The God of Magic: Archmage Academy (OP, LitRPG)

Snake

Snake huffed, sucking in air. Blood dripped down the scales on his hands. The demon’s corpse fell lifelessly to the ground before him. He glanced around to make sure that there weren’t any immediate threats remaining. The bodies of cultists and demons littered the ground around him. The other fourth-year students were unconscious or injured. Only he and the faculty members still stood. 

Across the room, smoke rose off corpses around Dean Calle. High Professor Laurette had dispatched several enemies as well, though he wasn’t sure how. There weren’t any obvious signs of her magic, and he hadn’t been able to watch her fight. Dean Withershade, Crosp, and Calabari stood in the center of the first-floor battlefield, facing down several cultists. Neither side moved as the pockets of fighting ended. Bright Sail Academy had the numbers now. But it was obvious to Snake’s senses that the cultists in front of the Dean were on another level than the fodder. 

Dean Withershade broke the silence. “Leave these halls at once. The mayor is sending reinforcements as we speak.”

“Oh, is he now?” the cultists asked. Snake had briefly heard another cultist call him Tatter, but he wasn’t sure if that was the man’s name or not. It sounded too stupid to be a name. “Well, he didn’t need to bother. We’ve almost got everything we need, so we’ll be leaving shortly.” 

“What?” Dean Withershade’s brows arched. “What are you after?”

Tatter smiled in a way that made Snake want to rip out his heart. “It’s nice that you want to help, but we’ve got it covered. Or I should say, our friends do. We’ll take it from here, you just stay out of the way.”

The dean pulled the base of his gloves up and tucked them under his sleeves. “I see. It’s unfortunate that you’ve chosen to take this route, but I predicted as much. This ends now. Crosp,” he said, turning to the gray-haired professor behind him.

Crosp nodded.

The dean turned back to Tatter. “Final warning. Leave now and promise never to return. Leave behind anything you have taken, and we will spare you.”

Tatter shrugged. “Sorry, can’t do that.” Magic aura surrounded him, and Snake tensed. He was going to attack. He took a step forward, realizing the dean hadn’t moved. But suddenly every single head, including his own, snapped at the arrival of a new presence. 

It was like watching a god descend from the heavens. A man in flowing white robes emerged, floating slowly through the black cloud barrier that separated the first floor from the rest of the academy. His clothes rippled as if a powerful wind were blowing through the room. A hood obscured his face, but long white hair poked out, shining radiantly. He emanated an aura of raw power beyond anything Snake had ever felt. Many in the room fell to a knee, and Snake fought the urge to do so himself. God or not, something about the man just pissed him off. He was in awe, and yet at the same time, he had this unexplainable feeling of rage bubbling inside of him. What was causing that? He wondered. 

Was there a connection between this being and Her? 

The floating god spoke, and his voice was exactly what Snake had pictured. His words left everyone in the room trembling, and even Snake couldn’t resist this time.

“Outsiders come to harm my children. Have you forgotten Ragmár’s promise? That I would descend upon the foes of my people and eradicate them?”

Tatter’s tan skin paled, the blood drained from his face. “Gom? The God of Magic?” He shook his head, crawling forward on his knees. “My god…Harpis, the one we follow, he was an admirer of yours! He had no quarrel with you! It was you who inspired him to pursue the magic arts. Please, we will—”

“Be silent,” the God of Magic commanded, and a quiet swept over the room. It wasn’t just the silence of the people. The entire room was silent. Snake swallowed, and the noise didn’t even reach his ears. The gentle hum of magic went still. At an order, sound itself ceased to exist. 

Tatter looked as if he had more to say, but he obeyed. 

“My descendants have offered you fair terms. Return what you have stolen and leave this place at once. Do so, or die,” the god demanded. 

Tatter bowed deeply. “Of course. We will—” 

A man came flying down the stairs, backwards through the pitch-black cloud. His back smashed into the interior front wall of the academy, sending dust and debris scattering in every direction. 

There, for just a moment, the projection of the God of Magic flickered out for just a second. It was brief and barely perceptible, but it was enough for Professor Crosp’s historical illusion to lose its hold over the room. Snake realized it at the same time as the cultists. The God of Magic hadn’t suddenly reappeared a thousand years after his disappearance; the history professor had used a maximized Historia spell to project the depiction of Gom to everyone in the room. Snake had sat in on some of those classes. He cursed himself for not realizing sooner. But Dean Withershade had known it was coming, and even he seemed enthralled by the spell. 

