Liliana

Apprentice of the dark arts, Yilke, was profoundly impoverished. But then, within the circles of novice magic dabblers, affluence was essentially a myth. Scarcely anyone held more than a spell's worth in their pockets.

Among the charred remains of Yilke, a victim to his own corrosive conjurings, Elandril found little of interest. There was naught but a single item capable of piquing his curiosity - a ticket to the 'Pale Masquerade.' Beyond that, his search only yielded a low-grade crystal, its elemental power tragically halved, and a handful of Mosobra city's universal currency - the so-called black gold, marred by strong acid.

"It appears our deceased friend fared decently in the plantations, to have an Energy Crystal on his person," Elandril mused in a hushed tone, examining the orange-hued gem in his palm. Regrettably, it was an earth attribute crystal, a far cry from the fire-aligned stones that resonated with his own fiery essence.

As Elandril finished salvaging his meager spoils of war, others drawn by the commotion began to arrive. Soon, both sides of the pathway through the White Raven Forest were lined with a dozen or so fellow practitioners of the dark arts. They were a common sight in Mosobra city - not overly abundant, but certainly not scarce.

Their prompt appearance owed not only to the grand disturbance of magic previously unleashed, coupled with Yilke's final, harrowing scream. Another reason lay in the forest's proximity to the communal living quarters of the apprentices. With the academy's public courses on hiatus, very few would dare venture out on life-threatening missions, as Elandril did.

Most preferred the relative safety of their dwellings, a decision highlighting the fine line between bravery and foolhardiness within the perilous journey of magic.The daily routine of the vast majority of magic apprentices was rather mundane, typically consisting of staying within their dwellings, meditating to accumulate Mana, or perhaps spending academy points to visit the public library and peruse volumes of arcane knowledge.

Yet, there was something distinctly different about the scene unfolding in the presence of the residual Elemental Ripple, a phenomenon of advanced magic. It had drawn over a dozen apprentices who now stood at a cautious distance from Elandril, murmuring amongst themselves and pointing as they beheld the event.

In the Dark Magic Academy, power dictated rank, and strength was revered above all else. The apprentices gathered here were, for the most part, only at the Junior Apprentice level, with a few green novices amongst them who had barely begun their mystical education. Naturally, they dared not approach too closely to where the advanced Magical Ripple had just erupted around Elandril.

However, one apprentice defied this norm, a young woman with pale blonde hair that cascaded down her back. Tall and imposing, she stood out with her shining boots, and even though she was draped in a black robe, the initial impression she exuded was an overwhelming wave of confidence and authority.

There were only a few individuals within the Black Magic Academy who could turn heads, and this woman, Elandril, was indeed one of them. She was known as Lilliana, a senior magic apprentice whose prowess ranked her among the top ten within the entire academy's circle of apprentices. Like Elandril, she was an exceptional entity, having been taken as a disciple by an official Dark Sorcerer. The only distinction was that Lilliana's mentor also bore the title of the academy's vice-principal.

"Oh? An Acidic Wand crafted by Master Mosido, and it's in your possession?" Lilliana, arriving at the scene, displayed no interest in the charred remains that lay nearby. Instead, she strode directly up to Elandril, curiosity gleaming in her eyes as she posed her question. Her tone, laced with both surprise and a challenging edge, suggested the complexity of the hierarchies and intrigues within the academy walls.

Lilliana towered over Elandril, not just in age, where she had many years on him, but also in stature. Despite his own considerable height, she bested him by half a head, her elegant frame a clear testament to her seniority.

As she posed her question, a demanding inquiry that only a Senior Apprentice could invoke, Elandril set aside his magical wand, a sign of respect. He responded with a reverence that matched the gravity of the conversation. "I have been taken under the wing of Master Mosido," he explained, his voice steady yet filled with pride. "This wand is a personal gift from him, a symbol of his tutelage."

It was abundantly clear that Lilliana was leagues beyond Yilke, whom Elandril had just vanquished. Her presence demanded attention, respect, and, most importantly, caution. Elandril could not afford to be anything less than completely vigilant around someone of her prowess and backing.

