Fallen Mage Regressor

A long time ago, Mal had gotten desperate.

He had seen a vision of the future. One that nobody would believe. He was alone, and cursed with terrible knowledge of knowledge yet to come.

In his desperation, he'd searched for something, anything, anyone who would listen to his cry for help.

And in the darkness, something had called back.

Someone.

"You've always had such a flair for the dramatic," Golial said. "The way you describe things reminds me almost of a novelist. Have you considered going into the arts?"

"I think there are much bigger concerns than repairing the state of Chama's culture."

"But it's important. And you know, with my help, you'd easily be able to do both."

Mal walked forward and the darkness dissipated with his steps. "I'm not making another deal. I already know how things like that end."

"Oh, come now."

The darkness wrapped around his arms and neck.

"You know just as well as I do that I didn't give you anything you didn't want," it said. "You asked for power, and I granted it. You asked for knowledge, and I delivered. Every bargain we struck was followed dutifully by me."

"You only failed to mention that having it implanted directly into my brain by you would cause me to go insane."

"Insane? Endbringer, it seems to me quite the opposite. You were more sane than you'd ever been thanks to me. You saw the future with crystal clarity. And you responded appropriately."

Mal found his fists clenching.

"No, I didn't. I completely lost it. I started wars, I killed hundreds, thousands. There's more blood on my hands than can ever be washed away."

"Now that's not quite true, and you know it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"This is the past, Endbringer. A second chance. This time, you can avoid all the mistakes that ended in your execution by the heroine."

The phantom pain in Mal's chest throbbed with uncomfortable intensity.

"I'm already doing that," Mal said. "By avoiding you."

Mal shook his head. "How do you even remember? Even a being like you is subject to the laws of time."

"Indeed I am. But though I am subject to its laws, I am not under its dominion. You see, Endbringer, your actions rippled back through the threads of time. And for a creature like me, those echoes may as well be shouts."

"That makes no sense."

"To you, perhaps. To me, it's all very perfectly logical."

"This conversation is over."

Mal stepped forward and the darkness snapped like a rope.

"I can fix your core, you know."

Mal's feet stopped.

"I could give you a brand new one. In fact, your shattering has meant that I'll be able to do things to your core that I was never able to do in your first attempt. I could turn you into a god, Mal."

Mal shut his eyes.

"I have no interest in being a god. Good luck with somebody else, Golial."

Mal walked forward and away from the grimoire. The sound of cackling echoed behind him until it faded into nothingness.

He shut the door to the forbidden section behind him, then leaned against it. Heavy breaths came in and out of his lungs and every part of him felt exhausted.

Mal would have to restrict going to the forbidden section from now on. He didn't need that temptation breathing down his neck every time he entered.

The problem was that Golial had spoken the truth.

If Mal once again bargained with Golial, he was certain that victory would be inevitable. Especially with foreknowledge on their side? Nothing would be able to stand in their way.

But the cost of such an action would be enormous. And whatever was left of Mal's sanity would likely crumble into pieces. It was a miracle that Mal had managed to wrest Golial's influence from him the first time. He didn't want to try his luck for a second try. And with Golial speaking temptation, Mal was certain that he would once again burn the world to the ground in pursuit of his goal.

The urge to burn the girmoire hit him then passed.

Just… just in case things went wrong, it might be good to have Golial as a back-up.

A hint of sun hit Mal's eyelids. He looked over at the window and frowned. It was already morning. How long had he been inside of the library?

Golial had probably warped with his sensation of time.

Petty bastard, Mal thought.

The door at the front of the library squeaked. A lock turned. Mal's heart dropped.

Mal dashed over to behind one of the bookshelves. The door swung open and footsteps clicked against the floor.

A yawn echoed out from the other side of the bookshelf.

"I can't believe I'm taking another shift," the voice on the other side muttered. "Seriously, what a pain."

It was the librarian—the one that Mal had spoken to before on a handful of times while hunting down materials.

Mal took several soft steps over to the entrance.

Internally, his mind worked at max speed to create a plan of escape.

The problem was that the librarian, when sitting down, faced directly toward the entrance. As far as Mal knew, there was no other exit out of the library. There were vents, but not any large enough to fit a person.

Mal would have to create a distraction.

The librarian sat down at her chair and reclined in her seat. Mal could make her out between the cracks of the books.

Right, Mal thought. Sometimes the best solution is the simplest one.

Mal picked one of the books off the shelf, reared his arm back—

then threw the book as hard as he could in the opposite direction of the entrance.

The book sailed through the air then crashed into the wall. It was like a cannon had gone off inside of the hall. The librarian jumped into the air, then quickly scurried in the direction of the noise.

"What was that?" she muttered.

While she did that, Mal quickly dashed over to the entrance, turned the handle, then cracked it open by just a hair to minimize the squeaking. He exited out, then shut it behind him and breathed a sigh of relief.

A sound of brush breaking.

His neck snapped over in the direction of the noise.

It was just a bird.

Mal was on edge.

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised by that. An encounter with an outer god would do that to a man.

The fact that Golial had been able to influence Mal's perception that much was worrying. Ordinarily, outer gods weren't able to do very much. The presence of Eternus meant that their abilities were restricted. And besides that, the vast majority of them had fallen into a deep sleep from whence there was no escape.

Golial was no exception. Golial was an old, old creature, who'd long surpassed the peak of its power.

