Vincent Van Arsdale was a well-known Duke. In a world where magicians gained both power or death, he was lucky to have been born from nobles in an empire where having magic was seen as long years of good fortunes for the generations to come.

Ever since he was young, he had always been interested in the powers that had been given to him, and found himself often reading further into the magic that not only he possessed, but also the people around him that also possessed such magic.

Among the ranks of where each magicians stood, he was, as expected, on the top, magicians which were called Ancient. As he grew up, he was soon hit with the reality that not every kingdom or empire took magicians as well as the Tharvian Empire. He had learned about the often deaths of magicians, who were met with horrible deaths. At the age of 20, he made a secret organization focused on traveling and saving those magicians which were threatened with death. Along the way, he had met both lower ranks, mid ranks, and higher ranks magicians. They all held their unique magic.

However, none of their magic could come closer to the powerful force he felt that one night.

Vincent stood amidst the crowd of people who yelled to ‘burn the witch’, as they called them. However, his eyes were wide open as he felt chills all over his body as the intensity of a magic stronger than his surrounded the entire place. It came from none other than the person tied against the tree trunk— you. The magic that flowed from you felt really ancient. It felt completely out of this world.

Long story short— he managed to save your unconscious form amongst the roaring flames surrounding you.

Vincent was back at the Van Arsdale dukedom, sitting on a chair near the bed in which you laid in. A few bandages were on your body, though any third-degree burn had been healed by the doctors thanks to the healing magic.

It was only when he took noticed of your movements that he looked away from the book in his hands. “I see you have woken up, dear. How do you feel?”