By the tranquil shores of a moonlit lake, Bartholomew Whitman, a venerable figure with a weathered countenance, breathed life into his magic. His gnarled fingers traced intricate patterns in the air, conjuring runes that shimmered with an ethereal glow.

"I've always marveled at the artistry of rune magic," I mused quietly to myself as I observed Whitman's skilled hands weaving the arcane symbols. "But this Life Siphoning Ward he's creating, it's something else entirely."

Whitman glanced up from his meticulous work, meeting my gaze with eyes that held a lifetime of knowledge. "Aye, lad. Life Siphoning Wards are not to be trifled with. They draw upon the very essence of living things, a power that demands respect and control."

I nodded solemnly, acknowledging the gravity of the dark ritual I was about to undertake. "I understand, Whitman. I need this for the greater good, to amplify my own magic against the impending threat that looms over our realm."

Threat? Yes, it would definitely be a threat to the realm if I don't get what I want. Then there was Mia too...

The old mage gave a wry smile. "Dark Rituals carry with them a danger, lad, one that's not easily escaped. But as long as your plans remain veiled, the danger shall slumber."

"As a Phantomancer, deceit is my forte," I replied, a confident smirk playing on my lips. "I thrive in the shadows, and this ritual will remain my strategic asset for a long time."

Whitman completed the final rune in the air, and the magic in the room intensified. "There, it is done. Use this power wisely, young one. And remember, every debt must be repaid."

I expressed my gratitude, "Thank you, Whitman. I'll repay this favor, I swear it. As a member of the Three Sages, my word holds weight, and our bonds run deep."

With a nod, the old mage acknowledged my words. "The Three Sages stand united. May your magic serve you well, and may the shadows conceal your every move."

Bartholomew Whitman observed the completed Life Siphoning Ward with a sense of satisfaction. His weathered face softened for a moment as he nodded appreciatively at my humility. "You've shown respect for the magic, lad. That's a rare quality," he remarked.

I met his gaze with gratitude. "Thank you, Whitman. I've always believed in the balance between power and humility."

The old mage's expression turned thoughtful. "Now, about those dragons you plan to sacrifice for your ritual," he began, his voice carrying a note of caution. "Their essence holds great power, but it also carries risk. The Dragon King is not one to take such matters lightly."

I furrowed my brow, considering his words. "I understand the potential consequences, but I have a plan. I'll leave them with a decades' worth of life force and, in the process, erase their memories. This way, they won't harbor any grudge against me or the Three Sages."

Bartholomew's eyes narrowed slightly. "A bold move, lad. But tampering with the memories of such powerful beings may have unforeseen repercussions. The Dragon King's wrath is not something easily appeased."

I smirked confidently. "Worry not, Whitman. Deception is my expertise. I'll ensure the dragons wake with a new lease on life, oblivious to the role they played in my ritual. The Three Sages might not be able to shield me, but I have my own ways of protecting my own hide."

The old mage sighed, a mix of concern and understanding in his gaze. "Very well, young one. Just remember, the debt you owe for this magic is not the only one you might incur. The dragons' spirits are not to be trifled with."

I nodded, acknowledging the gravity of my actions. "I'm well aware. I'll tread carefully. My word as a member of the Three Sages stands, and I'll ensure the balance the organization cherishes and protects are maintained."

By the tranquil shores of Lake Vantia, Bartholomew Whitman and I stood amidst the magical aura of the remote nexus, a place far removed from civilization. The air buzzed with latent power, and the reflection of the moon danced upon the rippling waters.

As I gazed at the intricate patterns of runes hovering in the air, Bartholomew, with his weathered countenance, spoke, "This nexus is potent, lad. The magic here is raw and unbridled. It will amplify your ritual in ways you cannot imagine."

I nodded, acknowledging the significance of the location. "I've spent days and nights preparing for this, Whitman. Lake Vantia's magic will infuse my work, enhancing its strength. In ways I cannot imagine, huh? No, I can totally imagine it— there will only be success."

The grand scenery of floating runes painted an ethereal picture, shimmering with the promise of arcane might. Yet, my attention was drawn to the chained humanoids assembling on one side, a stark contrast to the magical beauty surrounding us.

Whitman observed the scene with a furrowed brow. "What manner of magic requires such a gathering, lad? Those chained souls carry an air of desperation."

