A few days had passed, and Salem’s condition had stabilized. Though the shock of being transported to another world still lingered in his eyes, he was slowly adjusting to his new life. Kenneth and Salem had been formally adopted by the Fireon family, securing their protection under the emperor’s influence.

That morning, Kenneth, Salem, and Joash headed to the town square, accompanied by two middle-aged guards who wielded the elements of ice and lightning. These guards had once inherited fire magic, but after its disappearance, they made the difficult decision to inherit new elements to continue serving and protecting the family. Though they could never reclaim their lost fire magic, their loyalty to the Fireons had never wavered.

As they walked, Kenneth observed the solemn dedication in their eyes. It was no surprise that the Fireon family retained such loyal members, even after their fall from power. Many had stayed, driven by an unwavering devotion to the name that once commanded great respect.

Kenneth learned more about the current state of the Fireon family during their walk. Since the family’s fall, they had kept a low profile, avoiding public attention. Their duties and responsibilities had largely been taken over by the other main families, further pushing the Fireons into obscurity. Joash, though the youngest member of the family, was largely unknown to the public. This anonymity allowed him to move freely, though he traveled under a false surname for safety.

“After the fall, it’s like we vanished from the world,” Joash said quietly as they made their way through the square. “But we’re still here, even if the world doesn’t see us anymore.”

Joash led Kenneth and Salem to a familiar stall, one that immediately caught Kenneth’s attention.

“This looks familiar, right?” Joash asked, pointing to the vendor grilling skewers over an open flame.

Kenneth stared at the stall in surprise. “It’s just like the ones in the mortal world. I’ve seen these at summer festivals.” He watched the vendor expertly cooking the skewers.

As they bought and sat down to eat, Kenneth couldn’t help but ask, “I thought fire didn’t exist in this world anymore. How are they able to do this?”

Joash chuckled. “I wondered the same when I was younger. After the Fireon family’s fall, there was chaos. The world relied on fire magic for so many daily tasks. But after its disappearance, the emperor and the Headmaster of Mageia Academy introduced technology from the mortal world. It’s been incredibly useful, to the point where some people fear that, even if fire magic is restored, our influence might never be the same.”

Salem, chewing his skewer happily, had a nostalgic smile on his face. Kenneth noticed how at ease he seemed, the familiar taste of the food easing some of the tension he had been carrying.

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Kenneth, still curious, asked, “Can they use this fire to feed a pnevma?” He had been thinking a lot about the concept of pnevma after rereading the novel. A pnevma—the energy core of every Wizard—needed to convert its raw energy into magic by feeding them an element.

Joash shook his head. “I had the same thought, but after some research, I learned that fire from the mortal world and fire from Anterthon are fundamentally different. In Anterthon, fire is created by magic itself, not by natural forces. You can’t use mundane fire to fuel pnevma. It’s like trying to draw water from an empty well”

Kenneth leaned in, intrigued. “So, fire here is… created by magic? What kind of magic does that?”

“Aether magic,” Joash explained, his voice dropping slightly. “Thousands of years ago, the first emperor of Anterthon used Aether magic to create the five primary elements: Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, and Light. These elements were bestowed upon the five great families—Fireon, Maridian, Gairos, Mistral, and Luminel. Only those with the bloodline of these families can inherit the ultimate form of these elements. They, in turn, pass the magic down through their subjects’ bloodlines.”

Kenneth’s eyes widened. “So, that’s why fire magic disappeared when the Fire Guardian was killed.”

Joash nodded solemnly. “Exactly. With the death of the Fire Guardian, who is the currently the holder of the Ultimate Fire, the connection to fire magic was severed.”

Salem, who had been quietly listening, asked, “Can’t they find someone with Aether magic to recreate the Ultimate Fire?”

Joash sighed. “Aether magic is incredibly rare. Only the royal family is capable of carrying it, but unfortunately, no one in the current royal family possesses Aether magic. Without it, there’s no one left who can create or restore the lost element.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Kenneth found himself lost in thought, recalling the fire he had summoned in his dream—or was it a dream? He hadn’t confirmed it yet, but something felt off. How was it that someone like him could seemingly conjure the Ultimate Fire, a power that was supposedly lost?

He needed answers, and there was only one person who might be able to give them to him—the Headmaster. “I need to meet him as soon as possible,” Kenneth muttered, thinking aloud.

＊＊＊

A masked figure stood in the shadows, hidden from the eyes of the bustling mortal world. Today was the day—the day the Nether Clan would strike, eliminating the successor of Mistral. Their target, the key to their grand plan, had evaded them for far too long. Although the successors of Maridian and the other elemental families had already returned to Anterthon, the successor of Mistral had remained in the mortal realm.

A follower approached with a grim expression. “We’ve lost track of the Mistral successor,” the follower reported, bowing low. “It seems she returned to Anterthon.”

The masked figure’s eyes narrowed beneath his hood, his voice filled with venomous anger. “Someone has interfered with our plan.”

He turned sharply to his followers. “Was there anyone with her the previous day while you were following her?”

“No one, my lord,” the follower replied hesitantly, “but we did notice something strange. Before each of the successors disappeared, a blue-haired man was always present.”

The masked figure stilled, realization dawning on him. “Nero,” he spat, the name like venom on his tongue. “Of course.”

Nero, the Headmaster of Mageia Academy, the one with the ability to freeze time. But the masked figure had a suspicion—he could sense it. Nero’s time magic was likely sealed for the moment. This presented a rare opportunity for them to proceed with their plan.