Sovereign of the Ashes

Amidst the eager anticipation of onlookers, the first three Quasi Mages ventured into the depths of the magic altar under the pressure of the full-fledged black mages around them.

The blinding white elemental light from the altar made it impossible to see what was actually happening there.

Everyone, including the full-fledged mages and black magic initiates like Sein, remained fixated on the altar.

A moment later, the closest full-fledged black mages began to furrow their brows, and mournful, agonizing cries reached Sein’s ears.

The light of the altar engulfed the Quasi Mages like a silent magic beast’s maw, and then everything returned to normal.

“Something’s amiss! There’s an anomaly in the space-time rift. Sending the Quasi Mages in first will cost us dearly. We still need to depend on them as the main force to set up the coordinate generators,” a black mage within the magic tower remarked sharply.

“Who should we send next then? Intermediate or junior initiates?” another black mage in the tower inquired.

“Send the fresh initiates in next! We only need to rediscover a safe passage around the rift. Sacrificing lives for this purpose will spare the initiates’ powers,” the first black mage commented.

“It’s a pity we didn’t have Lord Dedaelon bring a group of Mystralora City residents with us. That would have reduced the initial losses and improved the success rate of setting up the coordinate generators,” the other black mage said with a sigh.

“It’s never that simple. Ordinary humans lack substantial elemental energy in their bodies. They might not even be able to approach the space-time rift. If it were that easy, Lord Martin and Lady Jeanne would have already used them to find a path into the rift rather than investing over ten years calculating every minute spatial node around this space-time rift,” the first black mage said, shaking his head.

The conversation between these two black mages swiftly turned into a grim reality.

Upon Vice Dean Dedaelon’s orders, the Quasi Mages who had initially stood before the magic altar withdrew.

Minotaur warriors, dark creatures and elemental golems pushed the fresh initiates toward the front.

Not long ago, Sein had envied the good fortune of the fresh initiates, but grim reality had quickly shown him that luck had no place within the Black Magic Academy.

Lack of strength left the fresh initiates as nothing more than cannon fodder.

It was no surprise they found themselves no match for the minotaur warriors.

Those who entered the altar willingly fared somewhat better than those who hesitated, as they were forcibly thrown into it by the strong minotaurs or callously hurled in by nearby black mages with their magic.

The air in the Shadow Valley was filled with endless screams and pleas.

Most of those fresh initiates were around the age of ten, hardly more than children.

The heart-wrenching spectacle unfolding in the Shadow Valley sent shivers down the spine of Sein, an initiate who was well-accustomed to harsh ways of life in the academy.

Only when nearly half of the fresh initiates had been offered as sacrifices, and the once white elemental light that enveloped the magic altar turned crimson, did Vice Dean Dedaelon issue the order to cease the sacrifice.

The altar in the heart of Shadow Valley resembled a deep abyss. Once someone entered, they never emerged again.

It remained uncertain whether the three Quasi Mages had perished or where the roughly two hundred fresh initiates, who were thrown in previously, had gone.

The remaining half of the surviving fresh initiates huddled together, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

It was at this moment the initiates were reminded of how fragile life could be and how powerless they were in the face of it.

The junior initiates, numbering around a hundred, faced no brighter prospects than the fresh initiates.

Considering Vice Dean Dedaelon’s and the other black mages’ attitudes, it appeared that an unfortunate fate awaited those junior initiates once the fresh initiates had fulfilled their role.

Sein, despite being an intermediate initiate, wore a grave expression.

On a positive note, the black mages who had been attentively observing the depths of the magic altar and the space-time rift appeared to have made a new discovery following the sacrifice of over two hundred fresh initiates.

The day’s exploration of the altar had come to an end, yet it remained uncertain whether these findings would lead to a decrease in casualties and injuries in future ventures.

What weighed most heavily on the minds of the initiates was when the next altar exploration would commence.

For the fresh and junior initiates, in particular, this loomed as a disquieting concern.

***

When Zorro reappeared before Sein, Sein could not help but notice the beads of sweat glistening on Zorro’s neck.

Zorro was most likely well into his seventies.

In the Magus World, the average lifespan for ordinary humans ranged from fifty to seventy years, with commoners often on the lower end of that spectrum.

Nobles tend to outlive this expectancy due to their higher quality of life, often reaching over seventy years.

Mages who harnessed magic and elemental energy, including initiates who had yet to achieve Rank One, could extend their lifespans and slow the effects of aging through various means.

Sein could not determine the exact limit of an initiate’s lifespan, but he believed that reaching 120 or even 130 years was not out of the question.

In the public library, Sein had come across various illustrations discussing rare ingredients and methods that could increase human lifespan.

One of the magical tomes gifted to him by his mentor mentioned that forming a bond with a spirit familiar could also extend a mage’s life.

Zorro, through the use of potions or other means, managed to maintain the appearance of a man in his thirties or forties, despite his real age.

Faye was another example of the incredible power of magic and skin care.

Zorro, who had journeyed extensively alongside Morsidor from the Western Archipelago to Gloomhaven, should have grown accustomed to facing danger and death long ago.

However, the current circumstances weighed heavily even on someone as experienced as him.

When Sein expressed his concern with a meaningful look, Zorro reassured him with a pat on the shoulder and said, “I’m all right. Let’s head back. There’s something important I need to tell you all.”

The night in Shadow Valley was as bright as day, even brighter than Mystralora City, which relied on lumenstones for lighting.

On such a night, it was unlikely any initiate would be able to find sleep easily.

Gathering inside their tent, Zorro leaned in closer and confided in Sein and Faye, “Master Morsidor and the others had miscalculated today. Those three Quasi Mages who entered the altar first shouldn’t have perished. We had carefully plotted out the safe routes around the space-time rift, but the altar’s continued radiance suggested that only the specific minute space-time rift along that path was displaced. The elemental fission device we have set up is still intact.”

“That’s why the vice dean and the others had the fresh initiates forge a new, safer route for us,” Zorro shared in hushed tones.