A confident smirk played on my lips. "The Life Siphoning Ward demands a sacrifice, Whitman. Their life force will fuel the amplification of my magic. A necessary exchange for the greater good. But do you really have to ask? You know these dragons, and every one of them, right?"

“Indeed,” The old mage's eyes held a mixture of concern and understanding. "Be cautious, young one. Such practices come with a weighty cost. The magic of the world may amplify, but so does the risk."

As the moonlight continued to cascade over the tranquil shores of Lake Vantia, Sanaryn Flamberge, a fellow member of the Three Sages, approached me with a sense of urgency in her voice.

"Enough, you arrogant man," Sanaryn called out. "The preparations are complete, and the dragons are in position. We cannot delay any longer. What magic do you seek to perform?"

I turned to face her, my expression calm but determined. "You don’t really listen, do you? Sanaryn, I aim to cast a spell that will veil my wife's existence from the world. It's a protective measure, a necessary secrecy to shield my happiness."

Sanaryn's eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze scrutinizing my intentions. "To hide a person from the world requires a potent enchantment. What price are you willing to pay for such magic?"

Bartholomew Whitman, who had been observing the unfolding events, interjected with a curious tone, "Life Siphoning Wards, dragons in chains, and now a spell to conceal a loved one. What kind of sorcery are you dabbling in, lad?"

“The kind that lies.” I grinned, a knowledge particularly secret to most Sorcerers played on my lips.

I met Whitman's gaze with unwavering determination. "I am tapping into the depths of darker magic, Whitman. You divide the Schools of Thought to the Universe, the World, and the Self, but the truth is there are so many branches of Sorcery out there.”

“Enlighten me,” he demanded, and I complied.

“The mind, body, and self. The dark, light, and gray. The bottom, middle, and the top. Basically, the Occult of the Three…” My words were mostly cryptic, and though I understood them barely, the words I was saying were not hogwash. The phrases I just uttered were the same realizations the protagonist of Hero Ender had. “The Life Siphoning Ward serves as a foundation for the greater working, amplifying the magic needed to cloak my wife's presence. It's a sacrifice, but it would be worth it."

Sanaryn sighed, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "Very well, but be mindful. The balance in such dark arts is delicate. The consequences may extend beyond your imagination."

“Hmph,” I scoffed at her. “The dark arts you referred to would not be necessarily the dark arts, you foolish woman.” Though childish, it was quite stress-relieving to vent like this at Sanaryn.

Sanaryn grits her teeth angrily, suppressing her desire to perhaps throw a fireball at me.

As the gathered dragons, still in their polymorphed state, awaited their fate with suppressed magic, I raised my hands, drawing on the potent energy of Lake Vantia's nexus. The runes in the air shimmered with increased intensity as the grand spectacle of magic unfolded.

Bartholomew Whitman, ever watchful, spoke once more, his voice carrying a mix of caution and wisdom. "This nexus is a conduit for raw power, lad. Use it wisely, for the threads of magic you weave here may have repercussions that stretch far beyond our understanding."

I nodded in acknowledgment, fully aware of the risks involved.

Sanaryn frowned at me, her suspicion of my magic was evident. Her eyes narrowed as she questioned, "What manner of sorcery are you dabbling in, manipulating life forces and dragons? You seem to be dancing to a dangerous tune, oblivious to the strings your wife might be pulling."

Everyone knew about the Witch of Fate, and Sanaryn was not wrong to claim so.

Still.

I laughed at her provocation, a confident smirk playing on my lips. "Dancing? Please, Sanaryn, I don't dance. And as for my wife, she doesn't pull the strings; she merely appreciates the symphony I compose. You should know, I have standards, and only when she meets them will she truly be acknowledged as my wife."

Sanaryn, struck speechless by my bold remarks, glared at me with a mix of frustration and disbelief. The tension in the air was palpable as we stood amidst the magical aura of Lake Vantia's nexus. Bartholomew Whitman observed the exchange with a raised eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the dynamics between us.

This old man… He was clearly entertained.

Whitman, with a bemused smile, interjected, "Standards, lad? In matters of the heart, such rigid criteria may lead to unexpected consequences. Love is a force that defies logic, and your wife's past may hold more sway than you realize."

I waved off his concern dismissively. "Love is a luxury I can afford only when the world is in balance. And to me, balance is all about normalcy."

