Some mages exuded a transcendent aura as heavy as a mountain—these were those whose rule foundation was built upon the Law of Earth. Others radiated a lively, vibrant energy, a sure sign their foundation lay in the Law of Hurricane.
Everyone's aura was intimately tied to the laws they commanded. Leon's rule foundation was established with the Fourfold Elemental Law—balanced and flawless. When he refrained from drawing on transcendent power, not a trace of his extraordinary aura would leak out.
Now, he was already brushing against the threshold of the Law of Space. If he kept meditating, it wouldn’t be long before he grasped the true power of spatial law.
With mastery over four laws, Leon’s transcendent power was innately far stronger than that of ordinary mages.
Floating above the natural demi-plane, Leon quietly savored the strength within his body—and sensed he might now be able to carve out a demi-plane of his own.
After a mage advanced to Sky Rank, physical limitations would emerge. The body could bear far greater power, yet was somehow restricted—and there was no vessel to truly contain the transcendent force.
The demi-plane was the concrete manifestation of one’s insight and the tangible result of wielding power.
That’s why, after reaching Sky Rank, mages with demi-planes were counted among the most formidable beings—the demi-plane was the key.
Likewise, after advancing to Sky Rank, the first power a mage could wield was the force of space—and again, it all came down to the demi-plane. Opening a spatial gate was nearly instinctive for every Sky Rank mage.
Staring down at the natural demi-plane beneath his feet, Leon furrowed his brow.
Though his connection to the natural demi-plane was already quite strong, it still hadn’t reached the level where it could rival a demi-plane forged by his own hands.
A place to bear the weight of his insights into the Laws, to manifest the fruits of his comprehension—such a role could no longer be fulfilled by a mere natural demi-plane.
He would have to carve out a demi-plane of his own. Yet Leon discovered that the one he could create would be just a kilometer wide—pathetically small compared to the thousand-kilometer expanse of the natural demi-plane. The gap was almost laughable...
And worst of all, a freshly minted demi-plane was next to useless—no matter how you looked at it, it was a pale shadow of the natural demi-plane...
After a moment’s brooding, Leon descended to the ground.
Hubert and Reina were both inside the natural demi-plane.
Anderson was boasting to Hubert and Reina about how Leon had broken through to Sky Rank—how unbelievably powerful he’d become, how he’d managed to forcibly seal eight Sky Rank Alchemical Golems...
Hubert stared blankly at Anderson, who spoke with all three faces at once, utterly dazed and struggling to keep up with Anderson’s manic pace. Reina, meanwhile, was visibly shaken—Hubert might not know it, but Reina was well aware of the legend of the Gate of Rebirth, a myth from the Elder Age, the tale of a perfect, transcendent transformation.
In the distance, a crowd of laborers worked obediently, still shaken by the recent upheaval in the natural demi-plane and the surge of extraordinary power Leon had unleashed. Any lingering thoughts of rebellion had been snuffed out; best to keep their heads down and toil in silence...
"Archmage Leon Merlin, you’ve broken through to Sky Rank—so when’s my turn? Didn’t you have some kind of potion before? Archmage, do you have any left?"
Hubert shamelessly sidled up to Leon, face thick as a wall, hoping to wrangle whatever Golden Transcendence Potion Leon might have left.
Hubert had already reached the peak of Ninth-Rank Orc Sword Saint. His physique was growing more bizarre by the day; his bloodline so strong that even the power of God-Demon Blood could no longer suppress his spellcasting. The magic runes crawling across his skin were multiplying.
That monstrous constitution of his was even more terrifying than some of those freakish races that break through to Sky Rank just by reaching adulthood. It was only a matter of time before Hubert “slept his way” into Sky Rank—yes, with him, that sort of thing absolutely would happen…
Reina wasn’t unable to break through—she was simply holding herself back. Her Dragon Core was on the verge of its final transformation; her very essence was about to undergo a powerful metamorphosis, and when it did, she’d naturally step into Sky Rank.
Ignoring Hubert’s pestering, Leon discussed the matter of demi-plane creation with Anderson.
"Anderson, I can feel it—I’ve hit my limit. My power can’t increase any further. My insights into the Laws have nowhere to go; the natural demi-plane can’t bear them anymore. I have to carve out a demi-plane of my own…
But if you don’t tend to a demi-plane, it’s pointless. It might even clash with the natural demi-plane…"
Leon’s mind was a storm of indecision—should he wait, seize full control of the natural demi-plane and then push his power further, or just carve out a demi-plane right now?
Anderson’s three faces twisted into an odd expression—triple surprise.
"Leon, are you cursed with too much wisdom or something? Why pick one or the other? Just carve out a demi-plane right here and fuse it straight into the natural demi-plane…"
Anderson hadn’t finished speaking before Leon suddenly froze.
Of course—why choose? Just carve out a demi-plane within the natural demi-plane itself. It was the perfect solution…
A blade of wind, tinged with blue-black, zipped through the air, leaping past Leon’s position. Naturally, Leon dispelled the wind blade’s terrifying, rending power. The spell-creature dissolved into a wisp of spell residue.
The other two spell-creatures—one of Chaotic Space and one of Thunder Hell—hadn’t dissipated yet. Leon spat out several runes in quick succession. The power of the hurricane split into miniature vortices, drilling into the larger whirlwinds. The opposing forces began to spin, and in an instant, Chaotic Space was unraveled.
Thunder Hell, a purely offensive spell, was even easier to break. It was a guided, sustained attack; all Leon had to do was destroy the spell-creature.
Several wind blades spun in arcs around the Thunder Hell spell-creature. Three Void-Splitting Blades slashed through, cleaving the creature in half. The spell-creature’s casting was interrupted, and Thunder Hell unraveled into a stream of mindless incantations drifting skyward.
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Opposite him, more spell-creatures stood guard. Deep within this layer—at its very heart—lay the key to controlling everything here.
Leon cast Flight. A swirl of greenish hurricane magic enveloped him, propelling him inward at breakneck speed. Spell-creatures born of ninth-rank incantations kept unleashing hurricane spells, one after another.