"An omen?" Geralt asked, his brows drawing together as he searched Yennefer's face for clarity.
"Yes—an omen," Natasha replied, her tone heavy and deliberate.
She paused briefly, as if organizing her thoughts, then continued, "Whenever magic is mobilized—especially on a large scale—it produces fluctuations in the surrounding environment. Before a spell fully takes shape, there are always ripples. Sensitive mages, or even certain magical creatures, can perceive these disturbances."
Her gaze shifted toward Karl, who stood calmly beside the fading traces of his previous attempt.
"But just now… from the moment His Excellency Karl began casting until the spell was completed, I sensed nothing. No gathering of magic. No ripple. No warning whatsoever."
Her voice trembled ever so slightly, betraying the unease beneath her composed exterior.
"That level of control…" she continued, lowering her voice, "I have only witnessed it among the highest-ranking sorceresses—beings like my mentor, Tissaia—individuals who have lived for centuries and refined their mastery to near perfection."
Natasha inhaled slowly, then added in a quieter tone, "Against such casters, by the time you realize a spell has been cast… it is already too late. You might only understand what happened in the instant before death."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and unsettling.
Geralt followed her gaze, looking once more at Karl and the portal he had conjured earlier. A complicated mix of admiration, curiosity, and unease stirred within him.
This man—his friend—was becoming increasingly difficult to comprehend.
Every time Geralt believed he had glimpsed Karl's limits, the latter would effortlessly shatter that assumption, revealing an even more astonishing capability.
Karl, however, seemed completely unaware of their thoughts.
He stood before the newly formed orange portal, his eyes fixed on it with quiet concentration. Though visually impressive, the portal was far too small—barely large enough for a single person to pass through.
His brows furrowed slightly.
This would not suffice. Not if he intended to transport two dragons.
Yet there was no frustration in his expression—only focus.
He began to act.
Drawing upon his will, Karl attempted to manipulate the unstable structure of the portal. The orange sparks dancing along its edges responded as though guided by invisible hands, stretching outward inch by inch.
The vortex at the center twisted and expanded in tandem.
One meter.
Two meters.
Gradually, the portal approached a height of nearly three meters. Its presence grew more imposing, the energy within it swirling with increasing intensity.
Yet even at that size, it was still insufficient.
Even the smaller of the dragons, Milgatabrek, would struggle to pass through.
Still, Karl pressed on.
But just as the portal reached a critical threshold—nearly three times the height of a person—something changed.
The light began to flicker violently.
The once orderly sparks erupted into chaos, scattering unpredictably as if the structure itself were rebelling against its own existence.
Then—
Pop.
The sound was soft, almost insignificant.
Like a bubble bursting.
In an instant, the massive portal collapsed inward, shrinking into a single point of light before vanishing completely.
Only faint ripples remained, quickly dissolving into nothingness.
Silence filled the cavern.
Geralt, Natasha, and the Tia Sisters stared in stunned disbelief.
Had he failed?
Karl, however, showed no visible reaction.
No frustration. No surprise.
Without a word, he simply began again.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Time passed.
Again and again, Karl summoned energy, forming new portals and carefully attempting to expand them. Each time, the process followed the same pattern—growth, tension, instability…
And then collapse.
Every attempt failed at nearly the same point.
The limit was clear.
Roughly three times the height of a human.
Beyond that, the structure could not sustain itself.
Eventually, Karl stopped.
He lowered his hands and stood still, his head slightly bowed as he sank into deep thought.
The repeated failures did not discourage him. Instead, they provided data.
He began to analyze.
Replaying each attempt in his mind, he focused on the subtle sensations he had perceived during the process.
Each time the portal expanded beyond a certain threshold, he had felt it.
A resistance.
Not merely instability—but rejection.
It was faint at first, but unmistakable.
The surrounding space itself seemed to resist the portal's existence.
Karl's eyes narrowed slightly as his thoughts sharpened.
The energy he had been using—Solar Energy—originated from himself. It was orderly, structured, and fundamentally different from the ambient energy of this world.
In contrast, the environment was saturated with Chaotic Magic.
The two forces were incompatible.
