A whirlwind of bitter memories rushed through Roselyn’s mind.
She recalled her years under Professor Claude.
——Can’t you do anything right?
‘I…. I’m sorry.’
——I’ve told you how to do this a hundred times! Why can’t you get it?
‘I tried…. I followed your instructions….’
——Then you should’ve figured it out! You’ve been working under me for years, and you still can’t understand what I mean?!
‘I’m sorry! Please, don’t kick me out!’
——You’re nothing without me. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. So stop messing up and do better!
She had been deceived, robbed of her work, physically abused, and berated endlessly.
There were times she wanted to cry but couldn’t. She had to endure.
But not anymore.
After her presentation, a thorough investigation was launched into Claude’s past work. Every thesis he had presented at the conference came under scrutiny.
The first two years of his career were undeniably his own work. Despite the failures and rejections, they were genuinely his.
However, it was after those early years, when Claude began presenting groundbreaking theses, that inconsistencies started to appear.
Roselyn was questioned extensively about those works. However, she had managed to answer each question confidently.
Professor Vanitas had warned her that this exact scenario might happen, so she had prepared thoroughly and studied the previous works in detail.
The investigation compared the two extensively.
Roselyn’s explanations were flexible, detailed, and demonstrated a deep understanding of the work, dissecting each part perfectly.
Claude, however, could only explain up to a certain point. His answers were only limited to his surface-level understanding.
The conclusion was obvious.
The lead scholar stood and addressed the hall.
“Claude Rosamund,” the scholar said. “You are hereby expelled from the Scholars Institute. Furthermore, you are blacklisted from attending any future academic conferences, effective immediately.
Claude’s face paled, his body trembling as the sound of ringing began to echo in his ears.
“Your rights to teach in any University Tower are revoked, and your teaching license is permanently stripped. You have brought disgrace to the field of academia.”
“….”
He opened his mouth to argue but found no words.
“Security will escort you out. Any attempt to bypass these sanctions will result in legal action. You may leave Estelle in the morning.”
Claude slumped into his seat, defeated. His promising career had been stripped away just like that.
Roselyn stood quietly at the podium. Relief washed over her, but there was also a sense of sadness from years of pain and humiliation finally coming to an end.
The session had been grueling. The investigation and proceedings delayed all the remaining presentations to the next day.
By the time it was over, the moon was already high in the sky.
The emcee stepped forward and addressed Roselyn with a respectful nod.
——Miss Clandestine, we deeply regret the circumstances surrounding your work. Please accept our sincerest apologies.
“Thank you.”
***
“That was… intense,” Astrid said. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Yeah, good job, Roselyn,” Karina added. “I don’t know how you managed to stay so composed under all that scrutiny.”
“Well, uh—” Roselyn began, but before she could finish, they were surrounded as soon as they stepped out of the auditorium.
A group of merchants and business representatives crowded around her.
——Miss Clandestine, we’d love to discuss a partnership with you!
——Your work has incredible potential! Please, let’s arrange a meeting.
——Are you currently affiliated with any company?
“….”
Roselyn froze, completely overwhelmed by the sudden attention. Karina, standing beside her, also froze, unsure of what to do.
Tak.
Astrid, accustomed to dealing with crowds, quickly read the situation and stepped forward gracefully.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Miss Clandestine appreciates your interest, but she’s had a long and exhausting day. Let’s not overwhelm her all at once.”
The crowd hesitated. However, recognizing the Princess’s presence and her composed demeanor, they responded respectfully.
“If you’d like to arrange a meeting, please leave your contact details, and Miss Clandestine will reach out at a more convenient time.”
The merchants exchanged glances before nodding and handed over their business cards.
Astrid glanced at Karina and Roselyn from the corner of her eye, gesturing subtly.
“Shall we go?”
Roselyn nodded, still holding the stack of cards in her trembling hands. Karina placed a hand on her shoulder, and together, they followed Astrid as she led them away from the crowd.
As they moved toward the quieter part of the area, Roselyn let out a deep sigh.
“….Thank you, Princess. I didn’t know what to do back there.”
“Please, Miss Clandestine. Call me Astrid.”
