When Tasha found the letter, her teammates in the background were celebrating the festival.
At first, it was merely the mages' final revelry; they pored over the notes on the bookshelves with voracious hunger, and even in the face of certain doom, they began deciphering ancient magical scripts. The mage apprentices were either assisting their teachers or wandering between the supply rooms; no one forbade them from touching anything anymore. Later, an apprentice discovered a teleportation array deep within the treasury.
A teleportation array leading to the outside.
The mages, who had prepared to embrace knowledge in their final moments, immediately gathered around it. They inspected it repeatedly, conducted a series of experiments, and confirmed that the array was still functional—it would activate as long as it was triggered. It was intact, which seemed to explain the whereabouts of the one who had gone before them—no remains or other exits were found in the warehouse. Even if this teleportation array were to send them to some perilous place, compared to being trapped here to die, any destination held hope.
"I have never been so glad of the failure of ancient magic," Miranda whispered.
The "Cannot Leave" curse left by that Archmage nearly a thousand years ago was finally broken by the White Tower mages who arrived here hundreds of years after his departure. The magical array opened a passage here, granting even the less powerful successors a chance to escape.
However, that pioneer's successful departure also brought a bit of trouble.
This treasury had clearly been ransacked.
Several bookshelves stood empty; their dimensions resembled the shelf where the Book of the Dungeon had been placed when Tash first met Victor. Those areas bore extensive damage, looking as though they'd endured a violent robbery—or as if the books themselves had fought back against the intruders. Even in their shattered state, Tash could sense the immense power of the runes left on the remnants. A vast quantity of spellcasting materials had been taken from the outer chambers, and once the Pioneers had broken through the protective spells inside, the inner collection had been swept clean—like a department store during a New Year's sale.
What was missing was undoubtedly far more precious than anything seen downstairs—so precious that it had finally caught the Pioneers' eye.
—Right now, the living mages around Tasa were frantically stuffing books and materials into any container they could find, their eyes sparkling with a dreamlike glow. This group of mages filled those spatial magic items to the brim, then began using the mage apprentices and guards as carriers themselves, their own small frames hung with large and small bundles, looking more like migrant workers rushing home for the Spring Festival than anything else. From this perspective, the mage profession really hasn't changed in certain aspects for hundreds of years.
As she hurried inward, following the scent of the Abyss, Tasa had a bad feeling.
If the Pioneer was a mage, and the high-grade materials along the way had been picked clean like a dog had gnawed on them, was there any chance the Abyss materials stored deep within the treasury had survived?
Her last shred of hope was completely extinguished the moment she saw the shattered barrier on that massive platform.
This was the spot where the Abyss's aura was thickest; even in this empty area, the Abyss's presence was palpable. Whatever had been left here back then certainly wasn't some low-level minor demon. The surroundings were littered with traces of magic; in some places, it was still impossible to stand, forcing Tasa to spread her wings and fly over. Judging by these traces, the pioneer who came before must have put a great deal of effort into this artifact.
In any case, he had already succeeded.
Tasha couldn't help but feel disheartened; her greatest hope for this adventure had been shattered. While finding a copy of the *Compendium of Demon Restoration* on the bookshelf was certainly nice, it clearly couldn't compare to having the materials provided directly. She wondered how much longer it would be before she could awaken Victor. As various thoughts swirled through her mind, she reached out to take the letter.
The contents of the letter were concise and to the point, the handwriting scrawled—it was, after all, a hastily written note.
Stripping away the elegant flourishes of a bygone era, the gist was as follows:
Thanks to the Dark Meteor, Richel—that great mage with extraordinary looting skills and a penchant for ancient mage hamsters—who amassed this bountiful mage tower; I hereby accept it without hesitation, and thank you for the gift. Thanks to my colleagues at the White Tower, whose noble and selfless act of seizing the tower and dismantling half of it to place here—may magic bless their restless, toiling souls. I have taken what I needed and found the path I sought. Whether my final gamble succeeds or fails, that path will be sealed. Regrettably, should any future visitors arrive here with similar intentions, you will not achieve your goals. As compensation, I have dismantled most of the traps, left the majority of the mage tower's treasures intact, and opened the exit.
Signed, "Mage Leander."
Tasha's fingernails traced the letter, her expression shifting from gloom to surprise.
It was a very simple letter. With the information it provided, the fragments of information gathered along the way could be pieced together, making it not difficult to reconstruct the truth of those days.
