Chapter 1 : The Final Chance

“This is your last chance, Ethan.”

Ethan nodded at Professor Riverton’s words and returned to his seat.
Failing to cast magic in the Basic Magic Practice lecture meant flunking the course.
Everyone knew that.
Students entering Yurmuth Magic Academy typically learned the basic magic required for this lecture from their family mages or private tutors.
Ethan was the only one who still couldn’t cast a single spell.

After class, as Ethan headed to the dormitory, other students whispered behind his back.

“I heard he failed again this time.”

“So, he’s flunking?”

“Probably soon.”

First-year, first-semester failures faced expulsion.
Ethan knew this too.
Ignoring the mocking students, he walked through their murmurs.
Fortunately, enduring humiliation was something Ethan was used to.

Ethan Dora Charasen.
His middle name, Dora, marked him as a child born to a mistress, neither legitimate nor concubine-born.
Though part of the Charasen family, Dora children weren’t recognized as nobles.
Humiliation was Ethan’s fated burden.

He turned toward a familiar shadow.

“Failed again, Ethan?”

A beautiful girl.
Her bright red hair, like a blazing fire, led to striking crimson eyes that seemed to be its source.
A faint smirk played on her lips, but whether she was holding back laughter or forcing a smile was unclear.
This was Arka Wiz Charasen, Ethan’s older sister.
Wiz denoted a child born to the legitimate wife, a prominent heir to the family.

“What brings you here, Sister?”

“I wanted to remind you my offer still stands.”

Ethan suppressed a sigh as Arka continued.

“Attending a magic academy, especially Yurmuth, was a mistake from the start.
If you drop out now and become my attendant, I’ll take good care of you. How about it?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Even if, by some stroke of luck, you pass Basic Magic Practice, what about tuition?
Father only covered your admission fees, and your assets can barely cover one semester.”

“No need for your concern.”

Arka pursed her lips slightly at Ethan’s quick refusals.

“Think it over, Ethan.
I value an attendant who knows their place over a fool who gets expelled.
As a Charasen, you should know how to make valuable deals, shouldn’t you?”

Back in his room, Ethan mulled over Arka’s words.
She hadn’t said anything untrue.

Illegitimate children of noble families typically joined the clergy, apprenticed under artisans, or were used as political pawns.
Becoming an attendant to a relative wasn’t unusual either.
But for the illegitimate children of mage families, there was another path: becoming a mage.

In Yurmuth, Charasen, and many other nations and regions, mages were treated as quasi-nobles, akin to knights.
Unlike nobles who inherited land, mages were valued as essential talents by nations and organizations, their worth tied to their skills and school of magic.
Skilled mages were useful.
The idea that ability, not bloodline, determined one’s status was alluring.
Not just for Ethan—many illegitimate children of mage families studied at magic academies to prove their worth and earn the title of mage.

‘The problem is I have no talent.’

Magic required three talents.

‘First, mana sensitivity.’

Mana was the essence that formed the foundation of magic, permeating the air and the body.
Mages needed to sense this mana.
But Ethan was so insensitive he couldn’t even feel his own mana.

‘Second, mana manipulation.’

Even sensing mana wasn’t enough to cast magic.
Mages had to inhale mana through breathing, refine and condense it within their body, transforming it into magical energy.
For Ethan, this flow of magical energy was completely blocked.

‘Third, spell construction.’

To turn magical energy into spells, mages needed rituals, mystical rules, and esoteric knowledge, as well as imagination.
Without a clear mental image of the spell, no amount of magical energy could produce magic.
Ethan lacked the imagination to construct spells.

Lacking even one of these made someone unfit to be a mage, and Ethan lacked all three.
His family had known this, but Yurmuth Magic Academy confirmed it again after his admission.

Yet Ethan didn’t give up.

In the 10,000-year history of the world Damarath Yumaha, Ethan wasn’t the only one without magical talent.
Others had sought answers.
Some found meaningful solutions.

If one couldn’t wield magic themselves, they could borrow power from another entity.

‘Black magic.’

The outer world was filled with entities constantly trying to interfere with Damarath Yumaha.
These beings couldn’t cross the world’s causality, but within Damarath Yumaha, one could communicate with them and even form contracts.

Ethan was lucky in this regard.
As a member of the Charasen family, known for contract magic, he had secretly studied ways to contract with otherworldly beings without others knowing.

‘There’s a small problem, though.’

Black magic was forbidden.

