Kai had no inkling of the exact discussions that unfolded among the high-ranking formal black mages of Morsobra City. By the time he laid eyes on his mentor again, it was already the night before their scheduled departure. Moses Doe, his mentor, bore the unmistakable weight of exhaustion—thick, bruise-like dark circles under his eyes testified to weeks of little to no rest. Senior Brother Zorro fared slightly better, but the deep furrow of worry etched between his brows betrayed the lurking danger of the journey ahead.
"The academy's tasks these past weeks have buried me," Moses said, his voice hoarse yet steady, as if forcing each word through a throat raw with fatigue. "I could only steal scraps of time to rush out life-saving tools for all of you." He sighed, a rare flicker of softness slipping through his usual stoic demeanor. "Fortunately, as a sort of… repayment—whether it's your senior brother here, or you two youngsters—if you're forced into action later, they'll likely assign safer roles out of respect for my name."
Relief softened Kai and Faye's tense expressions at his words; even Zorro's shoulders relaxed a fraction. Still, as one of the first apprentices slated to enter the temporal rift, Zorro's risks dwarfed theirs.
In truth, many other black mages dismissed Moses' efforts as pointless meddling. Like most wizards across the realm, black mages valued knowledge 传 (inheritance) and faction loyalty—but self-preservation always came first. Most treated their disciples as little more than glorified lab assistants or menial labor, barely a step above slaves. A mage like Moses, who plotted so meticulously for his students' safety? He was an anomaly among dark practitioners. Some even whispered that he wasn't a "true" black mage at all. Were it not for his roots in the Western Isles and Vice-Principal Martin's personal endorsement years prior, suspicion would have clung to him like a shadow.
Moses' urgency stemmed, in part, from his dwindling lifespan. With little more than a century left, breaking through to Level Two was all but impossible. If any of his disciples could carry on his legacy—mastering his spells and alchemical techniques—he would depart this world without regret.
From his dimension pouch, Moses drew forth over ten magical artifacts. Their surfaces throbbed with dense, swirling elemental auras; Kai's eyes widened—their quality rivaled his own Corrosive Staff. Even Zorro, who had grown jaded by years of encountering arcane wonders, stared in open awe at what his teacher laid out. Four of the items stood apart from standard high-grade gear—they weretrueconductor devices, rare enough to make seasoned mages covetous.
"Divide these among yourselves," Moses said, his tone flat but firm. "Zorro—you're the first into the rift, and you face the greatest peril. Take two of these conductor devices." Given Morsobra's renown as an alchemical hub, even veteran black mages would gape at such treasures. Giving Zorro two wasn't just about his role; it was a quiet acknowledgment that his survival mattered more than Kai's or Faye's. And as Moses' earliest pupil? A little bias was understandable.
Kai felt only gratitude. These weren't hasty, last-minute crafts—many were prized heirlooms from Moses' private collection, now freely bestowed on them. Guided by his mentor's advice, he selected five pieces:
The most precious: A formal conductor device shaped like a slate-gray iron canister. Moses explained it was his miniaturized take on a siege cannon. Even the weakest standard wizarding siege cannons could match Level Two threats; this downsized version packed enough force to menace full-fledged mages. Its only flaw? Ammunition scarcity. Moses had crafted just three shells recently—enough for a single blast, given Kai's mana pool. Reloading mid-combat was impossible.A ring that generated an earth-element shield, its surface etched with runes that glowed faintly when activated.A short staff that fired Storm Javelins instantaneously, mirroring the functionality of Kai's Corrosive Staff but channeling lightning instead of acid.An invisibility cloak, its fabric woven from shadow silk that seemed to absorb light.Crucially, a spatial ring with nearly ten cubic meters of storage. It solved two problems at once: housing bulky items like heavy spellbooks, and carrying the iron cannon—an object far too heavy for Kai to lift on his own.
Context mattered here: Spatial equipment was notoriously complex to craft at Kai's level. Even Zorro, with his advanced alchemical skills, struggled to work with spatial materials—rarities so legendary they were often traded for fortunes. Only Moses seemed to hoard enough to spare. Without this ring, the cannon would have been little more than a useless hunk of metal.
Once the gear was distributed, Moses ordered them to rest—tomorrow's expedition to Shadow Valley would demand all their strength. He intended to sleep soundly too, to replenish his drained spirits. Curiously, he hinted he wouldn't join their party on the trip to the valley.
The college's magic clock tolled—dong, dong—a low, resonant sound that felt like a prelude to the unknown. Hundreds of dark magic apprentices, Kai among them, gathered quietly before the flowerbed in front of the central teaching building. The air hummed with solemnity, thick enough to taste.
Alongside the apprentices stood over twenty owls—college supervisors, their feathers blending into the pre-dawn gloom. They fanned out like ghosts around the perimeter, their sharp eyes scanning every face, every fidget, as if searching for signs of weakness.
Kai glanced upward. With his naked eye, he could spot only six formal black mages standing before the teaching building—but a faint, unmistakable thrum of magical power told him more powerful figures lurked in the shadows, invisible to untrained eyes. Above the college, mist swirled and gray crows circled, their cries muffled. It was all the handiwork of those hidden mages—a silent declaration that this expedition was no ordinary task.
