2024-04-28 17:10:49Caster carefully shut his magic book once he finished studying the Pythan Formula, then left the empty library. Up above, a huge crack sliced through the sky from the Nega-Storm. The sun, red as blood, cast its final light, making the city sweltering and desolate.
In the heart of the city, the shelter tower still stood, its feeble light a reminder of the ancient protector who had guarded Black Sim City for centuries. Yet, it also signaled the city's imminent demise.
Glassview, once vibrant with magic, is now withered due to the mana drought. In days gone by, humans wielded potent magic and even fancied themselves as gods. But now, with mana depleted, their power faded, leaving behind only dusty tomes in abandoned libraries.
For Caster, those books held little significance compared to the Pythan Formula, which still held potential with a bit of mana infusion. He had dwelled in Glassview for two decades, always feeling like he'd missed out compared to its former glory.
Strolling through the silent streets, Caster sensed Glassview's end drawing near, sending shivers down his spine. The once bustling city now languished, with dwindling populace and resources.
Suddenly, a chill swept over Caster, unlike anything he'd felt in the desert. Glancing up, he saw the sky growing darker, heralding Black Sim's demise.
As darkness descended, chaos erupted. Buildings crumbled, lives were lost, and the city resounded with mournful cries.
"It's finally happening," Caster murmured, standing outside his abode, observing the tragic spectacle unfold, feeling stunned.
Then, upon awakening, Caster found himself in a lush world brimming with mana—a stark contrast to the desolation of his previous reality. Yet, his elation was short-lived as he realized he inhabited a stranger's body, thrust into a new existence with memories of Sifa Spellbound, a once-promising apprentice in a bygone era.
Sifa Spellbound's fortunes took a sharp downturn when he was on the cusp of becoming a 9th Rank Magic Apprentice
"He's unlucky," Caster said, feeling sorry for Sifa. It was a harsh twist of fate for a young person with such a promising future to be caught in such bad luck.
But soon, Caster put those thoughts aside and focused on his body's condition. That was what mattered most to him.
Having survived the decline of Glassview for 20 years, Caster wanted mana. Without enough mana, he wouldn't have lasted even an hour in that tough environment, with deadly sand beasts, scorching temperatures, and the bad radiation of the Nega-Storm.
What kept Caster alive during those years wasn't a strong family or a bright future, but his skill with mana control. He didn't care about the weakness of his body or the debts he owed.
Being a 9th Rank Magic Apprentice wasn't enough. If Sifa had been an Archmage, owing eighty thousand gold wouldn't have scared him. And even if he wanted to pay, they would have needed the courage to accept it.
After looking at Sifa Spellbound's potential, Caster found him promising.
Despite being just a 9th Rank Magic Apprentice, Sifa had a solid foundation and worked hard, with his mana almost forming a mana whirlpool. The only thing holding him back was his lack of control over mana.
During those twenty years, Caster had worked hard to use mana efficiently. His control over mana had become very good, much better than Sifa Spellbound's.
After thinking about the body's magical potential for about ten minutes, Caster felt confident. He started gathering mana, guiding it carefully.
At first, the mana flowed gently, like a calm stream, but with Caster's guidance, it became stronger, like a raging river. This was an important moment for a Magic Apprentice.
If they lost control, they'd have to start over, maybe losing hope of forming a mana whirlpool.
Many Magic Apprentices failed to become Archmages because they couldn't control mana. Sifa Spellbound had been stuck as a 9th Rank Magic Apprentice for three years because he was afraid of failing.
But Caster wasn't afraid. With his good control, he guided the mana easily, forming a mana whirlpool quickly.
This step meant he could wear the black gown of a mage, but Caster didn't stop there. Ignoring how close he was to finishing the mana whirlpool, he pushed the mana more, and it collapsed under the pressure, like a bursting bubble.
Caster wasn't worried at all. He kept gathering mana and formed a mana whirlpool, only to collapse it with a surge of mana, repeating the process.
This loop, which would surprise any modern mage, continued for ten cycles before the weak mana whirlpool finally stabilized.
Once the mana whirlpool stopped collapsing, Caster felt satisfied. He gathered some mana at the center of the whirlpool.
The mana whirlpool started rotating slowly, never stopping. Caster raised his hand, and magic runes appeared on it, followed by strong magical energy filling the room. A faint buzzing sound could be heard in the air.
Even the most critical mage would have to admit that this was a nearly perfect mana whirlpool, with impressive endurance and explosive power comparable to a top mage. What was unbelievable was that it only took a few minutes to form.
No one in this era could have done this. It was a technique developed many years later when mages' mana control reached a new level. They discovered that this rough method could create a mana whirlpool quickly and make it powerful. After hundreds of years of refinement, Caster learned this technique, which would have been unimaginable in his time.
As Caster was about to strengthen his mana whirlpool further, he heard a voice outside.
"This is all very clear! My cousin took eight thousand gold coins from me before he went to sea. But his business failed, so shouldn't I get my eight thousand gold back? I'm not unreasonable. I know you don't have money now. How about this? I'll buy the house for ten thousand gold. You can pay back your debt and still have two thousand left."
The voice sounded hoarse and annoying, like a loud duck. Caster, who was focusing on his mana whirlpool, felt annoyed.
"There's no need to be so excited about paying a debt," Caster muttered, grinding his teeth. He was thinking about going to confront that annoying person.
But before Caster could move, the door burst open with a loud bang. A fat man, weighing more than 150 kilograms, stumbled in, followed by an old man around 60. They were arguing.
"Let go of me! You're just a butler. This isn't your business!" the fat man shouted.
