[A lifetime of advantages, and they only exempt you from a few beginner classes. How far the God of Magic has fallen.]

  Sen rolled his eyes at Tutor. They’d allowed Sen and Mori to skip the introductory classes and move right into more interesting ones. But he’d made sure to get into this one. History class. After skipping the last thousand years, a history class was exactly what he needed. The room was fairly standard as far as classrooms went. Rows of desks filled with students all watching on as their professor lectured them from the front. He worked in front of a chalkboard, a floating piece of chalk drawing illustrations when necessary or highlighting keywords and phrases.

  So far he’d spent the time going over the syllabus in excruciating detail, and for a moment Sen considered warping back to bed and getting the notes from Mori later.

  But he decided he could hang on a little longer. It was the first day after all.

  To his right, Mori sat with the straightest posture imaginable. Ilm was still in their room sleeping. Mori had wanted to wake her, but Sen stopped him. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t be able to transfer a memory of the entire class to her afterwards. At that, Mori had determined to soak up every bit of information possible so he could pass it all along.

  “Alright, enough about that,” Professor Crosp said. The chalkboard erased the highlights of the syllabus and began anew. “Let’s start with something I’m sure will pique everyone’s interest. An examination of two of the most powerful figures to have ever lived. The Dreadgiant King Garlon, and the man who defeated him to save the world, the God of Magic.”

  Mori’s eyes shot open, and he turned to look at Sen. Sen groaned as quietly as he could.

  Great, I come to learn stuff I don’t know and end up getting a history lesson about myself. Fantastic.

  [You signed up for this class on purpose, didn’t you? I knew you were narcissistic, but this is a bit much even for you, Master.]

  “Great, a lecture, can’t wait!” someone said sarcastically from the back of the classroom.

  Professor Crosp adjusted his glasses. There was a gleam in his eye. “Historia Remnant Academia,” he said.

  Sen perked up. That was a spell. The professor was using a spell.

  Before he had time to wonder about its purpose, reality shifted around them.

  One moment Sen had been sitting at his desk. The next he jumped up at the sound of magical explosions whizzing through the air and the clanging of metal on metal. The class of twenty students was suddenly in the midst of a battlefield. They were in a deep valley surrounded by massive mountains. The landscape was gray and gloomy, and a gentle fog obscured portions of the fighting.

  The professor smirked at their reactions. “This class is the most important one you will ever take, though I admit my bias.” He spoke as knights and dreadbeasts exchanged vicious blows in the background. Dreadbeasts were a massive humanoid species with thick gray skin and horns. A small one was often around seven feet. Their bodies were like those of muscular humans, but their faces were those of animals. It wasn’t uncommon to see them with the head of a boar, horse, or even an ox. But the number of variations was nearly endless. They were powerful, and they warred with humans frequently during Sen’s time.

  “Everyone, direct your attention this way. It’s about to start,” Professor Crosp said. He turned and faced away from them, towards the tallest of the mountains. Sen felt a complicated mix of emotions. He hadn’t expected to relive this.

  The mountain crumbled. Rocks exploded in every direction as a hand swept through the largest mountain on the continent as if it were made of sand. A massive dreadbeast, stood in the wake of that fallen mountain. When its head rose, it blotted out the sun. Around them, the fighting stopped. Human knights turned to look in horror at the aptly named Dreadgiant King Garlon. The dreadbeast turned in awe. Garlon had the nose of a boar and massive horns on either side of his head. A powerful magic armor made of void-black metal covered his entire body, and it was clear the wealth required to build it could bankrupt nations.

  The dread of the humans fighting that day was palpable. You could feel it in the air, that sense of despair. That their lives were about to end and all hope was lost.

  Mori’s breath caught beside him. “This was when…”

  And then someone shouted, and Sen closed his eyes at the memory of a friend.

  “Fight!” Ragmár screamed at the top of his lungs.

  “It’s him!”

  “King Ragmár!”

  “He wasn’t the king yet, idiot,” someone corrected. “That wasn’t until after he killed the God of Shadows.”

  Sen ignored the chatter of his classmates and made himself look. This was when he and his companions had arrived. This was when the real fight began. Though Ragmár was often reluctant to draw his blade, when he did, death followed. As he unsheathed it, he used the skill and maximizer he’d always favored. “Unsheathe death itself Heroic.” He pulled his blade from its sheath, and it was covered in an aura of death. He moved, striking hundreds of times at foes all around him and even some that appeared well out of his reach. The heads and limbs of dreadbeasts fell away.

  Garlon was so massive that when he turned to look at Ragmár, his eyes created a powerful gust of wind. It rocketed across the battlefield. Ragmár stared up defiantly. “I’m not the one you should be worried about!” he taunted.

  Garlon’s gaze looked up into the sky, moments before a blindingly white column of annihilation came down on him like divine punishment. That opening attack was one of Sen’s strongest techniques, and he’d used it just to say hello. That was when the fight really began.