There was no rousing speech, no unnecessary explanations. Vice-Principal Dadalong stood at the front of the five black mages, his face a mask of cold resolve. He spoke just two words, his voice heavy enough to weigh on the air: "Set off."
Years of living under the (deterrence) of formal black mages had drilled discipline into the apprentices. They filed out of the college in silence, their footsteps soft against the stone paths, as if afraid to break the hush.
Kai walked side by side with Lena. It was only when they stepped outside the Dark Magic Academy that they realized Morsobra City had changed. The entire metropolis was eerily quiet—as if someone had pressed a mute button on the world.
Lena whispered what she'd heard: Two days earlier, the black mages had ordered all residents to stay indoors, enforcing a strict curfew. Even the subterranean humanoids who usually traveled to and from the city had been driven out entirely. No one knew when Morsobra would reopen; the high-ranking mages had given no answers.
Shadow Valley was far from Morsobra—Kai had never been there, only heard its name in passing. Walking was out of the question, of course. The black mages had no patience for wasted time, especially since for those in the know—like the Dean—delay meant growing danger.
Outside the city walls, a massive flying structure loomed: a giant wheel-shaped vessel that Kai recognized from his past trip to the underworld. Moses had called it a "Floating Airship." Its size was staggering—accommodating hundreds of apprentices was no challenge at all.
To Kai's surprise, nearly a hundred minotaurs and dozens of dark creatures waited aboard. On the bow deck, Vice-Principal Dadalong seemed to be arguing with one of the creatures—a massive black spider, its body nearly human-sized, with sixteen pairs of legs that clicked against the wood. A soundproof shield hummed between them, muffling their words.
Kai and Lena headed below decks, securing a relatively nice spot based on their strength: a large room on the second-top deck. Senior Brother Zorro passed by briefly, whispering that even with the Floating Airship, the trip to Shadow Valley would take at least a week. When Kai asked if Zorro had been there before, his senior only shook his head. "You'll find out when we arrive," he said. "Focus on preparing for the temporal rift—you'll need it."
As the apprentices settled into their cabins, the argument on the bow deck escalated. Dadalong's voice cut through the air, sharp with anger: "Why have only a third of your clan come? Where are the rest?"
The black spider showed no fear, even under the vice-principal's glare. It spoke in a human voice, metallic and cold, neither humble nor defiant: "You violated our agreement first. You're starting seven years early—no prior notice, no negotiation." It tilted its head, its five black eyes glinting. "The Black Magic Spider Clan reserves the right to choose: stand with you, or wait and watch."
Dadalong's eyes narrowed. In an instant, an overwhelming wave of elemental pressure erupted from him— the aura of a Level Two Black Mage. The spider was pinned to the deck, its legs splaying uselessly as the force crushed down on it. It was strong—comparable to a full-fledged black mage—but a single rank in the life hierarchy was an unbridgeable chasm. Against a Level Two, it stood no chance.
Foul yellow-green blood seeped from the spider's abdomen as it let out a muffled groan. Still, it refused to submit. Its remaining eyes locked onto Dadalong, and it spat: "Do you dare declare war on the entire Black Magic Spider Clan? All dark creatures in Morsobra swear allegiance to us. Our young clan leader was invited here personally by Vice-Principal Martin." It shrieked, its voice piercing the air: "On the Western Isles, in the underground realms—our influence spans the Wizard World. Under our Goddess' protection, we fear no wizard, no threat!"
Dadalong sneered. Three of the spider's eyes exploded in a spray of ichor. He didn't kill it—yet. Instead, he flicked his robe, turning away as the spider collapsed, whimpering.
"A pack of deluded believers," he muttered darkly. "Why did Martin invite them from the Western Isles? Was it the Dean's order?"
In the eyes of Wizard World practitioners, gods were nothing but myths. They were seekers of truth, not worshippers. If deities truly existed, the ancient, terrifying beings slumbering in the Towers of Sages or True Spirituality Towers would have already captured them—chained them to experimental slabs, dissected them, and unraveled their secrets. Generation after generation of wizards had concluded: "gods" were merely powerful beings at higher life levels, who'd declared themselves divine. It was the ignorance of lower lifeforms, their yearning to explain the unexplainable, that turned strength into worship.
Yet the goddess worshipped by the Black Magic Spider Clan was an anomaly. Ordinary deities from other realms—even True Spiritual Masters hailed as "Patron Gods"—dared not provoke Wizarding civilization, let alone spread their faith within wizard territories. But this spider clan's goddess operated covertly in the Wizard World, commanding devotion from countless subterranean dark creatures.
What secrets lay behind her?
Kai watched from the railing, his mind racing. Whatever awaited them in Shadow Valley—and beyond, in the temporal rift—it was clear this journey would entanglement (entangle) them in far more than just a simple exploration. Alliances would fray, dangers would mount, and the line between friend and foe would blur.
The Floating Airship's engines roared to life, lifting off into the sky. Below, Morsobra City shrank into a dark smudge on the horizon. Ahead, the clouds churned—ominous, and full of unknowns.