"Your name is Harvest."
As Arcane spoke, the black beads began to tremble. Their molecular bonds loosened, and dark matter rose like smoke. From within the shadows, a creature emerged and spoke in a rough, distorted voice.
"I am… Harvest."
"We'll run some tests. Leave him in the test chamber for now."
Arcane gestured toward a three-meter-tall glass tube. It was far too small for a human to endure more than ten minutes inside, but magical beings had no true sense of time.
That night, Canis and Arin secretly entered the laboratory. They didn't have Arcane's permission, and Canis's unease showed. But the moment he saw Harvest, his tension vanished.
A humanoid figure, nearly two meters tall, stood within the glass. With a slim waist and broad, powerful shoulders, the sight of it struck Canis deeply.
"This… this is Master's creation…"
The pinnacle of 150 years of sorcery and biological magic, Harvest wasn't just a magical being—he also carried Arcane's memories and possessed intelligence.
Unlike Canis, Arin was trembling, her eyes fixed on the figure inside the tube.
"Ugh… it's so strange. I thought it would look more human."
"What kind of magical creature isn't scary-looking? I think this form is incredible—powerful, like a warrior."
"Still… it feels wrong somehow."
Canis didn't care. If Arin didn't like Harvest, that only improved his chances.
"Just wait, Harvest… I'll be your master."
Arcane had said that either Canis or Arin would become Harvest's master. While Arin was a dear friend, Canis wasn't willing to back down on this. He would prove himself—through fair competition, of course.
"Canis, let's go. Master might catch us."
"Huh? Oh—yeah."
Arin shut off the lights and followed Canis out. But just as they were leaving, she froze and looked back. A sudden surge of emotion burst from within the glass chamber.
"…Mom!"
Terrified, Arin ran and didn't return to the lab again after that. Still, she couldn't shake the image of Harvest—trapped in that glass tube, just like she once had been as a child locked away in Radum's warehouse.
One night, while everyone was asleep, Arin summoned her courage and returned to the lab. Harvest was still there, unmoving inside the glass.
"…Are you feeling trapped?"
There was no response. Arin stepped closer and began examining the equipment, searching for a way to open the chamber.
"I could let you out for a little while…"
"Why would you assume I feel trapped?"
Arin jumped back at the harsh, echoing voice.
"You've been locked up for a month."
"Humans dislike being confined because you perceive time. I don't. I could remain like this forever—it wouldn't matter."
Arin frowned. The energy she felt from him was different—suffocating, restrained.
"…Even so, I think you do feel it."
"Did I remember something?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's curiosity? That might be the wrong word… I was created to learn. But being trapped here, I can't."
"That's what I meant—it's frustrating."
Harvest fell silent, lost in thought.
"Is that really what this feeling is?"
"…How can you read my emotions?"
"Heh. I've had some practice. I lived in Radum for a long time."
"Radum… the slums of Baska, capital of Tormia. High-level concealment structures, unstable population dynamics… likely a refuge for displaced sub-species."
Even Arin, who had lived in Radum her whole life, had never heard it described like that.
"You really do know a lot."
"What information do you have?"
"You… want to talk?"
"Yes. I need conversation. I don't yet have a master to share my thoughts with."
So Arin stayed, and the two of them talked through the night. It was the first time in her life she had spoken so freely with someone. Most of her childhood had been spent in silence.
Two months passed. After countless tests, Arcane finally opened the glass chamber.
"You're free now. You'll form a resonance with Canis. But you won't be bound by subjugation. I'll explain why later."
Harvest didn't move.
Arcane frowned. It was unusual for a magical being—capable of calculating thousands of variables in seconds—to delay a response.
"…Why are you hesitating?"
"…Why Canis?"
"Hmm... Are you saying you don't like it? That's odd, considering you don't even have mental resonance. Yet you already have preferences."
"I understand there's no real benefit for me to serve you, even with your memories inside me. But Canis is prideful and stubborn. He won't take my advice. That stubbornness will be a weakness in battle."
"Of course not."
"Arin, on the other hand, is different. She spent ten years in Radum, seeing no one except Canis. Because of that isolation, her mental sensitivity became incredibly sharp."
"You mean... menarche?"
Menarche was a rare brainwave pattern that caused the brain to perceive every object as if it were being seen for the very first time. Since childhood, Arin had grown up without proper sensory exposure, which left her brain in a rigid state.
