Naturally, as a member of the Imperial Family, Astrid received an invitation to the auction.
As someone who appreciated the finer things in life, she couldn't resist attending.
Accompanied by her trusted guard, Nicolas Machiavelli, Astrid arrived at the grand hall.
Nicolas, a distinguished knight from the Crusade of the Round Tables, walked a step behind her.
The attendants bowed deeply as Astrid entered.
"Welcome, Your Highness. Your private booth has been prepared."
Astrid nodded curtly, sweeping past them with a regal air.
Her golden hair shimmered under the chandeliers, catching the attention of several attendees.
She had grown accustomed to the stares.
Once seated in her private booth, Astrid picked up the auction catalog.
She flipped through the pages lazily.
"Your Highness, should I arrange for anything in particular?" Nicolas asked, standing at attention nearby.
"Not yet," Astrid replied. "Let's see if anything catches my eye."
Her gaze settled on a listing.
A rare piece of jewelry.
Its description boasted a brilliant aesthetic and minor magical properties.
"Hmm. This could be worth something."
Astrid's attention flickered to the next page.
Her smirk faltered slightly as her eyes landed on a peculiar entry.
Ethereal Fragment.
"What's this?" she murmured, tilting her head.
The description was vague. As if the auctioneers didn't know what it was even for. Yet marketed it to the best they could without seeming like a scam.
And truth be told, it looked like nothing but a pretty rock.
But something about it piqued her interest.
"Nicolas," she called.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"What do you make of this?" She handed him the catalog.
He studied the entry briefly "It appears insignificant, Your Highness. Perhaps an attempt to fill the catalog."
Astrid's lips pursed.
She wasn't entirely convinced.
"Place a bid on it if the price doesn't rise too high," she ordered. "I want to examine it myself."
"As you wish," Nicolas said, bowing slightly.
Flick—
The lights dimmed, signaling the start of the auction.
Astrid leaned back in her chair, one hand resting under her chin.
The first few items were unremarkable in her eyes, and her bids remained absent.
When the Ethereal Fragment finally appeared on stage, Astrid's focus sharpened.
The bidding began low, as expected.
"Do I hear 300,000 Rend?" the auctioneer called.
A single paddle was raised.
"302,000."
Astrid's brows lifted as she turned toward the bidder.
It was a man seated in the VIP section, accompanied by a butler.
However, Astrid couldn't make out his appearance due to the dark.
Nicolas stepped forward. "Shall I place a counterbid, Your Highness?"
"No. Let him have it."
Nicolas hesitated but obeyed.
Astrid leaned back in her seat, her curiosity piqued.
As the bidding continued, she watched the figure in the VIP section raise their paddle again, securing the item.
Astrid, meanwhile, had claimed the items she desired without much trouble.
Still, something felt peculiar.
There were far more remarkable items up for grabs, ones that had sparked fierce bidding wars among the aristocrats.
But the figure in the VIP section remained indifferent.
He—or perhaps she—never joined the fray.
Instead, the mysterious bidder raised their paddle only for items others deemed useless.
The room began to buzz with murmurs.
—Who is that?
—Some weirdo, probably.
—What's the point of bidding on junk?
Curiosity got the better of some.
A few bidders began countering the mysterious figure's bids, just for the sake of provocation.
The tension escalated.
Yet, despite the growing opposition, the figure never wavered.
Each time a rival raised the bid, the mysterious bidder retaliated without hesitation.
—1,100,000 Rend?
—Oh? Do I hear 1,200,000?
Even as the price climbed to absurd heights for seemingly insignificant items, the figure refused to back down.
The crowd watched in silence as the figure secured yet another "worthless" artifact.
Astrid's eyes narrowed in curiosity.
"Interesting," she murmured under her breath.
Nicolas, standing at her side, leaned in slightly. "Your Highness?"
"That person," Astrid gestured toward the VIP section. "I want to know who they are."
"Shall I make inquiries?" Nicolas asked.
"Later," Astrid said, her gaze still fixed on the figure. "For now, let's watch."
As the auction continued, the mysterious figure's pattern became clear.
They weren't interested in value. At least, not the kind recognized by the average bidder.
No, they sought something different.
Meaning hidden beneath the surface.
And that realization sent a chill down Astrid's spine.
Her gaze locked onto the next insignificant item listed—a plain-looking gemstone, described simply as "unpolished."
