Disclaimer: No I don't own Mahou Sensei Negima or any other anime/manga, Ken Akamatsu owns Negima, the bastard.
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Mahou Sensei Negima: Past Demons
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Prologue: The Demon Escapes
"Teacher, are you sure we should be going through these spells. Some look a little too advanced."
"Negi, false modesty does not suit you. I am sure you will have no trouble with them. You're not only one of my brightest students, you are a Springfield."
"Huh? What does Negi's family have to do with it?"
"Odd. I would have thought you of all people would familiarize yourself with the history of the main magical families."
"…"
"Ah, forgive me. I spoke out of turn."
"I feel like I am missing something here."
"It's nothing you should concern yourself with, Negi. As I was saying, your bloodline is an old and powerful one. You should endeavor to learn your family history. Many outstanding individuals have been born from your family, people with incredible natural talent capable of learning arts that would take others months and years in merely weeks."
"Amazing! I had no idea my family had a history like that."
"That's kind of unfair if you ask me; even most geniuses don't learn that fast."
"Quite. The Springfield line has always been exceptional. You could even say that there is something decidedly abnormal about them."
The island floated a few miles away from the coast of Britain. It was relatively small, barely five square miles. Nevertheless, a floating object of that size would have made the front page of every newspaper in the world, had they been able to see it that is. Strong spells ensured human eyes would never see the island, planes would never cross its path, and satellites would never register it.
That island floating in the skies was known as That Place.
It had a real name at one point. It had a name for the three glorious hours it took for its inauguration ceremony to turn to chaos.
The scandal involved a cheating spouse, excessive amounts of alcohol, and more memory modification spells than what was deemed safe.
The next morning no one was quite what had happened to put them in various states of undress or what exactly had been the cause of the destruction of a good part of what had been promised would be "the greatest magical prison of our world."
As it was, no one remembered the eighth biggest magical duel in the history, nor did they remember the name of their new prison. That Place. That was the only thing they could call it for a time, and, much to the chagrin of architect behind the project, the name stuck.
The project had been an ambitious one at the time of its conception. The amount of magic users on Earth was miniscule compared to the Magic World back then. The number of magic using criminals was therefore much smaller, and barely a handful of them even merited something of That Place's magnitude to hold them. Sending them to the Magic World would have been much easier.
Still, the project prevailed.
Autonomy.
That was the word that led the negotiations. The Magic World was the Magic World and Earth was Earth. Earth would take care of its troubles. Like that, the project marched on. Decades of work for the spell theory. Years to create the island and twice that much to build the actual prison. Weeks of nonstop spell chanting. Truly an arduous task.
The bizarre castle at the center of the floating island was the result.
No, perhaps it didn't deserve to be called a castle anymore. The prison had been designed to have no set form. Through the years it would change. It would repair any damage done to it and improve upon the original design. Aesthetics, however, never factored into the spell work. Like a bush that grew without anyone to trim it, the castle was a disorderly trap that would give architects all over the world headaches.
Without any symmetry or beauty, the misshapen building was, nevertheless, the greatest magical prison of Earth.
It wasn't perfect of course. There existed few who had managed to escape from it, people who defied common sense.
The Thousand Master was the latest name added to the list. His dramatic escape (and imprisonment) was something the government had made sure to keep secret from the general public. Still, it was common for the old prison guards to regale the younger ones with tales of the incredibly clash of power between the Thousand Master and his father.
The guards of That Place were always good for a story, provided they could actually speak about it.
The enhancements of the prison extended to the guards as well. Maximum Security were more than mere words, it was a mission statement. Every single Guard had taken a magically binding oath. Not a single secret of That Place would come out of their mouth either by will or accident. Unless, of course, they were talking to someone authorized by their conditions of the spell like their fellow guards or the prisoners in some cases.
So, of course, the guards talked to each other. A lot. Maybe it was the knowledge they held secrets they couldn't reveal no matter what. Maybe it was just boredom. In any case, the guards talked to each other constantly. They were even friendly with the prisoners from time to time, confident in the spells keeping them trapped.
Julius was one such guard who had formed a friendship with one of the prisoners.
Despite his young age, the guard was a highly capable mage, even when taking into account the skill demanded of his position. A true rising talent. It was this skill in magic that had gotten him promoted gotten him promoted to Deputy Warden over Sector H in record time.
"Knight to F6. Checkmate."
"Not again!" The young guard groaned, fighting the urge to pull out his hair.
Unfortunately those incredible skills did not extend to chess games.
A soft chuckle came from the cell in front of Julius.
"You really are no good at this. One would think you would have given up by now."
