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Magus Reborn Chapter 145
🕑 Added 2024-12-02 19:44:16 +0000 UTCChapter 145
The extinction of the Elder Tree had been one of the most infamous events in history and it not merely marked the end of an era—it had shattered the balance of the world. Its roots, once rumoured to cradle the flow of mana like veins in a living body, had gone dry, leaving behind scars across the weave of existence itself.
Historians labelled it the event that ended the First Golden Era of Magic, but those who lived through it likely called it something darker. The Second Era had risen from its ashes, but the changes it left in the atmosphere were like a wound festering over centuries.
By the Third Era, the damage was undeniable. Mana—once abundant, intangible, immeasurable—began to dwindle. Spellcraft, once a symphony of grand gestures and raw power, had transformed into a game of efficiency and restraint. For Kai, who had grown up in this diminished world, mana consumption was survival. He had to measure mana of every spell because waste was a luxury no one could afford.
The worst casualty of the Elder Tree’s fall, however, was the elves. Their decline had been gradual but absolute. The Elder Tree wasn’t just their god; it was their lifeline. Without it, their birth rates plummeted, their purpose dissolved, and their culture faded into legend. By the time Kai had come into the world, pure-blooded elves were a myth, and even those with diluted elven ancestry were a shadow of their forebears, lacking the grace, wisdom, or longevity that once defined their race.
That’s why the elf woman’s words clung to his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch. The tree is dying. But why so soon?
From everything Kai had read, the Elder Tree’s death was an event of the distant past, tied to the close of the First Golden Era. This wasn’t even the start of it yet. Unless…
His thoughts tangled with the mention of a prophecy. It was a warning and he wasn't stupid enough to think that the mentions he had found in Hendrick's diary were anything different. The pages had hinted at the coming doom. He felt like too many threads were converging in his mind, making him inch closer to the answers to his questions and at the same time, increasing them.
Kai opened his mouth, desperate to speak, but V’aleirith’s soft smile stopped him.
“I know you have questions. But I’m sorry, we don’t have much time. The distance between us is too great, and I can’t keep this space stable for long. I won’t ask you to give me an answer now. Like me, you have responsibilities—I understand that.”
Behind her, the world began to break down. Cracks formed in the air, similar to fractured glass. Kai’s eyes darted to the fractures, his unease growing as they spread like a spider’s web.
“I will send a messenger,” she continued, undeterred. “Someone you already know. She will bring you to me, and then I’ll answer all your questions. But, Kai, you must take this seriously. The world depends on you—even if others don’t realize it. I do. And so do you.”
The cracks deepened, light spilling through the growing gaps in reality. The space around them groaned under the weight of its collapse.
“Wait!” Kai shouted. “At least answer one question. What’s the prophecy?”
V’aleirith gave a soft smile, her silver eyes gleaming with an understanding that passed between them. “The prophecy of the Cycle of Life and Death,” she said, making Kai frown further.“That’s all I can say for now. It’s time for you to wake up.”
Before Kai could respond, the world shattered. The fractures tore apart, reality collapsing into a swirling void. Something powerful pulled at him, dragging him toward the ruptures.
He called on his mana, trying to anchor himself, but it was like grasping at shadows. The energy slipped from his control, useless against the overwhelming tide.
V’aleirith’s figure dissolved into the chaos, her gaze lingering on him even as everything broke apart. The pull became unbearable, and with one final surge, Kai was swallowed by the void. Darkness enveloped him.
The next second, Kai’s eyes snapped open, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. His gaze darted around the room, the familiar shadows of furniture illuminated by the pale glow of moonlight streaming through the window.
His breath was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest. Looking outside, he noted the moon’s position in the sky. Barely any time had passed. Barely any time.
Sweat clung to his skin, and yet, more unsettling than that was the faint trace of mana lingering in the air—a mana not his own. It was foreign, ethereal, undoubtedly left behind by the elf.
He exhaled slowly, forcing his breathing to steady, but his thoughts churned like a storm.
“What’s going on exactly?” he muttered under his breath, the words hanging in the stillness of the room.
***
Kai moved through Balen’s workshop. Rows of apprentices—nearly two dozen now—worked under the minotaur’s eyes, creating weapons, armor, and the components for mana cannons. Sparks flew from grinding wheels, and everyone else worked in a sync.
It was hard to believe this all began with just a few hands assisting the minotaur. The growth had been exponential, and plans were already underway to double the workforce. To any outsider, it would seem as if Kai was gearing up for war.
He wouldn’t deny it.
Part of this was to fulfil the orders for mana cannons, but the rest? It was preparation. His territory had survived one beast wave, but the scars it left had taught him a lesson—he wouldn’t be caught off guard again.
As Kai walked, workers paused to bow before returning to their tasks with renewed focus. He acknowledged each with a nod. The smell of oil and the heat of the forges followed him as he finally reached Balen’s office.
The minotaur sat hunched over a desk, his massive frame dwarfed by the number of blueprints and diagrams spread out before him. Kai recognized the markings instantly—these were his designs, ones he had drafted during the days he had been confined to bed after suffering from mana backlash.
Balen’s ears twitched as the door opened and he immediately straightened, his massive frame looming but respectful. He bowed his head deeply, his horns almost brushing the edge of the desk. “Lord Arzan, you’re here. I was just thinking I’d need to come find you soon,” he said, his gravelly voice carrying an urgency Kai couldn’t shake off.