“Ah, y–yes! Astrid.”
Astrid nodded with a smile. Looking around, she tilted her head slightly.
“Where’s Professor Vanitas?”
“I don’t know,” Karina replied. “I haven’t seen him since Roselyn’s presentation.”
***
Inside a dimly lit tavern, Claude sat hunched over a table. A half-empty bottle of strong ale sat before him, and his cheeks were flushed from the drink.
The news of his disgrace had spread quickly, and the mages within the tavern actively avoided him.
“Haaa…. shit!”
He slammed his mug down. The sound drew brief attention before the patrons turned back to their own conversations.
His hand trembled as he poured another drink, spilling some onto the table.
In just a single day, he had lost everything. His career, his reputation, and the respect he once had.
“Fucking hell….”
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
“Years of work…. gone. Just like that. All because of her.”
He thought of Roselyn, standing there on the stage, tearing apart everything he had built. The memory burned like the alcohol in his stomach.
Claude grabbed the bottle, pouring another drink with a shaky hand. He downed it in one go, slamming the mug down again.
“Claude Rosamund?”
The voice startled him. Claude waved his hand dismissively without lifting his head, slumping further onto the table.
“Go away,” he muttered. “Not in the fucking mood.”
The figure didn’t leave. Instead, they pulled out the chair across from Claude and sat down. Claude finally glanced up and squinted his eyes.
“….Huh?”
Claude recognized him.
“….Achille? What do you want?”
Achille smiled, leaning forward.
“I’ve seen what happened, Sir Claude. You’ve had a rough fall, haven’t you?”
“If you’re here to mock me, get in line.”
“Mock you? No.” Achille shook his head. “I’m here to offer you something. A second chance.”
Claude paused just as he was about to take another sip. He raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
Achille reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial filled with dark pills. He placed it on the table between them.
“These. A chance for power. Real power. Forget the scholars, the universities, the bureaucratic nonsense. With this, you can become something greater than all of them.”
Claude squinted at the vial. He blinked slowly as the alcohol clouded his thoughts.
“What…. what is this? Some kind of…. scam?”
“No scam, Sir Claude. This is your chance to rise above it all.”
“Why would you care? Huh!? What’s in it for you?”
Achille chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
“Oh, come now, Sir Claude. Surely, you’ve heard of my work.”
Claude’s drunken glare deepened, but he didn’t deny it. Achille was a well-known professor.
“Let’s just say I’m offering an opportunity. This product has been tested thoroughly. It’s being distributed in the underworld as we speak.”
Claude eyed the vial suspiciously. “The underworld? You’ve fallen that far?”
“Fallen? No, Sir Claude. I’ve risen above the petty limitations of the so-called ‘academic elite.'”
The words struck Claude deeply. He had been dismissed, and there was no way to recover within the academic world.
If this could give him a way to rise above it all….
Claude leaned forward, fixing his gaze on the vial.
“And you’re telling me this will make me…. what? Stronger? Smarter?”
“Beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.”
Claude hesitated. His mind was clouded with alcohol and anger.
“And it’s safe?”
“Perfectly,” Achille said confidently. “I wouldn’t offer it to you otherwise.”
It made sense to Claude in his drunken state. Achille was younger yet already a well-established professional.
He seemed to have it all. A brilliant career and the respect Claude once craved. If anyone knew what it took to rise to the top, it was Achille.
Claude’s fingers trembled as he reached for the vial.
“Trust me,” Achille added. “You’ll thank me later.”
***
Vanitas pulled his hood tighter as he stepped outside the tavern.
As expected.
Achille was a dark mage masquerading as a professor. He had created a pill that allowed mages to wield dark magic for a few minutes.
But the more someone took the pill, the more they became acclimated to dark magic, eventually turning them into full-fledged dark mages.
Still, Vanitas didn’t intervene.
Claude had to be dragged further down.
Vanitas followed Achille discreetly, blending into the crowd without drawing attention.
Achille’s path led straight to the underworld. Vanitas continued to trail him silently, masking his presence with the hood—an artifact that masked his mana.
