Chapter 419: Archmage (5)
I followed suit, lowering myself into the chair as well. Despite the uneasiness sitting in the pit of my stomach, refusing the invitation would’ve accomplished nothing. If she wanted me dead, I doubted a chair would make much of a difference.
Ariel hopped down onto my lap, circled once, then settled comfortably against me. I absently ran a hand through her soft fur, more to steady my own nerves than to comfort her.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching just long enough to become uncomfortable.
But I cleared my throat, starting the conversation.
"So...what’s your relationship with Lord Drugar?"
The moment his name left my mouth, Mordra’s composed expression noticeably darkened. It wasn’t anger exactly, but something heavier. Disappointment...perhaps even regret.
"Well..." she said after a brief pause, "Drugar was once an Archmage, just as I was...until he rebelled against the Order."
I frowned at the unfamiliar term.
"The Order?"
Mordra gave a small nod.
"To understand who Drugar is, we must first return to the beginning."
Her silver eyes drifted somewhere far beyond the room, as though looking back across countless centuries.
"My world."
I let out a slow breath and leaned back slightly, preparing myself for what felt less like a conversation and more like a history lesson.
Mordra’s gaze grew distant, as though she were no longer looking at me but at memories buried beneath countless centuries.
"I, along with Drugar and the rest of the Archmages, come from what we call the First World."
Her voice remained calm, carrying none of the pride I would have expected from someone speaking about the birthplace of civilization.
"It was the birthplace of magic. Unlike ordinary worlds, where people discovered magic through trial and error, the First World created it. Magic did not exist as something separate from us. It was studied, refined, expanded, and understood."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"After millions of years of accumulated research, our civilization advanced to a point where magic was no longer viewed as a weapon or even a tool. It became a science. Every law could be examined. Every phenomenon could be replicated. Every mystery could, given enough time, be understood."
Her expression slowly hardened.
"But as our understanding grew, we uncovered something far more frightening than any spell."
I unconsciously leaned forward.
"Magic corrupted its wielder."
The room fell silent.
"It did not happen immediately," she continued. "The stronger a mage became and the deeper they reached into the foundations of magic, the more subtle the corruption became. It twisted judgment, magnified obsession, and slowly convinced its wielder that the impossible was simply another problem waiting to be solved."
Her eyes lowered.
"And once enough people reached that stage...the First World descended into chaos."
"There were wars unlike anything ordinary civilizations could comprehend. Entire continents vanished from existence. Regions became trapped within endless loops of time. Dimensions collided, fused together, then tore themselves apart. Some species disappeared so completely that not even records of their existence remained."
She closed her eyes for a brief moment.
"All because the people of the First World became intoxicated by the power they wielded."
Her voice softened.
"That era became known as...the Collapse."
"The Collapse..." I repeated quietly, completely engrossed in the story.
"The survivors of the Collapse came to a single conclusion," Mordra continued. "No individual, no matter how wise or powerful, should ever be given unrestricted authority over reality."
She folded her hands neatly on her lap.
"So twelve of the greatest scholars came together and founded what would later become known as the Eternal Assembly. It was not created to rule the First World, nor to conquer other civilizations."
"It existed for one purpose."
"To ensure there would never be another Collapse."
"And Lord Drugar was a member of this Assembly?" I asked.
Mordra gently shook her head.
"Not quite," she replied. "I’m getting there."
"...Right." I gave an awkward cough. "Sorry. I’ll let you finish."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips before she continued.
"The Eternal Assembly became reality’s governing body, regulating magic itself. They determined what knowledge could be pursued and what boundaries could never be crossed."
Her voice remained calm, almost clinical, as though she were reciting principles she had lived by for centuries.
"They decide matters such as these: Should this spell be allowed to exist? May this world be interfered with? Is anyone permitted to alter history? Should an extinct civilization be brought back into existence? Every proposal is debated, researched, challenged, and ultimately approved or rejected. Nothing is permitted simply because a single individual possesses the power to do it."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"Centuries later, the Assembly established a smaller body known as the Order."
"It consisted of seven members, each chosen because they had surpassed every other scholar within their respective fields. Every one of them became the undisputed authority over a single branch of magic."
I immediately thought of the title she’d introduced herself with.
The Archmage of Death.
"The Order did not create laws," Mordra continued. "The Assembly did. Our role was to enforce them."
She folded her hands together.
"When a world discovered magic and showed signs of abusing it in ways that threatened not only itself but the stability of neighboring worlds, the Assembly would deliberate. If intervention was deemed necessary, the Order was dispatched to carry out that decision."
"We became the Executors of the Assembly’s will."
There was neither pride nor resentment in her voice. She stated it as though it were simply another fact.
"But our authority came with a price."
Her expression grew noticeably more serious.
"Every member of the Order was bound by something known as the Covenant."
"The Covenant?" I echoed.
Mordra gave a slight nod before continuing.
"When someone ascends to the rank of Archmage, their soul is bound by magic, and they swear the Covenant."
Her voice grew more solemn.
"It is not a symbolic oath, nor is it one that can be ignored. The Covenant becomes part of the Archmage’s very existence."
"They swear never to use the authority entrusted to them for personal ambition. They cannot rule civilizations, reshape history for selfish gain, create magical systems for conquest, or exploit their position to elevate themselves above those they were chosen to serve."
She paused, allowing the weight of those words to settle.
"The moment an Archmage violates that oath, the Covenant responds."
"It begins by stripping away their authority. Their connection to the branch of magic they govern weakens, and the spells they spent countless years mastering gradually become inaccessible. The greater the betrayal, the more severe the loss."
I blinked.
"So it punishes them automatically?"
"Yes."
"There is no trial for the Covenant itself. It recognizes only intent."
She continued before I could ask another question.
"Once the violation has been confirmed, the Eternal Assembly carries out the formal judgment. Every title is revoked. Every privilege withdrawn. Access to the Assembly’s archives is permanently denied. Their laboratories, research, and all resources placed under their care are reclaimed."
"From that moment onward, they are no longer recognized as Archmages."
"They become exiles."
"No Archmage may aid them," Mordra continued. "No member of the Assembly may teach them. Every world under the Assembly’s protection closes its gates to them."
There wasn’t a hint of emotion in her voice, which somehow made her words feel even colder.
"They lose not only their position, but their place in society. Their names are struck from official records, their accomplishments credited to no one, and every privilege they once possessed vanishes."
She held my gaze.
"To the Order...that fate is considered worse than execution."
I sat quietly for a moment, trying to imagine it.
Someone who had dedicated thousands of years to the pursuit of knowledge, only to have every door closed in their face overnight.
"...So how did Lord Drugar escape the Covenant?" I finally asked.