In the first several millennia of his life, Lucian devoted himself to roaming the world as an adventurer. He hunted monsters, destroyed undead, and put an end to threats most people never even learned existed. It was honest work, and for a long time, it had suited him just fine.

  All of that effort eventually led to a final battle against a demon lord. Lucian had stayed behind while the rest of his party fled, choosing to face the villain alone. Naturally, he won, though the injuries he got from that encounter took over a century to recover from.

  Yet, once he was fully healed, Lucian decided he deserved a break. If he returned to the mortal realm, he knew that he would never truly rest. There would always be another monster to deal with, another war to stop, another quest to complete, and after a few thousand years, it had all become somewhat stale.

  That was how Lucian ended up staying in the Black Library, a vast archive hidden deep in the demon realm and once owned by the demon lord he’d defeated. The new demon lord was far more peaceful and had kindly allowed Lucian to stay as long as he liked. Of course, Lucian had offered a few carefully worded “suggestions” to help with that decision, but that was just a minor detail in the grand scheme of things.

  What really mattered was the library itself. It was enormous, packed with endless shelves of books from across the ages. Lucian lost himself there without ever feeling the urge to leave. He kept telling himself he’d leave the library once he ran out of things to read, which was a wonderfully optimistic lie.

  At the moment, he sat with a book open across his lap. The title of the book was A Practical Treatise on the Cataloging and Preservation of Infernal Ink, and Lucian was fully absorbed in a chapter that went into detail about proper shelf placement in low-humidity rooms. The author had grown strangely passionate about it, and Lucian was just reaching a particularly intense argument about ink evaporation rates when he heard someone cough loudly.

  “Master Lucian, you have mail.”

  Lucian looked up to see a maid standing nearby. She had black hair cut into a shoulder-length bob, and a pair of black horns curved from her head. Her wings rested politely behind her back, doing nothing to hide her true nature.

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Diabelle, can’t this wait?”

  “No, Master Lucian. It cannot. " Diabelle said, stepping closer and holding a letter out towards him.

  Lucian was halfway to dismissing her when curiosity got the better of him. There was little harm in looking, after all.

  He accepted the letter and turned it slowly between his fingers, feeling its weight. The seal was ornate and carefully pressed, with the wax still faintly glossy. It was clearly expensive, stamped with words Celgrad Royal Academy

  Lucian had never heard of the place. More strangely, he had no idea who from such an academy could possibly know how to contact Diabelle, let alone send a letter directly to him. And that was all the more reason why he grew more curious.

  Lucian broke the seal and opened the letter. His eyes widened as he read the first few lines.

  The message was from Elysia Iridell, one of Lucian’s former party members. She was a high elf and a powerful mage, though Lucian had always remembered her as someone who preferred long hours alone with nature rather than crowds or institutions.

  He had expected her to spend the next few thousand years living somewhere remote, studying magic in peace. He certainly never imagined she would become the headmistress of an academy, but time, it seemed, had a way of changing even the most familiar faces.

  Oddly, she was asking him to become a professor at the academy, and she’d marked the request as urgent. Lucian lowered the letter and looked up at Diabelle. “When did Elysia tell you about this?”

  “Very recently, actually. I was in the mortal realm a few hours ago, acquiring the sandwiches you favor so much. That was when Lady Elysia contacted me.”

  After she spoke, a plate shimmered into existence in front of him, floating at chest height. On it sat several ham and cheese sandwiches.

  Lucian smiled. “Thank you, Diabelle.”

  He took one of the sandwiches and ate it quickly. Lucian had dined with kings before and tasted all manner of rare and impressive dishes, from dragonfruit tarts to slow-roasted wyvern meat seasoned with mountain herbs. Yet none of it ever matched the simple comfort of a classic ham and cheese sandwich. Warm, toasted bread, melted cheese, and good-quality ham always went a long way.

  “I will never understand your fondness for these, Master. Especially considering you do not require food to survive.” Diabelle said.

  Lucian swallowed and shrugged. “It’s not about survival. They taste good, and that’s reason enough.”

  Once he finished, he glanced back down at the letter, then up at Diabelle again. “Anyway, did Elysia mention anything else about this position?”

