Chapter 1298
The Seventy-Two Eldritch Lords, at the peak of their morale, launched a desperate war. Then, some died, some vanished—was this truly what they wanted?
I refuse to believe that all gods and demons are fools, that they'd let everyone die for territory or some petty grudge.
The demons of the Abyss have been eyeing the Northend World for years, but those damned overlords? Hardly any of them are obsessed with conquering Northend. They'd rather sleep for tens of thousands of years in magma and fire.
Northend World isn't really suitable for demonkind—not most of them, anyway. There are still plenty of demons here, but no new ones ever appear; all newborn demons are spawned in the Abyss, not in Northend.
Those overlords wouldn't risk everything to invade a world where they can't even propagate their kind.
The destruction of the Third Dynasty followed the same logic."
So, I believe there's an unfathomably powerful being, hidden somewhere beyond our sight, watching Northend World. Every time Northend's civilization reaches its zenith, this entity intervenes and destroys it—without exception.
Once, I even felt an inscrutable gaze fall upon me. It happened just as I uncovered this pattern. Ever since, I moved here; every experiment, every study—I do it in the semi-plane now."
Suddenly, Leon's pupils contracted slightly. Unbidden, a memory surfaced—the words he'd seen when he obtained the Redpush Core Blueprint.
Without the Redpush Core, the Sanctuary Tower simply couldn't have postponed Northend World's destruction for tens of thousands of years.
The one who drew the Redpush Core Blueprint felt a pair of eyes watching him.
There's a common thread here: they all uncovered crucial clues about Northend World's destruction—or, you could say, they stood in its way.
Agalon is strong enough to bend the rules of the world itself. It's said that among those who've ignited the Divine Flame, the truly powerful ones can sense it the moment someone speaks their name—it's as if someone really is watching them...
That's all I've managed to discover. As for the real truth—how it all ends, how things might change—that's up to you. You see more futures than I ever could, and you've already begun to alter fate's original course.
That's why I hope you'll become the true leader of Astral Academy, to take my place."
Agalon's words were sincere—no hint of jest. From his first invitation to Leon, and now repeating it, the feeling was utterly different.
Leon was silent for a few seconds. He didn't refuse outright—instead, he asked a question.
"Master Agalon, I want to know—why do you want me to succeed you?"
Agalon smiled faintly, his eyes brimming with a world-weary wisdom and calm detachment.
The instant Leon found himself in the starfield, a suffocating terror seized him—a primal fear that made him feel utterly insignificant, as though the universe itself was pressing down, ready to swallow him whole.
Leon nodded, his heart still racing from the soul-shaking dread that lingered in the cosmic malice. It was a fear that clung to his bones, a pressure impossible to shake.
"I'm going to die." Agalon's words hung in the air, as the projection of Leon's demi-plane shrank, compressing further, its boundaries strained to shield him from the crushing cosmic force.
Agalon said it so calmly that Leon nearly dropped his teacup. It felt like being trapped in a deep-sea pressure chamber, with only a fragile cylinder of magic keeping him from being crushed.
A peak Sky Rank mage—no, someone who'd already surpassed that realm, with one foot set across the threshold, just a breath away from igniting the Divine Flame. For a being like that, another ten thousand years of life would be ordinary... yet the demi-plane's projection slowed, its compression easing as Leon began to grasp the edges of its power.
Agalon sighed, a hint of regret in his breath. Leon felt the weight of the demi-plane in his grasp—like wielding a sword too heavy for his arms, its power immense yet unwieldy, his control far from perfect.
"You heard right. I'm almost dead. When I awakened my bloodline, the price was knowing exactly when I'd die—and it's a death no one can prevent, just as no one can stop the sun from rising, or keep all rivers from running to the sea. Outside my own domain, my control over the demi-plane is limited, and fate itself has marked the hour."
It's woven into the fabric of destiny, recorded in the world's laws. Even though I can bend some rules now, I can't change this. Simply put, I'm doomed. Leon shifted his approach, trying to deepen his bond with the demi-plane, seeking resonance with its elemental laws.
