The Veridus Mana Tower, ancient and imposing, stood as a sentinel amidst the Highland landscape of Viridia. Its stone walls, etched with cryptic runes, stretched towards the heavens, casting a long shadow over the land. Within the tower's cold and dimly lit chambers, a young man named Aric Veridus began his day.

Aric, a scion of a minor branch of the Veridus family, rose before the break of dawn. The chill of the stone floor bit at his bare feet as he donned his plain attire, a stark contrast to the richly adorned robes of the fully-fledged meisters who called the tower home. His daily duty lay in serving Master Elyros, a meister known for his obsession with arcane knowledge.

As Aric entered the cluttered study of Master Elyros, he was met with a whirlwind of parchments and ancient tomes. The master, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a furrowed brow, scarcely glanced up from his work. "Aric," he said, his voice carrying an air of impatience, "fetch me Tibolt’s Third Treatise on Runic Alignment. We have much to cover today."

Aric obeyed without question, navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the tower with practiced ease. He found the tome he sought in one of the smaller libraries reserved for use by meisers that lived and worked on this level of the tower. It was heavy and laden with knowledge, its pages filled with intricate diagrams and cryptic symbols.

His footsteps echoed softly through the halls as he returned to his master’s study, the book tucked safely under his arm. The soft glow of magical sconces illuminated the ancient symbols etched into the stone around him, and as always, he couldn’t help but admire them as he passed. They seemed to pulse with hidden power, a reminder of the Veridus family's ancient lineage and strength. As he turned a corner, he found that he was not alone in his admiration.

Standing further down the dimly lit corridor was a man in robes adorned with the sigil of the Wierden Tower. Though Aric did not know his face, he recognized him immediately as a visiting meister from the prestigious institution. However, what struck him as odd was the fact that the man was alone, separated from his group, which was a rarity for such esteemed guests.

The meister, with sallow features and an air of scholarly intensity, seemed to be engrossed in the runework adorning the walls. His fingers delicately traced the intricate lines and curves of the arcane symbols. Aric couldn't help but be intrigued by the man's fascination, especially given his evident connection to the Wierden Tower.

As Aric observed the meister, his gaze was drawn to the man's ring finger, where a peculiar and ominous-looking ring adorned with jagged runes glistened. Something about those runes sent a shiver down Aric's spine, though he couldn't place why they felt so unsettling. The ring was undoubtedly an arcane artifact, unlike any he had seen before, and it exuded an aura of dark mystique.

The meister must have sensed Aric's scrutiny because, with a swift movement, he withdrew his hand from the wall and slipped it into the depths of his robe sleeve. Aric could have sworn he detected a faint scowl on the man's lips as he did so, but it was gone in the next instant, quickly enough to make Aric think he’d imagined it.

Breaking the brief silence, Aric spoke up, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Greetings, honored meister from the Wierden Tower," he began, his voice filled with a respectful tone. "I couldn't help but notice your fascination with our tower's runework. Is there anything I can assist you with?"

The meister's eyes, which seemed to hold hidden depths, shifted from the runic patterns on the wall to Aric. He regarded the young apprentice with a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze. "Ah, young one, lost I am not," he replied with a soft chuckle. "I have merely become enraptured by the sheer beauty and intricacy of the runework here. Even without access to the libraries, a restriction for which none could fault you, my short time here has been as enlightening as a fortnight spent cloistered in my own study. Truly, the Veridus live up to their name."

Aric's chest swelled with pride at the compliment. He was eager to showcase the tower's excellence to its visitors. "Indeed, honored meister," he replied earnestly. "Our tower has stood for centuries, and its runes hold the wisdom of generations. In fact, the workings on this level pale in comparison to the upper floors. If you ever require any guidance, please do not hesitate to ask."

The two scholars exchanged pleasantries for a while longer, discussing the tower's history and their families' respective contributions to the study of magic. As the conversation flowed, Aric's initial sense of unease began to ebb away, replaced by a growing sense of camaraderie and respect.

Before long, as Aric’s master was not the patient sort, he bid the meister farewell, leaving him to his solitary exploration. He didn't dwell too long on the somewhat peculiar encounter, focusing instead on the pride he felt in the small part he played in the great workings of Veridus Tower—the very center of the world, as far as Aric was concerned.

Returning to Master Elyros's study, Aric found the master deep in concentration, meticulously transcribing runes onto parchment. "You must understand, Aric," the master began, not bothering to look up, "these runes are the essence of our family's legacy. They represent the toil of generations, and power in equal measure."

