Chapter 431: The Truth of the Illusory Realm
Leon stepped into the Sanctuary Tower and found the spiraling staircase spotless. He followed it upward, climbing for over half an hour before finally reaching the top floor. In the apocalypse, he’d never truly entered the Sanctuary Tower; back then, it was the faith of countless struggling mages, an existence that could not be desecrated.
Once at the top, Leon discovered the space wasn’t empty as he’d expected. Instead, there was a tightly sealed room. He walked over and found the door unlocked. With a gentle push, it swung open, revealing everything inside.
It was a fairly spacious room. Stepping inside, Leon was startled to find the pristine white wall inlaid with numerous small alchemical arrays. It looked just like the control room of a magitek battleship. Leon had seen more than a few magitek battleships—relics abandoned after Northend’s mana was depleted. Without magical power, they really were nothing but scrap metal. For a time, Leon had even studied them.
So, at first glance, the room’s setup immediately reminded Leon of a magitek battleship’s control room. He approached the wall, examining the alchemical arrays composed of countless runes. The technology behind these arrays surpassed his understanding—surpassing even the entire magical civilization of Northend…
However, most of the alchemical arrays were dim, indicating a lack of magical power. Only one array was still active. Leon studied it closely. Though these advanced arrays were beyond his comprehension, he could still tell that this particular array played a role in protecting the Northend World.
Deep inside, Leon was shaken to his core. Every mage who’d survived the apocalypse—including himself—had believed the Sanctuary Tower existed solely to protect Northend.
But now, it seemed that wasn’t the case…
If the Sanctuary Tower was only meant to protect Northend, then what was the purpose of all these dormant alchemical arrays? Over ninety percent of them weren’t functioning. That meant the tower’s purpose wasn’t just to guard Northend—it was far more mysterious than he’d ever imagined…
With that in mind, the true purpose behind building the Sanctuary Tower became questionable. After all, every precious magical material in Northend had been exhausted to construct this magnificent structure.
Its function was far more than simply protecting Northend World. It might even transcend the entire magical civilization—like the magitek battleships…
Of course, these were just his speculations. The truth remained unknown…
After leaving the Sanctuary Tower, Leon visited the vast, decaying library. During the apocalypse, he’d spent most of his time here; the books lining the shelves all hailed from Northend’s golden age of magic, left behind by mages whose power could rival the gods. They were the crystallization of lifetimes of knowledge and experience.
It was these books that had accompanied Leon through more than twenty years.
He reached for a black-covered, thread-bound book and gently brushed off the dust. It was written by a Heavenly Mage, recording a lifetime’s magical knowledge and experience. Back then, Leon had barely understood it, treating it as casual reading. But now, opening it again, he suddenly realized just how precious a Heavenly Mage’s legacy truly was…
In the silent library, the soft rustle of turning pages echoed from time to time—Leon’s only companion. Who knows how long he read before finally closing the thread-bound book and returning it to its place. Then he picked up a thick stack of books, settled at a wooden table, and immersed himself in study.
He seemed to lose all sense of time, tirelessly opening book after book. Every so often, he’d pull out a quill and work through calculations on draft paper.
He’d long grown used to this rhythm of life—just like the twenty years he’d survived in the apocalypse. Anyone else would probably have gone mad.
During this time, he reorganized all his magical knowledge, reaping tremendous benefit.
The draft paper on the wooden table had already piled up into a mountain—the result of endless calculations and formulas.
Leon carefully closed a book and returned it to its place, then sat back down at the wooden table, frowning in thought. He’d reread every book in the vast, decaying library, and many of the puzzles that had once troubled him were suddenly resolved. His understanding of magic had reached new heights.
At that moment, the Whisper Crystal in his pocket lit up. He took it out and saw it was a message from Ryan Merlin. Injecting a bit of mana into the crystal, Ryan’s joyful voice rang out: “How’s it going on your end? I’m safe for now, but I’ve been fighting in the Pale Plane all this time. Now that the nine Arcane Rings have fully merged, I’m a bona fide Seventh-Tier Magus. Give me a little longer, and even the Eighth-Tiers might not be a match for me…”
After receiving Ryan Merlin’s message, Leon’s frown deepened. Ever since discovering this was an illusory realm, he’d been unable to figure out the motive behind its creator.
