Sacred Calendar 682. Rogue Otto Rivers had spent four years at the Lyon Magic Academy. Possessing reasonable talent, he needed only two more years to graduate and become a full-fledged wizard. In this turbulent era, mages were highly sought after due to their well-known destructive power. Simultaneously, because of the equally well-known weaknesses of wizards—poor physical stamina and lengthy incantation times—protecting them during warfare became the paramount concern. Even so, even renowned continental generals struggled to completely avoid mage casualties.

Mastering magic required innate talent, and becoming a qualified wizard demanded considerable time. This scarcity made mages exceptionally rare across the continent, elevating their status accordingly. Most high-ranking wizards were also immensely wealthy, as gems, magical silver, and mythril materials commanded exorbitant prices. Advanced magical artifacts often enabled mages to challenge opponents beyond their rank. It was said that a wizard’s power was proportional to his wealth.

Rogue’s father, Viscount Rivers, was a minor noble within the Lyon City-State Alliance, holding only a small town and its surrounding villages as fiefdom—home to scarcely a few thousand souls. Nevertheless, as a landholding noble, Rogue retained the privilege of inserting "Otto" into his name, a mark of lower hereditary nobility in the Lyon Alliance.

Continental naming conventions were wildly diverse, varying significantly by nation. In recent years, with the Holy Church’s rise and expanding ecclesiastical power, most nations had adopted "Gloria" as the continent’s name, meaning "Song of Praise to the Gods." The Lyon Alliance occupied the southeastern corner of the continent, formed by over a dozen duchies large and small. Compared to the continent’s three great powers—Dero, O-Hung, and Asrofik—its strength was merely second-rate. Yet it was neither the strongest nor the weakest; before the thirty-odd smaller states remaining, especially neighboring Ronen Duchy and Kado City-State, King Louis XIV frequently flaunted military might. However, his passion for art, beauty, and immortality far outweighed any desire for territorial expansion, and for most of his dozen-year reign, peace prevailed with neighboring realms.

Matching its national standing, the Lyon Magic Academy ranked as a second-tier institution of moderate repute, situated north of the Alliance capital, Lyon City. Its teaching style favored practicality, directly resulting in a three-hundred-year history devoid of figures who shook the continent. Given nations’ demand for mages, magic academies often represented the continent’s most egalitarian spaces within rigid hierarchies—apprentices of common birth rarely suffered fatal beatings from noble peers. Moreover, successfully graduated commoners frequently attained nobility after sufficient seasoning.

Rogue’s family fortunes had somewhat declined; only four servants remained—a meager retinue for a landholding noble. Old Rivers possessed no financial acumen beyond a volatile temper, and his income dwindled annually. Yet this did not prevent Rogue from adopting every noble vice: arrogance, conceit, lustful tendencies, and volatility, compounded by a cunning treachery uncommon among ordinary nobles. After becoming a man at fourteen upon one of the household maids, chaos reigned over the small estate. Old Rivers sent Rogue to the magic academy a year later, exhausting the last of his ancestral jewels to do so.

Rogue expected no further support from his father. Needing funds for his daily indulgences, he charmed his way into the favor of Fess, a mid-rank wizard at the academy, managing the wizard’s workshop and handling tasks Fess preferred to avoid. Now, Rogue scrutinized a peculiar Soul Pearl that had inexplicably appeared before him in the magic laboratory. Dull and pallid, with faint cracks marring its surface, it seemed worthless. Only the faint, shifting glow of one white and one black thread within hinted at uniqueness. Rogue squinted, meticulously appraising its value, unaware the Soul Pearl was studying him in return. Suddenly, it split. A black vapor surged toward Rogue’s forehead, vanishing into his skull. His body convulsed like a soft-bodied creature—bulging here, sinking there—while black blood spurted from his pores. Finally, Rogue’s eyes opened, utterly pale. A low chuckle echoed: "This soul’s mental fortitude is adequate." Rogue gazed at the Soul Pearl shards on the floor. Just then, the white vapor struggled free but could not stray far from the fragments. Rogue’s eyes gleamed; the white vapor and shards were drawn into his brow. A faint, piercing shriek echoed through the chamber. Inside Rogue, turmoil surged like boiling water before gradually subsiding. When he reopened his eyes, they held a human semblance once more.

The black vapor was Rodrigus’s soul. Using the divine artifact Soul Pearl—capable of severing all soul-bound powers—he had escaped the Judgment Light and evaded heavenly pursuit. Yet the Judgment Light’s force was irresistible; even divine artifacts paled before true godly power, especially when unleashed by a heavenly sovereign deity to eradicate excessive earthly evil. After the battle at Odi Grand Temple, the Soul Pearl had expended all its energy. The necromancer did not destroy Rogue’s soul but chose fusion, inheriting all of Rogue’s traits. With the Soul Pearl’s energy nearly depleted—most spent binding Venna’s soul—the necromancer carried only the fundamental understanding of magic into the fusion, abandoning vast specific spell knowledge. Venna’s soul now held only the core essence of Divine Origin; its full consciousness had long since dissipated. This sliver of Divine Origin was drawn into the merged soul.

The necromancer did not obliterate Rogue’s soul but fused with its consciousness. "I bear too many scars from this world; my only legacy is destruction. Perhaps creation matters most here. When an apple leaps onto the chessboard and charges wildly, its impact dwarfs that of a piece jumping off the board."

Rogue possessed no exceptional talent. Four years of half-hearted study had earned him only third-rank mage status, capable of first-level spells. Lyon Magic Academy required proficiency in two distinct second-level spells—achieving fourth-rank—to graduate. Yet the necromancer’s soul fusion granted immense, unparalleled mental fortitude, enabling extraordinary magical control. After all, a mage’s strength lay not solely in raw mana but in comprehension and mastery of it. To Rogue, strength also meant treachery and wealth. "A first-rank mage wearing ten magically enhanced rings will never lose to a bare-handed second-rank," he reasoned—a view the necromancer shared, since the gap between first and second ranks resembled that between an idiot and a dullard. Grasping magery beyond fourth-rank remained beyond Rogue’s current capacity.

Gloria Continent’s magic, refined over centuries (primarily for war), formed a rigorous system. Generally, a mage’s power increased by one spell tier for every two ranks gained. Thus, a tenth-rank mage wielded fifth-level spells; an eleventh-rank mage could cast two such spells. Yet exceptions existed—like necromancer Rodrigus.

Divine Origin was the purest soul energy. With body and soul utterly transformed, Rogue would use it to creates his own familiar. Familiars were usually the privilege of high-rank mages, always summoned creatures. But creation? "That is the gods’ domain," the necromancer mused. Yet gods had never commanded his respect; he was busy merging souls and reshaping flesh. After fully absorbing the Soul Pearl, Rogue’s physique was unrecognizable. Yet for strategic reasons, his outward appearance remained unchanged: short, stout, obese, with an utterly ordinary face and those treacherous eyes. Still, the Soul Pearl granted another mysterious skill: space.

Rogue voiced no objection—not that he dared. Learning Divine Origin’s origin, he expressed profound envy toward Brunn. "He won’t be the last," Rogue thought viciously.

After three days and nights of sleepwalking existence—enduring Fess’s repeated scoldings—the necromancer completed his work.

Rogue awoke. From this moment, Rogue was still Rogue, and Rodrigus was Rogue. The necromancer had finally deceived the heavens, placing that apple on the chessboard.