At the academy grounds, you could always meet all kinds of people—inside and out.
Classes at the academy wouldn't begin for another week, so some support sessions were being held for students lacking in the academic department.
And of course, since Arsene was new here—in both the academy and this world—he had to attend these sessions. He wasn't obligated, but it was the least he could do.
At the very least, he had to do something in return. But in this life, he wasn't only prepared to do something—he was prepared to give much more in exchange.
Considering they were just support classes, he didn't expect such a large turnout. Most people, he figured, wouldn't care.
These were Arsene's thoughts as he entered the lecture hall, which was packed to the brim. Strangely, silence filled the room.
Not because an important figure was present, nor because of any rules enforcing silence—although maybe there were—but because everyone had chosen it.
Silence was a sign that everyone had entered this academy with many ambitions. It reflected the seriousness of the students, who had decided to listen and note down every word spoken by the young man who would lecture them.
Passersby in the hallway scoffed at them, thinking of them as nothing but farmers, since the lecture was merely basic information about the world's geography.
Simple knowledge that even children knew.
Arsene didn't care and sat at a middle row seat, listening to the young man, who didn't seem much older than him. Arsene had heard from Sarl that older students in need of money or energy shards often took on small teaching jobs like this.
Giving easy lectures and basic information to new students—exactly what this young man was doing now.
"Ahem… let's talk, let's talk about the world. About how it is divided and who controls these spots on the land."
A large map was pinned to the wall, showing every location.
The map was divided into four sections: North, South, East, and West.
"Here in the North, where we are currently, lies the One Throne Alliance.
The One Throne Alliance is a coalition of several kingdoms dating back thousands of years. Even the names of those kingdoms have been lost to time. Why? Because names bring division—and this is a union in land, blood, name, and race.
That's why there's no need to preserve the names of the former kingdoms. We are one nation, under the name of the One Throne Alliance. And so it must always be."
The capital of this alliance is Lagon. Within the alliance, there is one academy for the Singulars and mages—the very one you are now attending: Regis Academy, located in the city of Kals.
Of course, we have neighbors—some allies, some enemies."
"We are surrounded by many kingdoms and empires. The one you see here—largest in area—is the Franschyz Empire.
Then comes the Kanther Empire. Kingdoms like Solarish, Zemir, and Alberish are our closest allies.
The empires, on the other hand, are just expansionist powers seeking to control everything.
To the east, powers like the Angels of the Towers roam. It's a barren land filled with dense forests, but inside those towers exist other realms with their own people and civilizations. Yet they live in constant fear, for they are in a never-ending war against monsters."
There was visible shock among the students. People living in towers and other realms—especially ones at war with monsters? What was this?
"The towers are gateways to limited alternate dimensions. You can inhabit them, but they are extremely dangerous—monsters emerge every second.
The towers are allies to every power on this map, regardless of alignment. If the support to them ceases, the monsters will spill out and could bring down the entire world. That's why all powers must provide both human and material support to the towers."
In the western lands, numerous alliances exist—among them, elves, fae, peaceful races, and a merchant confederation. But despite their variety, these lands aren't exactly the safest to live in, plagued by weak law enforcement and near-total absence of protection in some regions.
The south, however... the south has already fallen. It lies in the hands of the Vald'rins—demons from the abyssal continents of Illeysse, deep within the earth's core.
Several legions had previously been dispatched to reclaim some of the southern territories, especially since the Vald'rins hadn't arrived in overwhelming numbers—mainly due to the enormous cost it takes for them to ascend to the surface.
No news has returned from those legions. Refugees who fled the southern lands have been scattered across multiple kingdoms.
Yet the majority were trapped in the south—still suffering under the Vald'rins' grip.
As for the continent that contains all these territories, it is known as Veganis.
There are other continents, of course—but that's a tale for another day. It's worth noting that maps are mere reductions—the continent is vast and awe-inspiring in its full scale.
There are maps available for everyone on the desk; you're free to take a copy when you leave. This has just been a basic overview.
The lecturer abruptly left the room, leaving the students stunned—perhaps he had another place to be. Chaos broke out as everyone rushed to grab copies of the map, laughing and stumbling over each other while onlookers in the hallway snickered at the spectacle.
Arsene waited calmly until the commotion died down, then took his own copy and inspected it. It was filled with names, locations, and various other details not mentioned during the lecture. Perhaps the lecturer had rushed and simplified the information.