Not long ago, I learned the exact time of my death. But I still don't know why I'll die—and that's the unfathomable part of fate." Even a slight strengthening of the demi-plane's projection was enough to shield Leon, a delicate balance between survival and annihilation.
Leon stayed silent. He didn't comfort Agalon; for Agalon, life and death were already things he'd come to terms with. And for an astrologer like him, once they've seen the hour of their own death, once they know when it'll come—there's truly no escaping it. The moment the demi-plane's projection stabilized, it matched the pressure outside—a fragile equilibrium.
Unless Agalon reached true transcendence—where one person could defy the world's laws—only then could he escape this inevitable doom. Without transcendence, the outcome was set in stone, as stable as earth, fire, water, and wind. Leon's face was pale, his struggle obvious, but Agalon seemed satisfied.
For astrologers, no matter how well they prepare, no matter how many dangers they try to avoid, the unexpected always happens. In the end, they're doomed... Agalon nodded approvingly, as if accepting the certainty of fate.
"How much time do you have left?" Leon asked, his voice low. Agalon's advice echoed in his mind—reaction speed and magical danger, the ever-present threat in their world.
After only a brief exchange, Leon felt an unexpected kinship with Agalon—a rare sense of finding a kindred spirit. In this era, if you told anyone Northend World would be destroyed in tens of thousands of years, they'd call you insane. Agalon's critique of Leon's combat style reminded him of their previous, fateful encounter.
The weight of the future's invisible death always pressed on Leon, and there was no one to share it with. Now, at last, someone else was certain Northend World would be destroyed—and had researched it deeply. But Agalon was dying... The diversity of supernatural combat and the mastery of spells became all the more vital.
Leon felt a growing discomfort—a gnawing unease. The advantage of infinite mana from the demi-plane was tempting, but its limitations were becoming clear. Magic was never as simple as unlimited power.
Agalon smiled, as if seeing through Leon's thoughts. The demi-plane was becoming more than just a tool—it was the foundation of Leon's strength, and its significance was only growing.
"Ten years. Not long ago, I sensed my death—and a disaster, too. In ten years, Astral Academy will face annihilation, and that will be the moment of my inevitable fall." Agalon's words lingered, and Leon struggled to absorb the weight of the explanation.
(This chapter isn't finished yet~.~ Click next page to keep reading!) Leon couldn't help but complain inwardly about the oppressive rules of fate. Damn these cosmic laws—always squeezing, never letting up.
I can't avoid my fall, but I don't want Astral Academy to be destroyed as well. That's why I hope you'll take my place—lead Astral Academy, and guide it away from its doomed fate. I suppose that's my selfish wish. Leon bristled internally, resisting the weight of responsibility, yet unable to shake the sardonic voice in his head.
Agalon stepped closer to Leon, his eyes lingering on the shimmering projection of the semi-plane behind him. There was a subtle, calculating look in his gaze, as if he were both inspecting Leon’s magical defenses and weighing the future of Astral Academy itself.
Hearing Agalon mention the ten-year mark, Leon’s mind flashed to a detail he’d only ever seen in biographies—the legendary fate of Agalon. He’d once thought history had shifted, or that the records were mistaken, or perhaps the timing was wrong. But now, as he watched the semi-plane’s structure, he saw its new sub-planes fusing seamlessly, the entire construct growing stronger, more intricate, evolving before his eyes.
It turned out Agalon’s fate hadn’t changed at all—maybe this was simply the destiny of astrologers, written long before their birth. Agalon’s words echoed: “Find your own path in magic and combat. Only by forging your own way can you hope to break the shackles of fate.”
According to the records, starting now, in ten years, Astral Academy would meet a strange and sudden destruction—overnight, it would be flattened, as if some colossal beast had devoured it whole. Agalon would embark on the Astral Path, vanishing from Northend World, never to return, even as the apocalypse descended.
The records say that, starting now, in ten years Astral Academy will suffer a bizarre destruction. Overnight, the academy will be razed to the ground, as if some colossal beast swallowed it whole. Agalon will walk the Astral Path and vanish from Northend World, never to be seen again—not even when the apocalypse comes.
