As a magus, he was neither born of a famous family nor lucky enough to meet a good master. Mostly self-taught, he finally got himself accepted to the Clock Tower, the teaching arm of the Magus Association that controlled magi across the world. Isaiah always believed this fact to be incomparably honorable, being very proud of his talent. I am the most capable student of the Clock Tower since its founding. Anyone would have to respect me. At least Isaiah himself thought this way. In truth, the magus lineage of the Phillips had only existed for three generations.
As time goes on, the number of Magic Circuits and concentration of Crests constantly increase and expand. Many students that receive scholarships to the Clock Tower are offspring of families with more than six generations of pure magi blood. The wonders of magecraft could not be completed within one generation; therefore, the results of a whole life of research by parents are passed on to their children... only through this could their magecraft become more refined. The stronger prana of the old magi families is stronger precisely for this reason. Compared to the offspring of well-established magi family, Isaiah's Crest concentration and Magic Circuit quantity paled by comparison.
Furthermore, because a magi's Magic Circuit count is determined at birth, there are some ancestral magi families that deliberately contrive to increase the amount of Magic Circuits in an offspring, thus distancing themselves from new magi families in this regard. In other words, advantages within the world of magecraft are predetermined even before birth. This is a commonly accepted point of view. But Isaiah did not see it that way.
Differences in ancestry could be made up for by increasing experience. Even without exceptional Magic Circuits, the difference between quality caused by birth could be bridged through deep understanding and skilled utilization of magecraft. Isaiah had always believed that deeply. He believed himself to be an excellent example of that, and had always strived to show off his abilities.
But, the reality was cruel. The workings of the Clock Tower are determined by those who boast of their ancestral bloodline, and those who endlessly fawn over them.
And there the genius lay, a broken man, cornered by the pressure of the Grail War. But this man was ready, he was ready to give his life to win. Arising from the bed, Isiah pours the pure blood of a lamb across his loft floor. Placing his right foot first, he makes a pentagram with the blood.
Once he is finished, he activates his command seal and steps in the centre of the pentagram. With a devilish glow, the circle grows red and the cry of the Berserker is echoed across his house.
"I, Isaiah Phillips, forsake my life to the command seal of the Berserker and the Holy Grail War" and with those words, he vanished in a blitz of flames leaving behind the single tear drop of despair.
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