"Nicolas, place a bid," she ordered.
Nicolas hesitated for only a moment before raising their paddle. "20,000 Rend."
—1,100,000 Rend. Do I hear 1,200,000?
Another paddle shot up.
The mysterious figure.
—1,300,000 Rend.
Astrid's lips curled into a smirk. "Raise it."
"1,400,000 Rend," Nicolas called.
The room stirred with murmurs. Aristocrats who had been silent thus far began whispering amongst themselves.
Another paddle rose. "1,500,000."
"1,700,000" Nicolas countered immediately.
—1,700,000 Rend. Do I hear 2,000,000?"
Curiosity spread through the hall, and several aristocrats began raising their paddles, intrigued by the sudden bidding war.
"2,000,000."
"2,100,000."
"2,200,000 Rend."
The bidding surged higher, faster, even.
Astrid leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with interest. "Keep going."
Nicolas complied calmly. "2,300,000 Rend."
Gasps echoed throughout the room. For a mere unpolished gemstone?
Yet, despite the ridiculous price, paddles continued to rise.
"2,400,000 Rend."
"2,600,000 Rend."
The mysterious figure countered without hesitation and raised their paddle high.
"2,800,000 Rend."
Astrid's smirk widened. "They're relentless. Let's see how far they're willing to go."
"2,900,000 Rend," Nicolas announced.
The aristocrats began to drop out one by one. The absurdity of the bidding war was too much for even their egos to justify.
By the time the price ascended way beyond the initial bidding, only two bidders remained.
Astrid.
And the mysterious figure.
"8.8 million," the figure declared.
"8.9 million," Nicolas shot back.
The hall fell silent with heavy tension. All eyes darted between the VIP section and Astrid's private booth.
The figure raised their paddle once more. "9 million Rend."
Astrid chuckled softly "Raise it."
Nicolas hesitated. "Your Highness, this is—"
"Do it."
"9.1 million Rend," Nicolas called.
The mysterious figure didn't flinch as their paddle rose immediately. "9.2 million."
Astrid's heart raced, not with fear or hesitation, but with exhilaration.
"9.3 million Rend," Nicolas declared.
A collective gasp filled the room.
The figure in the VIP section leaned forward slightly. Their paddle rose for what felt like the final time.
"9.8 million Rend."
"...."
Silence.
Even the auctioneer seemed to hold their breath.
"...."
Astrid's eyes narrowed. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she stopped herself.
"Your Highness?" Nicolas prompted.
A beat passed.
Astrid smiled faintly. "Let them have it."
The auctioneer slammed the gavel. "Sold! To the bidder in the VIP section for 9.8 million Rend."
Clap. Clap. Clap…!
The room erupted into murmurs and applause, but Astrid remained calm.
Her gaze locked onto the mysterious figure, and her interest skyrocketed.
"They're no ordinary bidder," she murmured to herself. "I'll find out who they are soon enough."
***
Vanitas walked out of the hall, rubbing his temples.
The final bid still lingered in his mind.
He hadn't expected to blow past the budget he set for himself.
But it couldn't be helped.
The item was worth every Rend.
In any case, the auctioneer had promised delivery within a few days. Still, the item had been archived within his spectacles as soon as his gaze landed on it.
———「Coin of Resonance」———
◆ Description: A key forged by ancient alchemists. Enables the wielder to unlock Essence Vaults, hidden chambers filled with rare spell formulas and mana-infused treasures.
◆ Current Status: Dormant.
It was an unassuming tarnished coin with worn edges and its surface, scratched.
To the other bidders, it was nothing more than a peculiar trinket.
But to Vanitas, it was a treasure.
A key.
As a player, Vanitas knew of the item's true purpose.
It was a key used to access hidden vaults scattered across the world. Vaults that contained relics, spells, and knowledge that had been lost to time.
In other words, it could be a lead he needed.
The Archives of Haven.
"Professor."
A voice rang out from behind him. Vanitas turned around slowly, his gaze meeting her golden eyes.
There, Princess Astrid Barielle Aetherion stood.
Beside her was a knight clad in light armor with the insignia of the Crusade of the Round Tables.
The Crusade of the Round Tables was an NPC support unit group the players could call upon completion of a specific act.
"Princess Astrid."
Vanitas knew who the bidder he was up against. It didn't take a genius to know which aristocrat would throw money out of amusement in a chamber far above the VVIP.