Sanaryn, unable to find a suitable retort, merely shook her head in disbelief. The air around us crackled with magical energy as I raised my hands to continue the intricate ritual, the runes in the air glowing with increased intensity.

As the magical energies intensified around us, Sanaryn couldn't help but voice her thoughts. "This Witch of Fate, now your wife, must have had it difficult. Dealing with such a tyrannical and controlling husband like yourself can't be easy."

I sighed at her remark, choosing not to let her words distract me. "My feelings are my own, Sanaryn. I won't ask you to understand my situation, but rest assured, I have my reasons."

The dragons, all in their human forms, stood patiently as the ritual unfolded. I took a moment to count them, noting each ancient being present. "Seventeen dragons, each with at least a millennium of existence. Good."

Bartholomew Whitman observed the proceedings with a raised eyebrow. "A risky endeavor, lad. Tapping into the essence of such ancient beings requires finesse and respect. Are you certain you can control the consequences?" Hmmm… this old man was starting to sound like a broken record, but despite that, I maintained my patience.

I smirked confidently. "I've planned for every eventuality, Whitman. This ritual is my masterpiece, and its success is assured."

"You monster!" a woman with brown hair shouted at me, her voice filled with both fear and accusation. She seemed to recognize the intricate assemblage of magic circuits in the sky, her eyes widening with trepidation.

"Do you not fear the Dragon King?" she questioned, her fear evident as she gazed upon the ethereal display of power. The woman's brown eyes held a mix of disbelief and concern.

I glanced at her, acknowledging her fear with a calm demeanor. "Fear is a luxury I cannot afford. The power I seek to unleash requires sacrifice, and I am willing to bear the consequences."

The woman, still fearful, cautioned me with a sense of urgency. "The influence of the Three Sages might survive a political fallout, but you, as an individual, won't. Even as a member, your life is at risk. They won't hesitate to revoke your membership and end your life once the Dragon King puts all his weight on the matter."

I didn't rebuke her statement; instead, I nodded in agreement. "You're right. But as long as I don't get caught, then I will be fine.”

The woman, her eyes still filled with fear, sighed as if resigning to the reality of the situation. The air crackled with magical energy as the runes in the sky continued to shimmer, weaving the threads of a complex spell.

"Sanaryn, Bartholomew," I addressed them, acknowledging their cooperation despite the risk involved. "The Sage's Favor holds sway even in the face of the Dragon King's potential ire. Still, I appreciate your support in these endeavors."

Bartholomew nodded knowingly, a sense of understanding in his gaze. "The ancient traditions and laws bind us. Requests made under the Sage's Favor are not to be denied lightly."

Sanaryn, though concerned, acknowledged the weight of tradition. "We walk a thin line, but the Favor holds its own power. But that doesn’t mean I will have to like you."

As I surveyed the captives, my gaze fell upon the brown-haired woman among the dragons. Curiosity piqued, and I singled her out. "Your name?" I inquired, seeking to know more about this captured being.

She straightened proudly, meeting my gaze. "Eshinka, proud Bronze Dragon," she answered, a sense of dignity in her voice despite the circumstances.

As the magic circuits above continued to weave their intricate patterns, I turned my attention to Eshinka, the proud Bronze Dragon among the captives.

"Eshinka," I addressed her, "have you encountered magic like this before? Do you recognize the patterns in the sky?"

Eshinka, her eyes filled with both fear and defiance, met my gaze. "I have seen such magic before," she replied, her voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. "Nine centuries ago, a Black Dragon named Bon Von Dubon delved into forbidden arts, pursuing a Sorcerer Pathway unlike any other."

The sky darkened further as the magic flowed relentlessly from me, and the runes above glowed with increased intensity. Intrigued, I pressed further. "Bon Von Dubon? What did he do? How does it relate to the magic I'm performing now?"

Eshinka hesitated, her gaze narrowing as she recalled the dark events of the past. "Bon Von Dubon sought a Sorcerer Pathway forbidden to dragons – a deviation from the traditional Dracomancer's path. He delved into the arts of purging dragon life, attempting to harness powers beyond our kin. The magic you weave echoes the memories of that time. No, to be more precise, his magic resembles yours and not the other way around."

The revelation sent shivers down my spine, but I kept my calm with my <I Believe> Spell. I continued to question her. "Purging dragon life? What was his goal, and what were the consequences?" The truth was I could vaguely imagine what happened next.

