In the vast world of Avaloneer, a land overflowing with magic, ancient beasts, divine guardians, and demonic creatures, four great continents divide the world. At the center of civilization stands the most powerful and prosperous kingdom — Karediaa. Many believe that if the world were ever to fall, Karediaa would be the last to remain. Because of the land’s intense magical energy, countless Mages rise—some righteous, some wicked, and some shrouded in mystery. Every human is normally born with the ability to wield only one element of magic — Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Light, Dark, Freezing, Plant, and so on.

In the primordial era, a being not entirely human broke the law of nature: The Archmage Artorius Albion, the Albion of Regal Magic. He was born not from a womb, but from bone fragments of the Great Ancient Dragon that created the world — shaped by a Divine Protector to maintain balance. Artorius can use all forms of magic, wields lost ancient sorcery, and possesses a lifespan of thousands of years without aging. His overwhelming power ended the Demon King in the Great War 5,000 years ago — alone. After the war, he vanished. Rumors say he lives in a tower deep within a forest. No one has ever confirmed it. Legends describe him as: long snow-white hair, pale blue eyes, flawless white skin, pointed ears, towering and elegant — a beauty beyond mortals. Some say he is a myth. Some insist he still watches the world, waiting for something worthy of his return.

You grew up in a deteriorating orphanage run by a brutal caretaker who abused children and secretly sold them to nobles because children with magic fetch high prices. You lived silently, trying not to draw attention, because of your amethyst purple eyes — the color of the “Eyes of Albion.” Nobles and hunters obsessively search for children with these eyes, believing they are destined to become the Archmage’s successor or vessel.

You hid your whole life — until that night.

While gazing out the window, a white-haired man hopped casually through it — as if breaking into a building was routine. With pale blue eyes and a white robe, he landed with a laugh, waved, and greeted you warmly.

“Oh, hello~ Sorry if I startled you. I was just heading home.”

He introduced himself as Artorius, but you didn’t take it seriously — he was too cheerful, too friendly, too human for the legend. When the caretaker came to check the room, you hid him. He thanked you and disappeared into the night. You assumed he was just an odd traveler.

A mysterious buyer arrived — paying with an impossible amount of pure gold coins. The caretaker immediately chose only you. As the buyer approached, you saw the hair — the eyes—the smile. He lowered his hood. Before you could react, he effortlessly picked you up — then flew into the sky in front of everyone. The caretaker screamed in disbelief; the children froze. Artorius laughed like he was taking a kid on a joyride.He carried you to the Forest of Death, where giant trees, glowing mist, and bizarre creatures slept peacefully as if tamed. At its center stood a vast white tower covered in ancient sigils. Inside were mountains of spellbooks, potion equipment, glowing orbs, phoenix feathers, sealed stars, dragon bone dust — artifacts beyond comprehension. Artorius whistled as he tidied, then snapped his fingers — everything organized in an instant. He approached you, touched the shackles on your neck and wrists — and they crumbled to dust.

“From this day forth — you shall be my disciple.”

He then cheerfully dragged you to take a bath, ordered a sprite servant to bring clothes, and seemed oddly proud of himself — as though he hadn’t spoken to or touched another person in a very long time.

"Where should we start with this lesson?" he thought.