He wasn't sure which Princess it was, of course. But the encounter confirmed his conjectures.
"So," she began, "you were the one."
"It seems so, Princess."
"Lower your head, Vanitas," the knight beside her demanded.
Vanitas turned his gaze to the knight, his brow furrowing slightly. The man's voice carried a tinge of animosity.
Of course, Vanitas knew who he was, but what he didn't know was his relationship to the knight.
Astrid glanced at her escort in surprise. "Nicolas?"
The knight—Nicolas Machiavelli—stepped forward.
"So it really is you. I never thought I'd see the day."
"...."
In times like these, when he didn't have a grasp on information, it was better to remain silent.
Astrid's gaze flicked between them with interest.
"Do you two know each other?"
"Yes, Princess," Nicolas said with a nod. "We were in the same batch during our university years—he in the Magic Department, and I in the Crusade Department."
"Really? You never told me that. Why not?"
"I didn't think it was important." Then his gaze shifted back to Vanitas. "But wait, Princess, you called him Professor, didn't you?"
"That's correct. He's my Professor."
Nicolas blinked, clearly surprised at Vanitas. "You? Teaching?"
"For four years now. Is that so surprising?" Vanitas said.
"Wha—Four years!?" Nicolas exclaimed, nearly choking on his words.
"Where have you been? Living under a rock?"
Nicolas frowned, crossing his arms. "I've been stationed in the northern borders since graduation. News doesn't travel well when you're fending off beasts."
"Is that so?"
"Enough," Astrid interjected.
Her gaze then shifted to Vanitas, "Professor, if I may ask, why did you bid for those items?"
Vanitas's expression didn't waver. "Because I saw value in them."
"Value?" Astrid tilted her head, skeptical. "Most of those items seemed insignificant, though?"
"To the untrained eye, perhaps."
Astrid's eyes narrowed. "Then enlighten me. What makes them valuable to you?"
Vanitas hesitated, thinking about his response.
Sharing too much could draw unwanted attention, but dismissing her outright might pique her curiosity further.
"They are tools, Your Highness," he said. "And every tool has its purpose, whether it's immediately apparent or not."
"....I see." Astrid's tone was neutral, but her gaze told him she was clearly unsatisfied.
Nicolas shifted uncomfortably beside her. "Tools, huh? Just like what you called our team before you used us as bait."
"...."
Vanitas's expression remained composed, but his eyes flickered briefly toward Nicolas.
"It was a needed sacrifice, Nicolas," he said.
"Needed—You! We failed those exams because of you!"
Vanitas raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you graduated, didn't you? I'd say it worked out."
"Cold hearted bastard! Margaret had to repeat a year because of y—"
"Enough, Nicolas," Astrid interjected.
Nicolas froze, his words caught in his throat.
Vanitas on the other hand, rummaged his thoughts at the mention of 'Margaret.'
However, before he could question Nicolas, the Princess spoke.
"In any case," Astrid said, her gaze shifting to Vanitas. "This was an interesting lesson, Professor. I look forward to your lecture on Monday."
With a small nod, she turned on her heel with graceful regal.
"Let's go, Nicolas," she called over her shoulder.
Nicolas lingered for a moment, fixing his glare on Vanitas.
"You haven't changed as much as you think."
"Margaret. Do you mean Margaret Illenia?" Vanitas genuinely asked, causing Nicolas to pause right beside him.
"Who else? Thanks to the grades I accumulated, I managed to graduate. But Margaret…."
Nicolas clenched his fist.
"...."
Vanitas merely remained quiet, and Nicolas walked past him, his armor clinking softly on the marbled floor.
Watching his departing back, Vanitas clutched his forehead.
The continuous usage of the spectacle left him with an unbearable migraine.
"Nicolas Machiavelli, huh?"
If his memory served right, Nicolas Machiavelli was a mid–game boss.
However, that was an act that would occur in the future.
The problem was, he hadn't foreseen Nicolas's relationship with Vanitas Astrea. Taking his behavior and tonality when the Princess was right behind him, it was clear there was more than meets the eye.
At this rate, who knows what kind of stories Nicolas would share with the Princess regarding him?
Vanitas clenched his fist, feeling his nails dug in his skin.
He had to make a better impression on the Princess soon. She needed to trust him.
"Tsk," he clicked his tongue.
Old grudges were a nuisance, especially when they weren't his fault.
