The sloping hillside spread out before them like a mosaic of smooth, solid stone plates. Lafey led her party in a swift, fluid descent, their boots skimming over the inclined slabs until they reached the basin below—the so-called “Crater.”This natural hollow, known to all as the Valley of Sacred Traces, now served as the main encampment for the apprentices of the six great academies from District Twelve. With the final confrontation drawing near, the number of sorcerer apprentices gathered here had swollen to well over thirty thousand.“Hold!” Lafey’s voice cut through the rush of wind as she raised a gloved hand. The group halted in unison, turning their eyes skyward at her silent command.From her back unfurled a pair of translucent, leaf-like wings. They shimmered faintly as they beat the air, lifting her a few feet above the ground. “They’ve already sensed our presence,” she said calmly, scanning the open skies. “Let’s wait here. Someone should arrive shortly to verify our allegi

Grimm had quietly slipped away from the main battlefield, preparing to leave the chaos behind. Yet just as he was about to disappear from sight, a shockwave of arcane energy rippled across the sky above the warfront. From the tumult emerged a staggering array of sixteen elite guardians from District Twelve’s academies. Night Owls, Bloodsucker Bats, Ominous Crows, Carrion Vultures… each guardian bore its focus with deadly precision, streaking through warped pockets of space toward the five most crucial leaders among District Nineteen’s sorcerers. By calculation, each leader was about to endure a full-force assault equivalent to that of three first-tier physical sorcerers recklessly throwing themselves into combat. Spurred by the guardians’ onslaught, the previously retreating District Twelve sorcerers abandoned their defensive wards, surging forward to strike the faltering lines of District Nineteen. The battlefield’s momentum shifted in a he

High above the shattered plains of the Secret Realm, two figures faced each other in tense silence. Grimm’s pale mask bore a deep crack, exposing the cold line of his nose and the thin stretch of his lips. He studied the figure before him, a man as massive and imposing as a charging bull, lightning crackling faintly around his broad shoulders. His voice rumbled low and heavy as he acknowledged his opponent: “Thunder Axe… Gareth.” Gareth was a formidable presence, clad in blackened metal armor spiked with jagged protrusions, each channeling erratic elemental energy. Beneath his helm, only eyes glowing red betrayed his expression. Across his back rested a colossal axe, over five feet long, suffused with a blood-tinged aura that shimmered and shifted as though the weapon itself were alive. “Faceless Mask… Grimm? Never expected we’d meet again,” Gareth’s voice was subdued, yet laced with the barely restrained fury of a bull

Nearly half a year of relentless pursuit had left the Fallen Sanctum Basin scarred by battle, the aftermath of the twelfth district apprentices’ methodical “sorting” of the nineteenth district still evident in every ravine and crater. Six months later, the academy heads responsible for oversight appeared, formally declaring the war concluded in favor of the twelfth district. All sorcerer apprentices in the Fallen Sanctum Basin were ordered to return to their respective academies, preparing for the Sacred Tower Trials three years hence. For the next century, all twelfth district academies would enjoy a share of the basin’s mined resources. Lafey’s squad bore heavy hearts. The absence of Yoric left Yorkiana strikingly alone, her presence a stark reminder of what they had lost—but no measure of grief could alter the world’s course. The journey back to the academies was far from peaceful. Numerous apprentices clashed over ba

The sprawling plaza of Blackstone Spire’s Sorcerer Academy thrummed with anticipation as apprentices gathered beneath the watchful gaze of Headmaster Peranos. From the tower above, the venerable sorcerer orchestrated the proceedings personally. All apprentices who had collected at least one hundred emblematic badges now stepped onto the colossal scale that dominated the square. On one side of the scale, roughly ninety apprentices stood shoulder to shoulder. Among them was Soranm, ranked ninth among the academy’s top ten prodigies. The rising generation was represented by Amlock, Beyl, and Yunli, though Bibilyanna was conspicuously absent. Lafey, also injured, had yet to understand the reason for the delay in badge collection. The elder generation of top ten apprentices, save for the three who had fallen in previous conflicts, also assembled on the scale, eager to gain advantage in the Blackstone Spire Secret Realm. Among them were Aldas, the