She couldn't perceive or categorize things like normal people, but when it came to sensing the essence or presence of something, she was unmatched. Despite many difficulties, she was the ideal candidate for becoming a spirit-type wizard.
Arcane was well aware that Arin's talent far surpassed Canis's.
"But Arin can't handle it. She's too kind-hearted."
"I don't understand. With Carbide, her advantages more than make up for her flaws. She could help amplify my power."
Arcane gave a bitter smile.
Even with shared memories, different bodies bring different judgments, don't they?
"Your reasoning may sound more logical. But it doesn't matter. Arin isn't an option. You're going with Canis."
"Quack!"
Harvest collapsed, trembling as he fell.
"So this is it, Arcane…"
Only at the moment of death did Harvest finally understand. Why Arcane had given up on Arin—despite her extraordinary magical potential—and chosen Canis instead.
'They're both equally stubborn.'
Harvest's fall felt weightless, and that made him seem even more pitiful.
"Harvest!"
Canis rushed over. Harvest's body was riddled with tiny holes, shriveled like a thin piece of paper—barely visible to the eye.
"Why?! Why did you do it?! I didn't care if I died! If this was your plan, why did you betray me?! Why?!"
"Quack... How should I know? You're my master."
Canis fell silent, realization sinking in.
"A magical creature only does what its master wants."
"Harvest…"
Canis lowered his head. His heart was heavy with resentment and regret. He hated being alive, yet part of him wanted to keep living. Why wouldn't he? That was human. And somehow, Harvest understood that. That's why he broke the master-servant contract and chose to self-destruct.
"I'm sorry, Harvest. I…"
Harvest didn't respond. He didn't need to. A magical creature exists to serve its master's will. Death wasn't tragic—it was just part of the design. Instead, he was more intrigued by Shirone—the one who had overpowered both Canis and their synchronized attacks.
'Hmm… He uses unusual magic. But he's not simply stronger in terms of power.'
Shirone was clearly a formidable opponent. He showed no hesitation in taking control of the battlefield. And yet, he didn't fight out of bloodlust. His style, focused solely on outcomes, felt more like that of a magical creature than a human.
'His emotional recovery is astonishingly fast. Almost superhuman. It's like he immediately finds the best solution and acts on it—no hesitation.'
As he analyzed Shirone, Harvest smiled faintly. Shirone was specialized—uniquely so. Whatever it was that made him different, it wasn't something born of nature.
'Quack… Arcane, you're going to struggle with this one.'
Arcane's face twisted in frustration. No one—neither this one nor that one—was moving according to his plans. Irritated, he slowly stepped forward and muttered,
"I'm sorry, Canis. Even if this shames me…"
"Shut up."
The sharpness in Shirone's voice cut through the tension. His friends widened their eyes in shock—Shirone never spoke like that. Arcane turned, intrigued. If it was too ridiculous, he wouldn't even be angry.
"Chuck! What a fiery child. How about this—I make you an offer—"
"I said shut up. Can't you hear me?"
This time, Arcane's face tightened.
"I'm barely holding back. So shut it. One more word, and I'll crush you."
A faint red glow began to radiate from Shirone's body—laser magic. Its destructive power was proven. If even Harvest, who specialized in energy absorption, had exploded from it, then not even a great wizard would be safe.
Watching from the sidelines, Shirone's friends felt their blood run cold. Their opponent was the archmage Arcane—the most powerful wizard in the world. Shirone was just a student. Provoking him like this was practically suicide.
"What's he doing? Does he really understand the situation?"
"No. But he'll be fine."
Nade and Iruki turned to Ethela in disbelief.
"Teacher, what do you mean? Shouldn't we stop him?"
"It's complicated," Ethela replied calmly. "Arcane's in a tight spot. He's been driven out of the castle. If Shirone's earlier magic was about concentrated energy, then Arcane can't counter it in his current state. As long as there's a risk of being overpowered, Arcane won't act rashly. Shirone knows that."
Nade looked back at Shirone. Even if what Ethela said was true, no one else would have the courage to challenge an archmage like this.
'He's really something.'
"Smart choice. Dismissing the nine just because you got one wrong out of ten? That's foolish. Never stop thinking, no matter the situation. The depth of your thoughts determines everything in this world—even in battle."
"Don't get the wrong idea. I'll never forgive you."
