Silver hair billowed as Claeffen stepped onto the path Mal had carved through the thick, purple grass of Harmonia Δ9. The scale-strap sandals did little to shield him from the fur-like blades, which tickled the sides of his feet. The cloak enveloped him, falling over his armor like a shadow, veiling his appearance to ensure no hint would clue Mal into the identity of his watcher.

His brows furrowed, eyes darting about as he mumbled, “Where did he drop it?” The words were almost a sigh.

The ground beneath him still flat from Mal’s passage, the path carved by his soon-to-be apprentice. Claeffen’s gaze followed the road toward the ruins, where Mal moved in the distance getting closer to the first spell he would discover and the start of the curriculum Claeffen had painstakingly orchestrated.

A soft chuckle slipped from his upturned lips as thoughts of what came next filled his mind. The unfolding plan was intricate, every detail meant to nudge Mal toward his potential, guiding him through the challenges ahead. Timing, after all, was everything. Claeffen’s mind raced ahead to future trials, to the puzzles Mal would face, and to the spells yet to be unlocked. All of it had to be flawless. One misstep, one oversight, and the path he had so carefully laid out could spiral into chaos. But for now, everything was on course.

He paused at the crest of the hill, his sharp gaze tracking Mal’s movements as he darted into the tall grass. The scene brought a flood of memories, and Claeffen couldn’t help the nostalgic grin that crept across his face. All those TV shows Mal had binge-watched were working to perfection, shaping his reactions, leading him exactly where Claeffen wanted. "International traffic cops," Claeffen muttered to himself with amusement. He could almost picture them now: overworked officers policing otherworldly highways, constantly tangled up in the chaos of interdimensional travel. A small laugh nearly escaped him at the thought. Can you even imagine how busy they’d be? Who would they even report to? Claeffen mused, shaking his head with a smirk.

The grin lingered as his thoughts shifted back to the grander design. Everything had been meticulously planned down to the finest detail. Mal, like the others, was already walking a path laid out specifically for them. Their curriculum wasn’t a traditional one, with lectures or structured lessons, but every step, every choice they made, was part of their training. Some would eventually apprentice under other powerful mages, while others might attend universities to refine their craft, but in the end, their destinies would be shaped by the type of magic they aligned with.

The critical factor was always the magic they chose. Magic wasn't something you could just mix and match. Sure, a fire mage might be able to pass on some general knowledge to an earth mage, but the true mastery of their elements would always remain separate. The earth mage might pick up a few things about how to work with heat, perhaps but the secrets of crafting elementals or shaping fire into something alive would always remain out of reach. Instead, that earth mage would likely end up working with molten glass, transforming it into art or tools. There was a market for that, no doubt. In worlds like the one Mal had just returned from, rune-scribed glass was always in high demand. Their living art buildings made from enchanted glass pieces were stunning, with creators constantly competing to outdo one another in craftsmanship and innovation.

But that wasn’t the point of this program. I wasn’t interested in producing artisans who needed to rely on other mages to fill in the gaps in their skill sets. Glass might have a purpose, might even have value, but I wasn’t trying to create co-dependent craftsmen. I need to forge independent mages, ones who could master their own elements without needing to rely on others to make up for their shortcomings. Competent, powerful mages who could stand on their own, not pieces in a system designed to keep them tethered to someone else’s knowledge. Everything had to fall into place for that vision to become reality.

Mal had stood apart from the others, a rare talent who uncovered quickly that the spell only worked on a particular type of item. He was also a candidate from the past, while the others came from now and various futures. All of the worlds had either lost ancient knowledge or their magical skills had completely diminished. The common factor among the apprentices was that they all came from mana-dead or nearly mana-dead planets and had deciphered a spell I had hidden in my books. On a few planets, my books had been around for generations before anyone took the time to become so intimately familiar with the story that the patterns emerged. Those few had been contacted through different means, as there was no need for a book signing for ancient literature.