Aric nodded, his eyes fixed on the master's skilled hand as it traced the ancient script. "I know, Master Elyros," he replied, recalling with some amusement that he’d said much the same to the Wierden meister. "I shall strive to learn and honor our family's heritage."

"Aric," Master Elyros began tiredly, setting aside the parchment, "it's not just about learning. It's about understanding the intricate dance of aether, mana, and the mechanics of spellcraft. Only then can you truly honor our family's heritage."

Aric nodded, his eyes gleaming with determination. "I shall strive to comprehend it all, Master."

With a rare glimmer of pride in his eyes, Master Elyros nodded in approval. "Good, Aric. Knowledge is power, but wielding it responsibly is our true duty."

As Aric moved closer, Master Elyros picked up a small, intricately carved card from his desk. The card's surface shimmered with the faint glow of aether, and runes danced across its surface. "Aric, have you ever wondered about the connection between aether and mana?"

Aric furrowed his brow in thought. "Aether is the raw magical energy that pervades the world, while mana is the stable, refined form of aether collected in Mana Towers. Spellcraft involves the shaping of aether into spells and storing them in artifacts."

Master Elyros smiled. "Correct, but can you explain how a spell is activated from an artifact, say, a wand?"

Aric paused, gathering his thoughts. "To activate a spell, one must channel mana into the artifact, which triggers the release of the stored spell. The artifact acts as a conduit, directing the ambient aether according to the spell's design."

Master Elyros nodded in satisfaction. "Very good, Aric. Now, enough review, help me draft Eggard’s Concentric Triad.”

The meister and page toiled through the day, not even stopping to break their fast, consumed as they were by the work. Occasionally, Master Elyros would test Aric’s learning, or sparingly portion out a morsel of his own vast knowledge. Finally, when the red sun could be seen slipping below the horizon through the grand window behind them, Master Elyros held up a hand.

“We’ve done enough. At least you have, Aric. Well done. Now, as a reward, let me show you something remarkable." He said, his voice laced with a quiet excitement, and held up a shimmering card. "This, Aric, is a spell card I have been crafting meticulously for the past three moons. It's on the verge of completion."

Aric's eyes widened with curiosity. "That much time, for a single artifact? What does it do, Master?"

A faint smile played on Master Elyros's lips. "This spell card, when activated, will allow its user to transport the soul of an animal into a dungeon core, where it can be reborn in a magical body. It harnesses the secrets of soul transference."

Aric's breath caught in his throat. The concept was astounding, and he struggled to grasp its implications. "How does it work, Master?"

Master Elyros leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "The chaotic, unbridled aether within a dungeon core holds the power of creation and transformation. The specifics are much too complex for you to understand.” Master Elyros again held up a hand when he saw Aric open his mouth in protest. “You’re bright, Aric. Sharper than any other boy in this tower, I’d wager. But you’re still just that, a boy. This is a masterwork. It is beyond you. Suffice to say that, when activated, this card will create a connection between the animal's soul and the core, allowing it to be reborn with its memories intact in a new, more powerful form."

Aric's mind raced with the possibilities. "Soul magic … Isn’t that dangerous? What if it fell into the wrong hands?"

Master Elyros’s expression darkened. "Indeed, Aric. I believe this spell, or a variation of it, may hold the key to the remarkable abilities of the Darkwood Meisters."

Aric's mouth dropped open slightly, and he spoke quickly. "You mean how they tame dragons and other monsters?"

Master Elyros nodded solemnly. "Precisely. Despite being surrounded by enemies on all sides, the Andrai Republic wields dominion in the heart of Elyria, and exerts relentless pressure upon neighboring kingdoms. I believe they've unlocked the power of soul transference, tethering these creatures' souls to dungeon cores, birthing loyal and fearsome allies."

Aric pondered the implications of such knowledge. "But how did they come by such a spell, Master? Did they create it, as you have?"

Aric’s Master waved his hand in dismissal, “I couldn’t have created this imitation without studying what they’ve done. I doubt there is a meister living that could.” Master Elyros's gaze turned distant, as if recalling ancient lore. "Legends speak of an ancient library hidden deep within the Darkwood, a repository of forgotten and forbidden knowledge. It is said that the Darkwood Meisters, over centuries, have unraveled the secrets contained within those forbidden tomes, and sacrificed their morality for dominion. Soulcraft is not a magic that can be pursued without cost."

