Curse of Lysertis

"What?!" Adam raised his eyebrows in disbelief, stopping in his tracks. "Did I hear that right? You want me to participate in the tournament?"

The Headmaster, seated in his imposing chair, simply nodded.

"Yes, Adam. We believe this could be beneficial for your growth."

A heavy silence settled over the room, only to be broken by Professor Adrian, who stood up abruptly. His expression was grim, and his voice was firm and unwavering.

"Excuse me, Headmaster, but I strongly disagree. Adam barely manages the most basic assignments. His grades are far from impressive, and his abilities…" He shot the boy a cold glance. "Mediocre at best. Entering him into the tournament isn't just a bad idea—it's reckless. A disaster waiting to happen."

A murmur rippled through the room. But then, a member of the Magical Department, an elderly mage with sharp eyes and a long silver beard, slowly rose to his feet. Leaning on an ancient staff, he spoke in a measured tone.

"Professor Adrian, your concerns are understandable, but you underestimate this young man." He turned toward the Headmaster. "Are you certain he's capable?"

A small smile played on the Headmaster's lips.

"I am. Adam has potential—potential that even he himself has yet to realize."

Adam stood in silence, listening as they discussed his fate like he wasn't even in the room. Inside, his emotions churned. Was he furious? Terrified? He wasn't sure. But one thing he did know—the idea of competing in this tournament was insane.

Professor Aldric, who had remained silent until now, suddenly stood and spoke. His voice was deep, steady, and carried weight.

"He handles a sword well enough, despite rarely showing up to my lessons. There's raw talent there. And as for magic… I have no doubt he's just as capable. He simply needs time to unlock it."

Adrian's frustration boiled over.

"Confidence alone isn't enough to gamble with his life! This isn't training—we're talking about a tournament where only the strongest mages compete." His sharp gaze swept across the room. "Who here is willing to guarantee that he'll survive? That he won't be eliminated in the first round? Even if, by some miracle, he makes it to the third stage, he'll be completely outmatched by the remaining competitors!"

Adam thought to himself, Well, that's not exactly pleasant to hear… but at least this means I won't have to enter the tournament. Keep going, Professor—convince them this is a terrible idea.

But before anyone else could speak, the Archmage finally weighed in.

"Adrian, we live in a world saturated with magic and mana. So if Adam's only hope is for something 'magical' to happen, I'd say the odds are in his favor. Wouldn't you agree?"

Adrian let out a sharp breath, exhaling his frustration.

"Do as you wish," he said finally. "But we'll need to keep a close watch on Adam during the second stage."

"I don't think that will be necessary," the Archmage replied, casting a quick glance at Adam before giving him a knowing wink.

The member of the Magical Department took a step forward.

"We don't know what will happen," he said calmly. "But history shows us that great mages emerge through trials. Perhaps this tournament is his chance. Adam, what do you think?"

Every eye in the room turned to him. His palms were clammy, his throat dry. His instincts screamed, No! It's too dangerous! But he knew that if he voiced that fear now, his weakness would be on full display.

"I…" he started, struggling to find the right words.

But before he could finish, Professor Adrian cut him off, his voice ringing through the hall.

"You see? Even he isn't sure! What's the point of discussing this any further? He's not ready."

Adam fell silent again, retreating into his thoughts. Come on, you all see how ridiculous this is. Just put an end to it. Don't send me to my death.

The tension in the room grew heavier. Everyone was waiting for the final decision. Then, at last, the Headmaster rose from his seat, his voice clear and commanding.

"We've debated long enough. Adam has potential, and it's our duty to help him realize it. First of all, Professor Adrian, no one dies in the first stage—not even Adam. Secondly, let's not terrify the boy; we always ensure that participants survive the tournament. My decision is final. He will compete."

The words echoed in Adam's ears, his stomach twisting in fear. That's it. My peaceful life is over. He glanced up at the Headmaster's unwavering expression, but all he could think was, Why me?

Then, just as the weight of the decision settled on his shoulders, a calm yet confident voice broke through the silence.

"It doesn't matter," said Professor Charlotte. "He won't make it past the first stage anyway, so there's no reason to worry. Let's be honest—alchemy has never been his strong suit."

The Headmaster crossed his arms, meeting her gaze without hesitation.

"He'll pass. I have no doubt."

The silver-haired mage from the Magical Department smirked, folding his hands over his staff.

"Well then, Headmaster, if you're so certain and willing to stake your reputation on this boy, he'll enter the tournament."