  “She did not. Only that the matter was urgent, and that she was… persistent in her request that the message reach you.”

  Lucian frowned upon hearing those words, since that wasn’t like Elysia. She almost never begged, and she was the type who would never ask for help unless she truly needed it.

  Still, Lucian couldn’t help but wonder why Elysia had contacted him of all people. It was true that she was one of the few who knew he still existed, and one of even fewer he had stayed in touch with over the years. Even so, he had made it clear she was not to disturb him unless she had exhausted every other option.

  “Diabelle, out of curiosity, how long have I been in the Black Library?”

  “Three hundred years, six months, three weeks, and two days.”

  Lucian’s eyes widened. If Diabelle was telling the truth, and she almost certainly was given the contract binding her, then he had spent the equivalent of several human generations doing little more than reading books. It had been a great way to pass time, but he had to admit that his already warped sense of time had likely grown even worse while he’d been holed up in the Black Library. Even so, it was difficult to believe he had truly spent that long there without noticing.

  “What? I don’t believe I’ve been here that long,” Lucian said."

  “Your sense of time has always been rather flexible, Master. Reality does not share that flaw.” Diabelle said dryly.

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  Lucian snorted despite himself. He rose to his feet and took one last look around the Black Library to take it all in. He had enjoyed this place, but perhaps a little too much.

  He turned toward Diabelle. “You do know the way to the academy’s library, yes?”

  “Yes, Master Lucian, I can provide you the coordinates."

  “Excellent, then we’re wasting time standing around.”

  “Hold on, before we go. Lady Elysia did request that a few matters be addressed first.”

  Lucian paused and glanced back at her. “Go on."

  “For one, you will require new clothing.”

  Lucian looked down at himself, finally taking in the old robes he wore. It probably wasn't something that would suit any environment that demanded even a semblance of polish. And he was certain that if he were to go to the academy wearing these robes, he'd be branded as some street bum and kicked out.

  He looked back up at Diabelle. “Do you happen to know what’s considered fashionable in the mortal realms these days?"

  Diabelle manifested a neatly folded pamphlet and placed it in his hand. “This appears to be common attire among wealthier individuals in human kingdoms."

  Lucian opened the pamphlet and skimmed through it. “Tailored jackets, fitted trousers, polished shoes… okay, I can work with this.”

  With a snap of his fingers, the pamphlet vanished into his dimensional storage. His robes transformed until they formed a sleek black suit, along with fitted pants, and polished shoes.

  Lucian glanced down at himself, then back at Diabelle. “Well? Am I presentable, or will I still offend someone’s sense of taste?”

  Diabelle studied him for a brief moment. “You appear… acceptable, Master Lucian.”

  He smiled. “That’s practically glowing praise coming from you. I’ll take it.”

  ***

  Lucian and Diabelle teleported out of the demon realm and into the mortal world. Of course, before they moved, Diabelle hid her horns and wings. Without them, she looked no different from an elf. It was a useful disguise, since demons were still widely hated in the mortal realms, at least from what she had told him.

  For the moment, they hovered high above the land, hidden by an invisibility spell. Lucian turned his head and glanced at her. “While we’re in the mortal realm, it might be wiser if I call you Belle instead of Diabelle. Just in case someone is feeling a little too observant.”

  “That seems unnecessary, Master Lucian. However, if you insist, I would like to request a different alias.”

  “Oh? And what name did you have in mind?”

  “I was considering Dread Herald of—”

  “No,” Lucian cut in. “You’re going to be called Belle while you’re here.”

  There was a brief silence, but eventually, Belle sighed. “…Very well."

  "Come on, you have to know that the alias you suggested was ridiculous, right?"

  Belle refused to respond to that, and instead pointed below. "The academy is down there."

  Lucian followed her gesture and looked down as they descended slowly to the island. The academy was at the center, a dense cluster of tall buildings linked by broad bridges. Beyond the campus, a town hugged the edges of the island, with rows of houses and shops lining the streets.

  Farther out, there was even a section of the island set aside as forest, left seemingly untouched. Probably Elysia's work considering her fondness for greenery.

