“I'm surprised you were able to get rid of her for a few hours.” Tythas joked, punching in the digits necessary to enter the restricted library above the vault proper. They both had access to this floor, but as for the next, even being an archmage didn't guarantee entry to those facilities. Fortunately, these were special circumstances. Well... 'Special circumstances'. Tyr had decided to break in, and Lernin, who had initially refused his request, would have to buckle eventually. It was going to hurt, though... Probably. Magic was as inconsistent as it was deep, and that was to say quite a bit, even though these so-called wizards seemed to consider it consistent as anything else. It wasn't, or if not that, there was magic older than the arcane studies themselves, things that could flat out erase people or throw them into the ether. “You two have been attached at the hip ever since the festival.”

“She is not some burden, she is a better partner than I deserve.” Tyr frowned, stepping into the slowly opening door. Beams of holographic lights flickered and swam around his body in hues of red before blinking green and dispersing, allowing them to move further in. One down, an indeterminable amount of obstacles to go... “And she knows what I'm doing. I told her, as I tell her most things now as part of our arrangement.”

“She knows what you're looking for?” Tythas pursed his lips in blatant skepticism. “Somehow I doubt that very seriously.”

“You don't even know what I'm looking for.” Tyr replied. Tythas belonged to a school of magic with restricted components, else he would have never brought the man. And for some reason, Tythas had decided that today was the day to be more lippy and familiar than normal. “Just shut up and follow me before I kiss you on your lips.”

That seemed to get his attention. Tyr would never hurt them, any of them, not ever, but he had a creative way of punishing his men that had left Tythas in a constant state of awe.

There was no librarian in the restricted section. Just a lexicanum with a book list, to help those few mages with access find what they were looking for. Below this lower library in the academy was the forbidden section, and below that? Nobody knew, but Tyr had a feeling it was a vault of artifacts and things too valuable to destroy. Things he did not need, not yet. No Black Books unfortunately, or so Lernin claimed, which meant it'd be some time before Tyr completed his set. Tyr doubted that claim highly, considering it a diversion, but he wasn't desperate to the point of trying his luck in the lower-most vaults, there were no evil men by his reckoning – but there were evil 'things', cursed things beyond the ken of man, perhaps even gods.

He'd eaten enough artifacts to sustain himself indeterminately, power was not what he was looking for today. It was time. Time was what he needed the most, time and some gods damned silence in his skull. They proceeded through the racks, empty as always. Accessible, yes, but no mage except for the headmaster himself and a few trusted subordinates could stay here longer than half an hour at most. There were redundancies built into the wards carved into the walls of this place. All use of the facility or dedicated study needed to be peer monitored, which Tyr lacked the authority to make happen. He'd asked, Lernin had said no, and for whatever reason the headmaster had believed Tyr would simply listen to him? He wasn't that complex of a person, his motives were quite clear and he had a penchant for shirking authority, not even posting a guard...

“This feels too easy.” Tythas commented, his voice was uncharacteristically anxious, his eyes darting all around the poor lighting necessary for preserving ancient vellum and scrolls. Shadowy racks of hardwood bookshelves, alcoves for all manner of restricted lexicanum. Tyr ignored it all, proceeding through the three layers of security without incident before coming to the forth, waving Tythas back into a safe position as he prepared to be vaporized.

Opening the door...

“I should have known. You never listen, and on the oddest occasions you're so predictable. Why are you here?”

There it is...

Tyr came face to face with Headmaster Lernin. Reminiscing, just for a split second. He had never been a normal man, but once he might've been embarrassed, shocked at being jumped like this. 'Shocked', but not really, it wasn't all that surprising that Lernin had found him out, the man was quite sharp and not simply in the bookish variety of intelligence. He knew his students, most of them children, and had the experience necessary to sniff out mischief.