But this map would serve as his guide.
The lecture had passed quickly—maybe half an hour at most.
Arsene soon found himself wandering the hallways once again.
Before long, he crossed paths with a few individuals—not by accident.
From his side, it seemed like a coincidence. From their side, it was clearly intentional.
They didn't appear particularly interested or aggressive, yet they stood in his way, forcing Arsene to halt and wait for their next move.
"Arsene Vaille! Maybe you'd like to have a little chat with us," the largest one said.
Arsene smirked. "Ah, everyone wants to talk to me. But the question is—do you want to talk to me, or are you just a messenger for someone else?"
The three were taken aback, but soon chuckled.
"Ahahaha, sharp one, aren't you? Just as I thought—someone else wants a word with you."
Arsene replied with a cool tone, "Then lead the way. No need to drag me—I'm sure you went through a lot of trouble just to find me."
The bulky one relaxed a little. "If you're this reasonable, maybe we'll avoid any unpleasantness. We might even come to an understanding."
They began walking, fanning out to different angles to prevent escape and avoid drawing attention. Not that Arsene intended to run.
They arrived at the exit leading to the courtyards—vast open spaces paved with white stone and likely cement. The sunlight reflected sharply off the surfaces, casting a brilliance that clashed with the somber mood.
Towering marble pillars lined the edges, and intricate arcane symbols were etched into the ground, glowing faintly with residual magic. The air carried the scent of old books, burnt herbs, and distant lightning—quintessential elements of a grand magical academy.
Students in cloaks of various colors passed by, some levitating books, others deep in animated conversation.
The three dragged Arsene toward one of the corners where the tall buildings cast generous shade, and ancient trees veiled the spot like quiet sentinels. It was the perfect place to remain unseen.
There, someone was already waiting—a man with long blonde hair, dressed in flamboyant clothes, likely in his mid-twenties.
The first thing he did was complain.
"Oi! Took you long enough! What did I tell you? You think I've got all day to waste? Useless trash… so, did you bring him?"
While muttering, his gaze fixed on Arsene. He approached, circling around him, fingers on his chin, inspecting closely.
"Hmmm... not bad, not bad. This might actually work."
Arsene raised an eyebrow and said with sarcasm, "Oh really? I wonder about that. So—what do you want? I hear you're so eager to chat. Do you actually need something from me?"
The man mumbled to himself, "Of course I want something. I always want something."
Then he stepped in close, eyes locking with Arsene's, both hands grasping Arsene's head as he leaned his forehead against his.
"This is how I express myself. This is how I find peace. I trust you don't mind?"
Arsene calmly replied, "No, go ahead. I feel like we've known each other for ages this close. Can I hold your head too?"
With a wide grin, the man answered, "Sure! Now let's talk!"
"As you know, I'm older and more experienced here. I came to offer some advice ahead of time—"
He was abruptly interrupted.
Arsene's tone turned icy, and his grip tightened around the man's head, causing visible pain.
"Oh yes, yes. About how you're from the prestigious Gottez family, how you have lackeys within the academy, and how your apartment is about to be seized and handed over to me because you failed to rank up."
"How the academy wasted resources on you, only for you to become a disgrace. How your family cut off your funds. How that led you to register your followers as slaves and sell them off in the organ market for horrific, inhuman experiments."
"Yes, yes, I know everything, Holdime Gottez."
Holdime's face paled. Panic flooded his eyes as he found himself nose-to-nose with Arsene.
"H-h-h-how do you kn—AARGH! Let me go! It hurts—AARGHHH!!"
He screamed, yet no sound seemed to reach the outside. His followers stood frozen, not believing what they heard—but Holdime's cries turned their doubts into fear. He was either being torn apart from the inside... or believed he was.
His eyes bulged, close to bursting. Terror consumed him.
He felt... decay. Every passing second robbed something from within.
He clawed at Arsene's arms, desperately trying to break free, but it was futile.
He shrieked for help, but no one came. His men stood frozen, unable to grasp what was happening.
Then, silence.
Holdime was still. But inside, he was dying—a prisoner in his own mind.
Finally, Arsene let go.
Holdime collapsed to his knees, drooling, eyes bulging, tears and snot streaming down his face.
He looked deranged—though not a single visible wound marked his body.