  Still, from that height, the place no longer felt like a school. It looked more like a city-state, or even the heart of a small nation. Lucian couldn’t help but respect the effort behind it. Creating something on this scale would have taken immense work and planning, especially if it had been done in only a century or two.

  Lucian let out a low whistle. “That’s an academy? I’ve seen capitals built with much less ambition.”

  “Excess is not limited to demons,” Belle said.

  Lucian chuckled as they landed in a quiet corner of the academy grounds, away from foot traffic. Once they were safely hidden, he dismissed the invisibility spell, and Belle followed suit.

  Belle stepped ahead and gestured down the path. “Lady Elysia’s office should not be far from here, Master Lucian. If you will follow me.”

  “Lead on,” he replied.

  They made their way onto the main path, where many students passed by. Everyone wore neat black uniforms. The boys had fitted trousers and jackets, while the girls wore skirts made from the same dark cloth. Lucian couldn’t help but note how refined it all looked. In his time, academies had simply thrown robes at their students and called it a day. This was comparatively far more stylish.

  “I have to say that this place is much better than what I had imagined, quite impressive, really.” Lucian said.

  Belle walked half a step ahead of him. “It is adequate, I suppose."

  "What? Surely even you have to admit that the craftsmanship and the students here look exceptional."

  “I have been here several times already, Master. I'm sure you will get used to these sights soon enough."

  “Oh, right."

  Lucian had nearly forgotten that he was the one who had been sending Belle to the mortal world for the past few hundred years. In a strange way, it was ironic that she, a demon, had seen more of the mortal realm than he had, at least in recent memory.

  But he set the thought aside as he and Belle continued walking. The path soon opened into a small plaza, and at its center stood a tall statue. Lucian slowed, then stopped completely as he looked.

  The statue was carved from stone and showed a man with an absurdly muscular build, perhaps excessively so. For some reason, he wore nothing but a loincloth, and he held a spellbook close to his chest, while the other rested against his chin in a thoughtful pose.

  Lucian barely managed to hold back his laughter as he stared up at the statue. “My goodness, it looks like the sculptor couldn’t decide whether they were making a legendary archmage or a professional wrestler."

  “That is a commemorative piece, Master."

  “Of what? A cautionary tale about excessive weight exercises?"

  Belle turned to face him fully. “It is meant to depict you.”

  Lucian’s smile froze. He looked at her, then back at the statue, then at her again. “No...”

  Belle raised a finger and calmly pointed toward the base of the statue. “You may verify it yourself, Master Lucian.”

  Still in disbelief, he stepped closer and leaned down to read the plaque at the base of the statue. And unfortunately, it seemed Belle was absolutely correct as the plaque read: Lucian the Lightbringer: Hero of Mankind.

  Lucian took a slow step back. “I look ridiculous. And also, why in the world am I practically naked?"

  Belle glanced at the statue again, then back at him. “You are technically not naked, Master Lucian. The statue is wearing a loincloth.”

  “Semantics. I was wearing some armor and a cloak when I fought the Demon Lord. And I can promise you that going into the fight with just a loincloth was never part of the plan."

  “That may be true, but you were always difficult to observe and track, doubly so since you retreated to the Black Library. So, most artists were forced to work with limited references and a great deal of imagination.”

  Lucian snorted. “I never liked posing for statues or paintings, because it always struck me as self-indulgent. Though, in hindsight, perhaps I should have spoken to at least one painter or sculptor. This is what happens when you leave things unchecked.”

  “On the bright side, Master Lucian, it is unlikely anyone will recognize you. Your appearance varies greatly across records and monuments.”

  “Maybe. But surely they would recognize my face at the very least, right?"

  Belle seemed to hold back a small smile as she stepped forward and stopped in front of the statue, facing it directly. She then turned her head slightly and looked back at him. “Try taking a look at it from this angle.”

  Lucian raised an eyebrow but did as she suggested, stepping beside her and finally looking properly at the statue’s face. A part of him immediately wished he could unsee it.

  The face was unfamiliar in a way that felt almost insulting. The jaw was far too sharp, and the brow was locked into a permanent scowl, making the man look like he was suffering from a constant headache. Either way, he was definitely going to have Elysia answer some questions when he saw her.