8751 A.T.
If we’re going by the Gregorian Calendar from the Third World, it would be around the same timeframe as well.
By my estimate, there’s probably a grand total of eight days left in this world.
The clock ticks ever so slowly and diligently.
It’s currently 11:48, nearing midnight.
I’ve owned this specific grandfather clock in my office for approximately three hundred years. At any moment, it should stop ticking, letting the last bit of life remaining in this academy fade away.
My arm rubs against the smooth oak table as I write the last bits of my literary work. Instead of a lamp, I’ve opted to use the natural moonlight beam as my source of vision. The large, gleaming beauty baptizes my office, as if smiling down upon the last human remaining.
If I can even call myself that.
Tilting my head slightly upward, I take in the rest of my office one last time. The floors are tidy and precisely lined with dozens of wooden planks. It’s a bit hard to tell the wood they were carpentered from, and to be honest, it’s been too long for me to even remember.
Leaning back, the cushioned chair I've been using for the last twenty years lets out a groan.
“Please don’t break,” I whisper, as if the piece of furniture is a real, living creature. It might as well be, for letting me keep my sanity as long as it has.
Ink starts to drip from my quill, another ancient method that belongs to a bygone time. I’m mostly sure that in the mainland, just before the rest of humanity died out, they were using advanced technology that once belonged solely to one nation.
In a matter of a few years, even that once prestigious, seemingly untouchable nation was left behind in the times, unwilling to adapt and in constant denial that it ever needed to advance.
Yet, despite that, I don’t blame them for their decisions.
Once you’re so ahead of the game, you don’t expect to ever be caught falling behind. Everyone else around you seems much smaller, much lower on the podium, when all you’ve known was the top.
I don’t know whether or not the actual height of where the nation was located mattered, but that same phenomenon affected their minds nonetheless.
No matter where we’re from, we’re humans at the end of the day. Humans with similar thought processes, similar experiences, and lives that ultimately meet one end. It doesn’t matter how you encounter it.
It can be cruel, peaceful, or even annoying. But that darkness greets everyone the same. Even if the Primes are capable of resurrection in the distant future, that doesn’t mean they don’t encounter death the same way humans do.
Every living creature, every concept, all share at least two similar experiences. Birth and death.
The rest of the world left me behind, which is natural. I’m supposed to be this world’s guardian. I’ve saved the world countless times that I can remember. People would seek me out for knowledge, risking their lives and futures for the sake of obtaining forbidden knowledge.
Being so immersed in adventure, I’m sure none of them really thought about their lives to the fullest extent, but I could see everything from beginning to end whenever I had to bring their life to an end.
My Soul Sight ability…
I can see people’s thin threads that lingers from their souls. They’re usually not imposing, only floating behind their necks. I still needed to be careful though, as the moment I touched those threads, I was forced to experience their lives at a rapid speed, from birth to the moment of death.
A blessing and a curse. When I was younger, this ability was my best ally in helping me defeat my greatest enemies. But as I achieved everything I wanted, this ability proved to grow more and more cumbersome, and felt more like a tragic joke.
Back then, I used to be able to fully trigger it on and off. But now, my sight lives in a perpetual state of in-between, where I see both the threads and beauty of the natural world. While it was great for my studies in magic, it nearly drove me insane to be able to see people’s lifelines so flimsily.
It’s an ability that gave me the ability to truly appreciate life, which is why it grew harder to kill the more I saw life’s beauty.
“Killing is bad.”
Those were the words that were once spoken to me by the person I love. Someone I nearly tried to trade my own life to protect. I named spells and even my own Soul Symphony after him, which is the only reason I even remember ██████ after all this time.
Planting my feet on the ground, I slide my body back. The wheeled chair rolls backward, its rolling sound bouncing inside the relatively small office space.
Standing up, I slowly make my way towards the dusty glass bookcase that’s been dormant for at least a few hundred years. The last time someone opened it was when my last student asked me if they could read the forbidden tomes.
Their reasoning was simple.
“If there’s nobody to hurt, then I might as well learn everything I can before I die too.”
What a sad thing to say.
These were books that people would have given their lives to even be near, and now they’re nothing but dead fragments of once-living flora that’s been reduced to being a pretty display.
So much growth is interrupted in trying to obtain higher power, leaving their loved ones behind in the real world, while they happily trot to the afterlife.
Letting out a sigh of resignation, I let my hand go off the glass display, leaving an obvious handprint behind where the dust used to be.
As I walk towards the door, my leather boots tap ever so satisfyingly on the wooden floor. My peripheral vision catches my skirt fluttering as I move.
When I used to attend this academy and used to be a student here, I remember the floors feeling like they could break at any moment.
It’s funny how a little bit of maintenance every few years can cause so much change. But that’s also tragic in its own way.
The fact that some children weren’t able to experience the same memories as I had, just because I hated my own, is a testament to my own selfishness. I robbed them of something to laugh about because I had a twisted delusion to have a better experience than I had.
But I suppose that’s how time works. If you let things be, then society never advances, always being stuck in one way and unable to guide newer generations forward. However, if you change too much, then life as we knew it starts to evolve into something unrecognizable.