Eshinka sighed, her eyes reflecting the weight of ancient sorrow. "Bon Von Dubon's goal was power, unmatched and uncontested. He believed that by purging the essence of dragon life, he could transcend the limitations imposed by our traditional Sorcerer Path. However, the consequences were dire. The magical imbalance led to chaos, and many dragons paid the ultimate price."

"How did it end? What happened to Bon Von Dubon?" I asked.

Eshinka lowered her gaze, her voice a solemn whisper. "The Council of Scales united against him, and the punishment was severe. Bon Von Dubon was banished, his essence scattered across realms to prevent further harm. His name became a cautionary tale among our kind."

I laughed, earning a confused reaction from the others.

As the magical energies continued to swirl around us, I turned to Eshinka with a furrowed brow, seeking information about the name that had sparked a sense of concern within me. "Eshinka, I may not be well-versed in the history, but the name 'Bon Von Dubon' carries a weight of significance to me. What do you know of this personage?"

Eshinka, her gaze reflecting the memories of a bygone era, spoke with a sense of disdain. "Bon Von Dubon is an immensely selfish and black-hearted monster. He was a Black Dragon who, who was a victim of his paranoia, chose the path of a Sorcerer— the Pantomancer Class while denying the Dragon’s ancient traditions."

I listened idly while I deduced the possibilities of the ritual I had been manipulating, guiding, and shaping.

Eshinka continued on her narrative. “The First Dragon King in an attempt to save his own race has decided to walk the path of a Sorcerer, the result is the Dracomancer Pathway. The Dragons can cast powerful magic but they don’t have a talent for Sorcery, the ability to grow in a spiritual sense, and for their souls to evolve… but the Dracomancer Pathway changed that.”

“Tell me more about Bon Von Dubon. What were his actions, and why is his name a cause for concern?"

Eshinka's eyes narrowed as she recounted the dark history. "Bon Von Dubon's actions were driven by his insatiable desire for power. He believed that by deviating from the traditional Dracomancer's path, he could elevate himself above all. His selfish pursuits led to chaos and harm to our kind. He cared not for the consequences, only for his own ambitions."

As the runes in the sky continued to shimmer, reflecting the power of the ongoing ritual, I couldn't shake the unease that accompanied Eshinka's words. "What became of Bon Von Dubon? How did his story unfold?"

Eshinka sighed, the weight of ancient history evident in her voice. "He was exiled. His essence was said to have been scattered to the human world, and while it was true, a part of him continued to roam among us… and even now, the elders of the Dragonkind believed him to be still among us. You, Phantomancer, are you him? The Black Dragon, his name became a symbol of the dangers of selfish ambition, a warning to all dragons. If you're him, then you would only bring calamity."

“Me? Him? No. That is highly incorrect.” A sense of realization dawned upon me as I absorbed the information. "So, the name 'Bon Von Dubon' is synonymous with selfish ambition and disregard for the consequences. Is that why you warned me?"

Eshinka nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Bon Von Dubon's legacy serves as a cautionary tale. His actions brought suffering to our kind, and his name is a reminder of the dangers that come with straying from the established paths."

The starless darkened sky mirrored the somber mood, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of guffaw for the power I was unleashing. But the truth was... The history of dragons did not interest me even one bit. But as a side entertainment, her storytelling was enough.

As Eshinka continued her narration, detailing the dark history of Bon Von Dubon, I found myself growing increasingly amused by the parallels between his ambitions and my own. The air was thick with ancient sorrow, but my human nature couldn't resist the thrill of boasting.

"I must say, Eshinka," I interjected with a sly grin, "this Bon Von Dubon sounds remarkably like me. Selfish ambitions, disregard for consequences – it's almost as if we share a common thread."

Eshinka's eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of fear and curiosity dancing in her gaze. Her breath caught short, and I could sense the tension in the air. My malicious amusement lingered as I decided to take it a step further.

"In fact," I continued with a wicked glint in my eye, "I have inherited Bon Von Dubon's magic. The very essence that led to his exile now flows through me."

Eshinka gasped audibly, her shock evident. For a brief moment, I reveled in the reaction I had elicited. The weight of the revelation hung in the air, and I allowed the silence to stretch, relishing in the discomfort I had sown. But soon, the realization of the gravity of my words sank in, and I pulled back from the brink of my mischievous game.