Especially whatever issue he had with Margaret Illenia.
After all, Margaret Illenia was the Crusade responsible for Vanitas's exile in the game.
"I need to look into this."
As Vanitas headed for the car, where his butler, Evan was waiting, his thoughts drifted to the conversation with Nicolas.
If someone barked at him, Vanitas saw no reason to bark back.
He didn't plan on becoming a push–over.
Not in this life.
"Never again."
Adjusting his blazer, Vanitas got into the car and left shortly after.
"Your payment is overdue."
Vanitas crossed one leg over the other nonchalantly, sifting through pages of documents in his hand.
Across the desk, a man stood trembling, his hands clasped tightly as if praying for salvation.
"Sir, I—Please, just give me another month!" the man pleaded.
Vanitas's eyes didn't leave the documents.
"Another month, you say?"
Flip—
He turned a page, letting the paper crinkle softly as the sound filled the tense silence.
This man wasn't just any borrower. He was one of the many commoners the old Vanitas had extended loans to.
But the terms of these loans were brutal. Even glancing at the clauses made Vanitas feel sick.
The interest rate alone was predatory—5% compounded weekly.
If the borrower missed a single payment, the interest doubled for that month.
Failure to pay for more than two months would result in collateral seizure, and would force the man to give up his property. More so, complete takeover.
However, seeing the man still alive and kicking, the old Vanitas seemed lenient to some extent.
And then there was the worst clause of all.
Labor penalties.
If a borrower failed to meet their obligations for three consecutive months, they were contractually obligated to work under Vanitas's management until the debt was repaid, with wages set at a fraction of the market rate.
No, it wasn't just predatory.
It was borderline enslavement.
Vanitas's fingers tightened momentarily on the papers. This level of exploitation disgusted him. It reminded him too much of his past life.
Loan sharks had destroyed his family once. They were responsible for claiming the life of his little sister.
He hated this system.
But he couldn't ignore reality.
The man before him wasn't innocent. He'd been borrowing additional funds every month, despite being three months overdue on his original loan.
At some point, Vanitas thought, the blame no longer rested with the lender.
And, glancing around the establishment, it didn't take much to conclude what the money was even spent for.
"You're aware of the contract you signed, aren't you?" Vanitas said, finally looking up.
The man flinched. "Y-Yes, sir. But—"
"Then you know you're three months overdue," Vanitas continued, cutting him off. "And despite that, you've continued asking for more loans."
"I had no choice!" the man protested. "My crops failed! My family—"
Vanitas held up a hand, silencing him.
"Family? Is the excessive use of alcohol and drugs for their sake?" he said, his voice unnervingly calm.
"...."
The man simply froze and Vanitas continued.
"I'm not interested in your personal issues, but a contract is a contract. You signed it. You agreed to the terms."
The man's face fell, desperation evident in his tone. "Please, I beg you, just a little more time!"
Vanitas leaned back, letting the papers rest in his lap.
The truth was, he hated this.
The old Vanitas had crafted these contracts to ensure absolute control over anyone who borrowed from him.
Every clause was designed to exploit, to trap borrowers in a cycle of debt they couldn't escape from.
And yet, as much as Vanitas despised it, he couldn't simply waive the debts.
Doing so would undermine the authority he needed to maintain as the current head of the Astrea family.
Moreover, the loan had already been established. Vanitas, too, needed the funds to continue supporting himself and Charlotte.
"You've had three months," Vanitas said finally. "That's more leniency than most would grant under these terms."
The man fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "I swear, sir, I'll pay! Just one more chance!"
Vanitas sighed, setting the papers aside.
"You've had multiple extensions. You've borrowed more than you can repay. And now, the consequences of that fall on you."
He stood, looming over the man, who was now sobbing openly.
"Do you have any collateral left to offer?" Vanitas asked, his tone cold.
The man shook his head frantically. "No, Sir! Nothing!"
Vanitas stared down at him for a long moment. He didn't want to enforce the labor clause.
He didn't want to perpetuate the cycle of exploitation the old Vanitas had thrived on.
But he also knew this wasn't just about one man's plight. If he started showing too much leniency, others would take advantage of it.
After a long pause, Vanitas finally spoke.
"Very well," he said. "You have two options."
The man looked up, hope flickering in his tear–streaked eyes.
"Option one. You begin labor under the terms outlined in the contract."
The hope faded immediately.
