Dark Magus Returns

Chapter 1382: A Promise of Greatness

The day before the grand Magical Exchange, every academy across Alterian was in a flurry of preparation. It was chaos, organized chaos, as final decisions were made, lineups adjusted, and strategies reshaped. Even the smallest details, like the design of the uniforms the students would wear, were being scrutinized and perfected.

This was their chance to leave a lasting impression, not just on the other schools, but on the powerful figures of the magical world. All eyes would be on them. And more importantly, on the Central Mage Academy.

Rumors were swirling this year, whispers that if a particular academy stood out, the Central Academy might offer to fund them and make them an official branch campus. A satellite of the most powerful magical institution in existence.

It was a dream opportunity for many. But this dream had also stirred the competitive flames among the other five academies. The atmosphere wasn’t one of schools coming together to shine, it had become a ruthless contest, not just to prove themselves, but to impress the Central Academy.

Why? Because that academy was led by none other than a Grand Magus.

Inside the heart of the Central Academy, Principal Ibrain stood in his vast, elegant office. The room was towering, the ceilings impossibly high, with massive windows that overlooked the sprawling grounds and grand spires of the academy’s campus. Behind his desk, books stretched from the polished floor all the way to the ceiling, forming a wall that looked more like a grand library than an office.

Ten students stood before him, lined up in crisp formation. Each of them wore the official academy uniform, a bright, shining white blazer trimmed with blue, tailored to perfection. Boys and girls alike stood tall and silent, eyes forward, posture flawless.

Ibrain regarded them with a calculating gaze.

“Tomorrow,” he began, his voice low and precise, “is the most important day of your lives, and the most important day for this academy.”

There was no warmth in his tone. No encouragement. Only truth.

“That is why I’m speaking to you directly,” he continued, “rather than through your instructors.”

His eyes narrowed.

“The way you perform during this event will determine the course of your future. Look to your left. Now to your right.”

The students did as they were told, each turning their heads to glance at the peers standing beside them.

“Everyone in this room has worked hard. So has everyone in this academy. But the ones beside you, these students, have climbed to the top. You are the elite. The best of the best.”

He paused, letting that hang in the air like a weight.

“But don’t make the mistake of thinking they are your friends. They are not your allies. No, they are your true competition.”

The room fell utterly silent.

“In the real world, these are the people who will challenge you for the same guild positions, the same contracts, the same influence. They are the ones who will establish great guilds, change nations, and shift the balance of magical power. And they will do it at your expense, unless you act first.”

The students hadn’t expected this. Some had imagined this would be a motivational speech about unity, about working together to bring honor to their academy. But instead, it sounded more like a call to arms. A subtle declaration of war, between themselves.

Or maybe… that was the point.

Perhaps Ibrain wanted to turn them against each other. Maybe he believed that competition, even internal competition, would push them to achieve more than they ever thought possible.

And, for some of them, it was already working. After all, they were the strongest. The other academies? They were just background noise. If they wanted a real challenge, they had no choice but to surpass each other.

That was when one of the students raised her hand.

“Sir… will our competitors only come from within the Central Academy?” a female student asked, her voice respectful but curious.

Ibrain tilted his head, considering her.

“You ask if only our academy contains the elite?” he said. “Tell me, why would a talented student choose any other school, when this academy is led by a Grand Magus?”

His gaze swept the room, cold and unwavering.

“If there were another academy led by a Grand Magus, then yes, perhaps it would attract the same level of talent. But there isn’t. So no, you don’t need to worry about the others. The only true competition is right here, beside you.”

Despite his confidence, the students couldn’t help but feel nervous. Some of them had barely been at the Central Mage Academy for a year. The thought of standing before the entire magical world, and competing, was overwhelming.

But then, Ibrain’s voice shifted.

“However,” he said slowly, “as mages, we must always prepare for the exception to the rule.”

The tone of his words changed. There was an edge now, a flicker of something deeper. Something… unstable.

“Every now and then,” he continued, “one appears. Someone from nothing. Someone from the slums, with no family background, no noble bloodline, no magical legacy, and yet, somehow, they rise.”

His fingers tightened behind his back.

“They achieve things they shouldn’t be capable of. They wield magic as if the world itself chose them. But is that fair? Should talent outweigh our hard work, our training, everything we’ve sacrificed?”

Several students exchanged uneasy glances.

One of them, a girl named Kelly, studied Ibrain closely. She was one of the chosen representatives for the event, hard-working, determined, and loyal to the academy. But right now, as she watched the Grand Magus speak, her thoughts spiraled.

‘He seems… unstable,’ Kelly thought. ‘Can the others see it too?’

Harvey had told her that becoming a standout student would bring her closer to the Grand Magus, and that such a connection might be useful one day, when the time was right.

But standing here, in front of him now, she was starting to question that advice.

Ibrain’s words didn’t sound like strategy. They sounded like fear. His voice was trembling ever so slightly beneath the surface, as if he were haunted by something.

‘Was he always like this… or has something happened to him?’ she wondered.

Suddenly, Ibrain stretched out his hand, and several glowing objects began to float through the air toward the students.

Small, pill-like devices, round and metallic, hovered in front of each of them.

“No matter what,” Ibrain said slowly, “the Central Academy must stay on top. You are our future. You are our pride.”

His eyes darkened.

“If you ever find yourselves on the brink of defeat at the Magical Exchange… you are to take these.”

The room was silent. The floating devices hovered like ghostly warnings.

“What I’ve just given you… is your ticket to a great future,” Ibrain said, his voice calm, but something in his eyes betrayed desperation.

A silence lingered. One that felt less like awe… and more like doubt.

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