Snake had to give Crosp credit. Historia magic was stronger than he’d realized. That, or Crosp was an exception. 

When the projection reformed, many of the cultists remained under the spell, but not Tatter. He realized what was going on, and he snarled. “An illusion!”

Snake wasn’t sure how Crosp had projected an event that surely hadn’t happened. But now wasn’t the time to worry about it. The illusion would have worked. The cultists were moments away from fleeing the academy in total retreat. If only some idiot hadn’t been knocked down the stairs in the middle of it. The smoke had cleared enough for Snake to see who it was. His mouth parted when he realized.

Professor Sikar. 

One of the strongest faculty members in all of Bright Sail Academy. So strong that the dean had left him in charge of the first floor alone. The professor didn’t rouse. It was obvious just by looking at him that several of his ribs were broken, and there were trails of blood from his mouth. But what could possibly do something like that to him?

The answer came in the form of footsteps that rocked the room. 

One after another. 

The floor rumbled with each step. Finally, a foot broke through the cloud barrier and landed on the first step of the stairs below it. A giant foot of twisted, distorted flesh. 

When the foot landed, it wasn’t just Snake’s body that shook. His soul trembled alongside it. 

How hadn’t he sensed this monster before? This creature was…horrifying. 

And unlike the illusion, he wasn’t conflicted at all. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to run up and punch this thing in the face. He wasn’t conflicted at all. His every instinct told him to run. To slither away and hide. 

Scales climbed his skin, covering up to his upper arms, and he wished he could push them further, but he was at his limit already.

When the creature finally reached the bottom step, its head still brushed against the cloud barrier. It looked as if it were made of human clay. Like something had pressed several men together to create a grotesque, hulking creature with the power of many. Its biceps looked as if they’d were woven together like rope. Its face half-formed. One ear was much larger than the other, and its mouth appeared to be two mouths stitched together side by side to create a larger one. The creature’s eyes were segmented likewise. Each calf seemed carved from the center mass of a large man. 

Snake suppressed the urge to vomit. But one thing was worst of all, and he found it hard to believe he could say something was the “worst” part of this, but he could. The worst part wasn’t any particular feature of this creature, but rather the fact that one of Snake’s teammates from the Academy War was slung over its shoulder. 

Milim. 

On the opposite shoulder was another familiar face. 

Sen’s sister. Ilm.

Both of them were unconscious. He needed to do something, but he couldn’t act alone. He turned to the professors.

Professor Crosp stared at the creature in horror. Dean Calle and Laurette looked to Dean Withershade, who was completely still except for his eyes. They darted back and forth on the ground, as if he’d find a solution there. And then there was Professor Calabari. He alone looked confident, and Snake found that surprising. Calabari had good sense after all; he’d chosen Snake to lead the Academy War team. Maybe together they could act. Their eyes met, and Calabari nodded to him, signaling readiness. They’d strike together then. Snake flexed his legs. He was faster. He’d make the first move. This was risky, but he’d dedicated himself to someone. He wouldn’t just live for her. He’d be her champion. This was just the start. Snake would create an opening for the professor to strike and go from there. 

So even though his legs trembled and he had a pit in his stomach. Even though he hadn’t felt this afraid since the day he’d gotten a taste of real power. He readied himself. 

One…two….

Professor Calabari 

Snake moved before anyone expected him to. Of course he had. The cocky brat was too full of himself for his own good. Dean Withershade didn’t move. He’d read the cards already. He wasn’t looking for victory anymore; he’d be looking for some way to minimize his losses. The man thought too small. 

To the credit of the man he hated, Crosp tried to help the boy. 

“Historia Remnant!” he cried out. The apparition of the God of Magic had scarcely appeared when Calabari let the knife fall from its hiding place in his sleeve into his hand. In two strides he closed the gap and plunged it into the side of Professor Crosp. Calabari removed it and blood spilled out of the open wound. 

Crosp turned to him in shock, collapsing from the pain. “Why?” He lost focus on his spell, and the illusion broke before it formed. 