Now, hearing Agalon say it, Leon understood: Agalon didn't just disappear—he fell when he stepped onto the Astral Path.
Astral Academy was wiped out overnight. Its reconstruction came from those who survived.
Luckily, Astral Academy was always different from other mage factions. Aside from a few key locations, it's a unique institution—its students are scattered all across Northend World. Many alchemists who didn't start out at Astral Academy still get a chance to study here every year.
Astral Academy's connections span all of Northend World. That's why, even after it became a third-rate power overnight, it managed to rebuild.
Here, alchemy is everything. Thanks to alchemy, Astral Academy rose again and quickly reclaimed its status as the sanctum of alchemy.
Keep in mind, Astral Academy has plenty of affiliated factions. Most of them supported its rebuilding after the destruction.
It wasn't until thousands of years later, when that terrifying genius tamed the Whisper Crystal, that Astral Academy truly rose to the top of Northend.
Thinking back on all this, Leon couldn't bring himself to refuse. This was an enormous opportunity—if he could lead Astral Academy, he'd have access to Northend's top alchemists. All three academy heads were Saint-ranked alchemists, and with focused training, even more could be cultivated.
When it comes time to build the Sanctuary Tower, the problem of finding alchemists might be solved. Astral Academy's alchemists, their techniques, and their connections are simply invaluable.
On the other hand, Leon couldn't bear to turn down Agalon's invitation. After all this time, it was the first time he'd discussed Northend World's doom with someone else—and that someone was dying. Leon simply couldn't refuse...
"Master Agalon, I might consider it, but I can't give you an answer yet—there are still ten years to go."
Agalon smiled, completely unfazed.
"That's fine. Even if you agreed now, I couldn't pass my position to you right away. You're still too weak. In ten years, I'll help you grow—train you, guide you. By then, you should at least match my current strength, maybe even surpass it.
Only then will I feel confident handing Astral Academy over to you. Your semi-plane is far more perfect than mine ever was—it's flawless, really. When I was at Sky Rank Seven, my semi-plane had only reached where yours is now, or maybe it wasn't even as good.
My time is almost up. Ten years—unless a miracle happens, I'll probably stay just as I am. But you, you'll be stronger than me. Much stronger.
If I die and you still seek the truth behind the destruction, here’s my advice: look for clues on the Stellar Battlefield. That place might hold the answers you’re searching for—perhaps even the truth itself.
But until you’re strong enough, I urge you not to set foot on the Astral Path.
Agalon’s words had barely faded when Leon was suddenly struck by a terrifying force. It came so fast he couldn’t even react—he barely managed to raise his fusion shield before his whole body was enveloped in a translucent, shimmering sphere and sent flying.
He was hurled over ten meters, and the world around him seemed to shift—where the sky had been clear, now there was only endless starfield. Everything familiar vanished, save for the small mountaintop beneath his feet; everywhere else, stars stretched into infinity.
A blazing sun hung somewhere in the distant void, but Leon felt no warmth at all. Meteors streaked past, trailing tails tens of thousands of kilometers long, while countless stars twinkled and danced across the cosmic canvas.
But Leon had no time to marvel at the beauty. The sun, the starlight, even the space itself seemed to gain a hostile awareness, all rejecting and opposing him. He felt like a parasite in this vast cosmos, every law and rule pressing down, trying to erase him from existence.
There wasn’t even a split second to react. The instant the world filled with malice, Leon instinctively called upon the Natural Semi-Plane. Rejected by the world’s laws, the semi-plane’s power surged forth, manifesting around him on its own.
(This chapter isn't finished yet~.~ Click next page to keep reading!)
A phantom of the semi-plane, only three meters across, appeared behind Leon. As it manifested, the projection of its laws emerged under the crushing pressure, creating a small sanctuary—a three-meter sphere where only the semi-plane’s rules applied.
But what could a mere three-meter projection do against the rejection of the entire starfield? Just looking at it was enough to birth endless despair.