Headmaster William turned his eyes to Adam, confidence gleaming in them.

"Do you remember, Adam? You yourself said you would enter this tournament. You didn't make any promises, but you still agreed. I'm merely holding you to your own words."

Adam froze as the memory resurfaced in his mind. He nearly grimaced. Seriously? I only said that to get him off my back, and now he's using it against me to force me into this? Just great. Annoyance flared within him.

Professor Adrian, who had looked like a man being forced to witness a disaster unfold, let out a weary sigh and handed Adam a form along with a quill.

"Here. Fill this out. One copy stays with us, the other is yours." His voice was resigned, but his eyes still held traces of resistance.

Adam took the quill reluctantly and began filling out the form. Every line felt meaningless, but there was no point in fighting it now. Once he finished, he handed one copy back to Adrian without a word, turned on his heel, and headed for the door. His footsteps echoed in the silence of the hall.

Just as his fingers closed around the cold metal handle, Headmaster William's voice rang out behind him.

"Don't disappoint me, Adam."

Adam stopped. His jaw clenched for a brief moment, but when he turned around, he merely gave a curt nod. His face remained unreadable, yet inside, resentment and frustration churned. Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out, leaving behind the hall where people continued discussing his fate.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Adam exhaled slowly. How did I even get myself into this? The question lingered, but no answers came—only the heavy weight of what lay ahead.

Outside, Fubuki was waiting by the entrance, his arms crossed, impatience clear in his posture. The moment he spotted the form in Adam's hands, his expression shifted to mild surprise, followed by an amused smirk.

"What? You signed up too?" he asked, tilting his head and eyeing his friend with interest.

"Had to," Adam muttered, irritation evident in his tone. "I made a promise to someone a while back and forgot about it. Today, he reminded me…"

Fubuki's smirk widened. He clapped Adam on the shoulder.

"Oof… Your tongue is your worst enemy. You should be more careful with promises. But hey, what's done is done. No backing out now."

They didn't linger for long. Both knew that talking about it wouldn't change a thing. Soon enough, they turned and disappeared into the bustling crowd.

Meanwhile, inside the main hall, the selection process continued. Professors and members of the Magic Department were still reviewing applications, either accepting or rejecting students for the tournament. Fatigue lined their faces, but the task was too important for them to rest just yet.

Only late in the evening, after the final student had left, did the selection committee finally conclude their work.

Headmaster William rose from his seat, surveying his exhausted colleagues before speaking.

"Well, gentlemen, thank you for your efforts. Professor Aldric will guide you to your accommodations for the duration of the tournament." He paused, then added, "As for me, I'll be handling the remaining paperwork with Professor Adrian."

The members of the Magic Department and professors exchanged polite bows. One of the officials—a broad-shouldered man with a firm handshake—stepped forward and extended his hand to the Archmage with a smile.

"Thank you for your hospitality. We appreciate your care."

The Archmage returned the handshake warmly. With that, the group dispersed, each heading in their own direction, preparing for what was to come.

When the hall finally emptied, William and Adrian made their way to the Headmaster's office. The heavy wooden door creaked softly as it opened, allowing them into the spacious room, where an air of strict organization reigned. At the center stood a massive oak desk, stacked high with documents.

"Put the papers on the desk," William instructed, pointing at the surface without even turning to look at Adrian.

Without a word, the professor approached and carefully laid down the documents. The rustling of paper broke the silence as William settled into his chair. His expression was focused, his gaze distant, as if he were already signing the forms in his mind.

"You look exhausted, Adrian," William remarked, breaking the quiet.

"That's because I am exhausted," Adrian replied dryly, allowing himself a faint smile. "The tournament hasn't even begun, and I already feel like I'm paying too high a price for it."

William glanced at him with a small smirk.

"Or maybe it's just your age catching up with you?" he teased, though his tone carried no malice—only weary warmth.

"Perhaps," Adrian sighed, rubbing his temple. "But something tells me this tournament will turn into something much bigger than we expect."

William considered his words for a moment before nodding in agreement. They continued working in silence, both aware that the trials ahead would be anything but simple.

After a while, Adrian leaned back slightly and asked, "Tell me, Professor William, why were you so insistent that Adam Lancer participate in this tournament?"

The Archmage removed his coat, carefully hung it on the rack, and then returned to his seat. His gaze drifted to the side, as if he were sifting through distant memories. Finally, he spoke.

"That boy's life has been filled with suffering and resentment. I want to help him change that."