Arcane chuckled. "Ha! Got some guts, do you? I like that. Let me guess—you're the kind who grows through real experience, not theory. A school that only teaches rigid formulas? That's not your style. So, how about it? Why don't you come with me? I'll make you the greatest wizard alive."
"Don't talk nonsense. I have far more respect for the teachers here than I ever could for a murderer like you."
"Oh really? Then tell me—what exactly have you learned here? Photon Cannon? Red Wave? Or wait… did they teach you about the immortal functions?"
Shirone's eyes widened slightly.
"…How do you know about that?"
Arcane burst out laughing. "Hah! Looks like I struck a nerve. These teachers of yours love to fill young minds with flowery ideas about the world. But listen carefully—immortal functions aren't something ordinary. They're exceedingly rare. But so are the monsters out there waiting to tear you apart if you wander into the unknown unprepared."
He narrowed one eye with a grin.
"And Unlockers? They're not as rare as you think."
Shirone swallowed hard. Just how many battles must someone face before saying something like that with confidence? Arcane wasn't just powerful—he was experienced in ways Shirone couldn't fathom.
"I've met seven Unlockers in the past hundred years. Four of them were decent. The other three? Dead. The hallmark of an Unlocker is uniqueness. Their power lies in how unpredictable they are. But untrained uniqueness? It dies quickly against cold, structured discipline."
It was a harsh truth—but an undeniable one. Personality could tip the scales in a fight, but it was a double-edged sword that easily broke against more methodical strength.
"A school that ignores individuality and teaches the same thing to everyone… that won't take you far. You need to sharpen your own weapon. And if you come with me—I'll help you do just that."
"You don't learn magic to beat people. Don't lump me in with someone like you."
Arcane caught the conflict in Shirone's expression. No surprise there. Without Shirone's obsession with magic and the desire to excel, he wouldn't have come this far.
"You think everyone likes you now. But people only gather around greatness—they don't care about you. How long do you think they'll stick around once you're no longer impressive?"
His words made the others watching frown, but Shirone remained silent, listening.
"Become strong," Arcane continued. "Strong enough that no one can ignore you again. Otherwise, they'll crush you. And when that time comes, will you still cling to your noble excuses to avoid fighting?"
He raised three fingers.
"Three years. That's all I need to make you into someone no wizard on the continent can dismiss. Think that's short? It's more than enough—if you fully embrace your uniqueness."
To Shirone, it didn't sound like complete madness. As an Unlocker, there was little benefit in staying within the rigid framework of traditional magic education. Even in the best-case scenario, what could he hope for? A decent position in the magical community?
"…You're right."
Eruki and Nade's faces went pale.
"Shirone…"
If Arcane's words were true, then it was hard to deny them. Unlockers were rare and didn't fit the mold of standardized schooling. There was a limit to how far Shirone could go under the current system.
"Maybe you're right," Shirone admitted. "But even so—I won't go with you. This school isn't just about fighting. It's about my life. My teachers, my friends, the sense of belonging I've found here… You can't give me that."
Arcane's face twisted. Whatever Alpheas had done to instill such loyalty—it was impressive.
"You're being fooled. Life isn't about all that. If you weren't powerful, you'd just be another average student. Strength is everything."
"If that's all that matters to you… then why are you like this now?"
"What?"
"What do you really have left? You fought, became an archmage—and now? Everyone despises you. Aren't you lonely? You act like this because no one acknowledges you anymore."
Arcane's face turned red with rage, his teeth clenched.
"Rubbish. The strong are meant to be alone. Weak people need to cling to each other. Look around. Everyone is kneeling before me. I'm in control. That is loneliness."
"No. You're just a murderer who has no one left."
The word murderer flicked a switch in Arcane's eyes—madness replaced reason.
"Hahaha! Maybe so. But you know what? I used to have companions. And do you know who destroyed them all? The one you admire—Alpheas."
Shirone couldn't believe it. He remembered what Ethela had told him—there was bad blood between Arcane and Alpheas. But the Alpheas he knew would never destroy those around him.
"I don't know what happened in your past. But I won't believe you. You're a murderer. And you're still murdering people."
Arcane's voice dropped coldly.
"You think I'm the only one? What if Alpheas is a murderer—just like me?"
Shirone's eyes flew open in shock.
"…That's a lie. What do you know about the principal?"
Arcane scoffed, grinning with wicked delight.
