**Chapter 11: The Butler’s Invitation**

As they crossed the threshold into the dark chamber, the air felt heavier, saturated with ancient power and an unsettling sense of anticipation. The door creaked shut behind them, leaving them bathed in dim light cast by glowing runes lining the walls. It felt as though the entire room was alive, watching them.

Suddenly, a deep, resonant voice echoed through the vast chamber, startling them all.

"Welcome, travelers, to the Inheritance Ground of the Great Magic Elder, Altherius."

The group froze, scanning the room for the source of the voice, but no figure was visible. Then, from the shadows, a figure began to materialize. It was translucent, the image of a tall, stately man dressed in ornate robes from an ancient time, his posture impeccable. His eyes gleamed with a faint light, and his presence radiated both authority and calm.

"I am Arkhale, once the head butler and loyal servant of Elder Altherius," the figure said, his tone formal yet welcoming. "Though my master has long since passed, I remain as a remnant of his will, tasked with overseeing the trials and rewards of this sacred place."

Griffin’s hand instinctively tightened on his weapon, wary of the unexpected presence, but Soren stepped forward cautiously.

"Are you... a spirit?" Soren asked, voice steady but curious.

"A remnant," Arkhale corrected. "A mere echo of who I once was. My purpose here is to guide those worthy enough to inherit even a fraction of my master’s strength."

The group exchanged tense glances, excitement flickering in their eyes. The possibility of claiming a legacy from an ancient Magic Elder had suddenly become very real.

"This is the Inheritance Ground," Arkhale continued. "The Elder was a body magic user of unimaginable power, and those who pass his trials shall be granted rewards befitting their performance. However," his voice deepened, carrying a warning, "be warned—the trials are not for the faint of heart. They test not only your magical strength but your willpower, resilience, and cunning. Failure... comes at a price."

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The group tensed at his words, though no one backed away. The allure of what lay ahead was too strong.

Lyra, eyes gleaming with determination, spoke up. "What kind of rewards are we talking about?"

Arkhale's ghostly form seemed to brighten slightly, as if pleased by the question.

"There are many treasures within these halls. Some of you may earn a strengthening elixir, which can enhance your body magic by amplifying your own mana or prana," he began, gesturing toward the unseen paths ahead. "Others may earn enchanted weapons or relics forged in the ancient wars, each holding power long forgotten by the outside world."

Elias listened intently, feeling a strange stirring in his chest. This was it—the opportunity he'd been waiting for. Something here might awaken his dormant potential.

"But the most coveted prize," Arkhale's voice grew quieter, almost reverent, "is the **Potion of the Elder's Strength**. This rare elixir can grant you a fraction—about ten percent—of Elder Altherius’s power for a brief time, no more than thirty minutes. While it cannot make you an Elder, even that small amount of strength could tip the balance in any battle. Those who are fortunate enough to consume it may also find their overall strength permanently enhanced, though nowhere near the level of my master."

A hush fell over the group as the weight of his words settled in. To inherit even a sliver of a Magic Elder's strength, even temporarily, was the stuff of legends.

"But know this," Arkhale added, his tone somber, "the trials ahead are deadly. Not all will succeed, and some may leave empty-handed... if they leave at all."

Griffin narrowed his eyes. "What do we need to do to pass these trials?"

Arkhale’s form flickered, but his voice remained steady. "The first trial awaits beyond this door." He gestured toward another massive set of runic doors at the far end of the chamber. "Each of you must face your own challenge, one tailored to your strengths and weaknesses. Only those who are worthy will claim the Elder's legacy."

Rhea remained silent, her cold eyes fixed on the door, already calculating what lay ahead. Lyra, Finn, and Soren exchanged glances, their excitement palpable despite the foreboding warnings.

Griffin, however, still looked unsettled. His instincts warned him that this place, with its promises of power, came with far more danger than Arkhale was letting on. Yet Elias’s face, lit up with hope, broke through his hesitation. This might be Elias’s chance, his one opportunity to awaken.

"What if someone doesn’t have magic?" Elias suddenly asked, his voice quiet but strong.

Arkhale turned his gaze toward Elias, his expression unreadable. "In the trials, it is not only magic that is tested. Strength, skill, and above all, heart are just as important. You may surprise yourself, young one."

A flicker of hope surged within Elias, his heart beating faster. This was his moment.

"Well then," Soren said, breaking the silence, "let’s not waste any more time. We came here to see what we're made of."

Arkhale’s figure began to fade, his last words lingering in the air. "I wish you all the best of luck. Prove yourselves worthy, and you may yet walk out of here with more power than you ever imagined."

With a final flicker, the butler vanished, leaving the group standing in front of the massive door leading to the first trial.

Elias clenched his fists, feeling the anticipation build. Whatever awaited him on the other side, he knew one thing—he would give everything he had to prove himself worthy of the Elder’s legacy.

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