Lucian held it up, watching the light catch the gold. With a clear, loud voice, he gave the command:
"Activate!"
...
The white crystal at the center of the chamber pulsed with a rhythmic, milky light. Suddenly, it shot a beam upward, suspending a glowing display exactly four inches above the stone surface. Shimmering digits and letters flickered into existence: "May 23, 1072: 11:35 AM."
Lucian squinted at the floating clock, his brow furrowing. "Wait," he muttered, his voice echoing in the quiet cave. "How long until the entrance opens?"
As if acknowledging the command of its master, the artifact hummed. The light blurred, the numbers spinning rapidly until they settled into a new countdown: "3 Months, 2 weeks, and 2 days."
Lucian stood back, a look of genuine shock crossing his face. "Oh. He never mentioned I could actually command the thing." A slow, roguish grin spread across his lips. "Well, this is perfect. I still have months to myself. Time for a proper adventure before the real work begins."
The excitement was quickly dampened by a practical realization. "What do I need? Money. Damn. I completely forgot to borrow some from her before I left." He rubbed the back of his neck, scanning the dim cavern. "I'll just have to worry about that later. I'll pack something valuable—anything I can trade or sell once I hit civilization."
He scavenged the corners of the cave, but all he found were his old training tunics and some discarded wood carvings. Finally, his eyes landed on the trophy shelf—a heavy wooden rack packed with monster remains. These weren't just bones; they were high-grade materials that had been preserved to last.
"I guess these will have to do," he said, grabbing a sturdy leather pouch. He began carefully stowing the harvest: blood-red ruby eyes from a tarantula, jagged obsidian talons, and tufts of shimmering, elemental-infused fur. Though the items were rare and high-value, they were small enough that he could fit a small fortune into the single large pouch at his hip.
Before heading out, he reached for a familiar set of clothes hanging from wooden pegs—the simple, rugged gear he'd worn while growing up. He didn't strictly need them, but they felt like home. The outfit he wore now, however, was in a different league entirely. Crafted by Ice, it consisted of a crisp white long-sleeve, matching trousers, and a flowing white cape. The fabric felt like silk but was tougher than steel, woven from the webs of the Mother Tarantula—or as humans called them, the 'Queens of Tarantulas.'
To top it off, the threads carried subtle protection enchantments woven by Still. He packed four spare sets of this spider-silk clothing, enough to last a week, and tucked a shirt from both his mother and father deep into his bag for remembrance.
Stepping out into the blinding sunlight, Lucian turned and sealed the cave entrance with a practiced wave of his hand. Frost crept over the stone, sealing the mouth of the cavern behind a wall of reinforced, translucent ice. It was a technique he'd mastered through Ice Control—a skill taught by Ice and Still that allowed him to manipulate the element itself rather than just raw mana.
Under the vast, sapphire-blue sky, Lucian took a deep, steadying breath. The white bracelet on his left wrist detached, collapsing into a small, glowing sphere.
"Snow," Lucian called softly. "You know what to do."
The sphere gleamed with a blinding light, elongating into a magnificent two-meter staff. The shaft was pure, polished white, resembling petrified wood, with a blue-scaled Serpent Dragon carved intricately along its length. At the northern end, the dragon's mouth opened wide, cradling six floating rings—three white and three sky-blue. A crystal ball the size of a fist hovered within those rings, and above it all sat a dual-toned crown of white and blue spikes. The southern end tapered into the dragon's tail, which was sharp as a sword and shimmered like blue glass.
Lucian gripped the staff, feeling the power thrumming through the wood. "Great work! This is exactly how I pictured it."
The staff pulsed twice in a warm, glowing response.
"Are you ready, Snow?"
Another two gleams of light.
Lucian focused his intent, and his boots left the soil. He rose slowly at first, then drifted higher until the distant city stationed near the great mountain came into view. To fly, he utilized Soar—a pure mana spell. Unlike his elemental magic, these "medium" spells required a constant, heavy drain on his internal reserves.
As he glided through the air, he felt the steady, golden pulse of his Golden Core at the center of his spiritual body. He knew the human world's ranking system by heart: Seed, Flow, Well, Reservoir, Ocean, Continental, and Sky. Currently, Lucian sat at the very peak of the Well Rank, possessing a capacity of 1,500 units of mana. He was already stronger than 60% of all mages, yet he knew the road ahead was long; a Continental Rank mage could hold 300,000 units—enough to wipe a kingdom off the map.
He also kept in mind the "Basics" dictated by the Magic Towers: the five tiers of spells—Basic, Intermediate, Advanced, High-Tier, and Domain—and the rigid necessity of incantations. Still had always called those rules "absurd," and looking at his own effortless control, Lucian was starting to see why.
After ten minutes of soaring above the treeline, the forest thinned. The city's massive stone and brick borders loomed ahead, imposing and gray against the green landscape. Not wanting to cause a scene by flying directly into the streets, Lucian descended near a dirt path where the grass had been cleared for travelers. With a thought, Snow collapsed back into its inconspicuous bracelet form.
He followed the brown soil path until it split: one branch continuing North toward the city's main gate, the other veering Northeast toward the outskirts. Lucian aimed for the tall city walls to the North, but before he could take a single step toward his new life, a sharp, desperate voice cut through the rustle of the trees.
"HEYYY!! YOU THERE! STOP!"