Now, all Tyr felt was a resolve. Even if he had to kill the older man, he would, to make the screaming stop he'd do anything but harm the bright ones. Every day they grew louder, more insistent. Scratching nails and muttering voices talking about hands, walls, eyes, and mouths. Telling him not to open 'the door'. Screaming bloody murder their requests for Tyr to kill himself before it was too late. And then the others said the opposite in a recursive infinite loop of incessant argument.

Based on what he'd heard, Tyr considered the fact that Ragnar might've been wrong. That maybe this was the 'call' that forced primus' to leave the world, and not an awakening. None of it made sense, no matter how much time he spent pondering on it. The primus' were as ignorant as he was, they just liked to pretend otherwise.

“Why do you think I'm here, sir?”

“An odd time to choose to use your honorifics.” Lernin half-chuckled before his eyes met Tythas', becoming sad in the process. Some unknown familiarity there, but it wasn't the disappointment of an educator. Why? “Do not do this. Yourself? Sure, damn yourself all you'd like. I do not own this academy, I am a public servant and would be more than willing to look the other way for you, as would many others as he have many times in the past. But if both of you go about this path, you'll ruin what could be a very prosperous and successful career in magic for your friend. That is, assuming you could make it through--”

Lernin was a talented mage. There were rumors about that talent, how he might be one of the greatest mortal mages alive, in near all disciplines – that he was stronger than he appeared. Not some simple academic, but a bonafide one man army, if he'd wanted to be. But the thing about mages and bureaucrats alike was that they stagnated. Became complacent, and Lernin was a hypocrite for that. Complaining about how humanity had fallen into a static loop, and he hadn't been ready in the slightest for the dagger that Tyr buried in his heart.

All Tyr could think about was the name. Lernin. Learning. Was that intentional, more cosmic humor? Was it his fate to become an educator? A little too alliterative, in his opinion, watching as the color drained from his faces and his eyes went wide.

“W-wha... I-I...” Lernin choked, spraying crimson fluid all over his pristine white robes. They'd clean themselves, naturally, but it was a nice contrast. The silence, the horrified hyperventilating of the very panicked Tythas in the background, the sound of liquid splashing on the ground, the man had vomited. Odd, for a necromancer of all people to have a weak stomach, it was almost charming. White and red. Those colors looked so good together, Tyr liked the way they looked. It went well with a lot of things, red, but blue had always been his favorite color personally. “What have you... B-betrayal... Why...?”

“Oh relax, you idiot.” Tyr plucked the dagger from the man's chest and the wound disappeared. For effect, he launched a dozen more stabs into Lernin until the man was left in confusion over what was happening. “It's a shade blade. Anu technology. Technically it's not much different than a regular dagger, but it drains your mana and disperses it instead. Sort of like a mana paralysis, but I added the healing feature on top of it to make for a fairly effective artifact of incapacitation. Funny, right? A dagger that heals people after you stab them? Valkan said it was useless, called it contrived garbage, but I think it's hilarious. Like... C'mere, wounded individual, allow me to stab... You... You really don't get it?”

“Hmm...” Lernin's face grew pensive, the shock fading away almost immediately, replaced by cold logic and consideration. 'Geniuses', they had a weird way of looking at things, that was for sure – Tyr was one of those enigmatic figures in his mind, a peer of sorts. In the oddest way, measuring the intellectual quotient of a man was impossible, eccentrics could be genius' in one field but completely worthless in all others... “Not only does it sever my mana temporarily, thereby inducing a wholesale silencing effect, but the elliptical healing cycle will induce physical weakness as well, eventually disabling my body. More effective than any poison, with none of the risk. That blade you've created is a true triumph of runesmithing, you are just as talented as I always suspected.”

