In the darkness,
Cyan panted slightly after their intense exertion.
His right hand caressed Lina's fragrant shoulder, and with his keen night vision, he caught a glimpse of a faint blush on her skin.
After a long silence, Cyan finally confessed everything to Lina.
He had arrived in the Underdark at the age of six, and at eight, Lina had taken him in. Since then, they had lived together for twelve years.
Twelve years—that accounted for three-fifths of Cyan's short twenty-year life.
In the end, he couldn't bring himself to betray Lina.
By laying everything bare, Cyan had also steeled himself to sever ties with his senior sister.
Yet, to his astonishment, when he revealed everything, Lina remained eerily calm—far from the fury he had anticipated.
Only the flicker of something strange in her eyes betrayed that her emotions were anything but tranquil.
"What do you plan to do?" Lina suddenly asked.
Cyan had a hunch that if he said he wanted to fight his senior sister, Lina would gladly become his accomplice.
But of course, he wouldn't say that. Even if he broke with his senior sister, the bond of their shared master's lineage would remain.
At most, their interactions would grow distant, no longer as frequent as before.
Truth be told, Master Mosido and senior brother Zorro were both extremely busy.
Since joining Mosido's tutelage, the person Cyan had conversed with the most was his senior sister, Faye.
"I plan to reject her," Cyan said earnestly.
Even in the dark, Lina could see the clarity in his eyes.
He wasn't lying to her—she could tell.
But what Cyan didn't expect was that, after a moment, Lina shook her head and said, "I think you should go."
"It's just… It won't cost you anything."
"On the contrary, having that kind of relationship with your senior sister might make your life under Master Mosido easier," Lina reasoned.
Her words left Cyan utterly incredulous.
"You… don't mind this?" he asked, stunned.
Lina shot him a glance. "Of course I mind! If I were a full-fledged dark magus, I'd hang that senior sister of yours up and whip her."
"But in the Underdark, survival comes first, doesn't it?" She sighed.
"I know you've always wanted to return to the surface. You've even asked your master before about where we, the dark magic apprentices, originally came from in the Wizarding World."
"Being an advanced apprentice isn't our end goal. Only by reaching quasi-magus or even full magus strength can you find your way home."
Lena leaned into Cyan's embrace with a soft sigh.
The warmth of her body against his sent a surge of emotion through Cyan.
He tightened his arms around her and whispered into her ear, so softly only she could hear, "To me, wherever you are is home."
His words ignited the fire between them once more.
Lost in passion, neither could restrain themselves.
The muffled gasps and the creaking of the bed filled the night—another long, exhausting evening.
Three days later, Cyan arrived at Senior Sister Faye's dormitory as promised.
Her building stood at the very end of the apprentice quarters, housing fewer than thirty students in total.
Faye's room was on the second floor, the first door on the left.
Cyan had been here once before—two years ago, when he helped her move some bulky experimental equipment.
Among advanced apprentices, Faye was undoubtedly one of the strongest, evidenced by her repeated victories in the academy's reward competitions.
Of course, that assessment included the arsenal of magical artifacts she possessed.
Of Master Mosido's three disciples, Faye was the only one who dared to act spoiled with him—even bold enough to demand magical items outright.
Over the years, more than seventy percent of the "trinkets" Mosido casually crafted had ended up in Faye's pockets.
Cyan didn't know exactly how many magical artifacts she owned, but he had personally seen at least three high-tier items in her hands—each comparable in quality to the Acid Staff.
Faye was, without a doubt, the most affluent and privileged apprentice in the Black Magic Academy.
When she had once remarked that Cyan was getting a bargain, she hadn't been exaggerating.
With heavy steps and a strange mix of emotions, Cyan reached Faye's door and knocked lightly.
The dormitory was nearly empty at this hour, making the sound of his knock unnervingly clear.
Most residents here were advanced apprentices or quasi-magi.
Cyan couldn't help but wonder if some bored onlooker might notice his presence—an intermediate apprentice—and silently scorn him for being here.
Less than three seconds later, the door swung open.
Faye stood before him, clad in a white, lacy home dress rather than her usual mage robes.
The sight left Cyan momentarily stunned.
His reaction brought a flush to Faye's cheeks.
Without a word, she yanked him inside, and the door slammed shut behind them.
Cyan's suspicions were correct—someone had noticed.
A quasi-magus residing directly above Faye's room, a necromancer by specialization, observed the scene with interest.
He had another identity: the chief disciple of the dark magus Corsolon—and the senior brother of Mike, the advanced apprentice who had fought Lina to a standstill years ago during the academy trials.
"Tsk, tsk. So the old woman finally couldn't hold back anymore."
"Who's that kid? Looks tender enough."
"Poor Airon… We even went on an academy mission together back then. That woman was our shared pursuit."
"But twenty years have passed. You died early, and I lost interest in such things."
"Who'd have thought some fresh-faced newcomer would get the prize instead."
The quasi-magus shook his "head" with a sigh.
His appearance was far from human—a testament to Corsolon's infamous penchant for limb-replacement experiments on his disciples.
Mike, the "Death's Hand," with his four arms, had gotten off lightly.
This quasi-magus, however, had been rebuilt from the inside out—organs, skin, everything.
Disgusting layers of gray hide replaced his hair, draping past his height and giving him the appearance of a shaggy monstrosity.
Yet this very disguise allowed him to walk the academy grounds without terrifying the younger apprentices—though he rarely left his room unless summoned by Corsolon.
The grumblings of a bored quasi-magus had no bearing on the scene unfolding below.
By now, Cyan found himself backed against the bed by his senior sister.