Achille had already served his purpose, but he would undoubtedly become a problem in the future.
That future needed to be avoided at all costs.
Not out of fear.
But because it would be far too bothersome to deal with later.
This man had to die now.
***
Achille quickened his pace as he walked through the dimly lit streets.
He knew someone was following him.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t identify the figure.
Achille’s stigmata allowed him to sense intent, an ability that had never failed him before.
The faint trace of purpose, whether hostile or benign, was usually obvious to him.
But this time was different.
The presence following him wasn’t leaving behind the scent of intent.
There was nothing.
Yet the unsettling feeling of being watched sent a chill down Achille’s spine.
Someone was definitely there.
The further Achille walked, the colder he felt. A chill ran down his spine.
A common misconception was that dark mages allied themselves with demons. In reality, dark mages only repurposed the power of demons into their magic.
They were not demons themselves. To Achille, humanity was superior, and demons were nothing more than tools.
That was Achille’s ideology.
He glanced back but saw nothing. Yet, he knew better. Someone was there.
As a precaution, Achille moved toward his territory. A place fortified with countless magic circuits he had carefully engraved over time whenever he visited Estelle.
Who knew they’d come in handy now?
——!
“There!”
The presence grew stronger, and Achille spun around.
Smack—!
Smacking his hand against the wall, he activated the circuits. Purple light flared as the circuit patterns glowed, revealing layers of magic defenses.
“…!?”
But there was nothing there.
“….!”
Suddenly, his instincts screamed and Achille tilted to the side. A split second later, something streaked past him, embedding itself into the ground. The sharp clang of metal against stone echoed in the air.
Achille’s eyes darted to the ground, where a small knife lay.
Swoosh—!
Before he could fully process what had happened, a sudden gust of wind struck him, forcing him back.
This person was out to kill him.
Dark tendrils of mana began to lash out of Achille. Muttering an incantation under his breath, streaks of black lightning sparked lashing out wildly in every direction.
The air crackled, and the ground beneath him scorched from the chaotic energy.
“Come out, bastard!”
The only response was silence.
Suddenly, another blade whizzed past his ear, embedding itself into the wall behind him. Achille spun toward the source, releasing a burst of black lightning in that direction.
The lightning struck nothing.
“Damn it!”
Whoever this was, they were skilled—too skilled to be just anyone.
Bang——!
A gunshot echoed, blending with the charged mana in the area. It was disorienting, making the origin of the shot impossible to pinpoint.
Achille’s barrier magic activated instantly from the circuits embedded around him. However, the bullet shattered the barrier, sending cracks of mana through the air.
“Tsk.”
Clicking his tongue, Achille channeled dark mana. Black lightning crackled and lashed out in all directions as he finished his incantation.
Swoosh—!
Achille sensed the assailant’s presence and caught sight of a robed figure dodging the lightning at an abnormal speed.
Reacting quickly, he activated every magic circuit in the area. Magic energy erupted and lashed out violently in all corners.
“Damn it—!”
Sweat dripped down Achille’s face as he calculated his options.
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept past Achille, and the robed figure appeared in front of him, striking with a knife.
Achille barely managed to block it with his palm, blood spurting as the blade tore through his flesh. The attacker swiftly retreated, carried by wind magic, and raised a revolver.
Bang—! Bang—!
Bullets struck Achille, drawing blood and forcing him back. But gritting his teeth, he retaliated with a surge of dark magic aimed at the robed figure.
“Huh—?!”
The attacker maneuvered through the attacks swiftly with wind magic. As he ascended, he hurled throwing knives amplified by wind magic.
The knives struck Achille, one after another, pinning him down.
Then, with a final gust of wind, a powerful force crashed down, slamming Achille to the ground with overwhelming impact.
Boom——!
“Ukh….”
Achille groaned, his vision blurred. When he managed to open his eyes, two cold amethyst eyes stared down at him, as if they were staring at his soul.
“….!”
He instantly recognized him.
“Vani—”
“Windblade.”
Swoosh—!
Those were the last words Achille heard before his head dropped lifelessly to the cold, hard ground, blood pooling beneath him.
