Warlock Of The Magus World FF: Dark Lord

A cloaked figure moved silently through the narrow passage of a massive ship, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise quiet corridor.

The ship was a marvel, its metal and wood construction gleaming under the faint lights hanging from the walls. The air was thick with the scent of saltwater and machinery. Yet, for all its grandeur, the man moved with purpose, his focus unwavering. He had a job to do, and nothing else mattered.

He reached the towering gates marked "Gate No. 19."

The figure lifting a gloved hand and knocking three times. The sound was sharp in the still air, and it reverberated down the hallway.

After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing Leylin, standing in the dimly lit room. His face remained expressionless as he regarded the figure before him, recognizing the familiar presence beneath the cloak.

"You..." Leylin murmured, his gaze narrowing as he studied the man before him. The figure's identity was clear, a faint recognition flashing in his mind—one of the two shadows who had followed his teacher, Dorotte.

'I thought that damn skeleton forgot about me as conveniently as he forgot to inform that 'months in travel' essentially is just 2 months, the bare minimum to add a plural.' Leylin inwardly groaned, he hated the feeling of everyone playing him like a fool.

[A/N: In last chapter I stated the travel to academy from coast via ship takes 6 month which is an information mentioned in novel but it was changed, to slightly more than one in laster chapters. I have also changed it since its an information oversight in my part. I don't wish to write such note that takes away from the essence of reading so if anyone finds any glaring inconsistency from here on please comment i would reply to them. For now, Dorotte has tricked Leylin by telling him the travel takes months, which is just 2 months. Thank you. This note would be deleted after 24 hours because the information in previous chapter is already correctes. ]

The cloaked man lowered his hood slightly, revealing a sharp, angular face. His voice was calm and measured as he spoke.

"Follow me. Lord Dorotte calls for you."

Leylin's lips curled into a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Without a word, he nodded and began to follow the man, his footsteps quickening as they moved down the hall together. The sounds of the ship's creaks and groans faded into the background as his thoughts drifted.

Today. The events of this morning replayed in his mind. When the other students had first boarded the ship, they had been shocked, wide-eyed at the sight of the flying ship that awaited them.

The strange, majestic vessel had cut through the sky like a creature of myth, its massive form casting an awe-struck shadow over the docks.

But Leylin hadn't been impressed. He had seen such ships before. In the Wizarding World, flying ships although not common were not exactly a rarity.

The students around him had marveled at the sight, their excitement palpable, but Leylin remained unmoved.

The departure was brief. Soon, the ship ascended, everyone was assigned rooms and from then on Leylin kept waiting for Dorotte till now.

Soon, they reached the gate. The towering structure of Gate No. 14 loomed before them, the servant side stepped and stood by the door.

Leylin felt a strange satisfaction, but it was not from the gate or the ship. It was the promise of power, a future that had only just begun.

Leylin stepped forward and confidently knocked the door.

A firm knock echoed through the dimly lit corridor.

The door suddenly creaked open, revealing a chamber bathed in eerie darkness. The scent of burning herbs and old parchment filled the air, mixing with something faintly metallic—blood, perhaps.

Skulls adorned the walls, their empty sockets watching like silent witnesses, while dark artifacts pulsed with latent energy.

Leylin stepped inside followe by a bow.

At the center of the room stood Dorotte, his skeletal frame draped in a robe that seemed to absorb the very light around him. Beside him stood another young man—Jayden.

Jayden turned, eyes narrowing in surprise as he took in Leylin's presence. Recognition flashed in his gaze.

Like Leylin, Jayden had only become Dorotte's student few days ago. But while Jayden had spent his time adjusting, believing himself to be the teacher's only disciple, Leylin had arrival here means that he's probably also under Dorotte tutelage.

Dorotte didn't offer introductions.

"Jayden," he said, his voice dry, firm, and dismissive. "Leave. Go practice."

The words struck like a whip. Jayden blinked, stunned for a while but he adjusted quickly at least on the surface.

For the past two days, he had believed he was Dorotte's sole focus, the chosen disciple. Now, standing in front of him, Leylin shattered that illusion.

A slow realization dawned on Jayden—Dorotte had really taken on another student. And worse, Leylin already knew about Jayden.

Jayden's jaw tightened. Had he been overshadowed already?

He studied Leylin carefully. The boy's face was calm, indifferent, almost bored. Not a single flicker of surprise, no tension, no hesitation as if he had already expected this moment.

Jayden was but a boy recognizing a threat, a rival.

Finally, with stiff movements, Jayden stepped back, giving Leylin a cold, measuring look before turning on his heel and leaving the chamber. The door shut behind him with a dull thud.

Leylin, however, had already moved on. His gaze swept across the room curiously, taking in the grotesque decorations and the oppressive atmosphere. Darkness, bones, the scent of death—it was all meant to intimidate.

But Leylin had seen worse.

The Wizarding World had its own horrors—cursed objects that could drain life, rituals far more complex than simple skull-lined rooms.

Finally, his gaze returned to Dorotte.

He stepped forward, his posture straight, his presence quiet yet radiant. Then, with deliberate precision, he bowed—not out of submission, but out of recognition of authority.

"Teacher Dorotte," he said smoothly. His voice was controlled, unreadable.