"Oh, I know plenty. That kid… used to be my disciple."
"…What?"
Shirone was speechless. Alpheas had been a pioneer in light magic since his youth—an ideal symbol of integrity and brilliance. So how could someone like Arcane, a master of dark magic, speak of him as a colleague?
Perhaps sensing the irony himself, Arcane lifted his gaze to the sky, his eyes distant. The memories of that day were still sharp, as if it had just happened. He shook off the thoughts and turned back to Ethela.
"Is Alpheas married?" he asked.
"No," Ethela replied. "He's lived alone his whole life, dedicating himself to education."
"I see."
A flicker of sadness crossed Arcane's eyes. He had despised Alpheas for forty years, but one lingering thread of sympathy remained—Erina.
"I'm not sure if you know this," Arcane said quietly, "but Alpheas was married."
Ethela tilted her head, puzzled. As far as she was aware, Alpheas was officially single. Even if he had been married and divorced, a union between noble families would typically be recorded.
"But the records say he's unmarried," she said.
"It seems their marriage was never officially recognized. Still, they lived together for three years. Her name was Erina. She was an extraordinary woman—brilliant, beautiful, radiant."
"What happened between them?" Ethela asked. "Is it something that would still cause resentment after fifty years?"
"At the time, Alpheas was hailed as a rising star in magic, thanks to his revolutionary photon theory. He received the Gold Circle Award from the Emperor himself. That alone tells you how far he'd come. He was promised a prestigious role in the Dragon's Magic Department, and he was living with a woman from the Bastard family. By all appearances, he had everything."
Arcane tapped his temple.
"But Erina… her mental development had slowed. She had the mind of a ten-year-old."
"I see," Ethela murmured.
"But Alpheas didn't care," Arcane said. "He truly loved her. It wasn't out of pity or obligation. His love was sincere."
Arcane's mind drifted back to the past—forty years ago, when he still ruled the shadows and Alpheas was the brightest new star in the magical world.
"Winner of the Gold Circle Award! Mirhi Alpheas!"
Trumpets blared through the Grand Hall as confetti rained from the ceiling. Alpheas stood stunned, tears slipping down his cheeks. The Gold Circle Award—granted to the most outstanding magician of the year—not only guaranteed a place at Yongle but also attracted support from noble families far and wide.
"Congratulations, Alpheas. I knew you'd win," someone said.
"Don't forget your old classmates just because you're famous now," another added.
Dozens of mages surrounded him, trying to secure a connection with the rising star. Everyone could see his value would only grow.
But not everyone was pleased. Sarov, who had been neck-and-neck with Alpheas for the award, scowled bitterly.
"Tch. Just paired up with Mirhi and the Bastard name, and he shoots straight to the top," Sarov muttered.
"Say what you want," a friend replied. "But this is how it turned out. We'd better watch what we say around Alpheas from now on."
Sarov sighed. He knew he couldn't afford to distance himself from someone as influential as Alpheas.
"What now, Sarov? If we meet up separately, it'll just seem awkward. Planning to make peace?"
"Nah, I'm fine. Why don't you join us too?"
"Same here. Let's just go later. Two's better than one, right? Want to grab a drink?"
"Yeah. I don't want to hang around here any longer."
Sarov and his group left the castle. Though he had nearly won the Gold Circle himself, no one remembered second place.
Meanwhile, Clump burst out laughing and pulled Alpheas from the crowd with one of his signature bear hugs. Alpheas tried to catch his breath, but his face was locked in Clump's armlock.
"Hahaha! You bastard! You actually did it! My buddy won the Gold Circle! I can't believe this!"
"It hurts! Let me go!"
Alpheas yelped, but Clump kept celebrating.
"When you were acting all smart, I wanted to smack you! Turns out you really are a genius!"
Though dizzy and sore, Alpheas didn't try to escape. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment—the Gold Circle. If ever there was a day to enjoy even painful congratulations, it was today.
"Alright! This is a day to remember! Let's drink until we forget our own names. I reserved a bar—leave your brains behind and follow your gut!"
Alpheas finally wiggled out of the headlock, rubbing his neck with a sheepish grin.
"Ah, I might have to pass for now. I've got somewhere to be."
"What? The star of the show can't bail! How are we supposed to celebrate without you?"
"I'm going home," Alpheas said, eyes soft. "I want to hang this medal around my wife's neck."