At lower intensities, the conflict was manageable.
But as the energy output increased—especially when attempting to expand the portal beyond a critical size—the surrounding Chaotic Magic reacted violently.
It was not passive resistance.
It was a counterattack.
The space itself destabilized under the strain, causing the portal's structure to collapse.
Karl exhaled slowly.
"So the problem isn't creating the portal," he murmured to himself.
"It's maintaining it."
He continued his internal analysis.
"The spatial structure of this world is inherently unstable. Even for powerful sorcerers, portals carry significant risks."
He recalled the teachings of Dean Hen Gedymdeith.
"No portal is truly safe. There is always a chance of collapse… or deviation. A traveler could be torn apart—or sent to an unknown location."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"And this instability cannot be completely eliminated."
Karl now understood.
His use of Solar Energy—while powerful—only intensified the conflict.
Because it was more orderly than Chaotic Magic, the rejection it triggered was even stronger.
"This world…" he thought, "has been deeply influenced by Chaotic Magic. The aftereffects of the Conjunction of the Spheres still linger."
He paused briefly.
"And more importantly… there is no sufficiently powerful force maintaining spatial stability."
That was the root of the issue.
Not his technique.
Not his control.
But the fundamental laws governing the world itself.
Having reached this conclusion, Karl made a decision.
He would change his approach.
This time, he would not rely on Solar Energy.
Instead, he drew upon something far more profound.
Divine Power.
The atmosphere shifted subtly as he did so.
Unlike his previous attempts, Karl's expression became serious—focused in a way that demanded attention.
He raised both hands.
His left hand formed a peculiar gesture: the pinky and ring fingers curled inward, while the thumb, index, and middle fingers were pressed together and extended outward—resembling the shape of a handgun.
He aimed it at the empty space before him.
A faint golden glow began to gather at his fingertips.
At the same time, he visualized his destination with absolute clarity—a location on the outskirts of Terra.
Then, his right hand moved.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He began to draw a circle in the air.
"Zzzt—Zzzt—"
The sound was unlike anything they had heard before.
It resembled the steady, crackling hum of electric welding.
Golden sparks scattered from his fingertips, falling like embers as he traced the shape.
Where his hand passed, something extraordinary occurred.
A thin, circular halo of golden energy began to form.
It was not explosive like his previous portals.
Instead, it was… carved.
Constructed piece by piece with precision.
At first, the halo was no larger than a human eye.
But even at that size, it revealed something astonishing.
Through the thin layer of golden light, they could see clearly.
Not distortion.
Not swirling chaos.
But a stable image.
On the other side was a patch of dense vegetation. Leaves swayed gently in an unseen breeze.
A butterfly fluttered above the bushes, its colorful wings catching the light.
It was vivid.
Real.
As if they were looking through a window rather than a portal.
Natasha's eyes widened in shock.
"Is that… a portal?" she blurted out instinctively.
But almost immediately, she shook her head.
"No… that's impossible."
Her voice rose with disbelief.
"A true portal cannot reveal the destination so clearly during formation. The spatial distortion alone should obscure everything!"
She stared at Karl, her expression a mixture of awe and incredulity.
"Then what is he doing…?"
Realization struck her like a lightning bolt.
Her breath caught.
"He's not just opening a portal…" she whispered.
"He's creating something entirely new."
Her voice trembled, this time not from fear—but from excitement.
"A completely new spatial teleportation spell… built upon the principles of conventional portals—but fundamentally more stable."
Unable to trust her own senses, Natasha reached out and pinched her arm sharply.
Pain shot through her.
She winced slightly.
But instead of grounding her, it only deepened her astonishment.
"This is real…"
She turned abruptly toward Geralt and the others, her eyes shining.
"Do you understand what this means?"
Her voice was unsteady, charged with emotion.
"If he succeeds… this could redefine everything we know about spatial magic."
Meanwhile, Karl remained focused.
The golden halo continued to expand slowly under his control.
Unlike before, there was no violent resistance.
No chaotic backlash.
The structure held firm.
Stable.
Precise.
And entirely under his command.
For the first time, a true breakthrough seemed within reach.
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