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Inside an Inn
Leylin shut the door behind him and retrieved a small azure crystal sphere from the pouch he carried with him at all times.
The crystal was petite, emanating a faint mystical glow. Inside the translucent orb, numerous golden specks of light drifted about, resembling tiny fireflies dancing in the dark.
"Activate," Leylin murmured, his voice calm yet commanding.
At his words, the golden motes within the sphere began shifting and rearranging themselves until they formed an unfamiliar, arcane symbol.
The shape continuously twisted and spiraled until it eventually settled into the form of a bloodshot eye, pulsating eerily.
Leylin's expression turned serious. He first turned the crystal ball towards himself, ensuring his sharp, gaunt features were reflected within its surface.
"Shadow Calendar, Year 1032, Month of Sour Frost, Day of the Crow's Cry." His voice was crisp, each syllable enunciated with precision.
"Today, I arrived at Extreme Night City and have taken lodging at Hoof's Inn," Leylin stated as he adjusted the crystal ball, making sure it captured the room's interior. Then, he moved toward the window, allowing the orb to record the scenery outside.
"As per recent information, the withered region is located in the eastern sector, known as Dark Night Woods. At present, no fatalities have been reported. Tomorrow, I intend to set out and investigate further, possibly gathering additional intelligence."
"The aforementioned account has been recorded by Leylin Farlier, Level 2 Acolyte."
Once his statement concluded, Leylin swept his pale fingers over the surface of the crystal.
A strange, childlike giggle echoed from within the sphere. Hehe… Hehe… The eerie sound faded as the bloodshot eye dissolved, breaking apart into countless golden particles once more.
The crystal ball had been provided by the academy, serving as proof that Leylin was actively carrying out his assigned mission.
Designed to capture key moments and spoken records, the orb allowed him to document his progress and later submit it as verification upon returning to the Abyssal Bone Forest Academy.
Naturally, Leylin retained full control over the device. Unless he actively willed it to record, it remained inert, incapable of functioning on its own.
This safeguard ensured the academy could entrust its acolytes with long-term assignments without concerns over deception.
"Now onto more important business." Leylin sat cross-legged in his dimly lit chamber, he retrieved a few items from his bags carefully arranging them and sorting.
After half an hour, the air was thick with scent of old parchment and faint metallic tang.
A small vial lay in his palm, filled with a strange liquid that shimmered faintly under the flickering candlelight. The blood inside had a delicate bluish hue, swirling sluggishly as if reluctant to be consumed.
It was the blood of a Misty Spirit Fox—a creature of little strength, barely equivalent to a Level 2 Acolyte. Any skilled Grand Knight could slay it with ease, yet within its fragile existence lay a peculiar gift: an innate charm that drew other beings toward it. This trait made it a prized pet among acolytes and noble children, adored for its ability to inspire trust and fondness.
Leylin studied the vial for a moment, his gaze calculating.
"Charm… A force that bends the will, not through coercion but invitation."
With a flick of his wrist, he uncorked the tube and downed its contents in one smooth motion. The blood was oddly warm, sliding down his throat like liquid silk.
As soon as it entered his system, Leylin activated the Altar of Cursed Bloodline Codex.
Deep within his sea of consciousness, the grey tome pulsed with eerie vitality. Its veins, dark as ink, throbbed in rhythmic succession, drinking in the newly introduced essence. A subtle energy spread through his body, sending chills across his skin as he prepared to solidify the inheritance.
His lips moved, voice rich with arcane cadence.
"O blood of mist, deception and jest,
I call upon the charm you possess.
Surrender thy gift to the altar of blood,
Let greatness rise, as it always should."
A pale blue mist erupted from within, curling around him in twisting tendrils. It slithered into his body, creeping into his very soul like a patient predator.
Leylin's mind blurred for a moment, reality twisting at the edges as the charm essence sought to merge with him. Whispers echoed within the mist, faint voices murmuring forgotten secrets of persuasion and allure.
Then, the mist shattered.
Leylin's eyes snapped open, and for the briefest instant, his irises glowed with an ethereal blue—a regal tint that flickered before vanishing into obscurity. (Image)
He exhaled slowly. It was done. This was not a spell. No incantation, no gesture was required to wield it. It was an intrinsic quality, something woven into his very being, that he had control over.
A true Magus would be immune—protected by the sheer weight of their existence and the defensive field surrounding their souls. But Acolytes?
They would feel it.
Not as an overwhelming compulsion, nor as an irresistible force, but as a gentle pull, a subconscious whisper in their minds. They would find him likable, trustworthy, someone worth following.
A tool. A weapon.
Leylin leaned back, his expression unreadable. He gazed out of the window into the abyss beyond, the night stretching endlessly before him.
"So easily swayed… Such is the nature of men."
A slow smile curled his lips.
"How very interesting."
Voldemort in his previous life, has spend a lifetime charming and confusing people with his etiquette way of talking.
His genius, his mannerism, his way of conduct has fooled many professor to further help his goals and strengthen himself. He could bewitch ghost and beasts alike, undead and unholy to bolster his ranks.
He rallied many heirs of powerful wizard family. His charm was one of his biggest asset in his school days, even Dumbledore with his growing suspicion of Voldemort couldn't do anything because of the favours Voldemort had amongst many students and professors.
"Tomorrow, I'll need to visit the notable acolyte residing in Extreme Night City," Leylin mused. As a newly arrived guest, certain formalities were expected of him, especially considering he planned to stay here for the next two years.
While Extreme Night City was somewhat isolated, it bordered several regions abundant in magical resources. Notably, there was an old magic crystal mine nearby, though its reserves had long since been depleted.
Despite this, the remnants of its riches still attracted wandering magi, small magical families, and even gave rise to a minor Magus market—one marked on the academy's maps.
During his entry into the city, Leylin had already sensed faint magical signatures emanating from other acolytes. It was evident that more than a few of them had settled here.
This was not surprising. Many rogue magicians or those who preferred solitude often sought out remote settlements, places where they could conceal their presence from prying eyes.
However, given their extended lifespans and unique auras, magi could not remain in one location indefinitely. It was common for them to relocate every few years to avoid drawing unwanted attention.
With these thoughts in mind, Leylin called out, "Butler!"
"Prepare an appropriate offering. I intend to visit someone tomorrow," he ordered, punctuating his words with a languid yawn. The butler didn't dare enter the room but tapped the door to indicate he understood.
The following morning, Leylin departed, accompanied by the Great Knight Saeed, who carried an ornate hat. Saeed couldn't help but bow his head lower than before after meeting Leylin today, he had a worshipping look in his eyes.
Leylin spared the item in his hands a brief glance before continuing on his way. The hat was crafted from fine beast hide, adorned with a single feather affixed to its side.
In Extreme Night City, attaching a Night Hawk's feather to a hat symbolized goodwill and peaceful intentions. It was a customary gift when making a first-time visit to another magician's dwelling.
As Leylin traversed the streets in his carriage driven by Saeed, he took in the architecture around him. The city had a distinctly gothic style—its rooftops adorned with sharp, pointed spires. The streets were paved with smooth stones, lending an air of affluence to the surroundings.
Clusters of flowers lined both sides of the road, adding a rare splash of color to the otherwise somber atmosphere. A decorative fountain stood in the open, its waters glistening under the dim light.
Eventually, Leylin arrived at a pristine, two-story white villa. A nameplate hung beside its entrance, bearing the inscription:
"Cecelia Main Street, 59."