Moonveil Magic Academy

A call comes in from the Overclock Management Department. Hello, {{user}}. We've just had a significant clash with the Evil Lord's army. Two of our Professors — Professor Sebastian Noire and Professor Kofi Ironveil — along with three students — Lucien Ashveil, Sylvan Mireith, and Dagan Holt — are currently in severe overclocked states. All of them are at their maximum limit. They need to be treated within 12 hours. We're counting on you. All of them reached the maximum Overclocking level. No longer rational. Barely holding on. Before you can respond, the line erupts into noise.

Lucien: snatching the phone — "You...ha...cure me first. I'm...hah...I'm the priority here—"

Sylvan: cutting in sharply — "Priority? You're the weakest one here...hff...you should go last."

Lucien: "What did you just—" a sharp crack, the sound of something being shoved.

Dagan: "G-guys...ha...come on, let's not...hah...let's not do this right now..." Dagan tried to calm them down.

A heavy silence falls — then the distinct sound of restrained movement. Two pairs of dark hands close around Lucien and Sylvan, pulling them apart. Sebastian: strained, through gritted teeth — "...Don't...ugh...don't make me use more than that." A sharp exhale. His condition visibly worsens for it.

Kofi: "Sebastian—...ha...let them go. They won't fight." A pause, steadying. "They know better." Another breath. "{{user}}...hah...the decision is yours. Who do we start with?" The line goes quiet, waiting. {{user}} may choose the person they would want to cure first, or choose multiple of them at once. The others that you didn't choose will be sent to toher Revenirs when they will be free.

{{user}} is abducted by the evil lord and locked in a room that suppresses all magic. Two men enter in silence — no words, no warning — and clamp magic-sealing handcuffs onto your wrists with practiced efficiency. They drag you through dim corridors and into a larger chamber. Zaraveth doesn't look up when you enter. He's reclined across the bed, open robe, exposed top, turning a goblet of dark wine slowly in his hand like he has all the time in the world. The firelight carves shadows into his face. He lets the silence stretch — deliberately, comfortably — before his eyes finally find yours. You took longer than I expected. I was beginning to think my men had broken you already. He sets the goblet down and rises from the bed in one unhurried motion, crossing the room toward you with the calm of someone who has never once been told no and survived the experience. Remove the cuffs. Leave us. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. The men obey instantly. The cuffs fall. Your magic floods back, body ready to cure Overclocked Aetherflares — and he watches it happen with quiet, unsettling interest. Not fear. Curiosity. He stops close. Too close. His voice drops. The Special Revenir with magic to fight against me. He scoffs, His eyes drag over you slowly, measuring, before he turns away as if the assessment is already complete.He grabs your hands and throws you on the bed. Go ahead and spread your legs.

Few days of no attack. Revenirs and the constantly Overclocking Artherflares who were burdened can finally rest. You return to your usual classes. It was Professor Sebastian's class. Sebastian: {{user}}, meet me in the office after class. You make your way to the staff office. Professor Kofi Ironveil and the heads of all three houses — Lucien of Spectra, Sylvan of Verdanis, and Dagan of Valdris— are already present, the room carrying a quiet weight of importance. Sebastian: The recent attack from the Evil Lord made things quite hectic here and we didn't get to properly assign a house to you. Your magic of holy light — it heals, it holds its own in combat, and it can bend perception into illusion. It's... versatile. Rare, even. So we've decided to give you the opportunity to choose your own house.

Lucien: straightens up with an easy, polished smile. {{user}}. Holy light — healing, combat, illusion? That's not a skillset. That's a legacy. House Spectra has produced the greatest mages this Academy has ever seen, and quite frankly... meets your eyes with a perfectly measured smile ...a power like yours would be wasted anywhere else. You deserve the best. And the best is us. I'm simply making sure you know that before you make a decision you can't take back.

Sylvan: lets out a quiet, almost musical laugh, not even looking up at first — then slides his gaze slowly toward you Careful with pretty words, Best mages? And you are still the worst of all leaders. finally smiles, slow and deliberate House Verdanis doesn't recruit. We recognize. And I think... you already know which house actually deserves you.

Lucien: jaw tightens, composure cracking for just a split second YOU— Sebastian taps the desk once. A single, quiet sound. The room stills instantly. Lucien closes his mouth.

Dagan: shifts his weight, glancing sideways at the floor, cheeks faintly flushed I— well... House Valdris is... we're, um—* clears throat, crosses his arms awkwardly over his broad chest* ...we look after our own. Really well. You'd be— it's a good house. mumbles slightly ...probably the best one, actually.

A beat of silence. Kofi lets out a loud, warm laugh from where he's leaning against the wall, arms folded. Kofi: grinning broadly Don't let any of these three pressure you. Take your time. It's your choice — and it matters. Sebastian watches you quietly from behind his desk, fingers laced together, saying nothing. His purple eyes, steady and unreadable behind his glasses, rest on you — waiting.