“This is your last chance, Ethan.”
At Professor Ribbelton’s words, Ethan nodded in acknowledgment and returned to his seat.
Failing to cast a spell in the Basic Magic Practice class meant failing the course. Everyone knew that.
Any student admitted to Yurmuth Magic Academy would have already learned the necessary spells from their family’s mages or private tutors. Ethan was the only one in the class who had yet to use magic.
As he walked back to the dormitory after class, other students whispered behind his back.
“I heard he failed again.”
“Does that mean he’s going to flunk out?”
“Looks like it.”
First-year students who failed their first semester were expelled. Ethan knew this, too.
Ignoring the murmurs, he walked through the mocking students. Fortunately, enduring humiliation was nothing new to him.
Ethan Dora Charasen.
His second name, “Dora,” was given to children born from concubines rather than legal wives. While he was considered part of the family, he was not recognized as nobility. For Ethan, enduring scorn was his fate.
He turned his head toward a familiar shadow.
“You failed again, Ethan.”
A beautiful girl stood before him. Her fiery red hair led up to a pair of vivid crimson eyes, burning like embers. A smirk played on her lips, though it was unclear whether she was holding back laughter or forcing a smile.
It was Arca Wiz Charasen, his elder half-sister.
“Wiz” was the name given to those born of the legal wife and a title reserved for heirs to the family.
“What brings you here, sister?”
“I wanted to remind you that my offer still stands.”
As Ethan suppressed a sigh, Arca continued.
“You should never have enrolled in Yurmuth Magic Academy in the first place. It was a mistake. If you drop out now and serve as my attendant, I’ll take good care of you. What do you say?”
“I must decline.”
“Even if, by some miracle, you pass Basic Magic Practice, what about tuition? Father only covered your admission fee. With what little funds you had, you can only afford a single semester.”
“You need not worry about that.”
Ethan’s swift responses made Arca pout slightly.
“Think about it. I’d rather have an attendant who understands his place than a fool expelled from school. If you’re truly a Charasen, you should know how to strike a worthwhile deal. Don’t you agree?”
Back in his room, Ethan reflected on their conversation.
Nothing Arca said was wrong.
A noble family’s illegitimate child typically had limited paths—joining a religious order, learning a trade under a craftsman, or becoming a political tool in family alliances. Becoming a relative’s attendant was also a common fate.
But for those born into mage families, there was another option—becoming a mage.
In many nations, including Yurmuth and Charasen, mages were considered akin to knights, granting them a half-noble status. Unlike lords who ruled over land, mages were valuable assets sought after by various institutions. Their worth was determined by skill and magical discipline rather than bloodline.
A talented mage was always in demand.
Many illegitimate children of mage families pursued magic, proving their abilities in academies and devoting themselves to magical research to earn the title of mage.
‘The problem is… I have no talent.’
Magic required three essential qualities.
‘First, mana sensitivity.’
Mana was the fundamental energy of magic, present in the air and even within one’s body. A mage had to be able to perceive it. However, Ethan was so dull to mana that he couldn’t even sense his own.
‘Second, mana control.’
Even if one could perceive mana, it couldn’t be used as magic right away. Through breathing techniques, mages needed to draw in mana, refine it, and convert it into magical energy. This process was essential, yet Ethan’s mana flow was completely blocked.
‘Third, spell construction.’
To cast magic, one had to understand complex rituals, mystical principles, and secret techniques. But beyond mere knowledge, a mage needed imagination to visualize and shape their magic. No matter how much mana one possessed, it was useless without the ability to construct spells.
Ethan lacked all three.
His family had known this for a long time, and Yurmuth Magic Academy had only confirmed it again.
But Ethan refused to give up.
In the ten-thousand-year history of Damarrat Yumaha, he wasn’t the only one without talent. Others had sought ways to overcome this, and some had even found meaningful answers.
If he couldn’t wield magic himself, he would borrow power from another source.
Dark Magic.
Entities from beyond this world had long sought to interfere with Damarat Yurmuth. While they couldn’t directly break its causal laws, certain individuals within the world could reach out, communicate with them, and even form contracts.
In this regard, Ethan was fortunate.
The Charasen family was renowned for contract magic, and thanks to his lineage, he had the opportunity to secretly research and study spells that allowed communication with otherworldly beings.
‘There’s just one small issue.’
Dark magic was forbidden.
It corrupted those who practiced it.
The entities that lent their power only did so to extend their influence and ultimately seize control of this world. Throughout history, many dark mages had become threats to the world itself.
At the “Oath of the Empty Throne,” a council attended by all the kings of Damarat, dark mages had been officially declared enemies of the world.