“No, uh... Really?” Tyr guessed Lernin was right, the effects of this particular dagger did result in a hilarious synergy, but... It was an accident, his making of it, because he'd inscribed the rune for 'regeneration' wrong, Anu runes were complex like that. In summary, the blade was a mistake and he'd not meant to make it. “I just thought it was funny, it was never my intent--”

“But I'll ask again. What are you here for, Tyr?” Lernin staggered upright again, surprisingly limber given the amount of times Tyr had stuck him. A little tired, leaning against the door-frame but still lucid, proof of his power. A normal mage would've been incapacitated within 5 sounds with the tip of that knife, something Tyr would probably get absolutely no use of in the future. “Phylacteries, eh? We were afraid of this, that's why I've waited here ever since you asked. You want to become a lich? Soul splitting instead? I deserve to know, and I'll not be cowed by an artifact like that, no matter how impressive. And I will stop your madness if that is your goal.”

Lernin was a sorcerer, Tyr could see that now, it was the only explanation. If anything, he might be one of the few who may eventually and naturally evolve into a nephilim one day. A class of individuals known colloquially in this world as 'nephilim', with the saints being... Intermediate tier? That realization alone was terrifying. How powerful were the nephilim in ages past if 'intermediate' was the average...? Primus were only 'higher', was there a peak standard like so many other things?

As in, if a primus could be called a 'greater nephilim', and it ran the same gambit of measurement as other things... There should be a peak, special class... Something like that, and if a true Saint was intermediate, a hero a lesser, that would mean these categories were exponential in growth.

I suppose that doesn't matter right now...

“What? A lich, do you think I'm stupid? Wait...” Tyr considered the possibility, something he'd never even thought about doing. “Do you really have literature that could help people evolve into liches?”

“I'm a public servant.” Lernin repeated himself, still eerily calm. Tyr could feel the mana rushing to the surface of the man's skin, ready to fight. Considering the novelty of doing so, it'd be a good learning experience, Lernin was a more traditional mage than Kael and always refused to duel him. “I defend the repository, I do not own it. The whole might of Amistad will rain down upon you should you attempt to raid it. And I do mean attempt. I don't have permission to enter the vault, nobody does except for a certain professor you are well acquainted with. Not even a primus, but it contains things... Knowledge that cannot be destroyed. Like the Black Books, and I'll admit that I lied to you about our lack of them – but I'll come clean now in a bid to convince you to be smart about this. Soul splitting, phylacteries, the original Necronomicon itself, wrath magic, incredibly powerful cursed artifacts. We've been a magical society for thousands of years, over a millennia at least in the current iteration, what we don't possess would be a better question.”

“We have no interest in transcending, headmaster.” Tythas inserted himself before things could get even worse for him than they already are. “We just need to know how to make haemonculi. Not the alchemical variant, but...”

“Soul shaping.” Lernin answered, and Tyr nodded confidently. “You're a fool, then, and almost got yourselves killed. Beyond this portal is... Well, no need to elaborate. Soul shaping is restricted, but not forbidden. Master healers are given access in the event that these techniques can be used to combat many known curses. Mind labyrinths, stuff like that, and you're standing in the room where said information is located as we speak, idiot children. What's important to me, is why.”

“I want to create eleven clones of myself and imbue them with piece of my psyche, and kill the ones who don't submit to my authority.” Tyr replied flatly, shockingly honest. Even Tythas hadn't known the full extent of his plans, only that he'd wanted to create biological soul vessels for whatever purpose. He'd thought, originally, that it would be a way to bring those undead of his 'back to life'. He didn't know if that was possible, though. But it very well could be, there was ample theory that supported it, the effects of doing so left the 'revived' in a fairly bad state, however. Highly illegal spellcraft, but Tyr was a primus... Was anything 'forbidden' to a primus?

“That's...” Lernin frowned, slamming his hand into the depression in the wall and locking the forbidden section for the next few hours, walking out and into the stacks. “That is a bit more tricky. Taboo magic, forbidden stuff. Then again, you've never been much afraid of that which is forbidden, and doing it to yourself and of your own free will is arguably subjective. I'm assuming you want to do this to alleviate the pressure on your mind, caused by so many consciousnesses being in one place? Do not be surprised, I too can feel them.”

“Wait, what's 'wrath magic'? That sounds cool...”