Aric shuddered at the thought of a hidden library brimming with arcane power, and his mind conjured images of men twisted into something other by their own fiendish pursuits. Hesitantly, he asked, "Are we to walk a similar path, Master?"

Master Elyros sighed, a mixture of longing and caution in his eyes. "Aric, knowledge is a double-edged sword. We must tread carefully, for the pursuit of power can lead as surely to the pit as to the shining hill. Our purpose is to understand, to preserve, and to ensure the prosperity of the Varidus line."

“Yes, Master, I understand.” Aric said, nodding hurriedly. His gaze turned questioning. “Since our duty is to the tower, should we not prepare ourselves to bear witness to the ceremony today?”

“Oh, has the young lord's betrothal feast come at last?” Master Elyros said, blinking, and turning to squint at a round artifact gently rotating in the corner of the room. Aric hid his smile, not wanting to reveal the fondness he felt for his Master’s eccentric character. Meister Elyros was a gifted scholar, and loyal to the family, but rather inattentive to matters beyond the realm of knowledge. Thankfully, he had Aric to mind such things.

“Yes, Master. The scion of the Wierden Tower, Magister Avalara Wierden, arrived late last night. She is to accept his promise tonight in the grand hall.”

Master Elyros ignored him, reading the gently glowing runes as they flowed across the surface of the golden orb. It was a chronoscope, much more accurate and informative than a candle or a calendar, if a bit harder to use. Aric patiently waited for his Master’s artifact to tell him what he already knew, and took a step back in preparation.

In another moment, this action proved wise, as his Master’s thick eyebrows shot up and, after a fashion, seemed to carry the rest of his body with them in a flurry of movement that belied his age. “Aric! What are you standing around for! Fetch my good robes!”

Aric, unruffled by his Master’s sudden change in demeanor, merely took a step to the side to pick up the robes he’d had the forethought to prepare for his master in advance.

Master Elyros took the robes and began changing his clothes on the spot, without a thought for his dignity as a learned aethermeister. Aric, used to such behavior after his long years of study and service under such a master, was unbothered by the sight. To keep himself busy, he began absentmindedly tidying the loose sheafs of parchment and papers that had been scattered about the floor in his master's hurried motions. His movements were smooth and efficient with the skill of long practice, but his mind was far away, thinking of hidden troves of knowledge and flying beasts.

His hand paused as his master finished dressing and began striding out of the study. Aric was holding the card his master had shown him. The one that could turn a man into a dragon rider. He tried to call out, but found that his throat was suddenly dry, and all he managed was a strangled cough. He hurried after Master Elyros, clearing his throat along the way.

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“Master, wait! Where should I put this? You dropped your car—”

“There’s no time, you fool! It doesn’t matter! Come quickly. If we’re late, Meister Liart will never let me hear the end of it!”

Grumbling, Aric hurried after his Master, tucking the spell card into his waist-pouch. “Tread carefully, my foot.”

The great hall was alive with a symphony of voices, each note representing a different meister of the Veridus family. It was a sea of richly adorned robes, embroidered with symbols of arcane knowledge and the heritage of their house. As Elyros and Aric approached Meister Liart and Velt, they exchanged courteous nods, paying their respects to the elder meister and his apprentice.

"Meister Liart, young Velt," Master Elyros greeted them with a cordial tone. "A grand occasion, is it not?"

Meister Liart, stroking his long beard, nodded in agreement, but Aric thought his eyes looked strangely grim for such a festive affair. "Indeed, Master Elyros. The betrothal of our archmage's heir to a scion of the Wierden Tower is a momentous event. Let us hope it is as joyful a union as this sea of frills and adornments would suggest."

Elyros cast a sidelong glance at his old friend. “I know how you sweat and chafe in any trappings finer than your evening cloak, good meister, but surely even you can muster some gaiety for the young lord’s engagement.”

Liarts lips twitched minutely at his colleague’s good-natured ribbing, but his quiet amusement was fleeting, washed away by the dour mood that seemed to have taken him. “It’s not this accursed ball gown that has my hair on end. Look to the Wierden, Elyros. Dozens, to our hundreds, and no meisters of true import, save perhaps the girl herself. Have you ever seen such a meager showing for a bride’s party?”

Elyros surveyed the contingent of foreign meisters, easily distinguished by their pale dress, and frowned. Liart spoke true. “It’s an insult.”