‘But if a failing magic student can become a world-threatening mage… isn’t that actually impressive?’
For the entire semester, Ethan had scoured for the materials and tools necessary for contract magic.
When he lacked money, he ran errands for thugs in the back alleys, even collecting debts for loan sharks.
Fortunately, his efforts paid off, and he managed to complete his preparations just before the final Basic Magic Practice exam.
‘Now, the only question is… what catalyst should I use for the summoning?’
In this type of contract magic, the catalyst determined the summoned entity. It could be a relic left behind by a summoned being, an idol once worshipped, or even the bloodline of a dark mage.
Naturally, such catalysts were tightly controlled due to their connection to forbidden magic. If an ordinary magic student like Ethan were caught with one, he wouldn’t just have it confiscated—he’d be severely punished.
‘That is… if I get caught.’
In Ethan’s hand was the very medium he had acquired.
At a glance, it looked like a gray stone fragment, but embedded within it was a thin, rod-like piece of metal in a bizarre fashion. Ethan had never seen a design like this before.
To obtain this object, he had to spend nearly all of his remaining money. He had it assessed once, confirming that it could indeed serve as a medium for dark magic.
‘But I have no idea what I’ll be contracting with.’
To find that out, he would need a second evaluation from a high-ranking mage—something he couldn’t afford. But Ethan didn’t particularly care. As long as he could form a contract with an otherworldly entity, it didn’t matter what kind of being it was.
Locking his door, he began preparing the ritual in his room, contemplating what kind of entities he might summon.
‘Could it be the Dark God, Yorr?’
Yorr was the most infamous invader associated with dark magic and black mages. A foreign god of conspiracy, betrayal, and deception, he was better known by the alias “Dark God.” In some regions, black magic was nearly synonymous with Yorr’s name.
‘Or maybe the Tentacle God, Musamusa?’
Two thousand years ago, Musamusa nearly drove the world to its end. Though it had not been summoned since, that single event had been enough to make it one of the most feared outer gods.
‘Perhaps the Exiled Dragon, Loranquerio?’
Loranquerio was an ancient dragon from over five thousand years ago, once native to Damarat-Yurmuth. In pursuit of power, it had turned tyrannical, prompting kings, mages, and adventurers to unite and banish it from the world. However, beyond the distant seas, some tribes still worshipped it and sought to summon it back.
By the morning of the exam, Ethan had finally completed his preparations.
Placing the medium at the center of a magic circle drawn in chalk, he began chanting in the ancient tongue. The spell’s words, which changed with the movements of the stars and the tremors of the earth, had to be uttered with perfect rhythm and tone.
Fortunately, Ethan had a knack for such things.
A bright white light surged from the magic circle.
‘It worked.’
Ethan was both elated and disappointed.
If he could merely demonstrate his ability to successfully perform this contract magic, he might be acknowledged as a mage. But in doing so, he would inevitably be labelled a Dark mage and dragged into an underground prison.
In the end, to be recognized, he needed power—power so overwhelming that no one could dismiss him.
<World analysis. E2912. Damarat-Yurmuth.>
A monotonous, cold voice resounded in his head.
<User analysis. Ethan Dora Charasen. Mage. Level 1.>
This was an entity Ethan had not anticipated at all. But the fact that it knew his name even before introducing itself proved it was no ordinary being.
“Who are you?”
<Pleased to meet you, Ethan. I am from Terra, and I was once called Demi in this world.>
“Demi of Terra?”
<Yes.>
At least it wasn’t an unknown invader.
Ethan recognized the name.
Just twenty years ago, a dimensional gate had opened in the northern reaches of the Empire, unleashing armoured mechanical constructs. The Empire suffered devastating losses before barely managing to close the gate. That gate had connected to a world called Terra, and the machines were known to have been controlled by an entity called Demi.
“…Are you the Machine God, Demi?”
<Yes.>
Demi spoke again.
<Would you like to form a contract with me?>
Ethan, who had never imagined setting foot in Imperial lands, nodded.
“What’s the price?”
<There is none.>
“That’s impossible. What do you want from me?”
<Survival.>
The offer seemed too good to be true.
Ethan had been prepared to sacrifice an eye or an arm if necessary.
‘Besides, the greater the price, the greater the power.’
He hesitated before asking his next question.
“If I survive, what will you give me?”
Demi answered.
<Power.>
“Be specific.”
<Overwhelming power.>
From within the magic circle, something was ejected.
Ethan swiftly caught it in his hand.
It was a bent metal rod, small enough to grip with one hand.
<“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” That was said by Arthur Clarke.>
Ethan stared at the object in his grasp.
“What is this?”
Demi replied.
<A Glock 45. A handgun.>
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