Years.
It had been years since that fateful and dreadful night.
The night I had lost everything.
Four years of my life I've been planning, analyzing, conceptualizing the number of scenarios in which I can enact my plan. My revenge. My victory. I'm no longer the noble son of Duke Valorian nor the heir to the throne of House Valoria. That person had died along with my family, burned to ash, obliterated in front of my eyes. I had become something else now. Something more dangerous. Something more... determined.
Dicartha had pronounced Ryuji Valorian dead alongside his family in that fire, a memory that still haunted me in every way. Headmaster Merlin made sure I recovered well, physically, spiritually, and mentally. I still had many questions left unresolved. Being the Sovereign of Fate.. what did it truly mean? Out of all individuals in my former world why was I the one chosen for the task?
I thought I could find out the answer to those questions as soon as I return to Dicartha, but for now I was here. In the mystical nation of Asolde governed by House Asolde.
I had forged a new identity here in Asolde where I spent the last four years growing, forgetting, learning, but old wounds open up once in a while. Prince Gray made sure I was comfortable in my new life as a way to repay me for saving his life back in the Gray Zone, the border between the nation of Dicartha and Asolde.
Sure enough being a professor was definitely not on the list of identities I had but I made it work. Prince Gray as helpful as he is helped create every document I needed to live out my new life here in Asolde. From the certificate of my birth to my credentials as a professor and my citizenship I eventually enlisted in the academy.
I entered the pristine halls of the Mage Academy of Asolde, it was no different than the Mage Academy in Dicartha. The classrooms, designs, and space of the academy were just as elegant as Dicartha's. It truly felt like I was revisiting the old academy and so did my memories of it start to flood up in my mind. Selene. Shinzo. Zeke.
I shook the feeling off as I passed through the classrooms, eventually arriving in my assigned one to lecture as an Arcanian Script formed in front of the room.
[Arcanian Script: Environmental Visualization]
Status: Active
Target: Classroom of Arcane Affinities
[Description: Classroom Overview]
The room itself was spacious, with high, vaulted ceilings that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. The walls were lined with ancient wooden shelves, their surfaces dark and polished with time. The shelves were cluttered with various arcane tomes and jars filled with herbs and potions in various stages of preparation. Their faint, sweet scent mixed with the more pungent aroma of iron and metal tools on nearby workstations.
At the far end of the room, windows large enough to let in a flood of natural light framed a view of the sprawling garden outside. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves shimmering with an ethereal glow, a reminder of the world of magic that existed just beyond this one.
The long, dark oak desks were arranged in neat rows, and each desk had its own set of parchment, quills, and inkwells, scattered with the remnants of previous lessons. Some desks were adorned with strange, intricate diagrams drawn in chalk, symbols that only the more advanced students could understand. Above each desk hung small, glowing orbs that floated lazily in the air, providing a soft illumination.
The far wall was adorned with a large chalkboard that was covered in complex elemental equations, magic symbols, and diagrams of affinity transmutations. Beside it, a smaller shelf held vials of different colored liquids, their contents flickering like tiny stars within glass.
The faint sound of a bubbling potion echoed from the far corner where a cauldron sat. It was half-hidden behind a curtain of ivy growing from an ancient stone wall. The ivy was enchanted to grow only in specific conditions, creating an atmosphere of calm and quiet.
The classroom was silent, save for the occasional rustle of parchment and the scratching of quills on paper. I stood before my students, eyes scanning the sea of faces. Some were eager, others distracted, but all were here to learn from me. The youngest professor in Asolde's branch of the mage academy.
"Arcana," I began, my voice steady. "It is not just a tool, nor simply a weapon. It is the very fabric of our existence. To wield it is to wield the world around you." I tapped my desk with a finger, the sound echoing slightly in the room.
"Now, tell me," I continued, turning to the chalkboard behind me, where several symbols were drawn out. "Which affinity do you believe is the most difficult to master?"
A hand shot up. "Fire, sir! Definitely fire. The power is immense, but it's also erratic."
I shook my head, smiling slightly. "Incorrect. Fire is volatile, yes, but it is also one of the more intuitive affinities to grasp."
The students exchanged confused looks. I turned and began writing the symbol for Water on the board. "Water," I said, my voice quieter now, almost contemplative. "Water is the most difficult to master. It requires patience, control, and, above all... an understanding of yourself. Many of you will try to force it, to control it with brute force. But in the end, it's water that controls you."
Laughter rippled through the class, students murmuring their agreement. "It's true," one of them added, and they all nodded, feeling the weight of the lesson.
"Water," I continued, "is not just a force. It is a reflection of the soul itself." I paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before I turned to face them once again. "You must let it flow through you, not around you. Let it become a part of you. Only then will you understand its true power."