With Mal, I had watched many versions of him unfold, some who never opened the novels that shaped him. Those were the hardest to witness. In more than one of those timelines, Mal’s raw, unchanneled talent drove him to madness. A few of those versions had broken me more than I expected; I had shed tears over the Mal who lost himself to his own power.

I glanced down, spotting a familiar Pokéball keychain on the ground in the tall grass. With a grin, I crouched and picked it up. As I stood back up, the transition into my office was instant, and with a twist of my wrist, I set the keys on the desk. This particular library held a special place in my heart. It was the same one Mal had first stepped through. Nostalgia clung to the air, a constant reminder of what had been and what could be. The space, like everything in my life, was in constant flux, a traveling dimensional room. The only air flowed in from the hidden windows near the ceiling, offering me brief scents from my home world. This time, the gentle fragrance of gardenias filled the room. The windows were set to shift randomly, bringing in a new pleasant scent, sometimes flowers, sometimes the sea, creating a sensory journey through memory itself.

I allowed myself a brief pause to soak in the familiar surroundings of the room that had always sparked my creativity, the very space where The Chronicles of Claeffen had come to life. It held countless traces of past friendships and the adventures we embarked on. My eyes wandered over to the figurines, miniature reminders of the friends not here, yet never forgotten.

I couldn’t help but smile as I picked up the knight, a perfect magical replica of Lucius of the Errant in his glory days. We’d come a long way by the time these were made, and he had his own set, a keepsake he eventually passed on to his daughter.

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She’s still on her birth planet, isn’t she? One of the many places we stopped during those wild adventures. I can still remember the surprise when she was created. I really need to reach out to her, though. It’s been… how long? I’ve lost track of the years. How old is she now? Memories of her creation still lingered, and a wave of loneliness swept over me. I wondered how much she had changed, how much time had shaped her since we last met and if she finally forgave me. With a sigh, I carefully set the figure back in its place, my fingers lingering for a moment before I turned and made my way to the desk. Settling into the chair, I leaned back and let out a slow breath, my mind sharpening as I prepared to focus. I should probably check in now, no use delaying.

With a thought I reached out for Mal’s agent. "Dev, I would appreciate an update. Please fill me in on Mal's current status."

The response came almost immediately, Dev’s voice calm and steady.

“Lord Claeffen, sir, everything is proceeding smoothly. Mal has just accepted entry to the Solstitial Stronghold.”

"Good, good," I muttered, leaning back in my chair, eyes narrowing in thought. "It won’t be much longer now." My excitement to move forward had my mind buzzed with the next steps. Why does he have to rely on tech so much? I want things to be faster, simpler, without this bracer nonsense. If only he didn’t rely on tech so much, he could start tapping into his magic more naturally. The system can do so much more than what’s attached to that bracer. Once Mal gets his second spell, we can move him into a proper loot area and finally ditch that outdated tech.

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I thought, I seriously don’t know how much longer I can tolerate this outdated tech.

I leaned forward, tapping my fingers lightly on the desk. "Alright, Dev, next time he reaches out, drop a few hints. Let him think there’s some treasure waiting for him. I’ll head into the Solstitial Stronghold and leave a book with a nanopatch for him to find. Now," I paused, considering the final piece of the puzzle, "what’s the status of the living mana?"

"Sir, the living mana is still trying to communicate with Mal. I do believe he's starting to pick up on the importance of the pulsing."

I nodded, the gears of the plan already turning. "Good. Let me know if anything changes with him."

"Yes, Sir."

"And do you have an update on the others?"

“Sir, all the other applicants are on schedule too. There was a moment when one of them nearly stepped into lava, but they managed to save themselves by using their first wind spell.”

“Lava, huh?" I mused for a moment before speaking again. "Dev, make sure to update me the next time one of them comes that close.” With that, I ended the connection and rose from the desk.

