Then he turned, arms stretched wide as if presenting an idea to the stars themselves.
"Selene," he said, voice calm but burning with quiet ambition,
"Why don't we create an organization?"
Her brows furrowed, but he continued before she could speak.
"Somewhere people can share spells. Learn what they want to learn—without worrying about their sect, clan, or house…
because their identities will never be revealed."
Selene stared at him in the moonlight, caught between disbelief and curiosity.
"An anonymous sharing circle?" she asked slowly.
Kael grinned.
"Exactly. A society in the shadows. Free knowledge, for those bold enough to seek it."
Selene laughed—light, melodic, but tinged with disbelief.
"You're insane but there's a big problem, genius."
Kael tilted his head. "And what's that?"
Selene crossed her arms, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Location. Where do you think this grand underground organization of yours is going to operate from? And how exactly are we going to contact members? Whisper into the wind and hope they whisper back?"
Kael opened his mouth, then shut it.
She continued, her tone dry.
"You don't really think this will go unnoticed by the higher-ups, do you? The academies, the sects, the royal court?"
Kael sighed, eyes still fixed on the pale twin moons above.
"Haa… this is also something to postpone, I guess."
His voice was quiet, almost wistful.
***
Next morning, Kael woke before the sun.
The air in his room was still, faintly chilled. He dropped to the floor without a word and started doing push-ups, the steady rhythm of movement cutting into the silence.
Each press of his palms to the stone felt like a quiet rebellion—against fate, against his curse, against this world that didn't quite feel like his own.
A soft knock.
The door creaked open.
Selene stepped in wearing her maid uniform, hair neatly tied back, holding a glass of juice with both hands. She looked like she had something to say, but instead, just walked to the table and set it down.
Kael glanced up, smirked. "Didn't know noble maids made house calls."
She rolled her eyes. "Didn't know nobles started mornings with shirtless grunting."
He gave a mock gasp. "So you were watching."
"Only because I feared you'd pass out and bleed on the carpet."
He laughed softly, brushing past her as he took the juice.
"Such concern. Truly touching."
Settling into his chair, Kael reached for the newspaper scroll delivered via spell courier. He flicked his finger across it and watched the day's headlines reveal themselves in glowing ink.
"Noble Claims His Dog Casts Fireball. Investigation Underway."
"Wandering Prophet Predicts the End of the Kingdom. Again."
"Local Villager Mistakes Illusion Spell for Wife. Asks for Divorce."
As usual, the headlines were a buffet of madness.
Suddenly, Kael's eyes caught a small article buried in the corner of the paper.
"Secret Realm Discovered in Mount Veilspire — Entry Allowed Only for Rank 2 or Rank 1 Magicians."
He nudged Selene.
"Hey, did you see this?"
She glanced over, then nodded thoughtfully.
"These kinds of inheritances pop up from time to time. Usually left behind by lone Rank 4 magicians who want to continue their lineage after they're gone."
Kael frowned slightly, processing the weight of that.
Then Selene added, a slight smirk tugging at her lips,
"Actually, this might be good practice for you—to learn how to control your mana output faster."
He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
Selene smiled slightly. "Mount Veilspire is crawling with low rank beasts. You'll get real battle experience—and a better chance to win the duel."
She paused, then added, "As you know, it's always the better and more efficient mana controller who wins battles between magicians."
Kael nodded thoughtfully.
"Alright, I'll bite. Besides, I could use some fresh air anyway."
***
Far away, a carriage rolled steadily along the forested path, its wheels humming with soft magical pulses.
Inside, a group of students sat dressed in the distinguished uniforms of the Magic Academy—robes trimmed with silver thread, bearing the sigils of ancient lineages.
Their instructor, a grim-faced mage with deep-set eyes, broke the silence.
"You must obtain the cursed sword," he said, his voice low and sharp.
A few heads turned. One of them belonged to Princess Elara—the renowned beauty of kingdom Velmora. Her eyes were sharp.
Elara raised an eyebrow.
"What's so important about this sword? We don't even know if it's really there."
The master sighed, weary.
"The sword itself is nothing special. What's sealed inside it… is."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"If it's released, it could shift power across the entire continent."
The carriage fell into tense silence.
A young man leaned forward. Adam, heir of the Duke of the Northern Province—his voice calm but cautious.
"Then why didn't we inform the Emperor?"
The master's eyes narrowed.
"Because if this is real, it's our chance. Our kingdom has fallen behind—broken and brittle. But this…" he gestured as if clutching an invisible future, "this could let us rise again. Overthrow the neighboring kingdoms. Rewrite the balance."
Elara's gaze turned toward the distant veil of mountains, her expression unreadable. But beneath that calm, her mind churned.
She knew better.
By the laws of the Empire—laws carved in golden script and upheld by blood—any discovery of ancient cursed relics, especially those capable of shifting continental power, was to be reported immediately to the Emperor.
And yet, here they were… racing toward Mount Veilspire under the flimsy excuse of a "regular magical inheritance."
She exhaled slowly, remembering her father's words. The King had grown desperate—ambitious. Ever since the kingdom began crumbling under pressure from stronger neighbors, his eyes had turned toward forbidden paths, toward relics that should've remained buried.
Now, he was gambling with an entire generation mages.
And Elara… was one of the pieces on his board.