All Chapters of Rise of The Greatest Mage of all Times : Chapter 41
- Chapter 50
78 chapters
Chapter forty -one: THE TOWER’S MEMORY
The Tower of the Forgotten was not a structure. It was a presence — vast, dreaming, and cruelly awake.Kael and his companions entered the first chamber through a breach in the stone, though the instant they crossed the threshold, the world changed again. The storm outside fell silent. The air grew still, almost reverent. Light trickled through invisible cracks above, not sunlight but a pale radiance that pulsed in rhythm with a heartbeat — the Tower’s heartbeat.Each beat carried whispers, too quiet to discern yet too familiar to ignore.Lira rubbed her temples. “I feel like something’s crawling behind my eyes.”Kael’s gaze swept over the chamber walls — covered in glyphs that moved like living veins. “It’s the Tower linking with us. It remembers every mage who’s ever entered.”“And now it’s remembering us?”“Worse,” Kael murmured. “It’s showing us.”A tremor passed through the floor. The glyphs brightened — and one by one, the survivors gasped as they froze, eyes rolling back.Seris
Chapter forty-two: DREAMS OF THE DEAD
The stairway spiraled downward like the spine of a dead god, each step carved from translucent crystal that glowed faintly beneath Kael’s boots. The deeper they went, the quieter the world became — until even breath felt like an intrusion. Lira’s torch flickered, its flame bending sideways as though the air itself resisted their presence. “It’s colder down here,” she muttered, her breath fogging. Kael’s eyes shimmered faintly blue, the Aetherheart pulsing against his chest. “Not cold,” he said quietly. “Hollow.” The Tower’s second circle was known in the oldest fragments of the Grimoire as Somnus Requiem — the Chamber of Dreaming Echoes. A place where the souls of mages once bound to the Tower lingered, unable to move on. Now, their whispers filled the air like a faint song. The group of survivors — what remained of the Guild’s scattered warriors — followed cautiously. The crimson-clad huntress Seris, the scholar Ren, and the twin sentinels Thalen and Mireya, all moved in a half-
Chapter forty-three: The Song Beneath the Bones
The Tower’s second circle was quieter than the first — too quiet. No storms, no echoes of shifting sky. Only a stillness so profound it pressed against the lungs like a weight. The air shimmered faintly, tasting of old iron and frost. Kael and the survivors walked through what seemed to be a great ossuary. The bones of mages and warriors—some human, some far from it—were woven into the walls like veins. Crystals pulsed faintly between ribs and skulls, glowing with threads of azure light. But what unsettled them most was the sound. At first, it was just vibration — like the hum of wind trapped in glass. Then slowly, as their footsteps echoed deeper, it formed rhythm. Then tone. Then… melody. A song, soft and mournful, pulsed beneath the bones. Lira froze mid-step. “Kael… do you hear that?” He nodded once. “It’s not just sound. It’s a pattern — like a resonance field.” He pressed his palm to the wall. A dozen harmonic tones rippled outward, and images flickered through the bones
Chapter forty-four: Ashes and Choirs
The song did not end in the Tower’s depths. It spread. Across the torn horizon, through shattered ley lines and scarred skies, the melody unfurled — not through air or sound, but through Aether itself. Invisible, incorporeal, yet felt in every pulse of magic that still dared to live. In the southern citadels, scholars awoke screaming as their crystals sang back in forgotten tongues. In the western sands, buried relics of the old Mage Wars stirred beneath dunes — gears shifting, runes reigniting after millennia. Even the oceans trembled, and ships on the Horizon Route reported hearing choirs beneath the waves, as if the sea itself remembered the hymn of the dead. The Tower’s song had become a contagion of memory. Kael stood at the edge of a crumbling plateau, staring at what used to be a forest. Now, it looked like glass — trees frozen mid-motion, roots turned into translucent cords of light, their branches humming faintly with the same tune he heard beneath the bones. Lira j
Chapter forty-five: The Choir of Glass”
The air itself began to shatter. A crystalline hum rippled through the wasteland — delicate at first, then deafening — as the world around Kael fractured into glass. Mountains folded like mirrors, the sky bent inward, and every shard reflected a different Kael: some burning, some broken, some crowned in light. The Choir of Glass had awakened. Kael stood at its center, his eyes no longer his own. Silver threads of Aether pulsed beneath his skin, each vein glowing with the resonance of the Tower’s song. His voice came in layers — one human, one divine, and one so vast that the air quivered around it. “Do you hear them?” he murmured. “Every soul the Tower ever bound… every fragment calling home.” Lira took a step forward, her hands trembling. “Kael, stop. You’re not—” “Not what?” he asked, tilting his head, the light flickering behind his irises. “Not human? Not alive?” His voice deepened, reverberating through the broken plain. “Humanity was the Tower’s first illusion.” The sur