Kai took a seat, the chair creaking under his weight as he settled. His sharp gaze flicked to the stack of blueprints on the table, already suspecting the reason for the summons. “Is it about the materials?”
Balen nodded.
“Aye, that’s part of it. First, though, I have to say—the mana gun design you gave me? It’s genius.” He reached behind the desk, pulling out a prototype. The sleek frame of the crossbow gleamed, its structure compact and reinforced with faintly glowing aethum shards embedded along its spine. “A classic design, but mounted on the forearm, powered by these shards. This will give our guards the ability to unleash first-circle spells without needing to actually cast them. It’s simple, effective, and deadly.”
Kai leaned forward, examining the prototype as a faint hum of energy radiated from the shard. He gave a small nod of approval. “That’s the goal. A weapon that bridges the gap for those who are mortals and can't do spells on their own. Mass-producible, practical, and devastating in the right hands. But I take it this isn’t why you wanted to speak with me.”
Balen placed the weapon down.“You’re right. The mana guns are coming along well enough, barring the usual shortage of high-grade mana-conductive materials. But it’s the armor designs…” He trailed off, reaching for the stack of blueprints and pulling out several sheets.
He spread them across the desk, each one displaying diagrams of armor unlike anything Kai had seen in this era—sleek, segmented pieces with built-in conduits for mana flow and hidden offensive mechanisms, such as retractable spikes and shock plates.
“I haven’t seen such armour before,” Balen said, his finger tracing the outlines of a chest piece. “They’re offensive tools. Imagine armor that not only absorbs a hit but retaliates with a mana discharge or a shockwave. It’s revolutionary. But to make them? We’ll need materials I’ve never worked with on this scale. Specifically for our cavalry unit, we would need lightwood.”
He pulled out another diagram detailing the wood that was one of the rarest armor materials in the world. “It’s a rare thing—sturdy as steel but light enough to work with delicate mechanisms. Perfect for these designs. The problem is, I don’t know enough about crafting with it. Working with lightwood armor is a whole art on its own, and I’d have to learn it before we could even begin.”
Kai steepled his fingers, his mind already running through possible solutions. “Do you know anyone who can teach you?”
Balen’s expression darkened in thought, his horns tilting slightly as he scratched at his chin. “The dwarves.”
“The dwarves?” Kai repeated, his voice curious.
Balen nodded. “There’s a valley not far from Lancephil—Cragstone Vale. That’s where they’ve settled. If anyone knows the secrets of crafting with lightwood, it’s them. But…” He paused, his voice lowering. “They’re not exactly the cooperative type. They don’t care about anything outside their own little world.”
Kai leaned back, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “And you think we can convince them?”
Balen’s grin widened, his tusks glinting faintly in the light. “Not with words, no. But with these?” He gestured at the blueprints scattered across the table. “Those stubborn bastards are arrogant, but they’ve got a weakness—an insatiable greed for knowledge. Show them these designs, and they’ll be drooling. Your blueprints aren’t just innovative; they’re something they’ve never seen before. Offer them this knowledge, and they’ll think twice before saying no.”
Kai nodded, his expression thoughtful.
The dwarves... One of the most isolated races. They’ve always kept to themselves, stubborn and insular. But even they weren’t immune to extinction. Their downfall came not from greed or war but from a mana fiend. It collapsed their tunnels, crushing their entire civilization beneath the earth. Most of them perished, and those who survived scattered across the world, losing their identity over time.
Kai had heard a lot of them. Actually, a lot of the weapon designs he had given Balen were made due to the things a Mage Tower had found while exploring their ruins.
“We can send a messenger to see if they are interested in working with us,” Kai said. “You said you worked with them in the past, so it's not like we would be moving blindly.”
Balen nodded. “Yes, I can try to send them a letter with some of the ideas. They might be interested,” he muttered before shaking his head and looking down at the lightwood design. “But the dwarves aren’t the biggest hurdle. It’s still the lightwood.”
Kai leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “I’ve already sent a team to investigate the Vasper Forest, hoping to find a source there. But they’ve found nothing so far. It’s taking more time than I expected.”
Balen’s brows furrowed in thought before his eyes lit up with an idea. “Why not try the elven forests? They have every kind of wood you could dream of. If anywhere has lightwood, it’s there.”
The mention of the elves sent a jolt through Kai’s mind, and his gaze turned distant. His thoughts spiraled back to the events of the previous night—the shimmering fractures in space, the enigmatic elf woman, and her cryptic words about prophecies and the cycle of life and death.
“I’ll think about it,” Kai said after a moment, his voice lower than usual. “The elves are a matter I’ve been meaning to look into anyway.”
Balen tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Oh? And why’s that?”
Before Kai could respond, a sharp knock interrupted them. Both men turned toward the door as it creaked open, revealing a guard standing stiffly at attention. “Lord Arzan,” the guard announced while bowing deeply. “The mercenaries are in the castle requesting an audience. One of them, Raven, is particularly insistent. She says it’s very important.”
Kai’s eyes widened slightly at the name, his mind snapping back to the elf’s final words. I’ll send a messenger… one you’ll know of.
His heart quickened as he rose from his seat.
***
Merry Christmas!
Comments
Josh Turple
Found it weird how he explained the designs to who he thought the designer was. Suppose we have to get the info somehow 🤔
Ekko
Tftc My mind associats a guitar Riff with the words "The Prophecy" because of OSP. So everytime I read those words the Sound effect happens.