  It was odd watching himself from a thousand years ago as he descended from the sky. This depiction of him had his face covered. His clothes flowed in the air, rippling with mana. A white cloak with golden trim that amplified his power. A hood covered his face, only a hint of his white hair poking out. The people of this time didn’t even know his name, let alone what he looked like. So the historia spell wasn’t perfectly accurate then, that was good to know.

  “These two figures reached the peak of strength, and it was during this very battle that Gom achieved the heights that he did. Historical experts say that this battle is what took him from the peak of the King level to the early stages of the God level,” Professor Crosp said while the fight played out.

  That wasn’t entirely accurate, but it made for a good story. Garlon and Sen had both reached the level of god shortly before this fight. But Garlon was considered a general terror upon the world, and acknowledging him as a god would’ve only caused more despair among the people. That knowledge was suppressed instead.

  Mori raised a hand. “Excuse me, Gom?” he asked while the battle raged on in the distance. Garlon swung at Sen, sending a powerful blast of air to strike. He narrowly missed, but each one was closer than the last. The God of Magic flew around him, chaining spells as fast as he could, striking the dreadgiant from every direction with a number of elements and afflictions.

  A few people snickered at Mori’s question.

  Professor Crosp raised a brow. “The God of Magic. He’s often referred to as Gom. Though he accomplished tremendous things, as you can see, there are some who hesitate to say someone reached the pinnacle of all magic a thousand years ago. Especially when we make new breakthroughs every day. Additionally, his name was lost to time, so scholars often refer to him by an acronym, Gom.”

  “Thank you.” Mori nodded. “For your information, his real name was—”

  “Totally up in the air,” Sen finished for him.

  Mori took the hint and lowered his head in shame.

  More classmates snickered at that. Others fixed their attention on the fighting above. Mori looked older than most of the other students at Brightsail; it was no wonder he’d become a target for bullying. Sen would deal with it if it became an issue, but Mori didn’t seem to even notice.

  “Some speculated that Gom favored the magic stat, only putting points into other stats when necessary. There are many recorded feats of his strength, speed, and resilience. So we know he didn’t neglect his other stats completely. In the same vein, Garlon favored strength above all. But he could cast magic as well, and his tough frame proved difficult even for Gom to pierce with the fiercest of spells.”

  Crosp was timing the information carefully at key moments in the battle. He’d likely watched these scenes play out hundreds of times already. As he spoke, Garlon punched out and caught Sen’s clone with the blast of air. There hadn’t been time to dodge. He’d crossed his arms and relied on his wards and Mana Protection. Both were strained to their limits in an instant. But it wasn’t obvious to those watching.

  One guy pumped a fist. “He tanked that! That’s so cool.”

  “Ugh, if he were still alive, I’d marry him,” a girl said somewhere behind him.

  Sen rolled his eyes.

  A girl with shoulder-length pink hair raised her hand towards the front of the gathered students. “Actually, there are some theories that say the God of Magic and Gom each only used a single stat. The God of Magic put points solely into Magic, and Garlon into strength. But they could create phenomena that resembled the other stats when put into action. The God of Magic used magic to create effects that replicated the other stats. Garlon’s strength was so high that he could punch air and destroy towns in the distance.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Sen and Mori exchanged a wide-eyed look. She was right. How did she know that? He’d kept his hybrid stat technique from everyone except Mori and Ragmár. He’d taken on students for brief periods of time, but never shared the secret of his hybrid stats. Only one copy of his theories on manipulating magic into other stats had ever existed, and it had been destroyed when he was young. So how did she know?

  Professor Crosp paused at her words. “Well, that’s certainly an interesting theory. Where did you hear that, Milim?”

  She perked up, not taking her eyes off the fight. Gom and Garlon stared each other down now, each readying new techniques while they caught their breaths. “I’ve always enjoyed learning about the God of Magic. There was a writer who—”

  “Someone’s a cultist,” a boy in the back of the class said. At that, most of the class laughed.

  Milim turned to look over her shoulder. She frowned.

  Professor Crosp glared. “See that you don’t interrupt my class again,” he said. As if to emphasize his anger, both Gom and Garlon turned, pausing their fight to stare at the student who’d insulted Milim. The threat was doubly powerful with the two figures backing the professor up.

  The brown-haired boy fell backward onto the ground. “Why are they looking at me?” he asked.

  With the entire classroom’s attention on the boy, Sen decided to add additional punishment for good measure. He recognized the boy as one of the students who’d laughed at Mori earlier. “Frog breath.” He cast the spell in his mind. It wasn’t as much fun as saying it out loud, and it wouldn’t carry as much power, but it would do.

  With all eyes already on him, his humiliation was doubled when a frog suddenly crawled out of his mouth and hopped onto his chest.

