To be a hero is a curse, not a blessing. It's a simple truth Leon learned in the most painful of ways. He heroically slaughtered all the enemies of his president. Heroically purged those who opposed his master. And heroically brought doom to those who cried under the boot of the world's dictator. Leon saw the death of his family; a result of the events he set in motion himself. He saw his beloved city turn into ruins, scorched by the radioactive flames of the nuke he set off. His title was as cheap as his life. And in the only act of rebellion he could find, he heroically put an end to his life... And the world he helped to destroy. 'All of this happened... But why am I hearing a self-entitled voice calling me a failure?' Leon couldn't help but ponder. 'No, that's not it...' he quickly corrected himself. 'How can I hear anything if I evaporated in the wake of the nuke I detonated myself?'
The preceptor of the fourth tower sat down in a comfortable chair the size of a small bed. He made the most out of the special tablet hovering right above his lap to study the long pile of documents stacked into two towers.
"Haaa…"
The preceptor released a long sigh as he put down his signature before moving the document to one of the two piles.
"Study for the influence of mood over mana fluctuations," the preceptor muttered, resisting the urge to slap his own face. "Is this what the disciples of my beloved tower amount to?"
The pile of rejections stood on the man's right. And it was considerably higher than the pile to his left.
The preceptor's room, despite sitting at the very top of the entire tower, was brightly lit by a few hundred candles stacked all over the place. Yet, while they filled the place with a warm, welcoming atmosphere, it was an orb of light floating near the ceiling that made working the nights so easy on the preceptor's eyes.