If an ordinary person were suddenly cast into the starfield, what they’d feel wouldn’t be awe at the beauty, but a crushing terror—the dread of their own insignificance, and the infinite vastness of this world.
Once the starfield itself turned hostile, that terror became instinctual, making even the soul tremble.
The semi-plane’s projection, compressed to three meters, was already at its limit. But the projection of its laws was still shrinking—within seconds, it was squeezed down to just one meter, barely enough to shield Leon.
It felt like standing at the bottom of the deep sea, crushed from all sides by unimaginable pressure, while his only protection was a one-meter-wide cylinder. Any further compression, and even if the shield didn’t break, his body would be flattened into a pulp.
When the protective shield shrank to a one-meter radius, its rate of compression slowed, but it was still shrinking, forcing Leon to try and manipulate the Natural Semi-Plane from within.
Although Leon had mastered the Natural Semi-Plane, with only Sky Rank Two strength, he could only fully control it from inside. Even then, his control was limited—like a swordsman handed a legendary blade, able to lift it but not truly wield it as a weapon.
Inside the semi-plane, Leon could cleverly draw on its power. Outside, though, it was like giving that legendary blade to an ordinary person—no matter how hard they tried, they’d never manage to move it even a little.
After a few attempts, Leon gave up on controlling the semi-plane from outside. Instead, he focused on strengthening his connection to it, slowly attuning his own insights to resonate with the semi-plane’s laws.
With this, the semi-plane’s projection actively resisted the external laws a little more—just enough to keep Leon from being crushed into a paste.
When the shield of projected laws was compressed to the point of almost touching Leon’s body, the forces inside and out finally reached a tense equilibrium.
Leon’s face was pale. He couldn’t utter a word as he watched Agalon step out of the wooden cabin, a satisfied smile on his face. Every ounce of Leon’s strength was focused on resisting the crushing pressure.
Agalon nodded, clearly pleased with Leon’s performance.
“Not bad. Your reaction speed is decent. As a mage—especially after advancing to the Transcendent realm—the changes in laws are countless. You can’t guarantee you’ll sense every danger ahead of time, but you can learn to respond as quickly as possible when danger strikes.”
“Your combat instincts are good, but your style is too single-minded. Remember, Transcendent spells are completely different from ordinary magic. You’ve probably realized this already—especially after your last encounter with that dark curse mage from the Jackson family.”
“There are too many ways for Transcendent beings to fight, and it’s impossible to guard against them all. Mastering more spells and using them flexibly is key. In battles between equals, when Transcendent power and mana are about the same, your use of Transcendent spells is what matters most. The best combat style is using the most suitable spell for the situation.”
“The Natural Semi-Plane lets you wield nearly limitless mana. Against ordinary opponents, overwhelming them with sheer power is the best method. But if you face someone of equal strength, that brute-force approach loses its edge. Among Transcendent beings, only Transcendent power truly counts.”
“You don’t need me to teach you these things. With the Natural Semi-Plane, your advantages will only grow. The stronger you become, the greater its impact. The development of your semi-plane will directly determine your future strength.”
Agalon rambled on, but Leon’s face remained pale, straining with all his might to resist the pressure. He couldn’t get a single word out.
Damn it, what does being crushed by rewritten laws have to do with spells and combat styles…
Leon grumbled inwardly, but all he could do was grit his teeth and listen, fighting to stay conscious.
Agalon slowly circled Leon, studying the projection of the semi-plane behind him, and let out a soft sigh of admiration.
“A truly perfect Natural Semi-Plane—earth, fire, water, and wind are all stable, and even the four elemental poles have begun to polarize. The rules of darkness and light are already taking shape. And that mass of divine fire—no, it’s more like a vast remnant of divine fire serving as the sun. Genius, truly genius.”
The newly opened sub-plane has fused into the very heart of the Natural Semi-Plane, strengthening it and hastening your control. Flawless.
Whether it’s battle style, spellcraft, or even understanding of laws, there’s nothing more I can teach you. You should find what suits you best—your own path is the best path.