A Villain's Survival Guide

"As mages ascend through the ranks of magic, their bodies gradually become one with the creature they have constructed a bond with. However, synchronization does not mean losing one’s humanity.

Rather, they begin to exist in harmony with their creature, developing a deeper understanding, emotional connection, aligned goals, and undying loyalty."

Instructor Abigail moved away from the lectern without ceremony.

The magic circle on the back of her right hand vanished with barely a glance from her, and in its wake was a reddish grimoire with white patterns settled into her hand as though it had always been there.

The room stilled as Instructor Abigail called her summon.

"Marsha."

Smoke bloomed and cleared, and from it emerged a white, wolf-like spirit, blue flames alive along its tail, a fine line mapping its spine, and a single horn at its brow.

It settled onto the floor immediately, patient and expectant, every inch the pet waiting for a pat on the head.

Abigail didn’t make her wait.

"This is my summon, a flame spirit. As a Sorcerer, I have already undergone personality synchronization, which is the source of a Sorcerer’s heightened understanding. Without a sealed synchronization, Magicians such as yourself must rely solely on personal skill to utilize your creature’s abilities."

Abigail extended her hand toward Marsha and said nothing. Nothing was needed.

The spirit opened its mouth, and the flame erupted, wrapping around her hand with quiet obedience.

Abigail began to move it, shape it, wield it with the certainty of a master.

"As a summoner, I hold no magic of my own. Yet when I became a Sorcerer, I came to understand that I could share in my spirit’s abilities and wield them as my own."

She paused and, before dismissing Marsha, offered her a pat and a smile. The creature disappeared without protest. Abigail stepped back behind the lectern.

"This privilege is available to all summoners, but since these abilities do not truly belong to us, we cannot wield them as effectively as the creatures themselves.

However, this differs for those who form contracts with entities. In your case, the abilities belong to you, and the deeper your understanding of your entity, the more effectively you can wield them."

Abigail surveyed the hall, eyes narrowed.

They found Leomaris at the front row, seated beside Charlotte, and something tightened around her chest before she had fully registered him.

She hated him. That much she knew. Why, she couldn’t say.

She considered it and found no satisfying answer.

Leomaris was a Calamity, among the best of the first years, and beyond that, the Apostle of Death, bearing a title given to the one who mastered an ancient sword art that had humbled most sword masters.

He was, by every measure she could think of, exactly the kind of student she should admire. And still, she loathed him.

What reason could she possibly have to hate him?

And then she saw it. Leomaris, sitting there utterly unbothered, yawning openly, as though the class and everything in it were a minor inconvenience he hadn’t quite decided to acknowledge.

She thought, perhaps, she might have had a reason after all.

Abigail sneered.

"Cadet Leomaris, explain to the class what is required to move from Sorcerer to Archmage and why most mages choose to remain Sorcerers instead of advancing."

Leomaris reluctantly rose to his feet.

"Uhm..." he thought for a moment.

"To reach Archmage, one must undergo blood synchronization and possess the means to seal it. It is a dangerous process, requiring the abandonment of one’s bloodline in favor of the creature alone. That is why most refuse. But if the conditions are met, an Archmage gains mastery over all their abilities."

Leomaris shrugged.

"But I don’t think that’s everything. The Sorcerer rank is what I call the rank of comfort. They don’t struggle as much as Magicians thanks to their superior understanding, and they also have sufficient skills to survive."

Abigail gulped bile, back to square one with the same unanswerable question. But she was intrigued now too. She wanted to test how much Leomaris actually knew.

"How do mages perform the blood synchronization?"

"It begins with acceptance. Like a mother bound to her only child, willing to sacrifice even time itself, the mage must adopt the same resolve. They must abandon their family entirely and accept that they now share blood with their creature. Only then does the sealing solution take effect. It is agonizing... but worth it."

Abigail’s attention moved from Leomaris to a cadet at the back of the hall without missing a beat. "Do you have a question, Cadet Derek?"

"Yes, I do. Is he suggesting that we must completely abandon our families? Can’t we simply accept the creature while still regarding our families as family?"

Lucius’s hand went up almost before he’d decided to raise it. He’d been listening attentively enough that Derek’s question had barely finished before he had an answer.

Instructor Abigail gave him the floor. He didn’t waste it.

"I believe you can still see them as your family. In the end, it depends on where your heart belongs. I think that’s why most people fail to become Archmages, turning into black mages... you have to accept it and live with it until it becomes real."

Lucius paused briefly, turning the words over in his mind. He knew what he meant. Finding the right way to say it was the work.

"You can love your parents and family. But that acceptance must sink so deeply into your heart that you no longer see yourself as part of them. When the time comes to choose, you will not hesitate, you will choose your creature.

The ranking system itself is built on abandoning everything for power. You must have resolve."

The bell rang the moment Lucius spoke, familiar to everyone in the room, Abigail included. Class was over.

She gathered herself and found, quietly and somewhat unexpectedly, that she felt fulfilled. This class had given her something she hadn’t anticipated.

"That will conclude today’s Magic Theory class. Bear in mind, a joint session with the other classes will be held next week for your first Citadel Simulation test."

With that, she stepped out. The class came to an end behind her.

—

By the glass window of Privileged Hall’s corridor, Leomaris and Charlotte looked out together at the wide sky, the lawned grass stretching into the distant forest, and the sun settling low on the horizon, reddish and vast, wearing the look of the Firstlight Goddess’s smile.

"Are you asking me to help you soften the limitation that comes with your ability?"

Leomaris asked. Charlotte nodded. He frowned and meant it.

He knew she’d be fine eventually, in the long run, but knowing that didn’t make her ability any less cruel to sit with. And the limitation wasn’t even the real cost. That was the part that stayed with him. But why had she asked him that, of all things?

"What made you think I’d be the one who can help?"

Charlotte’s expression darkened, and her eyes, already soulless and dark at the best of times, went somewhere gloomier than Leomaris had seen them go before.

"I can’t?"

Her eyes found Leomaris. "Hard to understand myself."

She paused on purpose, holding the silence before she let herself speak.

"I thought I could."

Just like always, Leomaris understood her perfectly as though those four words had been spoken in clear, unfiltered Caelish1.

"You’re saying I’m capable... and that’s why you think I can help you?"

Charlotte nodded. Leomaris smirked. He didn’t know if he could help her, the novel had never gone here. But he needed help finding the Ascension Chest, and Charlotte’s strength was too useful to pass on.

"Okay... I have an idea, but it’s going to take a while."

She looked amused in the way of someone who had been waiting for precisely those words and was quietly satisfied to have finally heard them.

Leomaris didn’t get to sit in it. His Sixth Sense kicked in, and whatever the moment had been, it was over.

"What the—

Leomaris stopped mid-sentence.

Something crawled up his spine, cold and sharp, forcing his eyes upward. Through the window, far up in the sky, something black tore through the clouds.

For a second, his mind refused to understand it. It spun slowly as it fell, growing larger and larger, until the shape became clear. A missile.

Charlotte frowned, confused by the horror draining from his face, but before either of them could move, it dropped straight toward the building.

The world seemed to hold its breath. Then the missile struck somewhere beneath them, and the hallway vanished in a deafening flash of concrete, fire, and screaming steel.