Upon hearing Elandril's response, a flicker of disappointment passed across Lilliana's visage, barely perceptible but undeniably there. There was no question about it: for a split second, the formidable dark magic apprentice had entertained the idea of murder for the sake of treasure.

Had the wand been merely a task reward from Master Mosido, Lilliana might have slain Elandril without a second thought, unburdened by guilt. After all, innocence holds no weight when treasures are involved — an age-old adage proven time and time again.

However, the revelation of Elandril's apprenticeship under Master Mosido complicated matters. Even with her status and rank, Lilliana could not simply wrest the wand from his grasp by force. While others might be unaware, she knew all too well: Master Mosido was notoriously protective of his protégés.

Moreover, considering his additional identity as an Alchemist, even her own mentors would have to tread lightly around him, showing due courtesy. The politics of power played silently between the lines, and in this delicate dance, one misstep could lead to untold repercussions.

Though she hadn't managed to wrench the staff from Elandril's grip, it was clear Lilliana had no intentions of letting him off the hook that easily. This femme fatale, venomous as a viper, let out a soft, sardonic chuckle.

"I suspect you're unaware," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, "that the Junior Apprentice you've just slain was particularly esteemed by Master Ketheron, the one in charge of the plantations."

"Though the formal bond of master and apprentice was not yet solidified, it was only a matter of time before he would be officially taken under Ketheron's wing. That low-level magic mask you're holding? A personal gift from Master Ketheron himself," Lilliana chuckled, the sound a cold, amused tinkle in the air.

Her laughter seemed to slice through Elandril, previously stoic features crumbling as his complexion took a sickly turn. To inadvertently cross a formidable Dark Sorcerer was tantamount to a curse from the heavens in the city of Mosobra.

Elandril's one solace was his own recent initiation as a disciple under the powerful Lord Mosido. He held onto the hope that Master Mosido would provide protection, shielding him from the looming pressure exerted by plantation master Ketheron.

Yet, even with this, the mere thought of being marked and despised by a Dark Sorcerer sent chills down Elandril's spine, making him feel as if he were sitting on a cushion of needles. Every nuance of Elandril's facial transformation was keenly observed by Lilliana, her eyes missing nothing.

Seeing no further advantage, the woman lost interest in remaining. With a swish of her cloak, she strode away, the "thud, thud, thud" of her boots fading into the distance. The junior apprentices nearby, who had been huddled together, didn't dare obstruct her path. They parted like the sea, their faces awash with both awe and fear, none daring to even breathe too heavily until her imposing figure disappeared from view.Though Lilliana had departed, it was far from the end of Elandril's troubles.

The Dark Sorcerers were indifferent to the apprentices dueling amongst themselves, but murder within the academy walls? That would certainly attract unwanted complications.

From the heavens descended a half-meter-tall owl, its wings as black as a moonless night. Merely in terms of elemental aura and oppressive might, it seemed to surpass even Senior Apprentice Lilliana. This creature was one of the academy's Sentinels, enforcers of order, summoned only when a lethal incident necessitated their intervention. They usually circled the skies above, vigilant, descending only when circumstances demanded.

"Apprentice!" The owl's voice, sharp and eerie, sliced through the tension. "You have breached the seventeenth directive of the Mosobra City Academy of Dark Arts. By decree of Master Dathalon..."

Yet, before the owl could finish its tedious admonition, Elandril deftly retrieved a certain token from within his robes — the Magical Medal, a gift from Master Mosido himself. Its emergence brought an abrupt halt to the Sentinel's piercing proclamation.

After all, the so-called rules of the academy were crafted by the Dark Sorcerers themselves. Elandril, as an apprentice to a formidable Dark Sorcerer, had eliminated a mere Junior Apprentice, one of inconsequential background. The Sentinels had no desire to entangle themselves in such trifling affairs.

Furthermore, Elandril added with calculated calm, "In response to this unforeseen incident, I acted in self-defense, for he struck first."

His words hung in the air, a silent assertion that even within the ruthless hierarchy of dark sorcery, there was a twisted sense of justice, a recognition that power, too, came with its own prerogatives.