Earlier that morning in the headmaster's office, two figures sat across from each other—a luxurious mahogany desk between them. Bartholomew Arcadius and Peter Stark sat in silence, each filled with their own thoughts.

"It was as you said, Bart." The tall man said, looking tired. "But it wasn't the Arcane Church…"

The headmaster shook his head, his eyes meeting his old friend's, "The church has a hand in this, I'm sure of it. They were probably the one's that provided the ancient ritual." He said with a clear confidence.

"I have half a mind to go there and interrogate this occult group myself." He added fiercely.

Stark let out a deep sigh, "you would only complicate your families relationship with the royal family even more if you did that, you know that fact as well as me."

Bartholomew nodded, a small flash of irritation creeping onto his grave features. "Two thousand years—ever since the beginning of the new age began—our families have been linked."

"But after that one incident, they've been distant…" he stated, his mood growing somber.

The headmaster's head dropped slightly, making him appear older—more frail. "I can't explain it to you Peter… There is something off about that Church. It's as if my soul trembles every time I'm in the presence of their higher members."

Peter Stark's expression softened, "Perhaps it is the traces of Ancient magic that makes your soul quiver. After all, their whole foundation is built around discovering such paraphernalia." He added, seemingly trying to cheer the man up.

"Doesn't that mean they're even bigger suspects?" Bartholomew countered, "Just what kind of ancient magic have they uncovered? I can guarantee they don't submit all of their discoveries to the royal family—even with the agreement in place."

"You have no evidence to the contrary, Bart. Three years ago, the royal family acted on your word and investigated the Church thoroughly. If anything was amiss, they would have discovered it back then," Peter assured him, his brows creasing together slightly.

He leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows up against the mahogany table as he inspected his friend closely, "Your obsession with the Church… It's not healthy. It's okay to be wary—but unless you find something damning, you will continue to spiral."

The words were heavy, but the tone was filled with care—a clear sign that Peter was speaking harsh truth out of love.

After a few moments of silence, the headmaster let out a deep sigh, his hand moving up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "You're right," he said, his words sounding exhausted. "Without evidence, I'll get nowhere…"

"I'll pull back my investigations for now," he announced, leaning back in his chair. "It'll be difficult to find anything since they know I'm poking around. If I can wait a few years—"

Bartholomew instantly sat up to attention, his words cutting off abruptly. His expression was alert—yet filled with utter shock.

"Ancient magic!?" He blurted out, looking towards his friend—his eyes asking for confirmation.

Judging by the frown on Peter Stark's face, it was clear he also felt it.

"Where?" Stark asked.

Here is the continuation: The headmaster closed his eyes before an insignia lit up on the back of his hand. It was a grimoire with a magic circle—the exact same emblem as the one's every student possessed—yet it was a deep black color.

His eyes flashed open in the next moment, shining for a moment.

"Second floor, by the southern flight of stairs. Nigel, Bronwyn and Kael are nearby, go and secure the area." He ordered, not even waiting for a response before waving his hand.

The space around Professor Stark shimmered briefly before the man disappeared from the office—leaving an empty and warm arm chair where he'd been seated a moment earlier.

With Stark now gone, Bartholomew's expression turned serious as he closed his eyes once more—deep in concentration. The glow of the insignia on the back of his hand intensified, as did the frown on his face.

Until his eyes snapped open with visible shock.

"Michael!?"

Panic swiftly rose in his demeanor as he shot to his feet. He began to swiftly construct a mana circle in the air with his violet mana—his two violet rings glowing beneath his crimson robe.

The guy inputted the last rune and took a deep breath before sending a surge of mana into it. The space surrounding the circle shuddered—causing visible waves within the air before it disappeared.

But his expression didn't ease. This time he muttered an incantation under his breath before he too left the room—his vision swimming briefly before his location changed.

Bartholomew's figure appeared in the blue sky, the mid-morning sun greeting him atop the tall trees of the magical forest on the eastern side of the castle. Yet there was no time to take in the beautiful view.

A resonant caw of a crow echoed in the air—its majesty almost oppressive.

The whole eastern forest stilled, as if it were holding its breath in fear. Meanwhile the headmaster turned his body, spotting a second sun not yet emerged from a large crimson mana circle—hovering in the sky alongside him.

He felt an intense heat and aura from the glowing orb, giving him the feeling of wanting to prostrate himself in front of it.

"Not good…" he exclaimed in both fear and shock.

The sun was almost fully emerged from the mana circle by now—less than ten percent remaining. For a moment, Bartholomew saw Inky black wings that appeared like a shadow atop the burning globe, the sight causing him to shudder.

With no time to spare, he hit the center of his chest with power, letting out a cough. A single drop of bright red blood escaped from his mouth, now hovering outside of his body.

He slammed his hands together, catching the drop of blood while adopting a praying pose. A giant magic circle appeared atop the sun—swallowing it whole.

The light it was emitting disappeared for a moment, seemingly vanishing into thin air. However, the headmaster looked high up in the sky, where it appeared a few moments later—at least ten miles away.

It was like a second blazing sun, suspended in the air. Yet it carried a majesty that the headmaster had never witnessed before.

But instead of admiring the sight, the man began to chant quickly, activating tens of violet magic circles at once. Resplendent shields appeared around him, reinforcing each other multiplicatively.

And then—

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