Shadows obscured the prisoner's body, but Julius could picture his mocking smile with perfect clarity.
"We still have time for one more game," The guard said, as he put the chess pieces in order.
"That eager to add another loss to your record?"
Julius could almost hear the man's lips curving.
"It is hard to concentrate when I am the one moving all the pieces," Julius weakly defended himself.
"As much as I would like to move my own pieces…"
A small rock flew from the shadows only to bounce off a blue energy field that appeared the moment it got close to the bars.
"I'm afraid my condition prevents it."
While normal looking, all the cells in That Place possessed magical barriers that prevented escape.
The barriers were powered using the prisoner's own magic, which meant the only way for the barrier for stop working was for the prisoner to fully exhaust his magic, a condition which would make any escape an improbable task at best.
"You aren't going to get any sympathy points from me."
The prisoner laughed. "Such a sore loser."
"Whatever. You're going to play or what?" Julius asked once he finished setting up the pieces. His white pawn already advancing.
"Determined as always. You would make a great tragic hero. D5," The prisoner announced his first move.
"Drop the tragic part and we'll agree. Besides, I'd like to think the guy behind bars is a lot more tragic than I," Julius countered, chess piece already moving across the board.
"Tsk. Tsk. Ad hominem doesn't become you, Julius. Knight to C6. My current state does not change your chess skills or lack of thereof. I dare say even the dimmest of my students would prevail against you."
"That again? Hard to believe you were a teacher," Julius replied as he made his move.
"It was a lifetime ago. Still I can't help but think fondly on my time at Merdiana Magic Academy. Teaching those two was one of the best things I have done. Bishop to G5 by the way," the prisoner said, dropping the name the most prestigious magical academy in the world without a care.
Julius would be lying if he said he wasn't curious. He had even tried looking into the man's files before. Unfortunately, this particular prisoner's records were not something he could access with his level of clearance, something he found particularly annoying. Did being Deputy Warden mean nothing?
Curiosity burned inside of him, but experience had taught him that any show of overt interest will end with the man closing off just to infuriate him.
"Ah, your mysterious honor students," Julius said as he made his move. There. Just the right amount of disinterest to get him talking. He knew this particular subject was one the man liked to dwell on. The two students he had devoted his time to when he was a teacher.
"Honor students?" The prisoner laughed. "One of them perhaps. Studious. Diligent. Hard-working. Yes, you could call him an honor student. The other was notable in different ways. Sleeping in class. Barely passing his exams. A natural, lazy dreamer. Perfect opposites those kids right down to their families."
Julius bit his tongue to stop himself from asking about that last line. The man was in a rare talkative mood, and he wasn't about to ruin it.
"An uptight genius and a foolish dreamer, so different yet inseparable. Can you imagine why, Julius?"
Julius stayed silent, almost certain the man would answer his own question.
"Power," the prisoner replied and Julius could feel his smile. "Power calls to power. Regardless of their circumstances they were born in power. It was only natural for them to find each other. Just like it was only natural for me to become their teacher."
The man paused for a moment. Julius was about to ask what happened when the man spoke once more. "Oh, such a shame to part ways."
"I wouldn't know," Julius said. "I'd say the kids are probably better off without someone who managed to land himself here of all places."
"Oh, that was hardly what I meant," The prisoner said. "It is just such a shame I won't get able to enjoy yet another victory over you."
"Eh?" Julius blinked. "What are you talking about my break isn't over yet."
"While, it is true your break isn't over, my stay here is."
A sudden sense of wrongness hit Julius. Honed instincts told him this was more than just a prisoner's taunt.
His eyes widened. Behind me
With lightning quickness, Julius turned around, a blazing white fireball ready in his hand.
Julius was a prodigy of the combat arts, one in a thousand.
To his opponent that meant nothing. Before Julius could fully comprehend what had happened, his heart was pierced by the intruder's blade.
"If it is any comfort, you can consider my inability to win this last game of ours before your life ended as my loss. Do enjoy your first victory," the prisoner said, as Julius's body fell lifeless to the floor.
He then turned to the intruder. "You are quite late."
"My apologies." His rescuer, a silver haired teenager, bowed in front of the cell.
"No matter. Even for one such as you, I image infiltrating this prison must not have easy," the prisoner said. Soft steps were heard as he stepped out of the shadows.
"Now, do dispel this barrier for me. It has been a long time since I saw my students."
"Where is he?"
"Already awake I see. What a rare sight for you to be the first one to wake up."
"Where is he? Answer me! What… what did you do?"
"I would not worry about him. His chances of surviving this particular experiment were considerably higher than your own. He should be waking up in a few minutes as well."