Was it meant to trap or kill them?
No, no, that would be pointless. From the very start, the alchemical golems pouring out of the portal were suspicious—not too many, not too few, exactly ten in total. Their levels were strictly controlled: strong, but never truly dangerous.
Then came the ten roads, each clearly designed to send them down separate paths. After that, the seamless illusion—one with no real dangers, where both Leon and Ryan Merlin had gained inexplicable benefits.
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Take Leon, for example—if he hadn’t entered this illusory realm, how could he have returned to the vast, decaying library and solved mysteries that had eluded him for years? The magical knowledge he’d gained here was so profound that, outside, it could’ve taken him decades to grasp.
Ryan Merlin had also gained plenty. After all, the Arcane Rings came from the legacy of the King of the Caucasus—one of the highest-grade arcane runes. Merging all nine Rings was no simple feat, but Ryan Merlin had managed it in the Pale Plane’s illusion in record time—a shortcut that saved him at least a year or two…
At that thought, a wild idea popped into Leon’s mind: what if the real purpose of this illusory realm was to help them grow stronger?
He shook his head vigorously—he still couldn’t be sure. Leon pulled out the Whisper Crystal, infused it with mana, and sent calls to William Merlin, Ross Merlin, and the Dragonblood Orc. Only after finishing did he carefully set the crystal on the table and wait quietly.
The Whisper Crystal was practically the most advanced communication device in Northend World. Even across a thousand miles, it could deliver messages—though its stability was unreliable. After a long wait, the crystal finally flashed purple. Leon picked it up: a message from Ross Merlin. Injecting mana, Ross’s urgent voice rang out: “Cousin Mafa, this is unbelievable. Do you know what strange thing happened to me? After I took that road, I suddenly appeared in the Blazeforge Plane…”
“I barely had time to react before Stan Watson from the Watson Family showed up. I nearly jumped out of my skin—didn’t you already take care of him, cousin? Anyway, I ended up fighting Stan Watson. There’s a huge gap between us, so I didn’t last long before he defeated me. But, bizarrely enough, every time I lost, I’d return to the scene where I first met him.”
“Again and again, I was beaten and had to start over. It nearly drove me mad. Luckily, each fight brought new insights, and after so many battles, my strength improved dramatically. I’m a Seventh-Tier Magus now. That’s all I can say—Stan Watson’s coming again…”
Ross Merlin’s message ended abruptly. Leon was slightly stunned. He’d known Ross was likely in a similar illusion, but hadn’t expected this outcome—defeated again and again, only to start over each time. It was almost too strange to believe…
Before entering the illusion, Leon remembered clearly: Ross Merlin had only been a Fifth-Tier Magus. Yet, in such a short time, he’d reached Seventh-Tier.
Calling that progress ‘meteoric’ wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
Leon rubbed his nose. It seemed his guess was right—the illusion wasn’t dangerous at all. In fact, it helped people grow stronger. The only question was: how to leave this place?
He waited most of the day, but there was still no word from William Merlin or the Dragonblood Orc. He wondered if the Whisper Crystal had failed—its stability was questionable, after all. Just as he was about to put it away, it suddenly flashed purple. It was a message from the Dragonblood Orc, Hubert. Leon infused mana, and Hubert’s lazy voice drifted out.
“Lord Merlin, what do you need from me…?”
Just that one line made Leon’s face darken. He could tell instantly—Hubert sounded exactly like someone who’d just woken up.
Seriously? He was sleeping…
Of all times, that idiot still finds time to nap…
"Where are you right now?"
Leon sent a brief message to Hubert via the Whisper Crystal. Soon, the crystal flashed purple again. After infusing mana, Hubert’s voice came through—this time, much more cautious.
“Lord Merlin, how could I possibly know where I am…? I’m just a Highland Orc. Sir, this place is way too weird. As soon as I got here, I felt overwhelmingly sleepy and just passed out. I only just woke up. But I think I’ve gotten stronger—maybe… maybe I’m a Ninth-Tier Swordmaster now.”