In the era when the White Tower mages formed the Mage Alliance to eliminate human threats across the land, they acquired the Mage Tower of the ancient mage Reichel from certain factions. Development of the tower was only half-completed, and the high mages of the Mage Alliance became embroiled in relentless battles and research from which they could not extricate themselves, so they temporarily set the tower aside. Leander, the White Tower renegade who had refused to join the Mages' Alliance, left the White Tower back then. However, upon hearing news of the tower's existence, he returned in his later years to seize the opportunity. Relying on his own strength and the advantages the White Tower had previously provided, he ventured deep into the tower, ultimately shaping the Mage's Tower into its current form.
Judging by Leander's tone, he never left through that teleportation array. The Archmage went to great lengths to break the curse that prevented departure, seemingly only out of consideration for any potential successors.
He said he would make one final push and set out on the path he had sought.
Why had Leander come? Where did the path he had found lead? The letter touched on these matters only briefly, leaving too much unexplained.
However, neither the identity of the pioneer—which had been speculated upon before—nor the answers and riddles brought by the letter were reasons for Tasa to be surprised.
What surprised Tasa was not the content of the letter, but the letter itself.
It was merely an ordinary sheet of parchment, with uneven edges, likely torn off at random from one of the Archmage's notebooks. The ink was also ordinary; though different from modern ink, it possessed no unique magical properties. The only truly unique aspect of this thin sheet lay in its writer.
It was the final message left behind in Erian by the white-robed mage, Leander, before his departure.
This was the "token" of the Forerunner.
And so Tasa realized exactly where that mage had gone.
The title "Star Realm Traveler" shone brightly in her mind, signaling that the conditions had been met once more and the journey could begin. "With the Star Realm's token and the courage to face it, you may set out once more"—Tasha possessed ample courage; the only thing she had previously lacked was the "Star Realm's token," which had been mentioned without any context or clues.
Leander had gone to the Astral Plane; he—or his remains—were there. Therefore, the note he left behind in Eryan could serve as the token Tarsha needed.
Tasha smiled as she clutched the ticket to the Astral Plane.
Everything around her faded away; her bustling, noisy companions became a blur, and the mage tower and treasury were enveloped by the "starlit sky." The boundless radiance of the Astral Plane replaced the dim light of the black candles. Tasha felt herself rising; her presence shot upward, soaring past the entire mage tower.
This crossing was smoother than any before. At first, Tash thought it was due to her own improved adaptability, but she soon realized it was the long-abandoned Mage Tower providing support—like rails for a speeding train. In the brief seconds of her ascent, Tash's consciousness enveloped the entire Mage Tower.
Even legendary mages would not have adapted to this experience as well as Tarsha did—who else possessed her wealth of experience as a living structure? Tarsha adapted to the sensation almost the moment she enveloped the mage tower and swiftly began to gather all the information she could perceive. That familiar, captivating omniscient perspective swept over the ancient, abandoned mage tower; every place they had just passed through—and every place they hadn't—appeared in Tash's mind.
She saw all manner of magical arrays slowly churning out of sight, keeping this structure clinging to life in the cracks, enduring the harsh environment to this very day. She saw that in the areas Leander hadn't yet cleared, some critical zones were heavily guarded, while others held modified magical creatures—many with Abyssal traits, each unique in its own way (thankfully, they wouldn't have to fight every single one)—lying quietly on the platforms where they'd been placed. Before any triggers were activated, every corner appeared calm and safe. The vast network of magic, like a kaleidoscope, traced its origins all the way back to the very spot where they stood.
The drawbridge and this treasury were not at the top of the tower; on the contrary, they were at the very bottom, resting upon the foundation of the mage tower. In the Abyss beneath the drawbridge, Tashan spotted numerous magical servants, as well as a large swarm of slimes in hibernation. Many conduits led down to the lower levels, where trash, domestic waste, and failed experiments could be dumped for the slimes to consume—it was practically like a biogas digester. How interesting—the source of magic for this mage tower is actually the same as that of a dungeon. In those ancient times, was keeping slimes as magic batteries a common practice among mages?
Most intriguing of all, the slimes carried no trace of the Abyss.
Tasha had assumed that her dungeon was cut off from the Abyss, which was why its creations lacked that Abyssal aura. She had previously believed slimes to be Abyssal creatures—a specialty of her dungeon—and that this was why no other slimes could be found in present-day Eryan. But judging by the evidence she'd uncovered, that was not the case.
Within this nearly thousand-year-old mage tower, slimes in their primal state lie dormant; they undoubtedly originate from the Material Plane. Slimes are not standard fixtures of Abyssal outposts; they were likely selected by the dungeon during the Cataclysm of long, long ago, devoured, and transformed into a stable source of magical energy for the dungeon. Long, long afterward, the people of the Material Plane had forgotten that they were native monsters, and during the campaigns to expel the Abyss, they strove to exterminate the slimes as well.