***
Vanitas stared down at Achille’s lifeless body.
They had been configured and amplified by him, utilizing the structure of the Blade of Resonance and modified with the help of his Spectacles. Once their effects activated, the bullets reverted back to ordinary magic bullets.
In other words, they were unique—one of a kind in this world.
It would have been a waste to use them to finish someone like Achille.
Vanitas glanced around, taking in the scattered throwing knives and remnants of the chaos. Holding his bleeding side, he frowned and steadied himself.
Carefully, he walked to each knife and burned them, ensuring no evidence remained that could lead back to him.
Next, he threw his bloodied hood over Achille’s lifeless body.
Snap—!
With a snap of his fingers, flames ignited, burning the hood and the corpse, reducing them to ash.
Switching to another disguise, Vanitas calmly walked out of the area, leaving no trace of what had transpired.
It was the first life he had ever taken with his own hands.
….As Vanitas Astrea.
***
The next day, they waited at the station for the magitrain bound for Aetherion.
Roselyn, overwhelmed by the many business offers she had received, decided to handle them once they were back in Aetherion.
“I’ll arrange meetings with them once we’re back,” Roselyn said, glancing at Vanitas and Karina, who were seated next to each other.
“That’s a good idea,” Karina nodded.
Vanitas, sitting by the window, glanced outside.
“Focus on one thing at a time. You’ve had a lot on your plate recently.”
Roselyn smiled softly. “I will, Professor. Thank you for everything.”
Vanitas nodded, returning his gaze to the passing scenery outside. The thought of encountering another phenomenon made him frown slightly.
“Professor,” Astrid called, seated across from him.
“Yes?”
“Why do you live like that?”
“Huh?”
The sudden question caught everyone off guard. Karina and Roselyn both exchanged surprised glances.
“The Professor is often disliked because he’s misunderstood. I understand that now,” Astrid said thoughtfully.
Vanitas raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’ve heard everything from Miss Roselyn. How you helped her, even during her presentation, you stepped in when she needed it most. I’m led to believe something similar occurred in the past.”
Astrid paused, catching her breath, then continued.
“Such acts go unnoticed by most, yet the people you help always remember. Why, Professor?”
Vanitas leaned back in his seat, his gaze returning to the passing scenery. “Why does it matter?”
“It matters because it doesn’t align with how others perceive you earnestly. You act indifferent, distant, even cold. But when it truly counts, you’re there, helping quietly.”
Vanitas exhaled deeply. “You’re overthinking it. Helping others when I choose to doesn’t mean I’m looking for recognition. I simply do what I feel is necessary.”
Necessity.
That was all it ever was.
An action that served a purpose, a means to an end. Something that benefited him in some way, directly or indirectly.
His ideology was simple.
Astrid, however, seemed to be misunderstanding something fundamental.
Chae Eun-woo, or Vanitas Astrea, was not a kind person.
The world did not reward kindness, but results.
“You’re kind, Professor,” Astrid said softly.
“….”
Vanitas remained silent, unsure of what to say.
Shortly after, a wave of drowsiness swept over him. It wasn’t just him, the others around him seemed to feel it too.
“Tsk. Again.”
Another phenomenon.
But this time, Vanitas was ready.
As his surroundings faded into darkness, his mind shifted into a different state.
This wasn’t like the trials before.
This time, Abyss himself appeared before him.
——Have you found your answer?
“Yes,” Vanitas replied with a nod. “You’ve known it all along, haven’t you?”
——Who knows?
Vanitas took a deep breath.
“The person who killed Vanessa. The one who worked with her to investigate Mana Core Degeneration Syndrome, someone who faced no strings, nor risks.”
Vanitas closed his eyes. The clues had always been there.
The survivor of the Black Hollow Massacre.
The person delving deeply into Mana Core Degeneration Syndrome, using every resource, no matter the cost.
The person responsible for the murder of Alexia, Vanessa, and the experimentations which ended in failure, accelerating the death of the Imperial Queen, Julia, Astrid’s mother.
“It’s me. Vanitas Astrea.”
At that moment, a wave of memories flooded his thoughts in the form of fragments.