Adrian narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly.

"Well, he certainly doesn't seem eager to change anything."

William looked at him, a faint sadness in his expression.

"That's because he doesn't know how to," he said quietly. "You see, when someone has no one to rely on, they face a choice: either they fight, or they give up. Adam chose the latter. But accepting one's fate is hard. Fighting against it alone? Even harder. That's why I'm doing everything I can to help him. I gave him a roof over his head, financial support, an education. But there's one thing I can't give him, for many reasons." William paused, his voice lowering. "Love. He's never known it. No parents. No friends. Not even a pet."

Adrian frowned, leaning back slightly in his chair.

"Forgive me, sir, but I still don't quite understand where you're going with this."

William intertwined his fingers, lowering his gaze to the desk.

"I want him to prove himself in the tournament. I want people to see him. The tournament isn't just a competition—it's a spectacle watched by the entire world. If Adam shows his true potential, maybe… just maybe, people will stop seeing only the sins of his father. Maybe they'll stop calling him a demon's spawn."

"Or," Adrian countered coldly, "they'll fear him even more. And where there is fear, there is always room for hatred."

The Archmage lifted his gaze, his eyes firm and unwavering.

"I know who he truly is. Adam is kind and compassionate. In that regard, he's better than both of us. And I have no doubt that he will prove it during the tournament."

Adrian crossed his arms, his expression contemplative.

"And if he fails? What then?"

William's lips curled into a slight smile, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes.

"If he fails, then I'll find another way to help him. That boy deserves more. One day, he will grow into a man worthy of respect. His actions will overshadow his father's sins, and people will accept him. I believe in him. Even if he doesn't believe in himself just yet."

Adrian listened, shaking his head slightly. But the sharpness in his gaze softened.

"Well, I hope you're right," he finally said.

Adrian sat down across from William, and they both returned to their work. The only sounds in the office were the rustling of paper and the scratching of quills.

Adam and Fubuki walked through the academy's long corridors, discussing the upcoming tournament. Their footsteps echoed against the empty halls.

"This is ridiculous," Adam huffed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "The first stage is brewing a potion. What potion? Nobody will say. We'll only find out once we're already there!"

Fubuki laughed, his lighthearted smile easing the tension.

"Oh, come on. You've brewed potions before. You'll figure it out."

Adam scoffed.

"Oh, sure! Should I remind you how I completely failed Professor Charlotte's class? You do remember that, right? Every year, I mess up her assignments spectacularly, and now they expect me to brew something on my own? It's impossible. The first stage is tomorrow, and there's no way I can master potion-making in one night."

Fubuki stopped, raising an eyebrow at Adam with a curious expression.

"Hold on… You didn't want to enter this tournament, and now you're stressed about passing the first stage? What's going on?"

Adam froze, his face growing serious.

"Headmaster William vouched for me. I can't let him down. I have to get through the first stage. And the second, too. No matter what it takes."

Fubuki tapped his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

"Ahh, I see now… So he's the mastermind behind this whole thing."

Then, suddenly, he stopped walking, grabbed Adam by the sleeve, and flashed a sly grin.

"I have an idea."

Adam immediately stepped back, shaking his head.

"Nope. Don't like it already."

"Relax," Fubuki winked. "Just follow me."

A few minutes later, they stood in front of Professor Charlotte's office. Without hesitation, Fubuki pushed open the door, stepping inside.

Professor Charlotte sat at her desk, sorting through stacks of papers. At the sound of footsteps, she lifted her head and greeted them with a playful smirk.

"Well, well. I'm always happy to see my students," she began, squinting at them with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But knocking would have been nice. What if I had been walking around naked?"

Adam's face instantly turned bright red. He lowered his head in embarrassment, trying to hide his reaction. Fubuki, noticing, barely held back a chuckle. Instead, he offered a small bow.

"Our apologies, Professor. We'll knock next time, I promise."

Adam remained frozen in place. Fubuki grabbed him by the collar and pulled him forward, forcing him into a bow as well.

Charlotte's grin widened, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Pressing her palms together, she playfully tapped her fingertips.

"Oh, how I adore these Eastern displays of politeness!" she said with delight. "But please, don't trouble yourselves. Raise your heads. Instead, tell me—what brings you here?"

Straightening up, Fubuki wasted no time.

"Professor, would you let us use your lab tonight? I want to teach Adam how to brew potions."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow in surprise, though her smile never faded. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she considered the request.