The decline of the magical environment is like a row of dominoes falling—each domino in the middle is both a result and a cause. The disappearance of slimes, these once ubiquitous little monsters, has also become a heavy domino in this chain.
Tasha's mind wandered for a moment; she felt that this level of the Mage's Tower resembled a classic "hero versus demon lord" dungeon: the tower's master could cast challengers here, and the remains of those who failed the trial would be tossed beneath the drawbridge to become food for the slimes, transforming into the magical energy required by the tower. Those who succeeded—the heroes who fought their way through the trials only to defeat an illusion in the end—might find a way out and even take something from the treasure vault. Indeed, there were rumors that Reichel would spare the clever ones she found interesting.
The worthless slime minions at the very bottom, the diverse adventurers—some weak, some strong—and the Great Demon Lord standing at the top of the tower's food chain: though the differences between them are vast, they are all links in the cycle, much like a self-sustaining ecosystem. This strange sensation sparked a few thoughts in Tash's mind; they flashed suddenly, then slipped away like fish.
Tasha's consciousness left the Mage Tower.
She was walking along the same passageway that the white-robed mage had once traversed; she was following the path Leander had sought. Protected by this stable passage, Tasha looked around, observing her surroundings carefully for the first time while alone.
In the boundless Astral Plane stood a limitless "tree," bearing countless worlds—her previous, rudimentary understanding could only describe it thus. Now Tash saw that all the "branches" were composed of innumerable "threads." She had seen something similar in the Hall of True Knowledge: they were threads of causality.
Countless threads of causality intertwined throughout the astral realm, more numerous than the branches in a forest. Tasa lacked the ability to see much; she could only make out a single causal thread connecting to the "Astral Talisman" in her hand. It resembled the tether an astronaut wears during a spacewalk—providing direction and safety, ensuring she would not lose her way.
Suddenly, Tasa found herself at the other end of the thread.
If the world were a fruit, and the quarter of Eryan once guarded by the Elf King were a slice cut from it, then the place Tasa had arrived at now wasn't even a small piece of dried fruit. Yet standing there, Tasa felt her heart racing.
The last time she'd felt such awe was when she saw those magical artifacts beneath the capital of Eryan.
If one were to liken a world to a planet, the place before her was a satellite, a space station—in every sense of the word. The silvery mage tower floated amidst the astral realm, protected by countless intricate magical arrays and runes, while faceless mages and apprentices came and went within it. Whether observing the ruins of the White Tower or walking through an abandoned ancient mage tower, neither could give Tasha such a clear concept of "what a mage tower truly is." This mage tower, however, was still "alive."
Not only that, but this mage tower was clearly many times more advanced than all the mage tower ruins in Eryan.
On the other end of the causal thread, a mage tower sailed through the astral plane, much like a spaceship roaming the cosmos; the overwhelming sense of the future was almost absurd. Such advanced and powerful magical crystals bore such a striking resemblance to the future envisioned by science and technology.
Tashan hadn't been exploring for long when a figure materialized before her.
The figure wasn't translucent, but it clearly didn't touch the ground, making no attempt to hide the fact that it lacked a physical form. He wore a simple, quintessentially mage-like traditional white robe with a hood, leaned on a staff, and sported a white beard tied in a bow—as if he'd stepped out of the set of some fantasy film recounting ancient tales, creating a temporal disconnect of untold years with the mage tower he inhabited. The mage's smile was warm, though his drooping white eyebrows lent his laughter a peculiar air of melancholy.
If Bruno were fifty years older, he would probably look just like this.
"A master of the Prophecy School said you'd be coming today—a bit sooner than I expected," he said cheerfully. "I am Leander—does this outfit look a bit outdated? Don't mind it; after all, I'm an old man who's been dead for many years."
"Hello," Tasa paused, her mind racing. "What else did that master of the Prophecy School predict?"
"The length of your stay, the answers you seek, and so on," Leander said, as if reading Tasa's thoughts. "You needn't repeat the details of Erian's situation. Though we're out here, we're not entirely unaware of what's happening in Erian."
"We"? "Not entirely in the dark"? The implications of those two sentences were immense, and the astonishment they brought Tasa was no less than when she'd discovered someone was waiting for her. She had so many questions, yet for a moment she didn't know where to begin, so she fell silent, waiting for the mage before her—who seemed to know so much—to provide the answers.