“Indeed. There are rumors …” Liart lowered his voice, and Aric was not so ill-mannered as to insert himself into the private discourse of meisters, though he was sorely tempted.

Instead, he patiently stood to the side, his gaze drifting over the gathering. He noticed the unspoken alliances forming, the whispered conversations, and the occasional glances exchanged. It was clear that beneath the grandeur of the ceremony, an intricate dance of power was playing out in hushed tones and subtle gestures.

Velt, the apprentice, leaned in closer to Aric, speaking quietly. "You're Master Elyros's page, aren't you?"

Aric nodded, offering a small smile. "That's correct. Aric Veridus, at your service."

Velt's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "I've heard that Master Elyros is a scholar of great knowledge. What's it like studying under him?"

Aric's expression warmed as he spoke of his master. "Master Elyros is a font of wisdom. He's taught me the intricacies of spellcraft, the connection between aether and mana, and the heritage of our family's magic."

Velt smiled wryly. "I see that he’s also taught you how to speak much yet reveal little. Come now, Aric—we’re family, are we not? If you let down your guard a little, perhaps we could share our insights?"

Aric laughed awkwardly, fighting the urge to rub his neck or look anywhere but into Velt's entrancing eyes. "What do you suggest?" he asked, his voice slightly shaky as she leaned closer, her presence almost overwhelming.

"Let’s trade a secret, you and I," she said, her voice like a seductive melody. Aric swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry as he glanced in the direction of his master, seeking some form of rescue. However, Meister Liart and Master Elyros were engrossed in their own conversation, leaving Aric to navigate the siren’s waters alone.

Aric's thoughts raced as he tried to come up with a suitable secret to share with Velt. His eyes wandered to the belt on his pouch, and then he tore them away. He couldn't reveal too much, least of all his master’s spellcard. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to share something less consequential but still intriguing.

Aric cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure as he leaned in closer to Velt. "Well," he began cautiously, "there's a particular spot in the tower, hidden away in the library. It's an alcove filled with ancient scrolls and manuscripts that I believe may hold the key to unlocking a unique form of spellcraft, a lost art from our family's history."

Velt's eyes widened with interest, her curiosity piqued. "A hidden alcove in the library? How intriguing! What kind of spellcraft?"

Aric hesitated, realizing he had divulged more than he had initially intended. Nevertheless, he decided to trust Velt. "It's a form of elemental manipulation, one that our family used to wield centuries ago. The scrolls describe techniques for controlling shadows with great precision, allowing one to cloak their presence and even manifest corporeal shades."

Velt's lips curled into a delighted smile. "Elemental manipulation? That's a secret worth sharing, Aric. Thank you. Perhaps someday, we can explore that hidden alcove together." Aric’s blood rushed at the thought, but he calmed himself by remembering that Velt was technically a cousin, however distantly related.

As they continued their conversation, Aric felt a growing connection with Velt, a sense of shared secrets and the excitement of unraveling mysteries. The grand hall around them buzzed with the subtle machinations of the Veridus family, but in that moment, it was as if they were in their own world, bound by the allure of hidden knowledge.

As they conversed, Meister Liart and Master Elyros engaged in their own discussion. They observed the archmage and his heir greeting the visiting dignitaries from the Wierden Tower, the negotiations unfolding with precision and grace. It was a vital moment in the family's political maneuvering, one that had been carefully orchestrated over the course of many moons.

However, despite events proceeding like the perfectly engineered turning of his master’s chronoscope, Aric felt the skin on the back of his neck prickling. Looking down, Aric found his hand had unconsciously found its way to his chest, pressing against the slight bulge in the fabric of his vestments—against his amulet.

Aric’s eyes flickered around the hall, and found he was not alone in his unspoken anxiety. Everywhere he looked, meisters stood straighter, their hands held close to their own artifacts. Like a faint smoke, an undercurrent of tension had quietly seeped into the ornate chamber.

“Master, I—” Aric started, but stopped short, unable to find the words to express his inexplicable concern. Elyros looked at him questioningly, and Aric opened his mouth to continue, but at that moment the lights around the hall faded, save for those near the Archmage, signaling the next phase of the ceremony. Suddenly feeling foolish, Aric shook his head, and his master turned his attention back to the dias.