Snake sensed it and wheeled around, trying to abort his attack. Too late. Way too late. He was already within reach. The disgusting creature that defeated Sikar grabbed Snake’s body and slammed it into the wall. He was unconscious in a moment. The creature picked Snake up by the back of his clothes, satisfying its mission. It’d collected the three students it’d been assigned. It was unlikely any of their other projects had failed, so with this, their mission was complete. 

Dean Withershade spun and pieced together Calabari’s betrayal in an instant. “Calabari…what…what have you done?”

Calabari smirked. He walked by the dean and placed a hand on his shoulder in passing. “I told you, old friend, I said I’d find my own way forward. You had the chance to prevent this. I came to you for help. I would’ve stood beside you and protected this academy with my life, but you cast me out. This loss is yours.” 

The dean was speechless. He shook his head in disbelief. Calabari nodded to Tatter and stood beside him. He turned and soaked up the image of Crosp bleeding out in front of him, and Sikar crumpled into a wall to his right. They’d gotten what they deserved. If he’d had any doubt about this course of action, this moment cleared it. 

Tatter smiled. “Good work, Acolyte of Harpis.”

Calabari scowled at that. He hadn’t agreed to join the cult, only to work beside them. But now wasn’t the time. 

“Will you make a move, Dean?” Calabari asked.

Dean Withershade closed his eyes as if consulting with someone. After a moment he opened them but didn’t move. Calabari expected as much. His role as dean gave him ultimate authority within the academy. But if he believed he had enough to rebuild, he would forfeit this fight to preserve the academy’s future. 

Calabari smiled. He’d anticipated this, and he already knew what conclusion the dean would come to. He wouldn’t fight them. Even though it would ruin Brightsail’s reputation, Withershade would stake it all on the prodigy first-year student and the fourth-years that remained. In an instant, he’d taken stock of the students left behind. Dean Withershade could afford to lose a few promising ones. As long as a few years from now he had something to show for it. 

Dean Calle and Laurette shot him questioning looks, but Withershade shook his head. That was particularly callous of him, since the cultists had taken Green Book and Fire Kite students. But he wouldn’t tell them that now. As long as he saw a path to survival, the dean wouldn’t risk further losses. 

Tatter laughed, and the creature holding Milim, Snake, and Ilm followed the cultist out the door. Calabari shook his head one last time. If the Dean had any sense of loyalty, he wouldn’t be in this position. It didn’t matter anymore. Calabari’s future was bright. 

Sen 

He saw many familiar faces in the high-grade artifact collection. Susanna and Girch were doing okay. Joseia, Samara, and Oliver were all gathered here as well. But Milim wasn’t here, and he still needed to check on the state of the rest of the academy. So only a second after Ladia had opened the door, and he barged in, Sen turned, ran toward the railing, and jumped. 

To his surprise, the cloud barrier was gone, and he landed quickly next to the dean. Dean Withershade didn’t say a word. Dean Calle was rushing up the stairs. Laurette was applying first aid to Professor Crosp, who was on the verge of death. Sen took a quick hold of his soul and waited for him to breathe his last. Resurrection was optimal when someone was this close. If he tried Total Restoration and the professor slipped to the other side before it took effect, he risked losing him. It was better to guarantee the man’s life. Crosp faded and then burst back into life as Sen triggered resurrection. 

“What happened?” Sen asked, but the dean didn’t speak. He just stared out the door of the academy. Sen followed his gaze. Something huge had ripped the gates of Bright Sail open. 

Then he noticed Sikar. 

He cursed and ran over, scanning the man. He was alive, but in bad shape. “Total Restoration!” Sikar coughed up blood as his body started repairing itself. He looked around with a wild expression until his eyes met Sen's.

“They took them…” he muttered.

 “Took who?” Sen asked. 

Sikar stared past Sen. “Show him.” 

A whisper of magic trickled by, and Sen looked back to see Crosp weakly stretching out a hand. The sensation was like the one he felt in history class, and Sen allowed it to envelop him.

The events that had transpired played out before his eyes. When they finished, he snapped to and felt something sharp in his hands. He looked down and realized he’d grabbed stray debris while watching his friends get taken. 

He felt a rage he hadn’t felt in quite a long time building up inside him.

“Calabari,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“The entire cult of Harpis.”

“Tatter.”

And the disgusting creature that had taken the others. 

He was going to kill them all. 

/c/KaneDrake

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