“Mistakes were made. Enough said”—a mistaken philosopher

Bernhart takes a deep breath before entering his secondary workplace and home, otherwise known as the forbidden research sector, or FRS for short. Bernhart had assigned his own acronym: free research space, and he had made it live up to its name. It hadn’t always been a sector; at first, it had been merely his personal laboratory. This all changed when, by using a complex series of engrained realm magics, he had successfully turned multiple death row convicts into magic gathering devices for the school. Expanding the operation from there into magic for the crop yields (he was currently experimenting with how direct contact with the organ would change the growth pattern, but that was still in the experimental phases, and he doubts it would get by the senior teacher board.), or for the purpose of organ extraction and regrowth. With each new application, the demand had grown, and so he had expanded his lab to fit more convicts and the equipment necessary. By the end of it, his underground laboratory had expanded to occupy enough space underneath the school to be called a sector, close to a quarter of the campus in total. He had even had to start recruiting students as slav.. *cough* unpaid interns to manage it all. He had even got his hands on a couple of the infamous assassins from the western duchy’s royal family, of course under the promise that they would never be released and more than a few bags full of gold. Those bodies, in particular, had more magic power than 20 of the others combined but were a rare windfall if he got them at all.

Bernhart returns from his glazed escapism and looks down the stairs.

‘I should have expected something like this, all I wanted to do is help people with bio-magic, but…’

Bernhart starts walking down the stairs

Bernhart had a unique history with the Albent kingdom, and the territories of the old empire in general. In childhood, he was a peasant, the sixth son to a rural family, and someone who was unlikely to ever inherit the farm. Looking at his current position as a professor at a magic academy and an accomplished mage, one might point to him as a success story of a commoner, but that would be simplifying his life far too much. No, after sixteen cycles of age, his hometown was devasted by the feral creations of a rogue bio-mage. His family dead, slaughtered, and his farm burnt to the ground, the rogue mage in question did not have a hard time convincing him to join him as an apprentice. Bernhart had not known then that those things were the creations of the rogue mage and had nowhere else to go, so he had followed willingly thinking to learn a craft to support himself. That mage had gained another test subject.

Some years later, and Bernhart is closer to the appearance he is of today, his oddities the result of the many experiments he underwent. His master and tormentor died in an accident caused by one apprentice ‘mixing’ up a few crucial ingredients to a concoction he was testing. Bernhart had taken over the position of his master and had continued his research. Maybe it was because of how far out from the urban centers, perhaps due to how Bernhart never released his creations and sourced his materials from criminals only, but he was somewhat accepted by the townspeople and worked as a deterrent to any would-be criminals.

It was when his presence as a deterrent worked a bit too well that Bernhart ran out of testing materials and moved to the town of Irkshire. Years passed, and he slowly acclimated to the town, and the town slowly acclimated to him. His participation in the slaying of the rogue magic beast, along with his compatriot Reynold and several others, is what earned him a place in the academy as a teacher, and complete acceptance in the town.

Now though, his hard-won acceptance, position, and flow of test subjects are in danger.

Bernhart rolls up his sleeves.

‘Well, I just have to subjugate the rogue subjects… shouldn’t be too hard.’

And walks down the stairs.

…

Reynold starts to concentrate, closing his eyes, before his voice booms.

“TO ALL TEACHERS, THIS IS A CODE H, I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE H. THERE HAS BEEN A CONTAINMENT FAILURE, AND A POSSIBLE HOSTILE IS ON THE LOOSE.”

Reynold breaks a sweat and starts breathing heavily for a few moments before recovering himself.

‘It’s always hard to target specific groups with mage voice, but having the students awake right now would cause complete chaos and if there is something out here…’

Reynold remembers the door.

‘Which there probably is, then the casualties would skyrocket.’

Reynold starts chanting.

‘The best case is that the fellow teachers and I find this thing and get rid of it. And, of course, Bernhart fixes whatever went wrong in his lab. In the worst case, we’ll have to evacuate the students, but it hasn’t gotten that far yet.’

Reynold finishes chanting and says.

“Domain of Irkia”

‘The school’s systems are quite useful in acting as a conduit’ Reynold thinks, before completing his spell.

“Track Intruder”

Suddenly, Reynold turns his gaze and starts walking down a different corridor.

Behind him, Leticia follows.

…

The damp pressure of magic and the iron taste of blood suffuse the air. Bernhart’s eyes stare blankly in front of him, and he falls to his knees. Blood streaming down his arms, he slowly collapses into a heap on the ground. A single tear escapes his eyes as he descends into unconsciousness.

…

While Leticia looks from a minor distance at where Reynold has stopped, in front of desiccated thing that is now cornered at the wall.

Reynold takes a look at the creature in front of him and gets a bit nervous as the creature starts to rush towards him. Reynold, though, does not show any sign of apprehension and calmly levels his staff. After chanting for a few moments, he speaks.

“Domain of cold.”

Leticia leans in to get a better look.

Reynold clenches his open hand, levels his staff, and then releases the breath he was holding. A bolt of pure ice leaves his staff and punctures the creature. It falls, and Reynold starts moving towards the creature.

‘I was hoping that there was only one, but it looks like the academy domain is still functioning.’

Well, now that I have a trace of it, I should be able to see where the rest of them are.

After chanting for a few moments and redirecting the spell, Reynold’s eyes glaze out of focus, and a moment later, he starts running in down another corridor.

‘This is worse than I thought.’

Leticia scrambles to keep up with him, yet stay out of sight.

“All teachers, we have multiple hostiles. Gather any students we can and bring them to the evacuation root.”

‘Now I just have to hope that Bernhart did his job, I don’t think we have enough teachers to deal with this as it is. If more of those things show up…’

Reynold shivers and continues his sprint.

‘The problem could get beyond fixing.’