Above the entrance into the tent, grotesque yet elegant bloody red letters were arranged to form:
"Myriad Demons Academy"
The letters looked as if they'd been written in real blood—fresh, wet, and still dripping. Most candidates passing by turned away in discomfort, their faces pale with revulsion.
But Mortis?
He found it… strangely enchanting and beautiful.
'Why are they all so disgusted and afraid?' he wondered with a furrowed brow. 'It's just blood… at most. Not like it's going to bite you.'
He shook his head at the others' cowardice and stepped forward, entering the tent.
The moment he crossed the threshold, a cold aura washed over him, thick with the scent of blood. But instead of repulsing him, it felt—refreshing. Invigorating. Like the place itself was made for him.
"This... this feels pretty good," Mortis thought. "This must be another effect of having blood element affinity."
A voice echoed suddenly through the gloom.
"Finally… I was beginning to think that not even one candidate would come today. Hahaha… Well, aside from the few who arrived early, because they already decided to join us even before the event began."
Mortis's eyes darted around, but he saw no one.
"Huh? Where are you?" he asked, startled.
Just as he said that, a person suddenly materialized right before him out of nowhere, as if he had been there the whole time.
"Right here," the man said calmly.
Mortis nearly instinctively stepped back, but managed to stop himself. He took a breath and steadied his stance.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice cautious but composed.
The figure offered a faint, false smile.
"Ahh… Let me introduce myself. I'm a professor of the Myriad Demons Academy. You may call me Abarran."
Mortis took a closer look at the man or what appeared to be a man.
Abarran looked to be in his early thirties, but still full of youthful energy. But something about him was off.
Abarran's skin was pale, almost gray. Faint, jagged veins pulsed faintly beneath the surface, especially around his temples and neck, like cracks in porcelain filled with dark ink.
His eyes were a mismatched. One glowed with a flickering red glow, like a dying ember refusing to go out. The other was pitch black, like a bottomless void.
His shoulder-length hair was jet-black and messy, sticking out in random angles as if he had taken care of them. He wore tattered black leather armor stitched together in strange, asymmetrical patterns. A thick belt clung to his waist, lined with torturing tools and vials filled with unknown, shifting liquids.
Mortis stared for a moment, unsure if what stood before him was even human. Between the unnatural aura, the appearance, and the way Abarran had appeared he looked more like a ghost than a human.
Finishing his quick examination, Mortis offered a deep bow and said respectfully, "Greetings, most esteemed Sir Abarran. My name is Mortis Nacht, and I'm truly grateful for the opportunity to meet you."
'I wonder what level of Magus he's at… and how he did that thing, appearing from nowhere like a shadow…'
Abarran simply nodded, a minimal yet oddly dignified response.
"You've come here… which means you intend to join the Myriad Demons Academy. Am I correct?" His voice was hollow yet resonant, like a whisper echoing through a crypt.
Mortis hesitated only slightly, then replied, "Before that, if possible, I'd like to know more about the academy—its specializations, rules, structure… everything that's important for a potential student."
Abarran let out a faint chuckle. "That will not be a problem."
He reached into the pocket of his pants and retrieved an old dusty parchment. As he handed it over to Mortis, he began to speak in a slow, measured tone, each word carrying weight.
"The Myriad Demons Academy is one of the foremost organizations among the Dark Magi. We uphold a core ideology—The stronger one is always the right one. The strong thrive, the weak submit. However, even though we uphold this, as an organization we must have some rules within our walls, however… flexible they may be."
Mortis began reading the parchment carefully, scanning each line while Abarran continued speaking, explaining in his own words:
"We specialize in the Dark, Shadow, and Blood elements. Those with affinities toward these paths will find themselves welcomed and slowly shaped into Official Magi with enough luck."
"Once accepted into our academy, you'll gain access to:
A set of Magus Apprentice-level meditation techniques tailored to our elements Mentor of your choosing who will aid you on your path to reach Official Magus Free participation in basic lessons and lectures Lodging and food, provided for three years—basic but sufficient
And after the three years, if you won't manage to become an Official Magus until then, you'll be expected to earn your place by yourself. Either secure your own residence or pay for continued housing through contribution points, which you can acquire by completing missions and assignments issued by the academy."
Mortis nodded slowly, absorbing every word while his eyes darted across the parchment, comparing it with what Abarran was saying.
"We also allow you to trade spiritual crystals for restricted knowledge, rare resources, custom items, or private lessons, either from professors or the academy treasury."
Mortis quickly realized that Abarran was summarizing the parchment almost word after word in his own phrasing, perhaps, but the meaning was exactly the same. In terms of structure, it was fairly standard for a Dark Magi organization. The rules were simple, clear… and far more lenient than those of the Light Magi institutions, which were infamous for their suffocating order and rigid discipline.
"I understand the basic terms now," Mortis said calmly. "May I ask, what kind of payment is required to enter the Myriad Demons Academy?"
Abarran casually waved with his pale hand, his black and red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
"Nothing special. You simply need to have suitable affinity, or an aptitude of at least rank C. If you meet both criteria, you'll be admitted without any issue. Otherwise, we accept a payment of ten spiritual crystals… or something of equal value."
"I meet both requirements," Mortis replied confidently. "So, I'd like to join based on that."
"Naturally," Abarran nodded, his sharp smile returning. "Then just show me your form. I'll verify everything, and if it's all in order, we'll proceed with the contract right away."
Without hesitation, Mortis handed over the form he had received during the evaluation.
Abarran looked over it quickly but carefully. His mismatched eyes darted across the details, and then he looked back at Mortis with an approving grin.
"Your aptitude and affinities are impressive. You'll fit in quite well here."
He handed the form back, then retrieved a dark parchment, marked with the academy's blood-red insignia: a twisted sigil resembling a coiled serpent with seven wings.
"Here's the contract," Abarran said. "Fill in the required details and return it to me. I'll make sure everything is in order."
Mortis nodded, took the parchment, and filled it out quickly but thoroughly. The questions were basic—name, background, aptitude, elemental affinities, and a few others. When he was done, he handed the document back.
Abarran scanned it once more, then took a small, curved dagger from his belt.
"Now… your signature," he said, offering the dagger to Mortis.
Mortis didn't flinch. He took the dagger, lightly sliced his finger, and let a drop of blood fall onto the designated spot on the parchment. The ink glowed faintly as the contract absorbed the blood, and the entire document pulsed once with crimson light.
"Good," Abarran said with satisfaction. "It's done."
He rolled up the contract and placed it into a black scroll tube, then looked at Mortis one final time.
"From this moment onward, you are officially a member of the Myriad Demons Academy. We depart at dawn, along with the other new recruits. An airship will take us directly to the academy grounds. So, prepare yourself to depart."