The world that they grew up in doesn’t exist anymore, and everything feels too foreign.
Upon placing my right hand on the golden, metallic door handle, a slight chill creeps up from the surface of the material onto my wrist.
Ah. It’s probably wintertime. I haven’t noticed being willingly stuck in this crusty office for so long.
Twisting my wrist, I turn the handle. The door opens ever so slowly even without my body giving it a push.
The outside wind gently breezes across my face. As my eyes fixate on the empty hall to my left and right, I let out a sigh at how lively this place once was.
After I officially became the Archmage, I sought out to reveal the secrets of magic to the world. I started small, and many called me crazy for unleashing so much knowledge.
Tired of everyone’s voices and criticisms, I left to go for a swim near a remote island. That’s when I saw a boy drowning next to his capsized boat. It was no bigger than a fishing vessel, and since the winds were strong that night, even bigger pirate ships didn’t dare to set sail.
Normally I wouldn’t care.
But the kid… I had to save the kid.
He had an unusual name with orange hair. He was a bit cheeky and talked back to me often, but he wasn’t bad at all.
“So cold.”
As I walk forward, the stone clicking against the sole of my shoe echoes across the hall.
Unlike the wooden planks in my office, these sounds emit a much more confident feel, and I find myself straightening my back instinctively.
It’s strange what a small change in the environment can do.
Once a place filled with threads and souls, this is now nothing but a barren wasteland. Every time I peek through one of the classrooms, there are bundles of books and furniture spread out across the floor.
Sure, this place is far better maintained than most of the bigger cities, but after the last student passed away, I haven’t had a lick of motivation to clean up.
My memory hasn’t deteriorated enough to the point where I wouldn't remember them though. They were a kind girl with jet black hair. She wore a cute red hairpin to remind her of her parents, who had passed away when she was just a little girl.
Seeing she had nowhere to go, she decided to live at a seemingly empty and well-maintained three-story academy. She did the right thing, seeing as I was still present. In many ways, she’s the last person I’ll remember in this world.
Her name was Lisa if I remember correctly.
Or was it? I don’t know.
As the chilly air seeps through my spine, I let out yet another sigh.
Cold mists of white puff out from my mouth. If I was much less used to this city’s temperatures, I’d most likely be running back to my office to grab my cloak.
But it’s not that cold.
Hold up. Cloak?
Pivoting my heels, I start walking back to the office, stomping ferociously, as if someone’s chasing behind me. Maybe I’m afraid of ghosts, but I just don’t want to leave that special piece of clothing behind.
It belonged to him, after all.
If I grab my cloak fast enough, I might be able to make it to the roof just in time for when the full moon is the brightest. It’s a small and insignificant event, but it's one that I’ve grown to appreciate over the years.
Upon making it back, I swing the door open in a hurry, the somewhat warm air from inside the office hitting me like a cannon. I scan my eyes around the otherwise peaceful room, until I spot what I’m looking for on a deteriorating coat hanger.
There are two objects hung on this particular hanger. A leather belt with a short, rectangular bag, and a dormant cloak.
My slender hands brush up against the silky soft fabric, before pulling it gently towards me. It lets go of the coat hanger’s embrace ever so smoothly, like a child being carried away by their parents.
I can’t see very well in the dark, but I can feel the fabric texture of the cloak just fine. The bumps along the edges, and the hidden academy logo under the first layer. I remember wearing this for my adventure, when I had to save my best friend.
It’d get torn and broken up every other week, and I’d always have to pay to get it fixed up. Eventually, I got so tired of it that I started to take up sewing classes. To be honest, I should have just paid to fix it everytime, since sewing it took way too much of my time.
I haven’t worn it in a while now. Most likely because I could preserve its quality.
My hands instinctively reach out for the metallic brooch sitting on a nearby chair.
Its silver color is reflected confidently thanks to the peeking moonlight through the glass window. In the center, there’s a blue gem that once served as a way for me to channel and control my magical energy better.
Nowadays though, it’s mostly there for decorative purposes.
Clasping the metallic ornament, I bind the two ends of my cloak together. The howling wind coming from the hall flutters my cloak, as if nature itself was waking an old friend from its slumber.
No matter how many times I experience it, I feel super cool whenever the wind does that.
As I’m about to leave for the hall once more, my eye catches a glimpse of something I haven’t touched in a while.
A gray leather book with a circular magical symbol laced on its cover. Once upon a time, it was used to help me cast spells, but after I learned to keep up with my own pace, it ended up being just a decorative piece.
Shrugging my shoulders, I grab the belt with much less elegance and care than I did with my cloak. Then, I lunge my body, extend my left arm, and grab the dusty old book.
Thankfully, this office isn’t too big, so I don’t need to exert much physical activity to do what I need to do.
Fitting the leather book in between my thighs, I start to adjust the belt and bag around my waist. Its metallic clangs and leather shuffles trigger a nostalgic memory within me. It’s like I’m getting ready for adventure again.
Only this time, it’s a journey to see the world off before it dies.
