Chapter 1: The Sacrilege and the Departure
Chapter 1: The Sacrilege and the Departure
Althea Magic Academy. Present (14 months after the expulsion)
Charlotte’s room at the Althea Academy was plunged into a deathly silence, barely broken by the almost imperceptible hiss of light filtering through the enchanted windows. She stood by the mahogany desk; her golden hair caught the pale reflections of a dawn that refused to warm the room. Her blue eyes, usually bright with the curiosity of a scholar, scanned without truly seeing the perfectly arranged scrolls and the heraldry books stacked with almost obsessive precision.
A sharp, firm knock echoed against the wood of the door, breaking the spell of her melancholy.
"Miss Charlotte, you have a delivery," a male voice announced from the hallway. "It comes from the outskirts of the Empire."
Upon opening the door, Charlotte met a uniformed beadle who handed her an oak box, heavy and sealed with the official emblem of the long-range transport administration. Her hands trembled slightly as she took the weight of the package. She felt the grain of the wood—cold and strangely familiar.
"William..." she whispered to herself, her throat tightening.
Breaking the seal and opening the lid, she found no gold or jewels, nor the emergency funds the Clan expected to recover. Instead, there was a mountain of scrolls, numbered with meticulous order. Resting right on top of them all was a small, loose note. Unlike what she expected, the words on that scrap of paper were direct, devoid of any aristocratic flourish or pompous greeting:
“I am sending you all these letters together. I've added numbers so you don't get lost in the modest stories of my journey.”
That simple sentence lacked the pomposity of the nobility he usually displayed like a suit of armor. It was the voice of someone tired, or perhaps, the voice of someone who had finally removed a mask he could no longer sustain. Charlotte took the first scroll, marked with the number one, and with her heart hammering against her ribs, she began to read.
[Letter Fragment 1]
Date: Day of Departure.
“Dear Charlotte, I bid farewell to Althea not with sadness, but with the pride of one who has finally completed his cycle. I have decided that this Academy no longer has anything to teach me; its walls have grown too small for my ambition. My departure is the result of a mutual agreement with the Headmistress; she, in her infinite wisdom, understands that a talent as overflowing as mine requires broader horizons to flourish.
I head toward the sun, away from the mediocre gazes that were unable to understand the beauty and the deep symbolism of my final act in the square. Do not try to find me, for I shall be far too busy carving out my own legend in distant lands, where my name shall be recognized for its true value.”
The Reality: 14 Months Ago
The air in the Academy Square tasted of ash and ground bones. It was a metallic, sour taste that stuck to the tongue. Before me, the remains of the legendary Founder's Obelisk—the one that had stood for centuries as a symbol of Imperial dominance—smoldered lazily. Threads of silver light filtered from the cracks, vanishing into the horizon like ancestral wails finally finding their way home.
I felt the first violent tug. The Cursed Chains of the Goddess were invisible to the eyes of the guards beginning to surround me, but to me, they were shackles of violet fire sinking into my shoulders, searing both flesh and soul simultaneously. My mana, which once roared like a tempest capable of leveling mountains, was now nothing more than a dry, dusty well. The curse had stripped me of everything: my talent, my future, and my status. To me, the "Villain" designated by fate, William.
My body, hardened by years of relentless sword training, responded out of pure biological habit. Muscles stayed taut, balance remained firm despite the unbearable pain—a resilience that did not come from magic, but from a discipline that forced me not to fall. My crimson eyes, bloodshot with rage and a cold lucidity, scanned the square without bowing my head even once.
I spat out a thick blood clot and tried to stand upon the rubble of that aberration. Seriously? Who thought of raising a tower with the bones of their enemies and calling it a monument? As the world swayed around me, a voice vibrated in the center of my skull, an ancient frequency no one else could hear.
—Well, so there is someone crazy enough...—
It was a dry voice, like the rustle of a parchment that has been kept for a thousand years. When I struck the pillar, the structure hadn't just broken; it had exploded in a release of trapped souls that temporarily blinded the guards.
—Take it, boy. My technique. Be a ghost amidst the light.—
A sudden cold surrounded my ring finger. An old silver ring appeared out of nowhere, sinking into my skin until it became invisible. [Technique Acquired: Ghost Steps].
"Good thing I got it," I thought to myself as pain clouded my vision. "With this, at least I'll have a chance to survive the hell that's coming."
"Cursed brat! How dare you?!" Screams of fury suddenly filled the air.