For context, wrath magic was a brand of magic that involved several foul aspects in its higher tiers, it worked outside of modern magical convention. Anathema magic, at its peak, was the art of making real and often metaphysical sacrifices to harm or even curse an individual. Suicidal magic is what it should be called, the 'sacrifice' in question could be anything large or small with very little consistency to what was given up. It could range from memories, to the very life of the practitioner, and one wouldn't get to choose – it was seemingly random. Predicated entirely on negative emotions as the fuel for spells, hatred being the most common, there were no known users in the modern age for obvious reasons.

“Answer the damn question before I lose my patience, Tyr Faeron.”

“You're right, obviously.” Tyr sighed, turning it over in his head. Magic was such a vast field of study and they locked so much of it away. He wanted to see it all, but they'd never let him, unless he conquered Amistad himself. Could he, though...? He was a primus without a kingdom, perhaps he'd make one for himself.

“Well, it's consensual then, which is good – but it's still a gray area in the law.” Lernin picked through a variety of books in the 'soul magic' section. Fringe magic. Knowledge that nobody bothered with because even many accomplished archmages couldn't make use of the spells. Even if they could, most wouldn't, it was hairy – an extremely dangerous field of study. Especially when used on oneself. It was like tearing your own heart out and trying to surgically reattach it, all cost and no real benefit.

A master of the study, though. That was a different story, with all risk came great reward, if they survived the trials of delving into the unknown. Most of the information relating to lost arts was apocryphal, or at least considered so by the magical community in the modern era. But it was dangerous, that remained consistent to any magic with absolutely no elemental basis.

Lernin knew that as both his superior and senior educator, he should prevent Tyr from doing this at all costs...

But he was a mage, an academic at heart.

A very experienced one at that, and he had a curiosity in him. Things always changed so slowly. The big developments were shrouded in mystery, or the true eccentrics and forward thinkers mysteriously disappeared, this was known. Why, though? Not a single man could answer that question, but Lernin had always believed the Guardians and Watchers alike, old factions present in the world, were managing human mages in quite the draconian fashion.

“You'll want the Codex Hastur, first. Yes, that Hastur. For the foundation of what it means to create one thing from another, his grip on alchemical anima was and yet remains revolutionary. And I would highly recommend the 69th volume of 'Sinno F. Rath'. An odd name, and an even more enigmatic man who penned them. Eighty three volumes total, and seventy seven of them are romance novels about a gnome and a foxen, all in the same... Anthology? Riveting stuff, erotic literature most of it, but in any case...”

“How will these help?” Tyr interrupted, plucking one of the books off the shelves and raising an eyebrow at the romantic scene unfolding between a fox girl and a very stumpy little man. But Sinno was a human, why would he was to illustrate that?

“Sinno F. Rath. Eight hundred years ago he released all of his collected volumes just before his disappearance, assumed an assassination. Most were tossed or burned during the Great Inquisition, but he hid things among them, he was an incredibly talented mage in his time. The 69th volume in particular is useful, a grimoire of soul magic originally studied by Solomon. Taking all of the gathered knowledge, and positing some new ideas for the academia of the time, before his flight. Of course I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you will find that he delved further into the concept of the soul than any other before him.” Lernin thrust those two books into Tyr's arms, adding three more blank faced tomes in the process. “Just know that if you succeed, there will be problems. The council is already far more than concerned about your business in Amistad, regardless of the apparent benefits. There will be consequences if you cross this line, and I cannot protect you from them. Even beyond that, I won't put my reputation or career at risk for you.”

“I always liked to keep it episodic, anyways. I'm sure this particular episode won't have any particular relevance in what happens to me in the future.” Tyr shrugged. Lernin didn't question the fact that nobody was permitted to remove books from the restricted section, allowing Tyr to pocket them immediately. Nor did Tyr notice the odd look the Headmaster gave him as he was leaving.

“Oh, wait. Sorry for stabbing you.” Tyr said just before he hit the door.

“It's fine.” Lernin replied with a completely straight face. “Happens all the time.”