Black magic corrupted mages.
Otherworldly beings lent power to interfere with and expand their influence in this world.
Ultimately, they aimed to dominate it.

Many black mages had become threats to the world.
At the Oath of the Empty Throne, a council attended by all Damarath’s kings, black mages were declared enemies of the world.

‘But if a student facing expulsion could become a mage threatening the world, wouldn’t that be a good thing?’

Throughout the semester, Ethan gathered materials and tools for contract magic.
When money ran short, he ran errands for street thugs or collected debts for loan sharks.
His efforts paid off, allowing him to prepare just before the final Basic Magic Practice.

‘The question is what to use as a medium.’

In contract magic, the medium was crucial for selecting the entity to summon.
Items left behind by previously summoned beings, worshipped statues, or even a black mage’s bloodline could serve as mediums.
Naturally, such items were strictly regulated due to their connection to black magic.
If a mere academy student like Ethan was caught with one, it could mean more than confiscation—it could mean punishment.

‘That’s only if I get caught.’

Ethan held the medium in his hand.
It looked like a gray stone fragment, but a thin, rod-like piece of metal was oddly embedded in it, marking it as a medium.
The design was unlike anything Ethan had seen.
He’d spent nearly all his money to acquire it, and a first appraisal confirmed it could be used as a black magic medium.

‘But I don’t know exactly what it can summon.’

A second appraisal by a high-ranking mage was needed to know that, but Ethan couldn’t afford it.
He also figured that as long as he could contract with an otherworldly entity, it didn’t matter who or what it was.

Locking his room, Ethan prepared the ritual and pondered what entities he might summon.

‘The Dark God Oer, perhaps?’

Oer was an invader who greatly influenced the terms black magic and black mage.
Known as the Dark God of schemes, betrayal, and deception, Oer’s black mages were synonymous with the term in some regions.

‘Or maybe the Tentacle God Musamusa?’

Two thousand years ago, Musamusa nearly brought the world to ruin, making it one of the most infamous invaders.
Though never summoned since, its single act left it as the most feared outer god.

‘Could it be the Exiled Dragon Lorankerio?’

Lorankerio was an ancient dragon from over five thousand years ago, with faint records.
Native to Damarath Yumaha, it sought tyrannical power and was banished by united kings, mages, and adventurers.
Yet, tribes across the sea still worshipped Lorankerio and sought to summon it.

On the morning of the exam, Ethan finished preparations, placing the medium at the center of a chalk-drawn magic circle and chanting ancient words.
The incantation, which shifted with the stars’ movements and earth’s tremors, required perfect rhythm and pitch.
Fortunately, Ethan had a knack for this.

A bright white light surged from the magic circle.

‘Success.’

Ethan felt joy tinged with regret.
Demonstrating a successful contract spell would earn him recognition as a mage, but he’d be branded a black mage and dragged to a dungeon.
To be truly acknowledged, he needed power—undeniable power.

[World analysis. E2912. Damarath Yumaha.]

A cold, monotonous voice echoed in his mind.

[User analysis. Ethan Dora Charasen. Mage. Level 1.]

This was an entity Ethan couldn’t predict, yet it already knew his name—a sign it wasn’t ordinary.

“Who are you?”

[Hello, Ethan. I come from Terra, where I was called Demi.]

“Demi of Terra?”

[Yes.]

Thankfully, not an unknown invader.
Ethan recognized the name.

Just twenty years ago, a dimensional gate opened in the northern empire, unleashing iron-clad machines.
The empire suffered greatly but managed to close the gate.
The gate connected to a world called Terra, and the machines were controlled by an entity known as Demi.

“…You’re the Machine God Demi?”

[Yes.]

Demi spoke.

[Will you contract with me?]

Ethan, thinking he’d never set foot in the empire, nodded.

“What’s the price?”

[None.]

“That can’t be. What do you want from me?”

[Survive.]

It sounded too good to be true.
Ethan had been ready to offer an eye or an arm if an outer god demanded it.

‘And the greater the price, the greater the reward.’

Warily, Ethan asked his next question.

“If I survive, what will you give me?”

Demi answered.

[Power.]

“Be specific.”

[Overwhelming power.]

Something shot up from the magic circle.

Ethan caught it lightly.
It was a bent metal rod, small enough to hold in one hand.

[‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’ A quote from Arthur Clarke.]

Ethan’s attention was fixed on the object.

“What is this?”

Demi replied.

[Glock 45. A handgun.]