Kaito lay on the dusty ground, his body drained of all strength. He had no idea how long he had been there, lost between exhaustion and pain. His mind sent him warning signals, but he had neither the energy nor the will to acknowledge them. The magic that once coursed through him like a raging river was now nothing more than a dried-up stream. Every attempt to connect with the surrounding energy ended in failure. If he wanted to survive, he had to regain mana… but how?
He tried to absorb the ambient energy, an instinctive reaction for an archmage. In the past, this would have taken him barely a fraction of a second. He would have sensed the magical pulse of the ground, the slight fluctuations in the ether-charged air, and then channeled that flow into himself. Now, it was like trying to draw water from an empty well. Nothing responded. Frustration welled up inside him.
"Tch…"
He groaned and pushed himself up with difficulty, his body protesting violently. If he couldn’t absorb the surrounding mana, he had to find another method. The memories of Aldir, buried beneath his identity as Kaito, provided him with a few leads.
A recovery ritual… Yes, that could work.
Trembling, he traced runes on the ground, carving them into the dust with his fingertips. Each symbol resonated within him, an echo of the ancient knowledge he had once mastered. He murmured an incantation and waited.
The mana responded.
He felt a force condensing around him, a familiar warmth brushing against his skin. It’s working!
But something was wrong. The next moment, an unbearable pain shot through him like a dagger. The energy he had gathered rebounded against him, dispersing in a shockwave. His body was thrown backward, his breath cut off. The ritual had failed.
He rolled onto his side, gasping. This wasn’t just a simple miscalculation. This body, weakened and broken, could no longer handle the same magical loads as before. He was no longer Aldir. He had to adapt.
His thoughts led him to another solution. Aldir had always excelled in the art of illusions, spells so powerful they could conceal entire kingdoms. What if, instead of trying to recover mana directly, he created a self-sustaining space, an illusion that would attract others and siphon their excess mana without them realizing it?
He took a deep breath. It was a risky gamble, but it was his only option.
With extreme effort, he raised a trembling hand and attempted to form a rudimentary illusion. A simple floating lamp.
A faint glow appeared… then vanished instantly.
His stomach tightened. Again.
He clung to the idea, refining it in his mind. This time, he visualized a space, a simple room with four walls and a floor. An anchor point.
The illusion took shape… unstable, wavering, but real.
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The slightest lapse in concentration threatened to shatter it. The edges of the room flickered like a mirage, the walls undulated like waves disturbed by the wind. He couldn’t hold it for long.
If he wanted to stabilize the illusion, he had to link it to an external source. A stabilization rune. His body protested, but he forced his fingers to carve new symbols into the ground. A catalyst.
The moment the rune activated, he felt a slight improvement. The illusion stopped trembling so violently, stabilizing just enough to hold. Weak, blurry, but stable.
But another problem arose quickly.
As he tried to refine the details of the room—giving it a more coherent texture, stabilizing the lighting—a sudden dizziness overtook him. His breath hitched, his fingers trembled, and a new memory surged into his mind.
He was back in an immense tower, overlooking a battlefield consumed by flames. Dark-robed figures stood before him, their expressions cold and unforgiving. His own disciples.
They pronounced judgment. A sentence he could not escape.
The sealing runes activated, imprisoning him in an endless void. A searing pain tore through his soul as his own power was stripped away.
The vision vanished abruptly. Kaito collapsed to his knees, gasping. This wasn’t just a memory. It was a magical imprint, a lingering trace of the ritual that had sealed him away, interfering with his own mana.
He clenched his fists. That’s why the illusion is unstable. His energy wasn’t just weakened—it was damaged, fractured.
He needed a solution. A way to work around this issue. Taking a shaky breath, he decided to reinforce the structure another way.
He traced a second stabilization rune, this time adapting it to the fragmented power he still had. A more primitive construction, but one that would hold better than his first attempt.
The illusion flickered, but this time, it did not collapse.
A shiver ran down his spine.
The illusory space quivered, an invisible ripple coursing through its fragile walls. He reached out to a trembling surface and felt a presence from the outside. An unknown force, as if someone—or something—had just tried to penetrate his illusion.
Impossible.
He was still too weak for his illusion to attract anyone. And yet, he had felt an intrusion, fleeting but real. His heartbeat quickened. Was it just a coincidence?
A new thought crept into his mind, something far worse than the idea of being discovered. What if the remnants of Aldir’s influence were not completely gone?
Had his former disciples left behind more than just a sealing spell? What if something had survived the destruction of his old self—something that recognized his magic and was now trying to reach him?
The thought sent chills down his spine.
What if the illusion itself had become a beacon? A signal drawing the attention of those who still sought Aldir’s power?
He had no way of knowing yet, but he couldn't take the risk. If even the smallest trace of his past self remained, there were surely enemies that would notice. He needed to not only perfect his illusion but also shroud it in secrecy. It had to be seamless, so convincing that even those with the sharpest magical senses wouldn’t detect anything amiss.
Breathing heavily, he adjusted the runes, layering subtle wards to veil the energy fluctuations. He couldn't let the mana surge attract unwanted attention. It was exhausting work, demanding more precision than he could afford in his state, but he had no other choice. He had to make this work.
Forcing what little energy he had left, he reinforced the structure, sealing the breach with an emergency rune. The illusion stabilized once more, but Kaito knew this was only a temporary fix. If he wanted his illusion to hold, he had to reinforce it, perfect it. And most importantly, he had to ensure it remained undetectable.
His gaze darkened. He didn’t just need to create a world. He needed to make it impenetrable.
Exhausted, he let himself fall backward, his breath ragged. His body could take no more effort.
His illusion was imperfect, fragile.
But it was a start.
Darkness swallowed him again as he slipped into unconsciousness, drained of all strength.
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