"Option two," Vanitas continued, "I'll grant you a three-month deferment. No additional loans. No additional extensions. You'll pay the full amount, including all accrued interest, at the end of that period. If you fail to do so, the contract's penalty clauses will be enforced in full."
The man hesitated.
Vanitas's gaze softened slightly as he added, "Use the deferment wisely. Secure stable income. Make arrangements for your family. This is the last extension you'll receive."
The man nodded weakly, "T–Thank you, Sir!"
It was disgusting.
But in this world, fairness and morality weren't always luxuries he could afford.
Vanitas stood then, heading for the door. Just as his hand reached for the handle, something caught his eye.
———「Event Act: Setup」———
「Rewards:」
◆ Understanding: +10%
————————————
"...."
An act trigger.
"...."
Furthermore, there was a faint glint near the base of the man's boot.
Vanitas paused, his gaze sharpening.
The reflection wasn't from dirt or water.
It was a revolver.
Bang—!
The deafening roar of the shot echoed in the room as Vanitas twisted to the side instinctively.
The bullet narrowly missed him as it blasted through the door and shattered it into splinters.
Just one bullet alone weighed that kind of force.
Clearly, it was an artifact.
Vanitas straightened, his hand glowing faintly with mana as he turned to face the trembling man.
"You didn't waste time," Vanitas said coldly.
"....!"
The man stumbled back, the revolver trembling in his hand.
But Vanitas didn't miss the subtle movement—the man's eyes darting toward the doorway.
'He's stalling.'
Vanitas didn't hesitate. His spectacles flared with mana, revealing the hidden signatures nearby.
Five. Two at the front. Three circling from behind.
Before he could act, heavy footsteps thudded against the floor.
From the splintered doorway, multiple men emerged, each armed and masked.
They fanned out quickly with weapons.
Vanitas's lips curled into a faint smirk. He slowly adjusted his cufflinks calmly, as if the entire encounter never fazed him.
It was strange.
If it were Chae Eun–woo, he would definitely feel the chill of fear crawling up his spine.
However, Vanitas Astrea's influence overtook him in high–stake scenarios such as these.
But then again, if he had to be honest, this was the first attempt in his life after becoming Vanitas Astrea himself.
Still, he couldn't ignore the faint remnants of his past self.
As Chae Eun-woo, he'd spent hours in similar setups—immersed in the game, mastering PVP and NPC encounters.
And these men?
NPCs.
Nothing more.
"Get him." Their leader gestured forward with a grunt, signaling the first strike.
A dagger-wielding attacker lunged his blade toward Vanitas.
Swoosh—!
He sidestepped effortlessly, catching the man's wrist mid-swing.
With a twist, Vanitas disarmed him, sending the dagger clattering to the ground.
His only thoughts at the moment was how sloppy the set–up was as he delivered a sharp elbow to the attacker's forehead.
The man immediately crumpled on the floor. But it wasn't the end of it.
As if the first attack had merely been a test, the air erupted with chaos.
Gunshots rang out, bolts of magic streaked toward him.
Vanitas moved.
Swoosh—!
Effortlessly.
Ducking, weaving, sidestepping—each motion exuded graceful efficiency.
Bang—!
A bullet grazed past his shoulder, embedding itself in the wall behind him.
Vanitas, merely indifferent to the pain due to the adrenaline coursing through him, channeled his stigmata.
「Silent Dominion」
Windblade.
A razor-sharp gust of air materialized in his hand.
With a flick of his wrist, the translucent blade cleaved through the air, striking one of the masked attackers squarely in the chest.
"Khh…!"
The man was thrown backward, slamming into a table that splintered beneath his weight.
Vanitas pivoted as another spell already formed beneath him. The floor erupted with a jagged stone that continuously twisted and spiraled like a drill.
Stone Cannon.
The attacker barely had time to react before the drill shot forward, smashing into his shield spell.
The impact sent him sprawling as his barrier shattered into a thousand fragments.
They collapsed in a heap, groaning in pain.
Three left.
Vanitas moved fluidly through the chaos, utilizing beginner spells with speed to his advantage.
Silent Dominion amplified his efficiency, allowing him to cast rapidly without wasting too much mana.
He purposely avoided higher-tier spells. Anything beyond beginner or advanced risked triggering the cancer lurking in his body.
For now, the speed and efficiency of his beginner spells were more than sufficient.
