Demisore Magic Academy, the most prestigious and ancient magic institution in the Kingdom of Fiore.
Few know that, long ago, Demisore bore another name: Mildian Academy.
Four hundred years ago, even the mighty dragons faced near extinction. By all accounts, this ancient academy should have been buried in the ruins of history. Yet, it endures to this day, thanks to one man—the most legendary dark wizard in magical history: Zeref.
As a young boy, Zeref studied magic here. His brilliance in theory, research, and spellcraft far surpassed his peers, earning him the title of the greatest genius in history.
His masterpieces, like the R-System for reviving the dead and the Eclipse Gate for time travel, were born during his time at this academy.
Of course, these achievements had little to do with the academy itself. Its sole role was to provide Zeref a place to learn magic, nurture his growth, and witness his ascent as he brushed against the boundaries of life and death—only to see him cursed by Ankhseram, claiming the lives of every teacher and student in the academy.
After that tragedy, the academy lay abandoned for ages.
Until one day, a group of seekers chasing ancient magic stumbled upon it. They discovered the forgotten magical tomes left behind and were overjoyed. On the ruins of the old academy, they rebuilt, recruited students, and gave it a new name: Demisore Magic Academy.
Over centuries, Demisore became a beacon for aspiring wizards, producing countless talents. For instance, three of the four leaders overseeing this year's entrance exam—excluding Jura—were former students here.
Nestled between mountains and rivers, the academy was surrounded by magical beasts in the hills and rare stones and herbs in the waters. Cutting-edge magical technology wove through its uniquely shaped buildings, exuding an aura of grandeur, sophistication, and understated luxury.
On a typical day, students would be discussing magic, teachers researching technology. Some students sparred while instructors guided them; others worked hard while teachers lent a hand. They learned and grew together, occasionally stealing moments to fall in love, living a serene, idyllic, almost reclusive life.
Each year, new students arrived, and graduates went on to serve Fiore, educating gifted children and producing exceptional wizards.
But today, that peaceful scene was shattered.
During the annual entrance exam, the centuries-old academy fell under attack by the dark guild Grimoire Heart!
Boom! Crash! Bang!
The sight was one of ruin—crumbled buildings, shattered statues, cooling corpses, and comrades fighting desperately. The familiar landscape was gone, replaced by a vision of hell.
The sounds were of slaughter and screams—clashing magic, cries for help, anguished wails, and the mad laughter of destruction sweeping the academy. It was a nightmare come to life.
A magical war filled with blood and tears flooded the once-tranquil academy, sowing the darkest seeds of vengeance and hatred.
Black flames rained down like a meteor shower, crashing into the ruins, leaving uneven craters or reducing grass and trees to ash.
The black flames seemed to blot out the sunlight. A wild figure laughed maniacally. "Hahaha!! Come on, come on!! I'll burn you all to cinders!!"
"God Slayer: Flame God's Bellow!"
Zancrow spewed torrents of black flame from his mouth. The flames burned at an unearthly temperature, unquenchable, reducing everything in their path to charred husks.
"Damn it… why doesn't water magic work on these black flames?!"
"Don't use fire magic! He'll absorb it—it's God Slayer magic!"
"How did they breach the defensive barrier and get into the academy?!"
"Hold on! We have to hold out until the headmistress returns! She'll save us!"
Boom!
Before one could finish, a shadowy figure struck from behind, sending them flying.
"Too bad—you won't last that long!"
Zancrow, the most reckless and destructive of the Seven Kin, wielded God Slayer magic that made him see the weak as mere ants. "Hahaha!! Burn to ash!!"
Black flames flared in his hands again, his face twisted in a cruel, crazed grin. With a brief charge, he hurled the flames like a divine calamity toward the academy's defenders.
"God Slayer: Kagutsuchi!"
Kagutsuchi, the mythical fire god, lent his name to a spell of devastating power.
The academy's defenders shouted, "No! Dodge it!!"
But it was too late.
The black flames' power was unimaginable, far beyond ordinary fire magic. Everything in their path disintegrated in moments, reduced to ash.
Just as the ferocious black-flame beast was about to claim a young life, a white magic circle appeared out of nowhere. Mysterious runes linked together, forming a solid magical cage that trapped the flying flames mid-air.
The survivors, trembling, gasped, "We're… we're saved…"
"Who's that?!" Zancrow snarled, stunned that his magic had been stopped.
Before he could react, a powerful, oppressive magical aura descended from the sky, pressing down like an invisible mountain, pinning him in place.
Zancrow's expression shifted. "What's this pressure? Who is it? The academy's headmistress?"
Before he could dwell on it, a massive circular magic circle, five meters wide, materialized beneath his feet. It was inscribed with dense, incomprehensible runes glowing white. In an instant, the light solidified, transforming into an unyielding cage.
The magic was grand, holy, almost divine.
But Zancrow wasn't intimidated—it only fueled his bloodlust. I wield God Slayer magic!!
He stomped his right foot, cracking the ground. Black flames surged around him, cloaking him like a lord of fire from a dark abyss. His magic gathered.
"God Slayer: Great Blade!!"
A powerful spell erupted, forming a massive black-flame blade in his hands, aimed at shattering the magical cage around him.
The black flames swelled outward, while white light pressed inward. The opposing forces clashed like dueling bulls, briefly locked in a stalemate before canceling each other out in a magical hurricane, kicking up clouds of dust and debris.
The quick-witted fled immediately, while the worried or slower ones stayed rooted, staring blankly.
When the dust settled, two figures emerged—one old, one young.
Zancrow laughed wildly. "Heh heh heh… so it's you, old man, blocking my way?"
The survivors gasped, recognizing the elderly figure shielding them. "You… you're Chairman Gran Doma from the Magic Council?!"
"Leave him to me! Go help the others!"
His voice was low, aged, yet resonant with power and simmering rage.
Gone was the kindness one might expect from an elder. Gran Doma's eyes were sharp, his presence fierce. His white beard trembled with anger, his hair bristling. His bandaged hand, gripping a snake-headed staff, shook with effort as holy white magic radiated uncontrollably from his body, hands, and staff.
"The dark guild Grimoire Heart… you vile wizards!! Today, I'll crush you where you stand!!"
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