The first frost of winter kissed the battlements of the Grand Arcanum. Snow had yet to fall, but the chill in the wind carried omens heavier than steel. After the revelation in the ruins of Maelthas, the academy's once vibrant atmosphere had shifted. Whispers spread like wildfire of ancient powers, of rising darkness, of a student who might be more than he appeared.
Loyaid Floyen stood in the Academy's central courtyard, a quiet figure amid the storm of speculation. His identity, once carefully buried beneath a layer of mediocrity and silence, now threatened to ignite the very world he had hoped to leave behind.
Are you going to stay hidden again? Celia asked, stepping beside him. Her voice was quieter now, more reverent. She wasn't just speaking to Loyaid the student anymore she was speaking to Max Van, the legend reborn.
No. That's over.
He turned toward the Tower of Binding, where a new trial awaited a magical evaluation ordered by the Mage Council itself. The council wanted to confirm the rumors. They wanted to see for themselves if Loyaid truly bore the soul of the Archmage who had once stood against the Demon King.
.....
The chamber was circular, its floor etched with thousands of runes, layered spells, and enchantments designed to strip a mage bare of lies, of illusions, of masks.
Twelve council members stood on raised platforms, each a master of an element or arcane school. Dravion, the headmaster, stood silently at the center.
Loyaid Floyen, a voice called. You will now submit your mana to the Sigil of Veritas. No resistance. No falsehood.
He stepped forward.
The moment his hand touched the sigil, a shock tore through the chamber. Lights flared. Sigils trembled. Magic that had remained dormant for centuries reacted violently. The runes beneath Loyaid's feet glowed not with one color but with all.
Cascading auroras of fire, water, shadow, light, earth, wind, and void energy swirled around him. Every arcane affinity recognized him.
Gasps erupted from the audience. Even the stoic council members took a step back.
This… this should be impossible,one whispered.
Dravion closed his eyes. No. It's not impossible. It's merely forgotten.
Celia watched from the gallery, her heart pounding. It was true. All of it. The boy she'd befriended was the man from the myths the Sage who had rewritten the laws of magic itself.
But the sigil did not stop there. It pulsed again and for a moment, the projection of a burning crown shimmered above Loyaid's head.
The Demon King's curse.
A mark.
A prophecy.
A reminder that Max Van had never truly escaped the darkness that sought him.
The room fell into chaos.
Mages shouted. A fire spell accidentally discharged from a shaken council member's staff. Protective barriers snapped into place. Loyaid remained still in the eye of the storm.
And then, he spoke. his voice calm, but imbued with ancient resonance.
I did not return to bring war. But if war follows me, I will not ....
...
Within days, the empire's inner circle was divided. Some saw Loyaid as a messiah the only hope to stop the returning darkness. Others saw him as a threat, a vessel of a cursed soul, doomed to draw calamity.
Loyaid received messages from royal envoys, forbidden cults, and ancient sects. Some offered allegiance, some offered chains. One letter bore no name only a bloodstained seal and a single phrase:When the star burns again, the abyss opens.
Dravion imposed martial law within the academy. Spies had already begun infiltrating. One attempt on Loyaid's life was thwarted by Myrren, who had since pledged himself to Loyaid's cause.
I don't care who you were, Myrren said.Only what you're willing to become now.
Celia took charge of a small group known as the Arcane Watch young, loyal students who swore to protect Loyaid and the academy. With Elira's help, they began rooting out traitors and reinforcing protective wards.
Meetings turned to arguments. Senators debated whether Loyaid should be weaponized or contained. A proposal was even made to exile him until Celia delivered a scathing address that left the chamber silent.
He chose peace. And still you plot war.
But whispers of war loomed closer. The Mage Council was fracturing. Loyaid's presence had become more than a symbol it was a catalyst.
.....
In the desolate region of Kaer'Thal, black winds howled over scorched earth. There, from the Gate of Blight, the first of the Twelve Demon Commanders stirred.
[Vornak the Dreadflame].. a being of fire and decay, stepped into the mortal realm.
His flesh was molten ash. His armor, fused bone and embersteel. From his chest pulsed the shard of a dark relic. one of the Demon King's heartstones.
The Archmage lives, he rasped, eyes glowing like dying stars. Then let us finish what our King began.
With him marched legions. twisted horrors born from demonic magic and human sacrifice. They consumed villages in silence, raising no alarms until it was too late.
His target: The city of Velnor, closest to the Academy.
By the time scouts reported the attack, Velnor's outer defenses were gone.
.......
Back at the Grand Arcanum, the scent of ink, sweat, and ozone filled the air as Loyaid began training harder than ever. Not just with Celia, but with all five original team members. They forged new tactics, blending elemental styles, ancient relics, and forbidden techniques.
Celia unlocked her latent potential divine affinity. Her lineage, long suspected, was now confirmed. She was a descendant of the Celestials, those rare beings once considered gods. Her magic glowed with a golden hue, and when she healed now, the wounds vanished as if time had reversed.
Elira, driven by the loss in Maelthas, swore an oath to heal the living and destroy the unnatural. She uncovered a forgotten school of spirit-binding magic that could cleanse or banish corrupted souls.
Brant, grudgingly loyal, trained under earth-forging masters. His body began to harden like stone; his punches could crack enchanted barriers.
Reich refined aerial scouting and high-speed battle. He developed a battle suit embedded with windstones, allowing for near-invisible movement and sonic speed.
Myrren delved deeper into necromancy summoning echoes of warriors from past ages. One of them, a shadow of a once-proud knight named Velthar, began teaching him how to command armies of the dead with precision.
And Loyaid… he began to remember more.
The lost spells.
The sacred runes.
The whispered regrets.
The mistakes that led to the Demon King's rise.
One night, he stood in front of the statue of Max Van his past self.
I failed once,he whispered. I won't again.
And then, he began to carve a new sigil one not seen in any tome or scroll. A blend of divine, elemental, and forbidden magics. It pulsed with promise. And warning.
....
As Velnor burned, messages arrived at the academy from across the empire. Cities were bracing for invasion. Some had already fallen. Refugees fled toward the heartlands, whispering of monsters in the fog, of crimson skies, of a horned shadow riding fire.
Dravion convened an emergency war council. Loyaid was granted command of a provisional unit prelude to war.
Lead them, Dravion said. And show them why they called you Sage.
Outside the Tower of Stars, the Arcane Watch knelt before Loyaid.
We follow you,Celia said. To the end.
And far away, beneath a throne of bone and despair, the Demon King stirred.
His voice, barely more than a breath, echoed through the abyss:
Soon....
.......