"Of course, I jest," I stated casually, the amusement in my voice now replaced with a calm demeanor. "I may share some traits with Bon Von Dubon, but I am not him. The name and the legacy are nothing more than echoes of the past."

Eshinka, still recovering from the shock, stared at me with a mixture of apprehension and uncertainty.

And then I continued. “The truth is I have been in his Mirage Tower, I have read his books, self-studied his magic, and acquired all of his treasures.”

The lakeside was shrouded in darkness as I concentrated on the grand ritual, the air tinged with the scent of damp earth. Eshinka's voice cut through the quietude like a knife.

"You're a liar!" she accused, her tone sharp and filled with disbelief.

I chose to ignore her, my focus steadfast on completing the intricate magic circle above. The night held an ominous stillness, broken only by the low hum of energy building around me. The yellow hues of the forming circle cast an otherworldly glow against the midnight sky.

I raised both my arms methodically, not in a dramatic flair but with purpose. My skin seemed to respond, emanating a subtle aura as I channeled more of my magical power. Normally, I have to go naked to do this, but I prefer safekeeping my dignity than doing this. The ritual required a level of exposure I wasn't entirely comfortable with, but I clung to the shreds of my dignity.

Eshinka's voice echoed from the background, her exclamation punctuating the charged atmosphere. Perhaps she had noticed the Dubon's Ring, resting inconspicuously on my finger. The silver band held a secret of its own, an integral part of the ritual's success.

As the magic circle neared completion, the anticipation in the air grew palpable. The reflection of the glowing pattern danced on the calm surface of the lake, mirroring the intricacies of the spell I wove. The night held its breath, awaiting the culmination of my efforts.

"Bartholomew!" I called out urgently, my voice cutting through the charged atmosphere.

Bartholomew, ever responsive, immediately moved into action. With a swift wave of his hand, silver runes materialized, hovering above the tranquil surface of the lake. Each symbol held a delicate balance, resonating with ancient power.

Threads of ethereal light rushed upwards from the runes, connecting seamlessly with the yellow magic circle taking form above. The air crackled with energy as the connection solidified, creating a bridge between the arcane forces at play.

Yet, Bartholomew's work was far from complete. He extended his magical influence further, weaving the threads to reach the polymorphed dragons, still lingering on the outskirts. The majestic creatures, caught in the throes of transformation, seemed oblivious, but they should know better than anyone what was happening.

The reason for their lack of response was that I had put all of them in a trance as my magic neared its completion.

As the threads connected, a symphony of groans erupted from the sacrifices. The air thickened with the weight of their anguish, their magic power and life force being siphoned away at an exponential rate.

The once stoic faces now contorted in pain, the toll of the ritual exacting its price on their unwilling sacrifice. The night bore witness to a convergence of forces, and with each passing moment, the stakes grew higher.

"Sanaryn!" I called urgently, my voice carrying across the mystical ambiance that enveloped the lakeside.

She turned towards me, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding of the gravity of the situation. "Randel, what do you need?"

"Keep guard for intruders," I instructed. "With the commotion I'm causing, there will definitely be nosy people."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Sanaryn began her incantations. A surge of magical energy accompanied her summoning, and soon, Fire Elementals materialized at her command. "Spread in the forest," she ordered them. "Deter any hostilities. It's fine to burn the forest if necessary; we would magnify the deterrence if need be."

As the elemental beings flickered into existence, a fiery glow dancing in their forms, Sanaryn's eyes held a fierce determination. The protective spirits dispersed into the darkened woods, their presence adding an extra layer of defense against potential intruders.

Meanwhile, I had already overlapped an illusory maze in the forest surrounding Lake Vantia. Though powerful, illusions had their limits, and it was better to be safe. The intricate patterns of the maze would bewilder and deter anyone attempting to approach the ritual site without the proper guidance. In the collaborative dance of magic, we sought to safeguard the sanctity of the grand ritual from prying eyes and unwanted interference.

I stood at the edge of the mystical circle reflecting on the lake’s surface, the culmination of years of study and practice. My wish resonated within me, not uttered verbally but whispered through the very core of my being. The magic I invoked, which I named [Fool the World], was a rare and high-level enchantment unseen in the expansive realm of Magnus.

The scarcity of this magic wasn't just due to its complexity; it was a testament to the scarcity of strong Phantomancers in the world. The art of manipulating phantoms and illusions to such an extent required a mastery that few could attain.