Pivoting smoothly, I took a single step, and in that instant, the space around me shifted. The familiar energy of teleportation rippled through the air, and before I could even register the transition, I was standing in the throne room. The grand chamber unfolded around me, its vastness both humbling and empowering. The herald's voice echoed immediately, filling the space with reverence.

"Lord Claeffen, Mage of the Distant Seasons. Lord of the Monolith."

The title reverberated through the hall as I stood at the center, my arrival swift and seamless, carrying the weight of my station.

The throne room stretched before me, vast and awe-inspiring, with towering columns lining the walls. Each was carved from obsidian and veined with shimmering silver runes, faintly pulsing with ancient magic. Between the columns stood statues of legendary figures, heroes and mages from forgotten eras. Their lifelike poses seemed to breathe with purpose, as if at any moment they might step down from their pedestals. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting epic battles and celestial events, woven with threads of gold and deep burgundy, catching the flicker of the arcane torches that burned with steady violet flames. Above, a vaulted ceiling soared, etched with constellations that shifted and twinkled like the night sky itself.

Everything about the throne room spoke of power, history, and authority, a place where decisions shaped worlds and time itself seemed to bow to the will of its ruler.

The room bowed before me, voices rising in a chorus of loyalty. With a casual flick of my hand, I set them back into motion. They moved like pieces in a well-rehearsed dance, groups falling into quiet conversations.

I sat down on my throne, a magnificent monolith of black stone shot through with veins of glowing crystal. Its jagged yet regal design mirrored the elemental forces it commanded, with arcane patterns dancing and twirling around its base. Pulling my legs up onto the seat, I settled into a deliberately casual pose. It was a look that always unsettled the nobility, clashing with the throne’s imposing presence. There was something very satisfying about how my relaxed demeanor rattled them. The casualness I displayed was a stark contrast to the significance of my achievements. I used it to my advantage as often as I could. It kept them at bay but usually not for long.

I noticed the brave young noble edging closer, their steps hesitant but determined. Their dress suit was made from living cloth. It shifted with a mind of its own. The fabric pulsed gently, moving as though it were breathing. Tiny tendrils emerged from the seams, curling and uncurling with each step they took, as it sensed the air around them. The suit didn’t just fit the body; it responded to it. It would tightened slightly when they stood tall, or loosening as their posture softened. Bioluminescent veins shimmered within the cloth, the glow intensifying with each shift in the owner's emotions. At the collar, delicate vines unfurled, tasting and sensing the surroundings to remain protective. As the courtier reached the foot of the throne, they bowed deeply, the frills on their neck trembling ever so slightly, betraying their nerves. They remained there, waiting for permission, gaze fixed on the ground.

“Please, speak what you have come to say,” I commanded, my voice laced with a subtle spell to compel honesty. As the words left my lips, I leaned forward slightly, my eyes locking onto theirs. The air around us seemed to tighten, the spell winding itself invisibly through the space. I could see the magic take hold, their posture shifting as if an unseen weight pressed against them, urging them to respond. The faintest movement ran through them as the spell took hold, releasing all fear and causing them to become unnaturally brazzen.

Their breath caught in their throat before they spoke, their voice rising with the unnatural, confrontational tone.

“My Lord, we have waited twenty years. Where is the army of mages you promised?” They glanced up, their eyes filled with determination. “Without them, we have no hope of survival! There’s no way we can endure the coming trials on our own.”

Held in place by my magic, their eyes widened, flicking nervously from side to side as if searching for an explanation. Their lips parted slightly, as though struggling to understand how the carefully rehearsed words had twisted in their mouth.

I leaned back, my gaze sweeping across the room as I released the spell and kicked my legs up onto the arm of the chair. As the courtier crumpled to the ground, I spoke with a bright confidence, “Oh, they’re right in the middle of specialized training, honing their skills for the challenges ahead. We’re shaping them perfectly into what we need, and believe me, they’re coming along splendidly!"