Dorotte studied him for a moment before giving a slow nod. "Come," he said, motioning toward the altar hidden in the shadow of the skulls.

Leylin moved forward without hesitation. His initiation was about to begin.

Dorotte's voice rang through the chamber, firm and commanding, "Alright! Now let us begin the rites! Don't be afraid, it's very simple."

With a sudden clap! the floor beneath them shimmered and shifted, the cold stone tiles morphing into a complex, glowing spell formation.

Leylin remained still, his sharp gaze scanning the intricate runes spreading outward from Dorotte's feet. A strange energy pulsed from the formation, filling the room with an eerie aura.

Then—darkness.

The torches lining the chamber snuffed out in an instant, leaving only a single flame burning at the heart of the formation. The shadows twisted unnaturally, deepening the oppressive atmosphere.

Dorotte extended his hand. "Now, extend your hand"

Leylin obeyed without hesitation, placing his palm into the older Magus's grasp. Dorotte's bone hand was cold, his grip firm—unyielding, like iron.

"Abiding by the rites of ancient times," Dorotte intoned solemnly, "I will now guide you, Leylin Farlier, onto the path of a Magus."

His voice echoed, carrying a strange, ancient cadence that resonated with the very air itself.

"Recite after me."Dorotte began to speak in an unfamiliar language—one that Leylin had never heard before, yet somehow understood perfectly. As if something deep within him recognized it.

"I swear! I will forever be in pursuit of the truth!"

Leylin's lips moved on their own, echoing the words in the same ancient tongue.

"I swear! I will forever be in pursuit of the truth!" His voice carried a strange weight within the darkness.

"Without the permission of my mentor, I swear that I will not reveal any of the information my mentor passes on to me…"

Dorotte continued the incantation, and Leylin followed without faltering. Their voices soon blended together—one deep, the other youthful—until it became a single, eerie chant.

Then, without warning—the flame at the center of the formation flared violently, burning brighter, hotter, as if feeding off their words.

A powerful force swirled through the air, pressing against Leylin's very being. Something shifted within him. It was subtle yet undeniable—a change in his perception, a sharpening of the senses.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the energy receded, leaving behind only a lingering resonance in his soul.

Dorotte finally released his grip and stepped back. A faint, satisfied smile over his creepy skull face.

"Congratulations," he said smoothly. "You are now formally an acolyte."

Leylin slowly looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. Something felt different.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the exact change, but the world seemed… clearer, more vivid.

'It seems like there's a shift in my spiritual energy…' Leylin could almost sense something beyond the physical—a faint, ethereal presence lurking at the edge of his awareness.

'Ahhh.' Suddenly Leylin eyes gradually turned hazy, and his nostrils flared and an acute pain entered his brain, as if someone filled it with lead but Leylin didn't cry out instead calmly sit still.

He discovered that many images and words appeared in his brain along with the pain, and the first line was: "Elementary Meditation Technique!"

This information appeared out of nowhere and was firmly imprinted in Leylin's mind.

Dorotte, watching his reaction, chuckled. "The meditation technique has already been given to you," he said. "Take a look at it when you return to your quarters. You should already be capable of absorbing its information."

"As for the artifact I promised it would be repaired in a few days, till then you should be a Level 1 acolyte as well. Only Acolytes can use their spiritual enegry to use artifacts. I can see you stronger than a normal preparatory knight, the artifact is bulit with hastening spell it would great use to you in combat especially after you become a Knight. Although knights are an inferior bunch, one can't underestimate them at acolyte level. "

Leylin nodded. Then, after a brief pause, he glanced up and asked, "Teacher, do you know alchemy?"

Dorotte's lips curled into an amused smirk. "Do I know alchemy?"

The old sack of bones Magus chuckled softly, yet there was a certain intellectual arrogance in his tone.

"Alchemy is a broad and fascinating field, one that requires not just understanding, but mastery over multiple disciplines. In a sense, I both do and do not 'know' alchemy."

He turned slightly, his gaze distant, as if recalling something profound.

"There are those who can concoct potions but cannot refine metals. There are those who can craft artifacts but know nothing of transmutation. And there are those who—like myself—see alchemy as a science, a discipline that unravels the mysteries of the material world."

His eyes gleamed,"In this domain, I am considered… adequate."

Leylin narrowed his eyes slightly. Adequate? That was an understatement.

From what he had observed, Dorotte was not just a practitioner—he was one of the leading minds in alchemical studies. His humble words were nothing more than the confidence of a scholar who truly understood the depths of his field.

Leylin, unfazed, stated simply, "I wish to learn alchemy."

Dorotte laughed,"Magus believe in equivalent exchange, boy. Knowledge is not given freely—it is earned. If you want to study under me, you will have to pay for it."

Leylin expected this. "And what would be the price?"

Dorotte stroked his chin in thought before smirking.

"I will make you an offer. If you can break through to First Level Acolyte within five days, I will give you a beginner's book on alchemy. Consider it a reward for demonstrating talent and dedication."

Leylin's gaze sharpened. Five days? He didn't even hesitate as he replied. "I agree."

Dorotte's teeths cluttered together as his voice deepened. "Good."

Dorotte waved a hand. "You may leave now."

Without hesitation, Leylin turned and strode toward the door.