The final click indicates that the belt’s been adjusted properly, and with that, I slide the spellbook into the bag. Clipping it to close the cover, I quickly head out for the hallway once more, letting the door close on its own.
Just before my line of sight is blocked by the wooden structure, an all too familiar tick grabs my attention, as if it is calling out to me.
Glancing at the ever-so diligent grandfather clock, I see the time just struck 11:57.
Shoot.
I was so distracted that I forgot about the time. It takes a second or so for my mind to process what’s going on. With how far away the stairs to the roof are, I’ll have to sprint with all my might if I want to make it on time.
It’s amazing the clock was able to call me so well, it’s almost like I heard a voice.
I spin my body around and fold my legs. Before I know it, I find myself running across the hall.
My breath is heavy and labored, and each time I draw air into my lungs, it’s like a thousand daggers are stabbing into my internal organs.
It’s funny, the greatest mage in the world is still unathletic. Come to think of it, I was the same way when I was a student as well.
My short hair barely flutters, but my cloak is a different story entirely. If someone were to see me across the building, they’d probably think a slender assassin is rushing towards their target. Or at least, that would be what I imagine they’d imagine.
Gazing my eyes slightly to the left, I see the rectangular grass park in the middle of the academy. Since it’s been so long since they’ve last been tended, the weeds are tall enough to block most of my view.
I’m sure that if I actually took the time to remove the weeds, I’d see the other side of the academy as well. Maybe I could, but what would be the point of that if nobody’s ever going to use the park again?
Plus, something else is bothering me.
Why am I running?
Is it because the end is nearing soon? Because I won’t be able to see the moon ever again?
For a few days it's been a mundane event I’d look forward to, but it's not one that ever warranted sprinting for. It's not like I’d drown in regret for the remaining eight days of my life if I don’t catch this sight.
Actually, it's not like the moon’s going to disappear once it hits 12:01.
So why am I running?
“Haah… haah…”
I reach the end of the hall, and am greeted with a flight of stairs. I have two choices, either to go up two more floors and reach the roof, or go down a single set to reach the bottom. Normally, I’d hate going up to the roof, but for some reason, tonight’s pull is especially alluring.
My feet feel like they’re about to wear out, and my thighs feel the sting of the lack of exercise.
And yet, I push through.
Going up the stairs, I’m greeted by a metallic door barred with at least three chains. I remember this door being off-limits even back when I was a student, and yet, I actually don’t know why I kept it closed after I became Headmaster.
My arm starts to glow a faint blue, as magical energy starts to flow within my body. Enhancing my strength, I grip the metallic links and tear them into small pieces with a single pull.
As if fearing my power, the door slowly creaks open, giving way to the outside world. The adrenaline in me has all but faded, and I’m left behind panting for air. My heart is restless, and feels like it’s about to burst at any second.
Pushing the door slowly with my right hand, I’m greeted with the scent of the night. It’s a bit hard to describe, and I don’t even know if it’s an actual scent. But whenever I bask in the moon, it’s like I get a seventh sense.
My eyes are fixated on the glowing celestial body, and a smile curls across my face. The magical energy within me goes back to sleep, satisfied with achieving its goal.
Maybe I’m going crazy, but staring at the moon like this makes me feel like we’re having a never-ending staring competition. Obviously, the celestial body doesn’t have a face, but for some reason, I can feel her smile all the same.
Yeah. This is probably why I like staring at the moon so much.
It makes me feel so much less lonely.
From the bottom of my eye, I see various colors flickering before me.
They’re clearly not northern lights, and it’s far too close to the earth to be stars.
Naturally drawn by the lightshow, I lower my head, turning my gaze away from the moon for a split second.
Just then, my breath hitches.
Shining under the beautiful moonlight is a singular woman in what looks like she’s in her early twenties
Her hair is long to the point where it curls all over the dirty rooftop. The mere glow of hair somehow levitates the dust on the ground, letting me see the stone as it was the first day it was placed.
From where I’m standing, it looks like she’s wearing a thicker veil covering her face, but no, it’s just her hair. She’s so bright that I can’t see the threads that should be lingering from her soul.
She’s wearing a long gold and white dress.
Its sleeves and ends reach the rails at the edge of the roof. There's elegance and royalty sprinkled all over her, from her light movement to even the way she breathes air.
Her eyes are multicolored, as is her hair. It's a mesh of white, pink, blue, yellow, and orange, all scattered across random places.
In my eight thousand years of life, I’ve never seen something, no, someone so beautiful.
My heart skips a beat, and I feel a small burst of heat rising from my chest.
There’s something unsettling about her. Even though my heart is enamored, my stomach turns as if warning me of danger. A sweat drips down my temple as I instinctively reactivate my magical energy.
We fully make eye contact, snapping me away from my temporary hostility.
Each second feels like an eternity, but no matter how much willpower I pour into my mind and soul, I can’t seem to pull away.
Am I being charmed? Is this some kind of magic that I’ve never discovered?
No.
It’s because her eyes remind me of the moon.
“Hello.”
Her voice booms, shaking the very foundation of the building I'm standing on. Each time a strand of her hair waves, it's like I can see reality shifting every time it moves.
“I have come to end your world.”