the old spirit caverns."
Daud blinked. "You know that?"
"Read it somewhere," Elijah replied.
"Well, yeah," Daud grinned. "It's true. We even say the river sings at night. Not that I believe in all that spirit nonsense—but my grandma swore she once saw a blue flame dancing on the water."
"Blue flames… that's interesting. Right, Elijah?" Sylphira said, but Elijah only responded with a silent nod.
"I like your name," Daud said after a moment. "Elijah, right? Sounds like some noble knight from the old records."
Elijah smirked faintly. "And Daud sounds like a traveling bard with too many secrets."
Daud laughed. "Fair enough. I play the flute, so close enough."
A comfortable silence settled between them.
Daud glanced toward the glowing horizon. "You nervous?"
"No," Elijah answered simply.
Daud raised a brow. "Excited?"
Elijah turned his gaze forward. "I don't know what I'm feeling. But I want to see what's ahead."
Daud smiled. "You're weird. I like it."
They stood there, side by side, and exchanged friendly words as the boat slowly began to move. The sea shimmered under the rising moon. Then suddenly, the guide stood up, raising one glowing hand into the air.
"Everyone, turn around!"
The students turned.
Across the sea, in the distance, stood a massive glowing castle—Constantine High—its towers gleaming with golden light under the starlit sky.
Each student held a small lantern, given at the harbor, and as they held them up, a thousand soft yellow lights floated over the sea, forming a trail of golden fireflies in the dark.
The guide raised his voice and screamed:
"All hail Solomon Constantine!"
Everyone echoed with excitement, raising their lanterns:
"All hail Solomon Constantine!!"
Even Elijah, who had remained calm until now, felt something stir inside him. A strange energy—a sense of purpose.
They stepped off the boat, one by one, into the grand castle. The gate opened slowly with a deep rumble, revealing a wide marble pathway filled with ancient glowing runes. It was majestic.
Inside, a professor guided them to the ceremonial hall, decorated with massive chandeliers and ancient spirit statues.
Elijah and his group were led by none other than Alaric, who now stood tall in his professor's robes. "Come with me."
Elijah opened his mouth to speak, but Alaric's voice echoed in his mind, calm and certain — 'You will understand very soon.'"
There was to be a night party—a grand welcome for all the new mages.
Then, the main figure appeared.
The Head Principal.
He had long white hair and beard, flowing like silk, and eyes that shined with ancient knowledge, yet carried deep kindness.
Beside him stood an older woman with a firm yet graceful posture—Vice Principal Vera Braunswich.
He raised a single hand.
"I am Belbub Van Abraham," he said, his voice resonating like a deep bell. "Head Principal of Constantine High."
The air grew still with reverence.
Beside him stood a woman with sharp eyes and elegant posture. She gave a small nod.
"And beside me is your Vice Principal—Vera Braunswich."
Belbub stepped forward, his eyes scanning the crowd of young faces—full of hope, fear, and uncertainty.
"I know many of you come from broken lands. I know some of you bear the weight of loss, having fled from the Spirit or Demi Continents, whose soil now smolders under the fires of Purgatory."
A heavy silence followed.
"But hear me now."
His voice grew firmer.
"This—this—is not the end of your story. Here at Constantine High, you are not refugees. You are not broken. You are not forgotten."
He took another step forward, placing a hand over his heart.
"You are heirs to magic. You are dreamers who have survived the dark. You are the embers that shall rise into flames."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Belbub's eyes blazed with conviction.
"You may come from ruins, but from ruins rise towers. You may carry scars, but scars are reminders that you endured. And if you walk these halls, if you carry the will to grow, then I swear this upon my name—we will turn you into legends."
There was a moment of silence.
Then the hall erupted into applause and cheers.
Even Elijah, who stood near the back, found himself caught in the energy of the room. For a moment, even his usual indifference cracked—just a little.
Vera then stepped forward, her calm voice carrying across the hall.
"Let's now meet the teachers who will guide you."
A tall, elegant woman in sea-green robes followed. Her voice was calm, but firm, with a healer's steadiness.
"I am Professor Renna Stone," she said. "You will find me in Medicine, Botanical Studies, and Regenerative Arts. Most of you won't survive long without proper care, so I suggest you pay attention."
Her tone wasn't cruel—just honest. She gave a nod, then stepped back.
Next came a young, scholarly woman with cloud-colored hair tied into a bun. Books floated behind her as she walked.
"I am Professor Elbeth Myra, and I teach Comparative Mythology and Lost Cultures. If you wish to understand where your power came from—start by learning what came before you."
Her eyes sparkled with hidden wit as she bowed slightly to the students.
One by one, the professors came up, introduced themselves. Some got a few claps, others respectful silence.
Then came silence as a tall man in deep crimson and black robes ascended the platform. His presence alone was enough to quiet the room.
He had narrow, sunken eyes, black streaked hair slicked back, and a long scar cutting across his left cheek. His voice was low and curt, yet carried to every corner of the hall.
"Professor Clark Renfield," he said sharply. "I teach Alchemy. Greet me once. No need to greet me again."
His cold eyes swept across the students—until they landed on Elijah for a brief, unreadable moment.
Then, without another word, he stepped off the platform and disappeared into the shadows at the side of the hall.
The tension eased slightly.
Then finally—
"Alaric Van Abraham!"
The hall erupted in screams and cheers. Students jumped from their seats in joy.
Elijah raised an eyebrow. "Why are they screaming?"
Daud grinned. "You don't know? He's the most famous teacher here! A prodigy. He has vast knowledge on History, Philosophy."
Elijah made a weird face. "Sounds like someone I should avoid."
He quietly tried to sneak toward the other side of the room.
But Alaric, with a smug grin, suddenly clapped his hands.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce someone… My precious disciple has also arrived!"
Everyone surprised
Elijah's eyes widened in horror.
"No—don't—"
Glyphs flared beneath him. Before he could move, he was floating through the air again.
"Nooo—!"
Thud.
He landed onstage, face red with embarrassment. Alaric wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"Everyone, meet my deciple—Elijah Everheart!"
Whispers and gasps swept the room. Even Daud, Ayn, Anna, and Sylphira were staring with mouths wide open.
Elijah sighed and placed a hand over his face.
"This is going to be annoying…"