So that meant that the reason why Golial was able to influence Mal... was because Mal was still tied to it.

Even if Mal destroyed the grimoire, Golial would always be watching, ready for another chance to deceive and trick and slither his way into Mal's body once more.

Mal’s breath sped up and turned into short, shallow gasps. The pain in his chest burned. It burned like the holy light that the heroine radiated.

He clenched his fists and forced his lungs to take in more air. Slow. One breath after another. Even though his throat was tighter than a pair of handcuffs. Even though he wanted nothing more than to burst out screaming.

Bit by bit, the fear receded and all he was left with was an exhaustion that went down into his bones.

Mal jolted in place.

He smelled the air.

Light. The smell of light—what was the smell of light doing here?

His feet moved on their own, clicking against the cobblestone pavement. His hands tensed and untensed, visions of his death playing in his head over and over again.

He hadn't imagined that smell, that sight.

The heroine—she was here. She was in the school!

He didn't know what her mana looked like—that ability hadn't been present to him even at the height of his powers as Dark Lord. But he knew what it smelled like.

Light wasn't supposed to have a scent. But somehow, Mal had instinctively known that if light did have a scent, it would be the smell of the heroine's mana. He'd always associated it with light ever since that first time he'd met her.

He sped up. The smell was getting stronger. What would he do? Would he kill her? Would he stop her? Would he plead with her? What would he do, what would he do, what would he do—?

He turned a corner and the smell stopped.

Gone.

The trail had completely ended.

He turned around himself in a circle. He was between two department buildings, a set of trees lining the path on each side.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Had she sensed him coming? But how?

He brought the knuckle of his thumb up to his teeth and chewed on it.

At this stage, she's not that strong, so I could probably kill her just via a sneak attack. Strangulation? Or even a rock—it doesn't matter, she needs to go. I can't let her come back to kill me again, I can't. I just can't.

A voice entered the edge of his hearing.

“It really is quite scandalous, you know. Of course, he isn't the sort of person to do that, but it just makes me wonder why you were brought along.”

“I go where I'm directed.”

“Oh, ever the dutiful servant.” The voice's tone turned lopsided. “But you know, I can see the conflict behind your eyes. You really should get better at hiding that, Lusia.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Lusia?

He crept forward to a crossways in the path and passed by one of the departments. On the other side, Savaly stood in front of Lusia. Lusia's eyes darted toward him, then back toward Savaly. She had her hands in front of her, ever respectful, but even from here, Mal could see that they were tensed up.

His spine straightened and his gait turned steady. He marched forward and interposed himself between the two.

“What are you doing, Savaly?” he asked.

“Well,” she put her index finger to the bottom of her chin and looked up as if she was contemplating her own answer. “You see, I'd seen you two together multiple times. I'm aware that she's your maid, of course—”

Of course she knows that. Because there's nothing that this woman doesn't know, apparently.

“—and something about her caught my interest.”

Mal made it a point to stand in front of Lusia, preventing Savaly from seeing her. “What, exactly?”

“You know, I can't quite say. By all accounts, there's nothing interesting about her in the slightest. And yet for a brief moment...” She shrugged. “Must've been a fluke.”

Mal wanted to glance back and look at Lusia, but something about the idea of doing that made alarm bells go off in his head. Savaly was too dangerous to allow her to know the level of concern he had for Lusia. He'd already played too much of his hand by coming here at all, if he was honest with himself.

“You know,” Mal said. “I've been hearing some interesting things of my own."

“Do tell, my dear rival.”

“It seems like everybody in this entire campus knows that we went to that restaurant or whatever that was.”

“Ah, yes.” An easy smile crossed her face. “Hypode is most likely attempting to damage my reputation. Not that it'll work.”

“No, Igna somehow knew about it long before the meeting with Hypode. And it's been bugging me ever since.”

“Oh, yes. That's probably because I told her.”

Mal blinked.

All of a sudden, the bird song in the trees was far more audible. His thoughts had ground to a complete stop.

“...Why would you do that?” he asked.

“Curiosity. I wanted to see how she'd react, and then I wanted to see how you'd react. I think it would be most interesting if you were to prove them all wrong.”

“There's nothing to prove. I have an F-grade core.”

“Yes, and you didn't slay that demon, and the Tungstenbird was just a fluke.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you honestly believe me to expect that tripe?”

Mal zipped his lips. Why is it that every time he talked to this woman, it somehow came back around to bite him in the ass?

“Anyway,” she said. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Whatever it is, the answer's no.”

“How harsh,” she pouted. The smile slipped back on, one mask traded for another. “You see, Mal. I think I have a way to fix all of your problems in one fell swoop.”

“And I think I already made my answer clear.”

A funny light flickered in her eyes and a tinge of steel appeared in her expression. “My dear rival, do keep in mind that I'm still the second Princess of Chama. If I ask you to listen to a proposition, I would highly advise you to do so before answering.”

Mal grimaced.

As much as he wanted to break her nose in that moment, even he knew that it would be a stupid idea.

The steel disappeared. “As I was saying, I have a solution. The problem is that they don't respect you, my dear rival. They see your house as a relic of a bygone era. I can bring you into the present.”

...Okay, Mal was morbidly curious as to where she was going with this.

“How would you do that?” he asked.

“It's really quite simple,” she said. “Swear your loyalty to me, become one of my direct vassals, and all the whispers against you will stop.”

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