Leylin stood poised at the edge of the secret plane's entrance, his black robe blending seamlessly with the dim, flickering light cast by the surrounding torches.
The field before Abyssal Bone Forest Academy buzzed with tension, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint tang of magic.
His eyes, sharp and calculating, darted across the gathered acolytes friend and foe alike marking those who bore the subtle glow of magic artifacts.
"A.I. Chip, assist in the recording!" he commanded silently, and the Chip hummed to life, cataloging each acolyte with clinical precision, storing the data for later use.
Chairman Siley's face darkened at the taunts from White-Brows Guru, his bald head gleaming faintly under the overcast sky.
"Enough nonsense," he snapped, waving a hand dismissively. "Let us begin!"
White-Brows Guru and the golden-haired woman from Whitewoods Castle exchanged smirks, their agreement swift.
"Since you insist, how could we refuse?" Guru replied, his voice dripping with mockery. The official Magi from all three academies stepped forward, their movements deliberate as they retrieved an assortment of oddities crystals, bones, vials of shimmering liquid from sacks, robes, and even hidden compartments within their bodies.
They set to work, arranging the items into a sprawling formation on the ground, their hands tracing runes with practiced ease.
Leylin watched intently, his eyes flashing with recognition. "Runes for stability, energy linkage, flame creation—I know these," he murmured, the A.I. Chip diligently recording the intricate patterns. The books from Dylan Gardens had armed him with a solid foundation in magical formations, and this was no enigma to him.
The formation took shape a complex web of glowing lines etched into the earth, pulsing faintly with latent power.
The three chairmen advanced, each drawing a crimson scroll from their robes. Siley's voice boomed first: "With my name, Siley, I summon the Will of Battle roaming the wilderness, activating the glorious and deathly flight of stairs…"
Guru and the woman echoed similar incantations, their voices overlapping as they tore the scrolls asunder.
Bang! Crimson lightning split the sky, a jagged roar that shook the ground. Above the torn scrolls, the void cracked open, a gaping maw spewing thunder and lightning, the air alive with explosive whistles. (Image)
Dozens of seconds later, the chaos subsided, leaving a stable portal shimmering in its wake.
"This is an abandoned secret plane, stripped of resources," Siley declared, turning to Leylin and the Abyssal Bone Forest acolytes. "It's your battlefield now. You're not fragile flowers but fierce lions—hunt, stalk, ambush, and tear your prey apart!" His eyes blazed crimson, a blood-red aura twisting his features into something feral, the intensity sending a shiver through the crowd. (Image)
He dangled promises of rewards—rare materials, advanced knowledge—for every enemy acolyte slain, stoking greed in their eyes. Across the field, Guru and the golden-haired woman delivered their own rallying cries, their acolytes cheering with naive vigor. Leylin's lips curved faintly.
Abyssal Bone Forest leaned hard into the Dark Magi ethos—bloodthirsty, ruthless—while the opposing factions bore the softer stamp of Light Magi, their acolytes lacking the cunning he'd honed.
'Innocent fools,' he thought, his gaze settling on a few Level 3s with weak energy signatures. His goal was clear: amass 50 contribution points for Grine Water, a cover for his true power. Jayden's fate would unfold naturally—he'd ensure the acolyte survived, maimed but alive, for Dorotte's trade.
"Protect your chest badges," Siley barked, waving them forward. "They're your proof of contribution and your way back!" The Abyssal Bone Forest acolytes filed into the portal, their early entry a meager advantage under the Lighthouse of the Night's mediation.
Yet with 200 acolytes per side, the enemy's five-to-sixfold edge in Level 3s dwarfed this boon. The academy's ranks, thinned by war, defections, and distance, stood no chance in a fair fight—a war sparked by Siley's reckless provocations, Leylin knew.
Weng! The portal swallowed him, his vision blackening briefly before he emerged on unfamiliar terrain. A wave of dizziness hit, his stomach lurching. (Image)
[Negative effect detected: Spatial travel aftereffects—dizziness, nausea.] The A.I. Chip's diagnosis steadied him as he slapped his forehead, the sensation easing.
He surveyed the landscape—sparse trees and shrubbery dotted with purple-red, hairy fruit hanging from gnarled branches.
"A.I. Chip, scan the surroundings!" A light blue 3D map flickered before his eyes, revealing no immediate threats. He chanted softly, his magic radiation fading to a whisper, and slipped into the shadows of a thicket to wait.
Elsewhere in the plane, battles erupted—brief, violent clashes staining the earth.
Beside a small pool, its surface rippling under the grey sky, a black-haired acolyte in a dark cloak faced an Abyssal Bone Forest foe.
"Incendium!" he snarled, hurling a Rank 0 fire spell. Flames roared forth, reducing his opponent to ashes in a heartbeat, the air thick with the stench of charred flesh.
He smirked, brushing soot from his hands, when a rustle snapped his head around. "Who?"
A cloaked figure emerged from behind the bushes, features obscured, no badge visible. (Image)
"Get lost or die!" the black-haired acolyte warned, his voice sharp.
The figure ignored him, launching a javelin with a flick of its wrist. He sidestepped, the weapon thudding into the dirt. "You—!"
Fury flared in his eyes as he retaliated, chanting, "Pyro Burst!" A fiery orb shot from his palm, sizzling through the air, followed by an attack potion—a vial of volatile red liquid—that shattered mid-flight, igniting in a blazing arc.
The black-robed figure twisted aside, dodging both with uncanny grace, then morphed—its form swelling into a hulking bear-man hybrid, fur bristling, claws gleaming.
It charged, a roar splitting the silence. Sensing the peril of close combat, the black-haired acolyte fumbled for reagents—crushed ember root and phoenix ash—mixing them as he shouted, "Inferno Spiral!"
A swirling firestorm erupted, its heat scorching the earth. The bear's bulk couldn't evade; the spell struck true, hurling it back in a blaze of smoke and flame.
Smirking, he approached the smoldering heap, confident in his kill. "Level 3, decent haul," he muttered, boots crunching ash. But as he reached the spot, only a charred robe remained—no body, no badge.
"What!" Shock froze him, and before he could recover, a giant snake loomed from behind—black scales glinting, jaws gaping. (Image)
Fangs sank through his skull with a wet crunch, severing his head in an instant, blood spraying across the pool's edge.
Leylin stepped from the darkness, his expression calm as he commanded, "Shadow Stealth." The Black Horrall Snake shimmered, vanishing into the plane's gloom.
He approached the corpse, collecting the academy badge—its metal cool against his fingers—then channeled his soulbound power.
The acolyte's spirit writhed briefly before binding to his soul space, another summon added to his arsenal.
"It's getting fun," he said, a faint grin tugging at his lips, the thrill of the hunt igniting his bloodlust. The bloodbath hosts the finest acolytes in this region, best suited to form Leylin's summon army.