  Professor Crops’ eyes opened, and he looked around the classroom for an explanation. “What…”

  Sen noticed Gom move in the background, and to his absolute surprise, the God of Magic depicted in this history spell turned to look at him and nodded his approval.

  His eyes widened. That…wasn’t Crosp. The professor was focused on the brown-haired boy. At the front of the classroom, the only other person not watching the boy spitting up frogs noticed Gom’s gaze turn as well. Milim, the pink-haired girl, turned and glanced at Sen. He quickly looked away.

  “Enough! Out of my classroom,” Crosp finally said. He waved a hand, and the frog-spitting boy disappeared. The frogs he left behind faded into a green mist. They were nothing more than physical illusions. Sen wouldn’t put poor frogs through the trauma of crawling around an unbrushed mouth.

  Crosp sighed. “Let’s move along.”

  The professor continued with the lesson, and Sen learned interesting facts about himself. A fair amount of it blown out of proportion or somewhat misunderstood. Except for his devilishly good looks. The teacher didn’t mention it, but if you knew how to read between the lines, it was obvious. He was sure it would even be on a test somewhere.

  After class finished, Mori and Sen waited for everyone to file out before going to talk with Professor Crosp and introduce themselves.

  “Boys, how was your first day?” Crosp asked.

  “Good, though, I think you should incorporate more of what that Milim girl was saying into the lecture from now on. I’m actually a scholar of the God of Magic myself and—” Mori stopped once more after feeling Sen’s eyes on him.

  “Professor, that comment about the cultist earlier. What was that about?” Sen asked. The other students had picked on Milim because she showed an interest in Gom. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the nickname, but it was shorter than the God of Magic at least.

  Professor Crosp looked genuinely surprised. “You’re unfamiliar with the cults? I suspected you might be from far away, but…well, no matter.” He thought for a moment. “Well, several hundred years ago, people started to worship magicians who had ascended to the rank of god or goddess. Of course, that number is quite limited, and some ascend in secret, but the most popular of them all have cults nowadays. Garlon’s the exception; the dreadbeast don’t worship him religiously. But most of the others from that time have cults. The cult of Serpia, the cult of Gom, there are plenty of them. Some even worship the modern gods.”

  Mori’s eyes widened. “How would one go back joining one of these cults, theoretically of course?”

  Sen shook his head. He was going to put his foot down at that. Mori was not joining a cult.

  The professor laughed at the question. “I couldn’t say. But act too interested in any of the gods and people will certainly throw the word around. Some cults aren’t too popular nowadays, but others have massive presences in the world. Even rivaling kingdoms in terms of strength, with the diplomatic alliances and territories that come with that level of influence. It’s why it’s best to watch what you say about the gods. It’s all too easy to be on the receiving end of an enemy spell if you insult someone others might have a religious affinity for.”

  “Right. This cult of Gom, how popular is it, exactly?” Sen asked. Honestly, he was afraid of the answer.

  Crosp sighed. “That’s a hard one. Of all the cults, they’re the most secretive. It’s rare to see them. The dean might know more, not sure if he’d tell you though. Most people would rather not be caught gossiping about the cults. Hard to know who’s listening.”

  Hard indeed. Sen sensed someone waiting for them outside the doorway. He ignored it for now. “Professor Crosp,” he said. “Could you tell us about the kingdom of Magic? After Gom’s disappearance?”

  “Tell you? I can show you,” he winked. The professor held up a finger and looked at a small bookshelf in the room’s corner. A thick, red textbook floated from the shelf and over to them. He licked a finger and flipped the pages until he found the section he was looking for.

  Sen noticed the subsection’s title, and dread filled him.

  The Fall of King Ragmár and the God of Magic’s Return.

  “…Gom defeated all his contemporaries and then disappeared into seclusion. After his disappearance, King Ragmár continued to rule for another seven years before the kingdom fell.”

  Sen flinched. Seven years? The kingdom had fallen just seven years after he’d left?

  The classroom blurred once again as reality twisted to show them a new scene.

  The three of them stood outside the castle gates of the Kingdom of Magic. Ragmár fought furiously, swinging his sword at a much younger opponent. The man had shoulder-length orange hair and a smirk Sen instantly wanted to wipe off. Each of them matched the other, blow for blow.

  Around them hundreds of spectators stood watching the duel.

  “The terms of the duel were simple. If King Ragmár was defeated, the Kingdom of Magic would dissolve. But if the champion of the invaders fell, the invaders would leave and never return.”

  “So, Ragmár lost?” Mori asked in disbelief.

  Crops gestured toward the fight. “Watch.”

  Ragmár

  He kept his opponent on the defensive, but every time he found an opening, it closed just as quickly. His body ached with every movement. The experience he had over his younger opponent was giving him an advantage, but the time aging he’d spent to earn it was holding him back. He saw the openings, but he couldn’t take advantage of them. Too slow. Again and again, he missed his opportunities.