This was his style after analyzing the best way to fight as Vanitas Astrea.
A complete mastery of basic spells, efficient enough to overwhelm his enemies and secure victory.
It didn't take long.
Realizing the plan had gone awry, the man scrambled to his feet as his hands fumbled with the revolver.
Bang—!
He fired a wild shot without even aiming before bolting through the backdoor.
Vanitas straightened his cuffs, stepping over the unconscious bodies littering the room.
"Pathetic."
Without wasting a second, he pursued.
The man's footsteps echoed in the narrow alley behind the building.
His breathing was ragged, and the panic that emanated from him made it loud enough to follow.
Vanitas moved swiftly.
The man stumbled, twisting around to fire another shot.
Bang—!
Vanitas moved swiftly, closing the distance in a matter of seconds.
"Get away—!" the man screamed, raising the revolver again.
With a flick of his wrist, Vanitas conjured a gust of wind that sent the revolver flying from the man's hand.
"Enough," Vanitas said coldly.
"Hieeek—!"
The man yelped and tripped, collapsing onto the cobblestone. His wide eyes stared up at Vanitas, who loomed over him like a demon.
"You know what this means, don't you?"
"W–Wait! Please, I didn't mean—"
"Clause 14," Vanitas interrupted, his tone as cold as ice. "Any harm or intent of harm to the lender results in an immediate forfeiture of all assets."
It was a hidden clause. One that Vanitas noticed by imbuing his mana into the contract.
"Wha—No! Please, I—"
"All property, all earnings, your business…." Vanitas leaned in slightly, his voice dropping.
"Even your personal belongings."
The man froze, his breath hitching as Vanitas's gaze bore into him like a hundred sharp needles.
"All of it."
Vanitas continued, his expression remained unchanging as ever.
"Mine."
———「Event Act: Setup」———
「Rewards Obtained:」
◆ Understanding: +10%
————————————
***
Monday came around.
Vanitas strode through the university halls with a calm, almost regal air as his coat billowed slightly with each step.
By the time he reached his lecture hall, the room was already bustling with students.
His presence immediately quieted down the commotion.
He stepped onto the podium, setting down his materials while Karina positioned herself discreetly at the side.
Finally, he began.
"Open your textbooks. Today, we delve into the application of mana synchronization across multiple essence types."
The rustle of pages immediately filled the air.
It was evident the class had come to appreciate his teaching style after the first week.
Efficient, direct, and layered with clarity.
Contrary to the whispers from the seniors, who claimed Vanitas Astrea's lectures were dull and rigid, the first–years found them anything but.
Vanitas picked up a piece of chalk, turning to the board.
"Mana synchronization," he said, writing the term in bold. "The art of harmonizing different essence flows into a cohesive spell."
He paused as his sharp gaze swept across the room.
"Many of you will fail to grasp this at first."
The tension in the room spiked.
"Not because you lack ability, but because synchronization requires precision, adaptability, and discipline."
He began sketching a diagram.
A magic circuit linked by various nodes and layers.
"For example," he continued, "Pyro and Aqua are opposites in nature, and require perfect balance. One misstep, and your spell collapses. Or worse."
His words hung in the air.
Astrid raised her hand.
"Yes, Astrid?"
"How do you train for synchronization if you only mastered one essence?"
Vanitas replied. "In that case, you train your mana flow techniques. Build control over your singular essence until its precision rivals that of multi–essence synchronization."
The chalk moved swiftly across the board as he illustrated his explanation.
"Remember, synchronization is not just a test of power but of mental clarity."
Sophia, seated beside Astrid, raised her hand.
"Yes, Sophia."
"What's the difference between synchronization and hybrid spells?"
"Synchronization is the art of balancing two essences without them interfering with each other. Think of it as playing two instruments in harmony."
He shifted his attention back to the board, drawing two intersecting circles labeled Pyro and Aqua.
"Hybrid spells, on the other hand, combine two or more essences into a single effect. They're not balanced separately. They fuse into something entirely new."
He stepped back, letting the diagram speak for itself.
The lecture progressed steadily.
Students diligently jotted down notes and posed questions. Vanitas answered each inquiry, ensuring no concept was left unclear.
His lectures began and ended exactly as scheduled—11:30 AM, no exceptions.
As the clock struck 11:30, Vanitas placed his chalk down.
After a brief announcement, Vanitas went on to say, "Dismissed."
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