Chapter 63: Just Like the Evergreen Pine
The power of magic is the power of the world itself.
The omnipresent existential force between heaven and earth, which humans manipulate with their souls and transform into whatever they wish to achieve—this theoretically omnipotent technique is the original form of magic.
The first spellcasters were the ancient sages, born with powerful souls and keen intellects. Amidst the wilderness, they perceived what other beings could not: the so-called world of "spirits." Believing this to be a gift from the heavens, they used their talents to gather these "spirits" and convert them into "psionic energy" they could wield. With this, they could conjure clear water from nothing or ignite roaring flames, helping their tribes survive the primordial ages.
Psionic sorcerers—that is what they are called now. This profession, which relies purely on mental and spiritual talent, is no longer the mainstream of the magical world, but that does not diminish their noble status. In the Western Mountain Kingdom, there are three great families of psionic sorcerers, their bloodlines traceable back thousands of years, unbroken. Though the offspring of psionic sorcerers are often few, their long heritage grants them immense power and influence.
Now, the mainstream of the magical world employs special methods to resonate and synchronize the soul, thereby controlling the free-floating energy in the world to accomplish whatever one desires.
Use perception to discover, use wisdom to understand, use spirit to control. Being a mage is no easy profession. In terms of sheer effort, they are no less burdened than warriors and knights who train day and night. To better comprehend the nature of elements and arcane power, they must constantly calculate and analyze, so that when the need arises, they can instantly assemble the spell they want.
Of course, the above is merely the foundation for becoming a mage. Before that, what ordinary people must do is awaken their talent to "perceive" these energies.
Ivan Makarov, son of the hunter Andrei, grandson of the scholar Edward, was doing precisely that.
In the testing hall of Winterfell Academy, Nissier Snow Mountain, nearly a hundred young children or adolescents sat at their respective tables, frowning at the various magical instruments before them.
Testing magical talent is not like in the stories, where you just touch a crystal ball and it's done. Ivan knew this, but now he couldn't help but mutter in complaint: "Why is it so complicated?!"
Before him lay a square black box, half the size of a table. In the center of this box, a flickering red ring of light was slowly moving.
This magical instrument was called the "Perception Maze for Magic Beginners." Because it contained a dense concentration of elemental magic, those with some magical talent, when staring at the box with focused spirit, would ignite a small magical light orb inside. As the name suggested, the box contained a small three-dimensional maze, and the test-taker's goal was to move the magical light orb representing them to the center of the maze.
This test simultaneously assessed elemental affinity, spirit, intelligence, and attention span. Hence, it was called the Perception Maze for Magic Beginners. Generally, those who passed this test could smoothly become Silver High-rank mages, or at least advance to Silver rank, never getting stuck at the apprentice level.
Ivan's elemental affinity was indeed good. The red light orb representing him was very bright, at least several times brighter than those of the other children his age around him. But clearly, his attention span was lacking. The size of this light ring fluctuated wildly, and the more anxious he became, the more pronounced the fluctuation.
Thanks to his grandfather's months of teaching, Ivan knew his current mindset was indeed flawed. So he decisively extinguished his light orb, closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths.
His sister's talent was much better than his. She had been taken away by a mentor a few minutes ago to choose her specialized courses. As the older brother, he couldn't afford to fall too far behind.
Once he was completely calm, he fixed his gaze on the black maze again, reignited his own light orb, and began swiftly navigating the intricate passages of this three-dimensional maze, heading toward its central area.
This time, it went smoothly.
Joshua stood on a raised platform before the testing hall, gazing at the children who were either deep in thought or restless with anxiety. His expression was calm. Ying and Lin followed behind him, watching the scene alongside their master.
The newly repaired platform had a distinct smell of paint. Taking a deep breath, Joshua turned and walked toward the corridor leading out of the academy. "You were right," he said.
He spoke very directly and urgently, leaving no time for a response: "The Dragon Plague has already begun."
Dragon Plague?
Ying blinked, feeling the term was somewhat familiar. Lin, however, recalled some words Joshua had spoken to them while immersed in thought. His expression shifted slightly, and he immediately understood.
At that moment, Nostradamus pulled a magical map from his robe. Without further ado, Joshua strode forward to stand beside the old mage.
This was a magical map, much like the one hanging in the warrior's room. The enchantments on the map allowed it to connect to the Imperial Royal Mage Association's database, displaying various information in real time.
Under Nostradamus's arcane power, this map of the Far South, covered in azure and emerald hues, began to undergo remarkable changes. First, a stretch of blue sea near a certain island turned red. Soon, dense red dots spread across the edges of all the coastlines.
"Right now, the coastal borders of the Far South Kingdom are under a full-scale assault," the old mage said succinctly. "This news has spread across the entire continent."
"Is this the current situation?" Joshua naturally understood what the red dots represented. He frowned and asked, "Is there any more detailed visual information?"
"Of course there is."
As he spoke, with the convergence of arcane power, Nostradamus effortlessly used the link from the magical map to project a detailed image into the air.
In the light screen, a certain coast of the Far South was displayed. In the originally deep blue and tranquil sky, black clouds suddenly appeared. Accompanied by surging tides, turbid arcane power began to gather, covering the sky like massive tentacles. Layers of cyan lightning flashed around it, and as the clouds rolled, countless dense black dots surged forth, rushing toward the shore.
Amid the rumbling thunder, these black figures were illuminated by the cyan electric light.
They were dragons.
Countless frenzied dragons, their bodies wrapped in black-purple aura, flapped their powerful wings, emerging from the depths of the black gloom and advancing toward the human kingdom. They roared loudly, emitting dragon cries that seemed intent on destroying everything.
In response, shortly after the dark clouds appeared, beams of light rose from the ground, piercing through the black clouds like blades and dispersing them. Under this immense power, countless frenzied dragons caught in the blast screamed and fell into the earth and sea, turning into scattered masses of flesh.
This was the power of the magical arrays prepared in the coastal cities. The human kingdoms of the Far South were not entirely ignorant of the Five-Colored Dragon Clan's schemes. They had already evacuated most of the populace and planned to use these coastal cities as fortresses to delay the spread of the dragon horde, preparing for the counterattack to come.
Seeing this scene, a wave of nostalgia stirred in Joshua's heart.
Once upon a time, he too was part of those coastal cities, facing the onslaught of the dragon tide. At this point in his past life, he had been in the Far South, leading his team in battle against endless dragon beasts.
"Joshua, you were absolutely right... These dragons have been plotting for a long time. They've prepared for at least hundreds of years."
The Archmage sighed. "Another disaster. Fortunately, the Empire has already made preparations to respond."
But Joshua shook his head.
This was not a disaster... Compared to what was to come, this was nothing at all.
"This is just a prelude," he murmured to himself, then walked toward the corridor leading to the testing hall. "The prelude to a new era—the Era of Strife."
— Volume Four, Abyss of the Sinful Dragon · End
(To be continued.)