"If we had enough time, I'd really like to brew you a cup of tea, and then we could start from the very beginning and go through everything slowly. That would make it easier to accept, but unfortunately, there simply isn't enough time to proceed step by step," the white-robed mage shook his head. "Let's cut to the chase."
Leander looked up, his brown eyes fixed on Tasa, and said, "Every story begins with this: When the ship you're on is about to sink, would you choose to stay and try to save it, or abandon ship and seek out another?"
The Archmage was right; this was far too abrupt.
Tasha had expected to hear of the departure of the Celestial Realm, the "disappearance" of the Astral Plane, or the Abyss's schemes, but she never imagined the biggest mystery of all would hit her right in the face like this.
The heavens and earth, along with everything within them, form a plane; one plane or several adjacent planes constitute a world, and beyond the world lies the vast Astral Plane. Countless worlds are linked by countless threads; even the Archmages cannot fully explain this aspect of knowledge, so let us provisionally regard it as a World Tree. Everything within the Astral Realm is immeasurably vast and boundless, yet just as every long-lived planet eventually dies, those worlds that seem immortal to ordinary beings are not eternal.
However, a world's demise is not predetermined.
With each cycle, a branch of the World Tree faces a cycle of "decay and renewal." Yet withering is not inevitable, just as revival after decay is not a foregone conclusion. The timing of a cataclysm may be left to fate, but the outcome of this "decay and renewal" lies in the hands of the beings inhabiting that world. If the beings of this world develop a highly advanced civilization, through united effort, they may weather the calamity and avoid destruction—much like penguins huddling together to survive an exceptionally harsh winter.
Sounds rather noble, doesn't it?
Alas, the creatures of each world are so numerous, and the path to overcoming the Cataclysm—and the time it takes to do so—is so long.
Even the Eryan Declaration, the greatest achievement of unity among the creatures of the Prime Material Plane, fell apart centuries later, leading to the situation we see today. So what happens when a "world" includes mortal enemies like the Abyss and the Celestial Realm?
Whether it was the demons of the Abyss or the gods of the Celestial Realm who first realized this, they recognized the world's decline and resolved to act—the vast majority of beings in the Prime Material Plane have short lifespans (by the standards of demon lords and gods); mortals, who live and die in a single day, would not live to see that day, but the long-lived inhabitants of the two realms could. On the day they uncovered the secret of the world's rise and fall, both sides decisively ruled out the option of cooperation.
Who could expect water and fire to coexist peacefully and work in harmony?
The remaining options became crystal clear.
You cannot protect a sinking ship alongside your enemies; the only choice is to abandon ship and flee. Abandoning the entire vessel would be a complete waste of resources, so the high-ranking officials of the Celestial Realm and the Abyss reached a unanimous decision: first, divide up the Prime Material Plane, take the usable resources and energy, and allow the relatively independent Celestial and Abyssal planes to break away and flee to nearby worlds.
Just as Tasa had witnessed, the human realm is the central fruit. It enjoys greater resources, a more stable environment, and more lenient rules, and is thus referred to by the Three Realms as the "Primary Material Plane." But precisely because of this, the Primary Material Plane is also the target of the Cataclysm; only it shares a fate of life and death with that "branch," unable to escape.
What followed is what Tasa already knew.
Although the Celestial Realm and the Abyss had temporarily united for a common purpose, their shared ambition for the same Prime Material Plane inevitably led to conflict. The beings of the Prime Material Plane, unaware of what was truly unfolding, unexpectedly reaped the benefits of this struggle. United under the Eryan Declaration, they seized the initiative, driving both the Celestial Realm and the Abyss into exile. Amid the three-way melee, the Abyss appeared to be the first to withdraw, yet the Celestial Realm suffered the greatest losses, being expelled most thoroughly. Realizing they could gain nothing from the Prime Material Plane, the beings of the Celestial Realm acted decisively and abandoned this slowly sinking ship.
"Did the Celestial Realm manage to escape that way?" Tasha asked.
"No one knows," Leander shook his head. "A plane severed from the World Tree drifts through the Astral Plane, facing great risks. It's just that the beings of the Celestial Realm believed leaving Eryan offered them a better chance of survival than staying there."
The Celestial Realm departed, and the inhabitants of the mortal world mistakenly believed they had used the demons to drive out the Celestials, only to find themselves exploited in turn, leading to the corruption of the Prime Material Plane. The demons of the Abyss intended to use this to devour the Prime Material Plane, but the elves and the Archdruid resolutely severed Eryan and journeyed to the Astral Plane to purify it. Though the purification failed, their sacrifice was not in vain; the Abyss's plans were thwarted. In the back-and-forth struggle, the two remaining planes ended up in a stalemate.