  His feet were heavy as he adjusted his footing. The air reeked of blood, and he wasn’t sure if it was his own or his opponent’s. He was too full of adrenaline to care.

  His own energy was failing him, and when his opponent noticed, things changed. Ragmár suddenly found himself on the defensive. “Vibrant Slash Heroic!” he shouted, bringing a green slash cracking down towards his enemy.

  His opponent sidestepped and ran his blade through Ragmár’s core in an instant.

  He coughed blood into the dirt. His sword fell to the ground, and his vision grew hazy.

  That was it for him. It was clear now that he was going to die today.

  His men shouted, but their words fell on deaf ears. It was all he could do to stand on his feet. The sword his opponent had left in his stomach tore him with every movement.

  The enemy army cheered, and their young champion laughed, taunting him to his face.

  Ragmár had stood on battlefields before. He’d fought alongside the God of Magic during battles that would be remembered for the rest of time. Was this how he would die? Skewered by the next generation and mocked by his enemies?

  He felt anger at that. Rage surged through him, revealing what little strength he had left. He took a step forward and pulled his opponent’s sword from his body as he cast. “Unsheathe death itself Heroic!” A spray of his own blood and insides filled the air. The enemy was still cackling as his head fell from his shoulders and smacked into the ground.

  His mana surged, and he pointed the blade at the man’s head. He felt the thread of his soul, and he pulled it taunt with the man’s own sword. With the soul under his authority, he prolonged the man’s life for a few extra moments. He watched the decapitated head’s expression turn from joy to pure horror.

  Good. He didn’t deserve to die with a smile on his face. Ragmár sneered and stomped down on the head. He looked up defiantly at the opposing army. They weren’t laughing anymore.

  He stumbled toward them, the blade still gleaming black. Blood spilled out from his wounds with every step.

  “I was always going to fall. I’m not immortal. But this is a fine death, for I die protecting my people. Hear me, invaders, you will honor the terms of our agreement. For the God of Magic is not fallen, nor is he lost. My friend has not abandoned us. He has promised to return. Know this: when he does, if he finds even a trace of you or your descendants, even a single drop of blood from your line, he will purge it from this world in its entirety. Your children and grandchildren will curse you.

  He stabbed the blade into the ground and leaned on it. “I cannot claim victory, as my life is also forfeited. And so, I relinquish the throne. I am the first and final king of the Kingdom of Magic. I return independence to my vassal states. All I ask is that they treat each other fairly and continue to work together toward peace. One day, a new kingdom will rise, and though it may not be my bloodline that continues it, it will thrive, and it will do so with the God of Magic’s blessing and protection. I, King Ragmár the First, declare this, in my name, and in the name of the God of Magic.”

  Sen

  Crosp had a gleam in his eye as the spell ended. “After the fall of Ragmár, the vassal states agreed to peace between themselves and formed a pact to honor their king’s last request. It wasn’t the last time invaders arrived, but The King of Flames Diablo and other vassal state leaders famously repelled each of those assaults. While Ragmár’s legacy has persisted throughout time, it is widely believed his bloodline ended shortly after his fall.”

  Sen was at a loss for words. Ragmár was dead. He’d always known his friend would pass while he traveled to the future, but seeing it was difficult. The kingdom they’d worked so hard to build had crumbled just seven years after Sen left. He believed the foundation was more stable than that.

  He felt guilt knowing he could’ve stopped it.

  [I never imagined Diablo would make it to the King Rank. I wonder how much of a factor his maximizer was? You did teach him after all.]

  It was a surprise, but not one he cared to think about further right now. He needed to lie down. “Well, thank you for your time, Professor,” Sen said. There was still an eavesdropper in the hallway, and even if he felt as if he couldn’t care less right now, it was best to find out who it was.

  Mori noticed too. He pointed to something on the professor’s desk to distract him. As soon as the professor looked away, Sen moved. He was out of the doorway in an instant. He found Milim waiting just outside, with her ear still pointed towards the classroom. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, skidding to a stop.

  Milim flushed. “I…just wanted to say thank you. For the frogs,” she said.

  “Oh, those, I have no idea who did that. I’m glad you enjoyed it, though.”

  Milim didn’t push the situation, though it was clear she’d asked to watch his reaction. “I did. Are you…interested in the God of Magic as well?” she asked.

  That was a difficult question to answer.

  “Talk soon, professor,” Mori called out, waving over his shoulder as he exited the room. “Oh, hello there.”

  “Hello…” Milim said. Suddenly, she didn’t seem interested in waiting around for Sen’s answer. “I have to get going, sorry.”

  Mori watched her leave and turned back to him. “What was that about?” he asked,

  Sen shook his head. “I don’t have the faintest idea.”