The class was quiet now, most of the students deep in thought. I gave them a few moments before I smiled again, the mask of my professionalism slipping ever so slightly.
"Alright, back to your studies," I said, dismissing the class. They filed out one by one, leaving me alone in the quiet room.
I sat at my desk, my thoughts already drifting to the next task at hand. A gentle knock echoed through the door before it creaked open, revealing Tess, my personal assistant. She had been with me since I arrived in Asolde, and I had come to trust her with everything. She was sharp, efficient, and knew when to leave me alone and when to deliver bad news.
"Professor Dorian," she began, her expression serious. "You have visitors. Headmaster Merlin and Prince Gray have arrived. They say they have urgent news."
I stood up immediately. "What is it?"
Tess hesitated, her eyes flickering with concern. "It's Zedd. He's back."
A chill ran down my spine. Zedd. The name was like a razor blade against my skin, cutting through the calm I had worked so hard to build. I hadn't used a fate script in four years, hadn't needed to. But Zedd... Zedd was different. A monster in which the only words I could describe his very existence were unsettling, gruesome, cruel.
"Get them to my office," I ordered, my voice colder than I intended.
Moments later, Headmaster Merlin and Prince Gray entered, the latter's ever-present calm demeanor a stark contrast to the tension radiating from both men. Merlin held his grimoire, the magical book humming with power. Without a word, he opened it, and a projection flickered to life in front of me, a gruesome scene. In the outskirts of the land of Servantia, two grandmaster mages, once revered for their abilities, now turned into grotesque blood soldiers, their bodies twisted and reanimated by Zedd's dark influence.
I clenched my fists. The images were too much, too real. The mages' faces were contorted in agony, their wills completely erased. It was a warning.
"Zedd's power has grown," Merlin said quietly, closing the grimoire with a snap. "We thought the fateweavers were inactive, but it seems we were wrong. He's using his power to raise the dead, to forge an army of blood soldiers."
"How long until he reaches the main city of Asolde?" I asked, my voice a low growl.
Prince Gray stepped forward, his face grim. "Two days. He's been tracked to the Foxtrot region—where the pubs are active. He's gathered a following there, and... he's brought with him uninvited guests."
I didn't like the sound of that. "Uninvited guests?"
"The Seven Deadly Sins," Merlin said, his tone heavy with foreboding. "Minions of the fateweavers. They're dangerous—more so than you can imagine. If they're with Zedd, then the threat is far more significant than we thought."
Later that evening, I stood at the window of my office, gazing out at the sprawling city of Asolde. My hands were clasped behind my back, fingers curling into fists. Zedd was coming, and with him, an army.
I thought back to the man I used to be. The boy from Dicartha. The heir to House Valoria. That person was gone. In his place was Rye Dorian—Professor, strategist, and now... someone who would stop at nothing to prevent Zedd from reaching Asolde.
"Professor," Tess's voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me from my reverie. "You've been quiet for too long. What will we do?"
I turned to face her, my eyes steely with determination. "We prepare. And when Zedd comes, we will stop him."
That night, I lay in my bed, my thoughts racing as I drifted off to sleep. I had not had a peaceful night in years, not since that night of devastation. But tonight, the dreams came again. The familiar voice. The same haunting face.
My fourteen-year-old self stood before me, looking exactly as I remembered. The disgruntled office worker, the man who had given up on life before all of this had started.
"You didn't have to go this far," my younger self said, his voice bitter. "You've changed. You've become someone else... But what for? Is this really worth it?"
I swallowed, my throat dry. "You don't understand," I whispered. "I have to do this. They took everything from me."
I turned to my left to see a figure in a business suit, eyes tired with a exhausted look on his face.
Hayashi, the man I used to be, narrowed his eyes. "And what will you become when it's all over? When you've lost everything else?"
I didn't have an answer for him. For any of us. All I knew was if I could beat that monster, I would have a chance at redemption.
I couldn't let Zedd continue his reign of terror. I couldn't let him take any more lives, destroy any more futures.
So, as my past self stood there, fading into the shadows of my mind, I made my decision.
"I'll do whatever it takes," I said, my voice steady. "I'll become whatever I need to, to stop him. No matter what it costs."
With those final words, my younger self faded into the darkness, leaving me alone in my thoughts.
But for the first time in years, I felt something more than just cold resolve. A fire, slow, but undeniable had began to burn deep inside me. The spark of hope. Of purpose.
I had no idea what would happen after I faced Zedd, after I confronted everything that had been ripped away from me. But one thing was certain. I wasn't the same person I had been.
The past was gone. And so was the boy from Dicartha.