In the realm of sorcery, even if there were powerful Phantomancers, each wielder had a unique approach. It wasn't merely a matter of strength; it was about the intricacies of one's connection with the magical realm. The differences in intent and purpose among sorcerers led to an array of magical practices. For instance, the magic I was performing might share a foundational concept with Bon Von Dubon's ritual, but the essence was entirely distinct.

Bon Von Dubon likely pursued magical elevation, seeking to transcend the limits of his abilities. In stark contrast, my purpose was simple and yet profound—I desired to deceive the world. The subtle nuances in the application of [Fool the World] made it uniquely mine, a manifestation of my individuality in the vast tapestry of magical practices within Magnus.

I walked to Lake Vantia, my steps defying the conventional as they touched the water's surface as if it were solid ground. The rhythmic sounds of my footfalls resonated with the mystical energy that hung in the air.

Upon reaching the center of the lake, I stood resolute. With a commanding voice that echoed across the waters, I pronounced to the world the words that would alter the course of history. "Let the history of Miyandrel Celeste cease and blur," I declared. "May my wife, Mia Dromastus, exist and persist as she is now."

The air around me seemed to tremble as if acknowledging the weight of my words. I sought to sever the entwined destinies, ensuring that when people thought of Miyandrel Celeste or the Witch of Fate, they would not conjure the image of my wife Mia. Conversely, if anyone beheld Mia, they would remain oblivious to the existence of Miyandrel Celeste or the title of the Witch of Fate.

In response to my proclamation, the heavens answered with a display of power. Lightning streaked across the sky, thunder roared, and rain cascaded from above. Nature itself seemed to bow to the authority of the magic being wrought.

As the elements converged, I could feel the success of my spell. The magic circle at the lake's center, a conduit of my intentions, bloomed into a radiant flower. It stood as a tangible testament to the alteration I had woven into the fabric of reality. The world would remember Mia Dromastus, and Miyandrel Celeste would fade into the blurred annals of history, just as I had desired.

I turned around, my gaze settling upon the captive dragons, their massive forms restrained by mystical bonds and magic handcuffs I conjured from my magic. The lethargy in their eyes spoke volumes about the toll of their polymorphed state.

Turning first to Bartholomew, who stood at my side, and then to Sanaryn, who had played a crucial role in the summoning and protection spells, I expressed my heartfelt gratitude. "Thank you, both of you," I said, sincerity lacing my words. "Without your support, this endeavor would not have been possible."

Bartholomew nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips, while Sanaryn offered a modest bow, acknowledging the shared effort.

Returning my focus to the dragons, my thoughts lingered on the unique nature of their existence. The Dragon species defied the conventional understanding of lifespans. In the world of humans, aging meant a gradual decline in vitality, but for dragons, the passage of time had a different effect.

"As dragons age," I explained, a note of fascination in my voice, "they gain vitality and magic power instead of losing it. Their growth is an eternally continuing one-way journey, a continuous ascent that makes them formidable creatures."

The concept of growth for dragons was a unidirectional force, a stark contrast to the ebb and flow experienced by other beings. At that moment, as I surveyed the captive Dragons, I couldn't help but marvel at the inherent power that time bestowed upon these magnificent creatures.

Yet these creatures are now my captive.

I approached the captive dragons, their large, shimmering scales reflecting the subdued glow of my magic. "You are now free to go," I declared, my voice echoing against the rocky walls.

The dragons exchanged puzzled glances, uncertainty flickering in their enormous eyes. "Free? What is this trickery?" one of them rumbled, the deep timbre resonating through the chamber.

I raised my hand, snapping my fingers with a flourish. The magical handcuffs that bound them unraveled and turned to dust, the ethereal chains dissipating into the air. The dragons hesitated, still wary.

"But I am not done yet," I announced, a determined glint in my eyes. The cuffs, crafted from my own magical essence, yielded to my command. With a mere thought, I reshaped the lingering magic, weaving it into a subtle spell.

A gentle ripple passed through the air as the memories of their captivity began to blur and fade. The confusion deepened in the dragons' eyes as they struggled to grasp the events that had transpired. "What is happening?" one of them questioned, shaking its massive head.

I offered a reassuring smile, concealing the true nature of my actions. "To avoid any political fallout, I've erased the memories of your captivity. You are free now, and the past shall trouble you no more."