"Luigi, you know what that eight thousand gold was! It was a gift from the Master. Did you even contribute anything?" the old man retorted, pulling at Luigi's sleeve. His face turned red from anger.
"Is this a threat?" Luigi yelled back.
"Or you will?" Caster interrupted their argument.
"Or I will..." Luigi trailed off, realizing that his nephew was repeating his words.
Luigi had always doubted his nephew's potential to become a mage, especially after wasting so much gold on him.
After his father's death, the nephew even begged for an extension on the debt deadline. If he had any chance of becoming a mage, would he have done that?
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Chapter 313
Cold air clung to the stone arches of the underground hall as the second auction of the night began. The room was darker now, the lamps dimmed as if to hide the sins about to be traded. Caster moved among the crowd like smoke, unseen when he chose, silent when he needed. He kept the Skell Dust fragment tucked safely under his cloak. Its pulse was faint but steady, like a small heartbeat following his every step.The auctioneer, a thin man with too-bright eyes, raised his voice above the murmurs. “Tonight’s special collection,” he announced, “is dedicated to relics recovered from what the Council has officially named the Rift Incident.”Everyone leaned forward. Caster felt a jolt run through his chest. Rift Incident. So they had already given Skell a polished name to bury the truth.The auctioneer snapped his fingers, and assistants pulled black cloths from the tables one by one, revealing objects that made Caster’s breath catch.A fractured temporal gauge, still humming in broken c
Chapter 312
Rain slid down the stone steps of Glassview’s lower academic district, turning the narrow streets into glistening rivers of reflected lantern light. Caster moved quietly among the shadows, hood pulled low, illusion sigil humming faintly against his collarbone. His steps were soft, almost soundless, as he blended into the crowd of scholars, students, and night wanderers. None of them noticed him, but he noticed all of them.He listened. He had spent three nights doing only that, listening to what the world believed about him.Tonight, the whispers were especially loud. “The Spellbound heir is gone,” a young researcher murmured to her companion as they passed. “The Council confirmed it. Skell ate him.”Caster fought the urge to look at them. He kept his face pointed toward the wet ground.Her friend replied in a low voice, “I heard he came back twisted. Something less than human. Something that crawled out of the rift.”Caster’s hand trembled beneath his cloak.Eidric’s faint echo sti
CHAPTER 311
The storm spat him out like a dying thing exhaling its final breath. Caster stumbled as his boots hit broken pavement. Air cracked around him in thin lightning arcs. Behind him, the swirling rift twisted with red and pale gold light, screaming as it sealed itself shut. The last beam of fractured color stretched across the sky, then vanished completely. Silence followed. A heavy, eerie silence.Caster lifted his head, breathing hard. His cloak clung to him, wet from the storm he had just crossed. Tiny threads of Skell essence flickered across his arms like faint veins of crystal. Each pulse glowed softly before fading back into his skin.He was back. Not in the Bleeding Aether, not in the Void Corridors, but somewhere real. Somewhere familiar. Earth. Rebillion City.His chest tightened. A wave of warm air drifted across the cracked street, carrying the smell of dust and city smoke. The immediate area was nearly empty. Lights flickered inside abandoned shops. A broken cart lay overt
Chapter 310
The storm eased at last. The swirling red clouds pulled apart like curtains drawn back by invisible hands. Light filtered through the gaps in soft sheets of gold and violet, no longer sharp enough to cut the air. The ground beneath Caster’s feet steadied. The strange currents of gravity calmed until every breath felt normal again. For a long moment, no one moved.Caster stood at the edge of a cracked ridge, his cloak fluttering in the faint wind. The sky still bled in thin trails, but the violent thunder had quieted. The plane seemed exhausted, as though it had spent centuries fighting itself and now begged for a moment of peace.Sethra leaned against a shattered crystal pillar, trying to catch her breath. Brann sat on the ground nearby, staring at his trembling hands. The silence pressed down on them, stretching long and thin.Caster finally spoke. “We survived,” he murmured.His voice sounded too soft for a battlefield, but it matched the strange stillness around them. It carried
Chapter 309
The moment Caster stepped through the unstable rift, the world spun sideways. He fell forward onto ground that did not feel like ground. It shifted like soft clay and rippled beneath his palms. The air smelled like metal and burning ink. Above him, the sky tore itself apart in long spirals of red, gold, and black, each color crashing into the other like storms locked in a fight.Sethra stumbled next to him, dropping to one knee as her satchel spilled glowing parchment. Brann crashed onto his back with a groan. Miren stood upright the instant she arrived, her staff pressed against the ground as if she were standing on calm earth rather than a living tempest.Caster pushed himself up and scanned the plane. The Bleeding Aether. It was worse than he expected.The sky was not single but a cracked dome of swirling storms. Razor-thin shards of light hung suspended like frozen lightning. The ground curved unevenly, rising in slopes that moved under his feet. Every breath he took echoed in
Chapter 308
The sky at the boundary of The Bleeding Aether did not look like a sky. It looked like a torn wound across reality itself. Red light dripped downward in thin streams, falling like blood from a broken horizon. Every drop shimmered before turning into mist that floated upward again, as if gravity itself had forgotten which way was down.Caster stood with his cloak whipping behind him, the sharp winds pushing against his back as if trying to force him to turn around. The ground beneath his boots was not steady earth but a trembling sheet of pale stone, cracked in spirals as though the whole plane were breathing under the surface. With every inhale of the earth, the air shook. With every exhale, a new patch of land shifted sideways.Miren, Sethra, and Brann stood behind him. Their faces were pale with tension, and their eyes kept flicking to the bleeding horizon that pulsed like a living wound.Sethra’s voice came first, soft but strained. “So this is The Bleeding Aether.”Brann mutte
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