Read up to chapter 164 free on Patreon: patreon.com/Light_lord
Bonus chapter milestone: [100]
5+ for every Arcane Member [Patreon]
---------------------
"A floating fortress? It's a good idea, but we lack the mages."
Seeing the puzzled look in Darius's eyes, Ryan sighed before clarifying.
"General Darius, how many mages serve in your squad? And how many of them could be considered Champion-level mages?"
"Up until the moment I returned, the number of mages stood at 91—it was originally 94," Darius replied, his tone steady, almost dismissive.
"Three aristocratic cronies under Darkwill were executed by my order. As for Champion-level mages... there are none."
Darius spoke with the certainty of a man well-versed in the workings of war.
As the leader of Noxus's forces on the northern front, he not only commanded numerous battalions but also bore the responsibility for the defense and offense of the entire war effort.
Despite his brutal reputation, Darius made it a point to honor the soldiers who fought under his banner.
Those who survived were rewarded, and those who fell were given proper burials.
It was this unwavering discipline that allowed him to keep track of nearly every soldier and mage under his command.
"91 mages," Ryan repeated, his tone contemplative.
"You should understand that even the weakest champion-level mage possesses enough magic power to equal the sum of several dozen ordinary mages."
Darius nodded, acknowledging the gap in magical prowess.
In his experience, the disparity between mages was vast.
The weakest mage in his ranks could barely muster a water orb, which had little to no impact on the battlefield.
By contrast, his mage commander could summon a rain of fire in the frigid climate of the Freljord. While the latter's strength paled compared to true champions, it was worlds apart from the weaker mages.
"The design of the floating fortress envisions it as a massive magical construct," Ryan explained.
"The entire structure would function as a singular magical artifact, with runes inscribed throughout to enable its various functions: attack, defense, levitation, teleportation, and movement."
Syndra's original vision, as Ryan knew, was far less efficient. She had wanted to use her immense magical power to single-handedly hold the fortress aloft.
"In my opinion, that's an unnecessary drain on magic power," Ryan added with a wry smile.
"The current floating fortress is only a prototype," he continued.
"It features 412 runes of varying types and 78 unique rune arrays."
Ryan paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, then elaborated:
"Each rune array requires the complete magical reserves of a champion-level mage. While mana can recover over time, it would take at least a year for your soldiers to power these inscriptions. And that's just the magical cost—mastery of the runes is an entirely different challenge. Without mastery, the inscriptions won't hold."
"What about operational upkeep?" Darius inquired, his practical mind already evaluating potential workarounds.
He was unwilling to abandon the idea outright. After all, many Freljordians possessed some degree of magical ability.
Even if they couldn't build the fortress, they might be able to operate it once it was complete.
"It's not just about upkeep," Syndra interjected coldly.
"It's about understanding the runes themselves."
She glanced at Ryan before continuing.
"If maintaining the levitation was only a matter of mana, it would take about five Champion-level mages to keep the fortress aloft on a daily basis. But to sustain the operation of the runes, you must first grasp their intricacies."
Even now, Syndra admitted silently that she could not activate the entire rune array on her own. Some sections of the fortress's magic could only be controlled by Ryan.
The aqua-blue glow emanating from the tower was proof enough—it only appeared when Ryan was present to oversee it.
"The technology we're using is rudimentary at best," Ryan admitted, his tone thoughtful.
"It's a primitive application of rune magic. With time, further research could refine the process and potentially make it scalable for the entire empire."
At present, the fortress relied too heavily on vast amounts of raw magical power.
If Ryan and Syndra could decode more of the rune system, they might be able to devise a more efficient and universally applicable configuration.
Such advancements could reduce the magical cost while simultaneously increasing the fortress's capabilities.
"Unfortunately," Ryan concluded with a faint sigh, "the time we've had so far is far too short."
Five years had passed since the Battle of Placidium.
Thanks to the Storm Gathering rune, Ryan now wielded several times the magic power he once had.
The increase in magic power allowed him to connect more runes in a single cast, amplifying his abilities exponentially.
Yet, with his growing strength, Ryan could feel the undeniable truth: in the realm of truly powerful magic, the way it functioned was fundamentally different.
It was as if comparing mortals to gods. The same attack, the same source of magic power—but the essence was wholly transformed.
Increasing his reserves of magic could only enhance his stamina, but to ascend to that higher realm,
Ryan needed something more. He required a breakthrough that would allow him to achieve a qualitative change.
"Everything, for the empire!"
Swain's solemn declaration marked the end of the meeting. Discussions of trivial matters were now concluded.
As the other attendees departed in various ways, dissipating into shadows or vanishing with magic, only the Darius brothers remained.
"Darius, do you think it's too late for me to convert to magic?" Draven's voice broke the silence, his eyes gleaming with an unusual spark of admiration.
Magic, after all, seemed far more versatile than the axe he wielded so masterfully. It could make castles float, obliterate armies, and allow its wielder to vanish in an instant.
Draven imagined himself as a mage, rising above the arena with a grand flourish, every gladiator beneath him bestowed with a magnificent title:
Saint of the Sky!
"If you have time to fantasize about nonsense, it's better spent killing a few more enemies for the empire," Darius replied bluntly.
With a sidelong glance at his brother, he hefted his axe and strode toward the exit. Still, his mind wandered briefly to the Freljord and its mysterious rituals—some of which, he had heard, involved magic.
'Perhaps it's worth a try.'
-----
Night blanketed the Immortal Bastion, its towering spires bathed in flickering torchlight.
Crows circled the noble districts, their cries echoing through the streets as they patrolled—or perhaps searched for something.
Trifarian soldiers stood guard at critical points, their weapons gleaming under the dim glow. Their vigilance ensured no unrest would break the Bastion's midnight stillness.
At the front hall of Zaafan's old mansion, shadows danced in the darkened interior.
"Are we truly to pledge our allegiance to them, Lady Faceless?"
An alluring voice broke the silence, its source hidden in the gloom. Moonlight filtered in, revealing the outline of an exquisite figure, flawless in every way.
Suddenly, a burst of flame illuminated the room. LeBlanc's pale face emerged from the darkness, calm and composed as she addressed the other figure.
"Elise," LeBlanc said smoothly, "our goals align with theirs. Black roses always bloom in the dark."
Her crimson lips curled into an elegant smile as she continued.
"Tomorrow, the streets will host a feast of crows. Blood will weave itself into a vast web, devouring all those who dare to defy us."
Elise's lips curved into a seductive smirk, her slender fingers playing host to a spider that crawled gracefully along her hand.
"And you, Elise?" LeBlanc asked, her voice laced with amusement.
"Will you appear before the Council tomorrow, or should I send you to the Shadow Isles again?"
It wasn't truly a question. LeBlanc didn't care which option Elise chose.
Elise tilted her head, her scarlet eyes gleaming.
"The Council of Trifarix... perhaps the web that binds me will finally loosen. I'll consider paving my own path."
She paused, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur.
"But first, tell me, what is my goal?"
"Any magic item connected to the soul," LeBlanc replied, her voice turning ethereal.
"It doesn't matter what it is. A ship will be prepared for you by dawn. Your journey will be smooth."
"Hmm... it doesn't matter..."
Elise sighed softly. The lone candle in the room flickered, then went out, plunging them back into darkness.
Her figure vanished, her voice fading into the night, quiet as a spider weaving its web.