"Experiment? Survival? You…you! How can you say that? We trusted you!"
Somewhere in Europe, a boy woke up with a scream. His body trembled. His eyes fervently looked around the room, making sure that it had been just a dream.
No, not just dream. A memory.
The thought was enough to sober him up. The boy took a few deep breathes before leaving his hotel bed and walking out to the balcony.
A city of lights greeted him. Artificial lights against the night's sky made for a pretty sight, but he was in no mood to enjoy it. He leaned against the balcony, content with merely feeling the night's breeze against his body for a few minutes. It was a welcome change from the cold sweat he had woken up in.
Moments passed as he stayed there, thinking.
"You know, it is rude to sneak up on people," the boy suddenly spoke up, red eyes still firmly locked on the sight in front of him.
"Hoho, do forgive me," the intruder said, "but it does an old man joy to test his students. Wonderful perimeter alarm by the way."
The boy's eyes widened when he heard that old, wizened voice. His head whipped around. There he was standing in the middle of his room, The Magus. The Headmaster of the greatest magical academy. One of the greatest mages in the world.
"Y-you could have easily b-bypassed it if you really wanted to," the boy stuttered, not quite believing the scene.
The old man shot him a guilty look, like a child caught in little lie.
"Do forgive me. I find the little things like that tend to reinforce a student's confidence. I am often told by my colleagues I am too much of a 'soft touch'."
His expression then turned serious with such quickness it made the boy wonder if he had imagined the childlike guilt.
"I am afraid," the Headmaster began, "that I am in need of your help."
"What?" The boy asked, blinking. His brain had still not quite processed things yet and the headmaster was not making it easier saying stuff like that.
"I am in need of your help." The Headmaster repeated himself calmly, sounding very much like a patient teacher explaining things to a particularly dim student.
"Y-you want… my help?" the boy asked pointing to himself.
The old mage nodded. "I believe that is what I said."
The boy stared at the old mage blinking stupidly even as his mind buzzed with excitement. This… this was huge! The Magus didn't just show up at your doorstep and ask for a favor. Stuff like that didn't just happen, but here is was. If he did this one favor for the old man, who knew what could happen?
Working for The Magus was literally the most sought after job among young mages. Free the politics of the Magical Association, prejudices due to bloodlines, or many of the problems other young mages faced when they were starting up.
That was not all. Just the slightest comments of the old man dropped in casual conversations about magical theory could let one make incredible breakthroughs in research. It was a perfect opportunity in many ways.
But…
The boy frowned.
"Sorry," the boy said. "Actually, I have a previous engagement."
It hurt to say it. Not only because of the lost opportunity, but because the old man had been nice to him during his school years.
"I leave for Romania tomorrow," he sheepishly explained. "I got permission to look into some ruins."
It had taken a lot of favors to just find out just what he was looking for, never mind getting permission from the government. All of it done through the regular normal channels. This was not something he wanted the Magical Association finding out.
"I understand," the old mage said, taking the guilt of the boy's shoulders with his kind smile.
"But this is not a situation where I can take no for an answer."
The boy blinked, taken back by the statement. "I-I am sorry, but I can't really do anything right now, and I am pretty sure there are plenty of other people that will be willing to-"
"It is about young Negi Springfield," The Magus interrupted, his voice strong yet not crossing into rudeness.
The mention of that name instantly stopped what the boy was about to say. His eyes locked onto the Magus, confusion and curiosity evident.
"I am afraid many things have happened in the past few hours. Things you should know," The old man began. "There are indeed many people who would be willing to make me a favor. You are right about that, but right now the only one I can trust is you. I ask that you listen closely to what I have to say."
The ensuing talk took a total of ten minutes. No shouts or raised voices came from the room during that time.
A few seconds after the talk ended, a sonic boom ran through the city. Above the clouds, the boy rode atop a curious metal creature with the features of a dragon and a bird mixed. Its crimson color was noticeable even in the dark of the night.
This was Grani. This was his fastest chimera, capable of easily breaking the speed of sound.
The boy would be in Japan before the morning.
Crimson eyes looked straight ahead, a single goal shining in them.
He would not fail his friend again.
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Prologue END
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AN: And that's one prologue down. The next chapter is done already, but I'm really unsatisfied with it. I'm probably going to scrap it entirely then write it again. Also, some of you might notice the comment on the Springfield being an old family.
In canon, that's not true. Nagi is not from some old, prestigious family. Here, not so much. There are going to be some pretty big changes from canon as this thing advances.
Sidenote: Two of the OC characters here are characters from other anime with their background altered to fit the Negima world, care to take a guess or two?
Also, the site's formatting really sucks.