CH: 89: The Tragedy of Apprentices And Dex - Abyssborn: Sovereign of Sin and Ruin

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*****

{Chapter: 89: The Tragedy of Apprentices And Dex}

But the mentor himself…

Well.

The figure before him wore a robe split clean down the middle. The right half was masculine, lined with gold and trimmed in black. The left half was a laced pink gown with frills that could have come from a noblewoman's closet. One eye was painted with heavy eyeliner. The other was bare. In one hand, he held a scroll. In the other, a lipstick wand.

Saya stood still as a statue while the man—his new master—applied the lipstick with utmost seriousness, completely ignoring his new disciple.

Saya's eye twitched.

This person… This person is supposed to teach me magic?

The mentor hummed, voice melodic and charming. "Do you think rose red suits me, darling? Or should I go with crimson heartbreak? Decisions, decisions…"

Saya swallowed and forced a polite smile. "I… believe both would suit you, Master."

The mentor turned his head, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Oh-ho? A flatterer, are we? Delightful. Now come, we must begin your training with the Fourteen Rules of Mirror-Flirting and Chaotic Self-Reflection."

Saya's soul left his body.

This family fire is not normal. Can I really become a master here?

---

In another corner of the academy.

In a dim, shadow-filled laboratory that reeked of rusted metal and burned herbs, a small boy of no more than five or six years sat trembling on a cold, metallic chair. Flickering candles barely illuminated the stone walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed to twist and writhe like malicious spirits. The boy, barefoot and clad in a rough linen tunic several sizes too big, watched in growing horror as an old man approached him. The man was gaunt, almost skeletal, with three or four wiry strands of yellow-gray hair clinging to his scalp like dying vines. His eyes glowed with a manic fervor, and a wicked grin stretched across his cracked lips as he held up a syringe filled with a murky, gray-black liquid that shimmered faintly under the candlelight.

The boy tried to remain calm, suppressing the tremble in his limbs as he offered a hesitant, almost pleading smile. "T-teacher," he stammered, his voice a thin reed in the silence, "I think we don't need to rush into this. There's still time, isn't there? We can always do the experiment later… maybe after lunch? Or next week?"

The old man let out a hoarse, rasping laugh that scraped against the boy's nerves like nails on a slate. He leaned in, his breath foul with the scent of decayed teeth and alchemical reagents. "Hehehe… Don't be afraid, my little apprentice. Dedicating yourself to experimentation is the first step toward becoming a true master of the arcane. Consider this your… early induction."

The boy sniffled and tried to suck back the trail of snot inching from his nose, forcing a weak grin. "I think I'm still too young. Maybe I could do it when I'm ten? Or twelve? There's no need to hurry, really."

"Snort!" The old man made a disgusted noise and in a blur of motion, grabbed the boy by the collar and hoisted him up like a sack of flour. His bony fingers dug into the child's shoulders, his voice taking on a tone of chilling finality. "You have no right to refuse, boy. The path of greatness is paved with pain."

With those words, he jammed the syringe into the boy's thin arm and pushed the plunger down without hesitation. The gray-black liquid disappeared into the boy's veins, and within moments, the child began to scream. His small body convulsed violently, eyes wide with agony, as the foreign substance coursed through him like molten metal.

That was only the first day. The beginning of hell for most apprentices; it was worse for some, better for others, but good for none.

---

Three years later...

It was the twentieth year since Dex had arrived in this strange and brutal world.

The Silent Heart Academy—a fortress-like bastion of magical learning nestled atop a jagged mountain peak—loomed proudly under a swirling violet sky. Lightning cracked in the distance, and winds howled against the gothic towers, but within the grand arcane halls, a strange peace reigned.

Inside the library annex, the soft glow of enchanted lanterns bathed everything in warm golden light. Seated in a lavishly cushioned chair carved from obsidian and inlaid with crimson gems, Dex, in the form of a young man of striking presence, exuded an aura of calm authority. Dressed in a sharp red suit tailored from enchanted spider silk, he leaned back with one leg crossed over the other, toying with a silver ring on his finger.

Before him stood a man perhaps in his early thirties, a wizard of considerable repute. With shoulder-length hair and a robe glittering with embedded runes, he radiated confidence. His name was Vardel, and his most recent spell—an activation incantation that had drawn attention across the academy—was the reason for Dex's visit.

"I admire the activation spell you developed," Dex said with an easy smile. "It's elegant. Efficient. I'd like to purchase its framework."

Vardel blinked in surprise. Though flattered, he was annoyed by Dex's casual tone. As a recognized genius of arcane design, he felt he deserved more respect.

"The spell is quite new," Vardel said slowly. "I've yet to finish my full analysis of its properties. I'm not inclined to sell it just yet."

Dex didn't flinch. "That's fine. I'm not asking for a finished product—just the general design."

Vardel frowned, sensing an odd pressure in the air. He hesitated, then said bluntly, "I don't wish to sell it. Not now, at least. Perhaps in the future."

Dex's gaze sharpened, and his smile took on a colder edge. "You don't seem to understand your situation."

Before Vardel could react, Dex raised a single hand and slapped him lightly.

"Bang"

A crack echoed through the chamber as if thunder had struck indoors. Vardel's body lifted off the ground, spinning wildly as force slapped him with stunning power. He landed exactly where he had stood before, his feet falling into the very same footprints.

Vardel crashed to his knees, dazed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. The library went deathly quiet. Even the magical lanterns flickered nervously.

Dex leaned forward, his voice calm but glacial. "I'll give you one more chance to reconsider. Choose your next words carefully."

Gasping, Vardel stared into Dex's eyes and saw nothing but void—cold, unyielding, merciless. A predator. A sovereign.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he forced a strained smile. Swallowing the blood foam in his mouth, the young wizard felt the crisis of life and death through the other person's gaze.

Sweat broke out on his forehead, and a seductive smile appeared on his swollen face: "My meaning just now was not clear. I am not going to sell this witchcraft. After all, I dare not take your money. I am going to give it to you directly as a small token of my appreciation for you."

Dex nodded approvingly. "Good decision. I appreciate your cooperation."

The moment passed, and Dex relaxed into his chair, idly flipping a coin between his fingers as if nothing had happened. Vardel, still kneeling, silently passed him a crystalline scroll embedded with the spell's essence.