Chapter forty-six; Runeblood Rebirth
The night stretched silent across the ruins of the Choir, glass dust swirling like ghostly ash. Kael’s body lay motionless, faintly pulsing with red-blue light beneath his skin. His heartbeat had slowed to an unnatural rhythm—three beats of life, one of silence, over and over. Lira sat beside him, exhausted but alert, watching over him as if her will alone could stop him from slipping away again. The Codex flickered dimly near his hand, its inscriptions fractured from the Tower’s resonance storm. “He’s burning and freezing at the same time,” she whispered, voice raw. “How can anyone survive that?” The Codex’s voice crackled, glitching like broken magic. He is not merely surviving. He is… rewriting the laws of containment. Lira frowned. “What does that even mean?” When flame and frost merge without collapse, they create Aether Equilibrium—a state no human body can maintain. But he is not human anymore. The Aetherheart within him has begun… integration. As if answering the words,
Chapter forty-seven: Runeblood Ascension
The horizon no longer held meaning. What had once been mountains was now a lattice of broken geometry — fragments of the world folded in on themselves, hovering like glass shards suspended in the breath of some slumbering god. The Tower rose at the center of it all, a vertical scar burning through the clouds, wrapped in threads of crimson light that pulsed in rhythm with a distant heartbeat. Kael stood at the edge of that impossible expanse, his cloak shredded, his veins still faintly glowing from the battle that had carried them here. Behind him, the survivors gathered in silence — eyes hollow, steps uncertain. They were mages, soldiers, wanderers, all bound by one thing: the Tower’s song still echoing inside their skulls. It wasn’t music anymore. It was memory. It was hunger. Lira’s voice trembled through the static air. “This… is it, isn’t it? The Tower of Echoes.” Kael didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on the structure that seemed to shimmer between existence and dream. Ever
Chapter forty-eight: Echoes of the Unbound
The Tower no longer sang — it listened. The silence that followed Kael’s ascension was not absence; it was anticipation. The entire structure seemed to lean toward him, its spires humming faintly in time with his new heartbeat. The air rippled with invisible threads of energy — fragments of the Tower’s ancient will that had once bound the world together. Kael stood in the hollow of its shadow, the Runeblood Core pulsing faintly beneath his skin. Its light shimmered between silver and deep crimson, flickering like the breath of a sleeping god. Each pulse resonated through the ruins, and with it came whispers — fragments of knowledge, voices from ages before the Mage Wars. Lira approached cautiously, her eyes wide. “It’s… answering you.” He nodded slowly. “It remembers.” The air thickened. All around them, the echoes of mages who had once defended the Tower began to stir again — no longer spectral, but aware. Their translucent forms drifted closer, kneeling in slow, reverent unison
Chapter forty-nine: The Call of the Fractured Realms
The world had changed overnight. No one could explain the light that had torn through the heavens — a single beam that reached from the ruins of the Tower to the farthest corners of the world. For one brief, blinding heartbeat, every creature that bore even a trace of Aether had felt it. A pulse older than language, older than gods. And then the fractures began. Across the continent of Elarion, oceans heaved without wind. Storms spun backward. Forests whispered in dead tongues. The skies flickered between dawn and dusk in the same breath. Mountains that had slept for millennia cracked open, revealing veins of glowing ore that sang in harmonic resonance with Kael’s heartbeat. Far to the north, in the frozen citadel of Varyn, the Frost Seer Maelir woke screaming — frost creeping up his arm as he clutched his crystal staff. “The Tower’s heart beats again,” he whispered to the empty air. “And the old gods stir to listen.” Kael stood at the ridge overlooking the Vale of Echoes, the w
Chapter fifty: The Gathering Storms
The path to Valenor was no longer one of sky and wind. The floating bridges that once led to the city now twisted through storms of fractured time — corridors of lightning that replayed moments of the past with every step. Kael and Lira pressed forward, cloaked in Aetherlight, their reflections splitting and rejoining as the world struggled to remember what year it was. Below them, the lands of the Lower Continent were still shifting from the Tower’s awakening. Rivers had begun to flow backward; forests whispered in languages no one had spoken in millennia. The world was being rewritten — and Valenor, the city of mages, was at its trembling center. “Hold steady,” Kael warned, his tone sharp as he drew his blade through the distortion ahead. The runes along the steel flared, stabilizing the crack long enough for Lira to step through. When they emerged, the floating city was unrecognizable. The once-pristine citadels of white stone and gold sigils hung in the air like broken pla