With another snap of my fingers, a tranquil stillness settled over the lakeside. The dragons, their minds clouded by the altered memories, gradually succumbed to a peaceful slumber. Their colossal forms eased onto the grass, breathing deeply as the magic-induced sleep overcame them.

Sanaryn looked at me with a ridiculous expression, her eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "You can do that?" she asked incredulously.

I nodded emotionlessly, my gaze fixed on the slumbering dragons. "Yes, I can."

Suddenly, I called out to the air, "Chayyliel!" Descending gracefully from hidden clouds, an angel appeared with dark hair, dark wings, and beautiful purple eyes.

Bartholomew and Sanaryn stared in astonishment at the celestial being. "What's going on?" Bartholomew inquired.

"I'm quitting the Three Sages," I declared, my tone resolute. "Chayyliel here is my successor."

Sanaryn exploded in fury, her face contorted with anger. "You're bailing out after all the favors we've done for you? This is outrageous!"

I maintained my composure, offering a calm explanation. "Chayyliel is more than capable. It's time for a more subtle change in the rules, and I trust that the Three Sages will be in good hands."

Sanaryn crossed her arms, her anger unabated. "This is unacceptable! You can't just leave us like this."

I turned to her, meeting her gaze with a steady one. "I've fulfilled my commitments, and now it's time for someone else to take the reins. Chayyliel will lead with strength and wisdom."

“What commitments?” Sanaryn was indignant but I was unmoved.

“Pierre was a rot within the Three Sages, and I excised him. Be thankful for that. And I am not so irresponsible as to leave you hanging and that was why I have summoned Chayyliel here.”

As the dragons continued to sleep peacefully in the background, I snapped my fingers once more, and a tranquil stillness settled over the lakeside. The chirping of insects and subtle moving of waves were reduced to zero volume.

Sanaryn, still seething, reluctantly nodded, realizing the futility of arguing further. "Fine, but don't think this is the end of it."

Bartholomew sighed, running a hand through his gray beard. "Look, Sanaryn, technically, there's no rule against him leaving if he's found a successor. And we should test Chayyliel first to see if she's up to the task."

Sanaryn scowled, crossing her arms even tighter. "Test? Why should we test her? This whole situation is absurd!"

Bartholomew tried to reason, "We need to ensure the transition is smooth. If Chayyliel is as powerful as he claims, then we should have no issues."

Chayyliel, standing proudly, interjected, "I assure you, I am more than capable. My strength surpasses many."

I nodded in agreement. "Indeed, she's quite formidable. Comparable to your own strength, Sanaryn."

Chayyliel shot me a look of disbelief, while Sanaryn erupted in anger.

"What?! Do you doubt my strength? After everything you've seen, and my performance??" Sanaryn was especially vocal seemingly finding the notion of being matched just by anyone.

I attempted to smooth things over, "No, no, Sanaryn, it's not a doubt. Just a comparison. Chayyliel has her own strengths, perhaps even more honed in combat."

Chayyliel raised an eyebrow at me, surprised by my lack of confidence. "You don't believe in my abilities? My Lord!!"

I gave her an apologetic look. "It's not that, Chayyliel. I just want to ensure you know what you're up against. Sanaryn is a force to be reckoned with. Moreover, I want you Chayyliel to behave and listen to them."

Sanaryn, still fuming, yelled, "Stop undermining me, and stop coddling her! This is preposterous!"

I sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy for Chayyliel. "Chayyliel, don't worry. In a combat sense, you're ahead of Sanaryn. We'll see that during the test."

Sanaryn's eyes narrowed, but she begrudgingly nodded, realizing that there was no talking me out of it. "Fine, let's get this over with. But I won't forget this, both of you."

I sensed old man Bartholomew’s discontent. There is tension in the air. I reckon he might just attack me at the moment. Though a fight might suddenly occur, I am totally calm.

His brows furrowed, and a deep, rumbling growl escaped his throat. "Leave? You've barely contributed anything substantial, and now you want to abandon us? You've asked for favors, but what have you given in return?"

I could feel the weight of his disapproval, but I remained composed. "I understand your concerns, old man, but hear me out. The truth is, I've recently become one of the Three Sages, but it's not public knowledge yet. This allows me to exit without causing a political storm with the Dragon King."

Bartholomew's eyes narrowed as he processed my words. Despite the tension, I stood my ground, my demeanor unwavering.

