Point of View: Magnus Bridge
I have become the most powerful mage in this world; reality itself bends to my absolute power. Even the Gods fear me, and my strength is immeasurable. Yet, there is one thing I have never been able to achieve: immortality, mastery over time itself. Despite my ability to alter my appearance and rejuvenate my body, the essence of my life is slipping away. My body—or rather, my shell—is slowly dying.
On my 284th birthday, after countless hours of research conducted in this desolate dungeon, I finally discovered the solution. I created an artifact capable of storing my soul and transferring it into a suitable vessel. I based it on the technique of demonic possession to develop a form of magical possession. This technique allows me to seize control of a human body's latent mana, using it as if it were my own. From there, I manipulate the mana to control the rest of the body like a true master.
It is true that this dungeon reeks horribly due to the decomposition of the hundreds of test subjects I used in my experiments. However, soon, this will no longer matter. The bodies scattered across the floor contribute to creating an environment I consider ideal for luring a strong adventurer—someone worthy of finding this artifact.
To ensure only a powerful vessel reaches this place, I have implemented a series of defenses. Intricate traps, relentless golems, watchful gargoyles, and deadly summons are strategically positioned, ready to activate at the slightest trace of mana. These measures will not only prevent insignificant individuals from advancing but also encourage the truly powerful to face the challenges, believing they have found a treasure of immense value.
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And indeed, they will. But the true treasure will be mine: a body worthy of carrying my immortal soul.
I placed the orb on the pedestal in the center of the room. The stand, crafted from stone shaped like two skeletal hands, held it firmly in place. I retreated to the outer edge of the magic circle, whose runes would ensure a constant flow of mana into and out of the orb to maintain its energy. Additionally, supplementary crystals were scattered across the table, enriching the atmosphere with abundant mana.
The energy here should last for a few centuries before depleting. This is a damned shot in the dark, but it’s the only sensible option—this or becoming a lich. While I have no qualms about killing in the name of magic, I feel that taking lives to extend my own would be an unbearable moral burden. This method, on the other hand, ensures that only one sacrifice is necessary.
I began the ritual. My consciousness faded, and I watched as my body collapsed while being drawn into the orb on the pedestal. My memories flashed before me like images projected onto a blank screen. Then, I was there. I could see and feel everything in the room through the mana, and I could communicate through my mind. But there was no one else. The world was now a dense haze of black shadows. And time continued to pass...