The grand hall of the Veridus Mana Tower fell into a hushed reverence as the Archmage, resplendent in his robes adorned with intricate runes, stepped forward. His presence commanded attention, and every meister in attendance turned their gaze to him. With a voice that resonated with both authority and tradition, he addressed the assembly.

"Esteemed meisters of the Veridus family, honored guests from the Wierden Tower," he began, his words carrying through the hall like a powerful incantation, "we gather here tonight beneath the sacred light of our Tower Heart, the very soul of our ancestral home, to witness a union that transcends time and ancient magic."

As the Archmage spoke, the ceiling of the grand hall shifted and groaned, revealing a vast opening in the stone. Above, the night sky twinkled with stars, and the pale moon cast its silvery glow. But the most breathtaking sight was yet to come.

From the exposed night sky, a radiant orb of energy descended slowly, its brilliance intensifying with each passing moment. The Tower Heart, a manifestation of the collected aether from centuries of dedication and diligence, bathed the hall in a soft, ethereal light.

The Archmage continued, his voice filled with reverence. "Our family has long upheld the tradition of binding alliances through marriage, under the watchful gaze of our Tower Heart. This heart, pulsing with the essence of aether, symbolizes the unity and strength of our house. As it illuminates our path, we find our destinies intertwined."

The assembled meisters and guests watched in awe as the Tower Heart cast its radiant glow upon the archmage and his heir, as well as their guests from the Wierden Tower. It was a moment of both solemnity and celebration, where the ancient traditions of the Veridus family were brought to life in a dazzling display of magic and unity.

"In the presence of our ancestors and the magic that courses through our veins," the Archmage declared, "we seal this alliance with the blessings of aether and the legacy of our forebears. Let it be known that the Veridus and the Wierden Towers are bound not only by blood but by the very essence of our world."

As the Archmage concluded his pronouncement, the Tower Heart's brilliance reached its zenith, bathing the hall in a luminous cascade of energy. It was a testament to the enduring strength and unity of the Veridus family, a moment that would be remembered for generations to come.

However, in that mesmerizing moment, as everyone stood transfixed by the radiant Tower Heart, Aric's keen eyes caught a sallow-faced Wierden meister raising his hand. His mouth dropped open as he realized he recognized him. It was the man he’d seen wandering the tower alone. A terrible premonition surfaced in his heart, and he raised his voice to shout a warning.

“Stop! Stop him!” Nearby meisters glanced at him in confusion, but by the time they'd turned their gaze to follow his own, it was much too late.

With a swift motion, the Weirden meister activated a spell jewel on his ring, summoning a malevolent bolt of black lightning that crackled through the air with deadly intent. But as the dark energy surged toward the Tower Heart, multiple barriers, shimmering with protective magic, appeared around the colossal sphere. Meisters from the Veridus family and a handful from the Wierden faction sprang into action, their desperate attempts to defend the heart forming a frenzied cacophony of incantations.

The black bolt collided with the barriers, creating a clash of energies that sent shockwaves rippling through the hall. Meisters strained to maintain the protective spells, as they relentlessly channeled their magic into preserving the Tower Heart. The dark lightning crackled and sizzled, waging war against the defensive spells.

Aric's heart raced as he witnessed the fierce struggle between the defenders and the malevolent energy. It was a battle of wills, a clash between the darkest of intentions and the unwavering resolve of those who sought to protect their heritage. But with each passing moment, the black bolt seemed to gain in strength, siphoning the life force from those who defended the Tower Heart. Meisters faltered, their faces contorted in pain as their magical defenses weakened.

A sense of dread washed over Aric as he realized the terrible cost of the dark spell. It was devouring the lives of those who sought to thwart it, growing stronger with every sacrifice. The sallow-faced Wierden meister, his gaze firm and unwavering, continued to pour his own life force into the dark bolt, a grim determination etched on his face.

As the Wierden meister poured the last remnants of his life force into the black lightning, his body convulsed with agony. His once-sallow complexion turned pallid, and his eyes bulged with the strain of the curse he had wrought. With a final, guttural cry, he was consumed by the dark energy he had summoned, collapsing bonelessly to the floor.

Aric watched in horror as the man's lifeless form crumbled to dust, his dying curse leaving a chilling echo in the air. The black lightning, fueled by the sacrifice, surged with renewed ferocity. It crackled and hissed, its tendrils lashing out like vicious serpents. The protective barriers around the Tower Heart faltered, unable to withstand the onslaught.