"A political fallout with the Dragon King is the last thing we need," I continued. "If I leave quietly now, we can avoid unnecessary conflicts and maintain the delicate balance we've strived so hard to achieve."

His expression shifted from anger to contemplation. I could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he weighed the potential consequences of my departure against the benefits of a smooth exit.

Finally, Bartholomew let out a deep sigh. "I may not like it, but I understand your rationale. Avoiding unnecessary conflicts is crucial. Go then, but remember the debt you owe to the Three Sages. Don't think you can sever ties completely."

I nodded, acknowledging his concession. The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of understanding, albeit begrudging.

As I stood there, having just received Bartholomew's reluctant permission to depart, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and satisfaction. Sensing my own convenience in the situation, I turned to Sanaryn, who appeared puzzled by the whole exchange.

"What just happened?" she inquired, her brow furrowing in confusion.

I took a moment to explain, "Well, old man Bartholomew realized that a quiet departure might be for the best. You see, I've become one of the Three Sages, but it's not common knowledge yet. Leaving without causing a commotion would spare us unnecessary conflicts."

Sanaryn looked skeptical, "But why would that be a problem? What's so wrong about being one of the Three Sages?"

Bartholomew chimed in, his tone somewhat resigned, "There are very few forms of mind-altering magic, and Phantomancy is one of them. We kidnapped dragons, and once they are returned, the gaps in their memories will create chaos. The Dragon King will have to take action, but he won't link it to the Three Sages. We lack a sorcerer who can alter minds, so the connection remains hidden."

Understanding dawned on Sanaryn's face as she grasped the gravity of the situation. "So, avoiding a conflict with the Dragon King is not just about politics; it's about preventing chaos and maintaining the balance."

“Though to be honest, the Dragons are just not a match for the whole of humanity…” I remarked.

Bartholomew nodded, "Exactly. Yet, we need to navigate this delicate situation carefully. Peace is always preferable to chaos. Your departure might help in that regard, but remember, you owe a debt to the Three Sages, and I won’t tire of reminding you of it every day if it needs to be."

Sanaryn stood there, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, seemingly at a loss for words, processing the unexpected turn of events.

Chayyliel, on the other hand, erupted into a burst of enthusiasm, praising me with a fanaticism that bordered on worship. "Brilliant scheme! Absolutely brilliant! I knew you had it in you, the audacity to pull off such a move. This will be talked about for generations of our children to come!"

Of our children? I ignored her words.

I acknowledged Chayyliel's praise with a nod, appreciating the fanaticism that fueled her words. Meanwhile, Bartholomew, ever the cautious one, turned to me with a skeptical gaze.

"Are you really going to quit the Three Sages?" he asked, a hint of disbelief still in his voice.

My response was firm and resolute, "Yes, Bartholomew. My decision is final."

Bartholomew leaned in, his brows furrowing, "Don't you care about the status, power, and influence that come with being an acknowledged Sage of the Empire? It's not something to be taken lightly."

I chuckled, a sense of liberation in my voice, "Status? I'm content with my Barony. Power? I have my fair share, from Sorcery to Finance. Influence? That's something I won't lose. As a Phantomancer, I shape and influence. The only thing I want in my life is my own happiness."

Bartholomew regarded me with a mix of understanding and reservation, realizing that my priorities were different from the conventional pursuit of status and power. For a Sorcerer, I am definitely abnormal. But I preferred being a husband and a father many times over.

With a final nod and a muttered incantation, I cast my magic, invoking the power of <Phantom Step>. The surroundings blurred as I began the ethereal journey back home, leaving the problematic aftermath with the Three Sages behind.

As I traversed the mystical space between dimensions, the temptation to hitch a ride with Chayyliel and her space magic tugged at me. However, a sense of responsibility held me back – she needed to undergo the Trial of Power from Bartholomew and Sanaryn. It was best to let her face that challenge alone and in her tip-top condition.

"Hmmm… I miss home," I muttered to myself, a sense of longing creeping into my thoughts. Focusing on my destination, I decided it was time to return. I amplified my magical power output, pushing the limits of my abilities, and increased the speed of transition for <Phantom Step>.

The landscape around me shifted rapidly as I moved through the magical currents, leaving behind the intricate politics and intricate schemes of the Three Sages. My journey was solitary, but the anticipation of reaching the familiar comforts of home spurred me onward.