As if in a poorly written play, the Academy's elite guards began to emerge from their posts, surrounding both me and the "Hero." The game's protagonist, by the way, was still capable of standing. It wasn't that he had escaped the collapse unscathed, but rather that at that precise moment, he had awakened some kind of ancestral power that allowed him to break his physical limits. It was the typical "Limit Breaker" skill from games; his golden eyes shone with a divine intensity, worthy of the Ducal family that had the Lion as its symbol. It was a painful reminder of the hierarchy: the Lion serves the Imperial Dragon, but the Lion devours traitors.
There was no fair trial. I was restrained with physical suppression chains and dragged, along with the Hero, toward the Academy's Ceremonial Hall. It is an imposing place, with vaulted ceilings representing the constellations and an echo that amplifies even the slightest whisper, designed specifically to humiliate the accused.
We were presented before the Headmistress. There, in front of the Academy's high command, I tried to play my last card with more desperation than I truly felt.
"I am a noble!" I roared, trying to keep my voice from trembling under the weight of the curse. "I have rights! You cannot treat me like a common criminal without a trial by the Council of Nobles!"
The Headmistress, that small figure with silver-white hair, looked at me with a pity that hurt more than the chains. She adjusted her witch's hat and pointed to the Hero, who remained silent beside me, wrapped in that golden aura.
Seriously, Hero, we are in a trial here; at least turn off the buff, I thought with annoyance.
"William," she said, her voice resonating in every corner of the hall, "appealing to your lineage is useless when you face someone with greater backing. The young man beside you is not just a prodigy student. He is the heir to the House of the Lion, whose loyalty to the throne is absolute and whose protection has been decreed directly by the Imperial family. You destroyed a symbol of the Empire; he tried to protect it. Your title of nobility was revoked the moment the first bone of the obelisk touched the ground."
Come on, even you admit that thing is made of bone; say it without letting it show how disgusted you are, O magnanimous Headmistress, I said mentally.
The silence that followed was absolute. I realized that my plan was in motion—with some setbacks, but in motion. The game's protagonist had the "plot armor" of social status on his side. The symbol of the Lion weighed more than my history. Which was exactly what I wanted; with this, she should...
"You are expelled," the Headmistress sentenced, interrupting my thoughts. "You will be handed over to the Imperial guards so that the Emperor and the Council may decide your punishment."
Escorted by guards, I passed by someone I knew very well. My eyes met Fenris's. There was no hate in his wolf-like features, only a desperate rage. His claws were dug into his own palms, drawing blood. He wasn't furious because of the pillar's destruction; he was furious because he knew I had just fulfilled a promise made during a night of drinking.
"You already know what comes next," I whispered as I passed him, without breaking my stride.
I was transported from the Academy to the Empire's prison, completely ignoring my noble status. Come on, even a minor Baron gets more respect than I do. I was thrown into a cell in the depths of the prison. It was a damp place, where the walls were enchanted to absorb any trace of mana. But they didn't know that I knew the Imperial infrastructures better than anyone; I had spent hundreds of hours studying the maps of the game Chronicles of a Hero.
In the right corner of the cell, under a stone that looked identical to the rest, lay my escape route. I had planned this months ago when I was thinking about my escape. Ironically, the Empire's prison was easier to escape from than the Academy.
I activated a hidden mechanism, a small iron lever hidden by a low-level illusion that the guards had overlooked. The wall slid with a dull groan, revealing a narrow tunnel that smelled of earth and mold.
"Seriously, how did they not notice it? I practically have two guards in my line of sight..." I muttered, crawling through the passage while the pain in my ribs reminded me of my fragility.
I walked toward the slums, emerging through a ventilation duct in a foul alleyway. There, just as planned, a mage I had secretly hired waited for me, guarding a transportation circle hidden under mounds of trash and sacks of rotting grain.
"Are you sure, young master?" the mage asked with a trembling voice upon seeing my state. "Xitalia is a kingdom of barbarians and monsters. On the other side of the world, no one will be able to protect you."
"That is the point," I replied, resting my hand on the hilt of my black iron sword, the only object I was able to recover thanks to a previous hiding spot. "In this world set to its most difficult version, magic is a luxury my body can no longer process. If I want to complete the DLCs and save this world from what is coming, I will have to do it at the cost of sweat and blood."
The circle shined with a dying light. Space twisted. My last vision of the Empire was the Headmistress's face, watching me from the highest tower through a window. Her amethyst eyes met my blood-colored ones. I narrowed my eyes and brought a finger to my lips, asking for her silence. I saw her eyes widen in shock as she finally understood that even my capture and escape had been part of a choreography she was only beginning to decipher.
When my feet touched solid ground again, the air was different. It was the biting, ruthless cold of the Xitalia borders. A new ring shined on my hand before hiding itself. The journey of "Filian" had just begun.