With an ear-splitting explosion, the malevolent bolt broke through the weakened defenses, striking the Tower Heart with a force that sent shockwaves rippling through the hall. Dark energy coursed through the heart, poisoning it from within. The once-illuminating orb of power dimmed, its radiant glow tainted by the malefic influence.

Panic and chaos descended upon the grand hall as the Tower Heart's contamination spread. Meisters desperately tried to contain the corruption, but the curse-infused black lightning continued to eat away at the heart's purity, inch by inch. The tower that had stood as a beacon of magic and tradition had been tainted, and by the grim faces around him, Aric was uncertain whether it could recover.

The once-cohesive energy of the Tower Heart began to warp and waver, its radiant glow flickering with corruption. Finally, to the despair of the onlookers, the delicate balance between mana and aether was lost, and arcs of unrestrained energy lashed out, crashing against the crowd. Chaos erupted in the grand hall as the closest onlookers were immediately consumed by the violent outburst of chaotic aether and mana. Powerful waves of energy lashed out, throwing objects and people about the room like a hurricane.

Pandemonium descended upon the hall as screams and cries filled the air, and the once-revered Tower Heart threatened to tear itself apart under the onslaught of malevolent magic. The unity and celebration had turned into a harrowing struggle for survival, and Aric found himself caught in the midst of a maelstrom of chaos, desperately seeking a way to escape the destructive mayhem that had engulfed the grand hall.

Amidst the chaotic tempest that had seized the grand hall, Aric and Velt fought their way through the throngs of panicking meisters and guests. The once-elegant surroundings were now marred by the devastation unleashed by the malevolent bolt of black lightning. Tables and chairs lay upturned, the beautiful decorations in tatters, and cries for help filled the air. The tower began to come undone, stones the size of wine-barrels plummeting to the floor. One fell a few meters from Aric, and its booming impact left his ears ringing and nearly deafened.

As they struggled to reach their masters, Aric called over his shoulder to Velt, shock forcing him to talk without thinking. "Did you see, Velt? A Weirden Meister cast that black spell!” He had to shout to be heard. “It struck the Tower Heart, poisoned it."

Velt's visage flickered through a kaleidoscope of emotions as she followed Aric. "It's a targeted attack, but why? What could they hope to gain from this chaos?"

“I don’t know.” Desperation clawed at Aric's heart as he felt the overwhelming presence of mana sickness pressing down on him. The power was too great, too uncontrolled. He could feel his life force being drained away, his vision blurring at the edges. Velt, too, was weakening, her movements growing sluggish and uncoordinated despite the panic written plainly across her face.

Aric's heart shattered as they finally reached their masters, only to find Master Elyros and Meister Liart caught in the frenzy of the crowd. Their expressions were twisted in agony as uncontrolled magic surged around them, tainting the air with madness. The mana sickness seemed to be working its way through the more powerful meisters first. They were both young, he thought—they had a chance. Yet panic surged through Aric again as he watched Velt's once-vibrant eyes grow dull, her life slipping away before him.

"Velt, fight it! Stay awake!" Aric shouted, his voice filled with desperation. He tried to drag her away from the chaos, but her limp form remained unresponsive, her life extinguished. Her body slipped through his arms, his strength flagging, and the magnitude of the loss bore down on him, dragging him to his knees.

Aric slowly looked around himself, numbly observing the destruction of everything he’d ever known, powerless to prevent it. At that moment, he felt himself a child watching the sky fall, watching the world come to an end. For all their arcane power, for all their ancient glory, the house of Veridus had met its end tonight. What was an aethermeister without a tower?

Great swaths of the grand hall had already fallen, taking the lives of those too slow to escape with it. The marble floor beneath Aric, too, had begun to give way with the deep, bone-shaking moans of cracking stone. For a brief, terrible moment, Aric hoped it would. His strength had left him. He could run no further. Death would at least be an escape from the crushing pain in his heart, and the horrible sickness he felt as wild mana suffused his body and clouded his mind.

Then, as if from a dream, he heard an echo of his master’s voice, and the thought coursed through him like lightning.

“Our purpose is to understand, to preserve, and to ensure the prosperity of the Veridus line.”

As stone shattered beneath him and an arcane maelstrom raged above, Aric slowly forced his numb fingers to move, fighting for every inch as his body failed him. He reached into his waist-pouch and grasped the spell card his master had created—one meant to transport a soul into a dungeon core. With trembling hands, he activated the card, and his world dissolved into a blinding whirlwind of aether.