"This is a complex spell." The alchemist examined Wizard Merlin's condition before turning to Priestess Lúthfa. "It incorporates ancient Elvish, Draconic, and Goblin languages. Perhaps, in ancient times, these races were all masters of time manipulation. Merlin's time has indeed been frozen—no dust has settled on him, and even after a thousand years, his wizard robes have not decayed."
"This truly is remarkable. Many of the shorter-lived races would go mad for such magic," Lúthfa mused. "They always want to see what the world will be like in a few centuries, even though everyone knows the world only becomes filthier over time. Can the Philosopher's Stone undo Merlin's enchantment?"
"I can try," the alchemist said uncertainly. "But it will take some time."
…
Outside the cave, the elven rangers were sweeping the battlefield.
During the brief skirmish, five rangers had been struck down by the Lake Spirits. Their bodies were now arranged neatly on stretchers woven from branches. The elves seemed to be preparing to take their fallen comrades back to their village for a final farewell.
Kneeling on one knee before the lifeless body of a female ranger, Captain Shafa placed a finely crafted arrow into her embrace.
Nolan, watching curiously, asked, "What are you doing, Ranger Shafa?"
"This is a farewell ritual of the Forest Elves." Shafa, who rarely spoke much, was beginning to show a bit more openness. "What about vampires? Do you have funeral rites?"
"Funerals?" Nolan thought for a moment before replying indifferently, "To be honest, I've never attended one. Vampires rarely face death, as you know. Maybe I did when I was a child—my birth parents died—but I was too young to remember anything. Still, I imagine it wouldn't have been a pleasant sight. When a vampire dies, we turn to ashes, so there isn't even a body to bury. At best, one might gather the ashes into a coffin."
Shafa nodded. "That's similar to me. I don't remember my parents' funeral either."
Nolan's gaze shifted to the side, where the diminutive Ligeitoli knelt in silence. Her expression was dark—perhaps Lancelot's deception over the past year had wounded her more than she let on.
For once, Nolan refrained from his usual sarcasm. Instead, he simply asked, "Ligeitoli, do you remember?"
"My mother died of old age," she murmured. "Véela don't live as long as elves. By the time she became an old woman, my father was still young."
Nolan shrugged, realizing he had chosen the wrong topic.
Ligeitoli continued, "Even when she was old, she wasn't ugly. Her hair had turned white, and her face had wrinkles, but she was still a beautiful woman."
"That's good to hear," Nolan said, putting an end to the conversation.
…
By nightfall, the alchemist had completed his work. He had drained a portion of the Philosopher's Stone's power and used several rare potions as catalysts to finally dispel the millennium-long curse.
Inside the cave, the once-frozen Wizard Merlin slowly opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was a handsome young man with black hair and striking red eyes.
Merlin raised an eyebrow, then bowed politely and warmly. "A pleasure to meet you, vampire sir. But before we exchange pleasantries and introductions, I'd like to understand—what era is this?"
"It is the year 6303 of the Elven Calendar," Priestess Lúthfa replied from behind Nolan. "The last Elven King passed away 1,400 years ago, and the last great goblin rebellion occurred 1,200 years ago."
"So... I have slept for a thousand years?" Merlin chuckled softly, his smile gentle.
The elves murmured among themselves, their whispers filled with curiosity and unease.
After all, who would have expected this quiet, graceful young man to be the legendary Dark Wizard Merlin?
He didn't appear fearsome. He didn't seem powerful. In fact, he was the complete opposite of the terrifying and formidable vampire Nolan.
"I suppose so, Wizard Merlin," Nolan remarked coolly. "Though, frankly, I don't find it all that impressive. You see, for us vampires, an extended shelf life is nothing unusual."
"Fantastic! Perhaps we can interact more in the future. I'd rather not have every new acquaintance treat me like a relic from the past." Merlin grinned as he struggled to stand up. "Oof, this spell really takes a toll on you. Would you believe it? My legs have gone completely numb—"
Nolan shrugged. "Don't worry, Merlin. You're not alone. These days, even modern wizards get numb legs if they sit on the toilet too long… So, should we be getting out of here?"
"Haha! Rodetab—my school!" Merlin burst into laughter, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Those Muggles never would have guessed—I hid Rodetab away, concealed it for an entire millennium! A thousand years ago, they hunted us relentlessly, determined to tear every last wizard apart, but we survived. We endured! And now, I will lift the enchantment and restore Rodetab to its former glory!"
The elves quickly stepped aside, clearing a path as Nolan and Merlin exited the cave.
As they walked, Nolan asked, "Rodetab—is it a magical school you created?"
"Exactly!" Merlin's face lit up with pride. "Back when I studied at Hogwarts, I deeply admired its four great founders—especially my mentor!"
"Salazar Slytherin?" Nolan raised an eyebrow. "You were one of his first students?"
"When I enrolled, the first batch of seventh years had just graduated," Merlin said nostalgically. "But Headmaster Salazar was particularly fond of me—he always said I was the finest Slytherin of all!"
Nolan gave a nonchalant shrug. "What a coincidence. That's my title now."
"Ha!" Merlin burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. He was far from the serious, calculating type—there was a youthful energy about him, something vibrant and infectious. "Never trust the word 'best,' right? Next time, we should have them add 'one of the best.' Anyway, I loved Hogwarts so much that when Arthur asked me what I wanted as our stronghold, I said, 'A school!'"
Rodetab—meaning "Round Table"—was the magical academy Merlin had founded after graduating from Hogwarts a thousand years ago.
It had only operated for a little over a decade before being repurposed as a sanctuary for the Arthurian kingdom. After that, it disappeared from history entirely.
After recounting Rodetab's past, Merlin suddenly remembered something. "Oh, right—do any of you have a Lancelot among you? Perhaps his bloodline still survives?"