Mystic Arts Dual System

The students of Holy Light Academy sat attentively, their eyes fixed on their tablets, which projected scriptures and notes.

The grand lecture hall, illuminated by sunlight streaming through towering transparent windows, held an air of discipline and focus.

At the front stood Professor Hargrave, the academy’s Combat Theory Spell Instructor. His voice carried across the room as he lectured his students on Light Spells.

He paused for a moment, then turned to face his audience.

“As you all know,” he began, his voice steady, “the Blessing Spell is one of the most crucial components in any Light Mage’s arsenal.”

He gestured to the board. “The speed at which it is cast, particularly in combat, is unmatched by any Dark Curse.”

His gaze swept over the class. “This is why Light always prevails. A well-cast Blessing will counter any curse, no matter how fast the Dark Mage is.”

The students nodded in agreement. But then a hand shot up from the back of the hall. A loud voice rang out. “Professor, I disagree.”

All heads turned. It was Merlin, a seventeen-year-old, with unruly locks of hair and a defiant glint in his eyes.

“While the Blessing Spell is powerful,” Merlin continued,

“We can’t say it’s faster than a curse every time. Dark Mages have developed curses that are almost instantaneous.

Some can even be cast with a single thought.” Murmurs spread through the students. Some snickered under their breath.

Professor Hargrave arched an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.

“Do you have evidence to support your claim, Merlin?”

Merlin met his gaze. “Yes, sir,” he said confidently.

“Take the Curse of Silence, for example. It requires no chant, no ritual. A Dark Mage simply has to focus on their target and if they’ve mastered the curse, it activates immediately.”

He paused. “It’s faster than most Light-based spells, including the Blessing.”

The room became quiet as Merlin pressed on.

“There’s historical evidence too. During the Siege of Valtor, Light Mages were overwhelmed because Dark Mages could cast their curses so quickly.”

A few students exchanged uneasy glances. Professor Hargrave studied him for a long moment. Then his lips curled into a small smile.

“Interesting.” He folded his arms.

“But what you fail to understand, Merlin, is that a Light Mage of sufficient power can cast a Blessing that nullifies a curse the moment it’s detected.”

His voice grew sharper. “A well-trained mage would never allow a curse to take hold.” Merlin clenched his fists. “But sir,” he argued,

“not everyone can cast Blessings that fast. Some curses are designed to be undetectable until it’s too late.

The Blessing Spell doesn’t cover all situations. In fact—”

“Enough, Merlin!”

The professor’s voice cut through the room like a blade as Merlin flinched.

“Do you even understand how a Blessing works, boy?” Hargrave demanded.

“Have you ever cast one in real combat?” His voice grew colder.

“You can’t even use your Light abilities to their full potential, yet you stand there and try to lecture me?”

Tense laughter erupted across the room, Merlin’s face burned as he heard them laugh at him.

He heard whispers from various people. “He can’t even cast a proper spell, and he’s lecturing the professor?”

“Shouldn’t he be cleaning floors with that little flicker of light he has?”

“Why is he even here? He’s more useless than a broken staff.” His hands trembled as he slowly sank into his seat.

The mocking voices grew louder, echoing in his mind.

Then, a sharp voice snapped through the noise.

“Order, class!”

Professor Hargrave’s command silenced the room. He glanced at the clock and noticed that his time was up.

Clearing his throat, he turned back to the students.

“We're done for the day. Class dismissed.”

Immediately, the students packed their belongings, rising from their seats.

Merlin’s fingers shook as he shoved his notebook and tablet into his worn-out leather bag.

He kept his head down, moving quickly toward the exit. He had to leave before anyone could stop him, after they had indirectly made a mockery of him.

His heart pounded as he pushed through the academy hallways. All he wanted was to make it back to his dormitory before someone came.

All of a sudden he froze. His breath hitched.

“I forgot my book.”

Merlin clenched his teeth, hitting his forehead in frustration.

It wasn’t just any book. It contained his personal research, his theories on Light Magic… and his notes on curses.

If someone found it, it would spell doom for him. After all, necromancer spells were forbidden in the academy. He turned sharply, heading toward the combat training area.

The locker room was dimly lit. Merlin’s eyes darted around and there it was, lying on the floor exactly where he had left it.

“Thank God, it’s still here,” he sighed.

He rushed forward, then a foot suddenly kicked the book away.

Merlin’s heart sank as a mild voice echoed through the room.

“Looking for this?” Merlin slowly looked up.

Standing before him was Eldridge. The Academy’s top student. He stood tall with broad shoulders. He was a Type A Light Mage. His golden aura radiated strength. Behind him were his followers. Merlin swallowed hard. “I… I just need my book,” he stammered.

He reached for it, but Eldridge stepped forward, placing his boot on the book, pinning it to the floor.

His lips curled into a smirk.

“Oh, you want it?” He chuckled.

“Then take it from me,” he added.

Merlin froze. “I don’t want to fight.”

Eldridge laughed. “That’s because you can’t fight, Merlin.”

His voice grew colder. “You’re a weakling. A mage who can’t even control his own light.”

His words cut deep. The other students laughed when they heard that.

“Show us that little flicker of light you’re so proud of, Merlin,” one of them mocked.

Merlin clenched his fists. He couldn’t take this anymore.

He summoned a small orb of light. It was barely the size of a marble as he hurled it.

Eldridge didn’t even flinch. With a flick of his wrist as a whip of golden light materialized.

CRACK! The whip struck Merlin across the chest.

“Aaaahh!” Merlin screamed out loud as the pain seared through his body.

He collapsed backward, the light in his hands flickering out as blood stained his shirt.

Eldridge stepped closer.

“You don’t belong here, Merlin.” The other students laughed. Merlin shook his head. He was alone. No one was going to help him. Eldridge raised the whip again as Merlin clenched his teeth.

The one truth that had driven him—the sole purpose of his existence—was to become the strongest mage and bring an end to the endless war between darkness and light.

Now, that truth shattered. Every dream he had bled away before his eyes.

What meaning did life still hold, if the very reason for his existence was forever beyond his reach?

That question was the last thing he thought, until a sudden drive surged within him.

“No… I will fight forever. I will become the greatest mage of all time.”

His vision blurred, he heard the fading footsteps of Eldridge and his sycophants as they exited the training hall.

No one came to help him as he rolled onto his side, breathing heavily.

His fingers stretched toward the worn leather book, now open and soaked with his blood.

His research, his theories, his secrets. They didn’t burn, thank the gods.

Still clutching the book to his chest, Merlin pushed himself up slowly, the locker room spinning around him like a storm. He leaned against the wall, blinking away,

He had sworn he wouldn’t cry this time. “Focus,” he muttered to himself. “Just get through today.”

He sat up, wincing, and spotted a slip of parchment pinned to the wall beside the door.

“Tower of Light. Affinity Assessment. Today. 3rd Bell. Attendance mandatory.”– Adept Caelthorn