Morning had not yet fully settled over the Central Magic Tower when Varcas appeared before Daniel’s quarters.
Unlike always, this time there was no trace of his usual smile or calmness on his face. His gaze was serious, and even his voice carried a more formal tone than before.
"It’s time."
Daniel, who had been awake for hours, quietly closed the book that had been left open on the table.
Dozens of pages lay beside it, each covered with formulas, mana diagrams, and restructured spell designs; writings mostly crossed out, as if the author, upon reaching a better conclusion, had discarded his previous theory without the slightest hesitation.
He rose unhurriedly.
"Let’s go."
Serys, who had been waiting by the door from the start, unconsciously took a deep breath. She had come with Master Varcas to follow Daniel.
Even she couldn’t hide her excitement. The Trial of a Thousand Spells wasn’t something one got to see every day, let alone participate in.
The three of them walked through the tower’s hallways in silence.
But this time, their destination was not the upper floors as usual.
Varcas led them downward.
The further down they went, the less light came from the mana crystals illuminating the hallway ceilings, replaced by blue flames burning in torches of an unknown metal.
The air had also changed. Neither cold nor hot, but heavy.
So heavy that even the floating mana in the space moved more slowly than usual, as if this place itself did not allow the world’s energy to flow freely.
Daniel’s gaze swept over the surrounding stone walls. These stones were different from what he had seen in the tower’s other floors.
Thousands of ancient runes were carved across their entire surface; some still glowed faintly, while others were so old that only a faint trace of their lines remained.
He slowed his steps for a few moments, his eyes moving among those ancient symbols.
Some he recognized, some he had never seen, and a few... did not even belong to this world’s language.
And this caught his attention. One of his interests was to fully learn runes, and alongside learning magic, he had also begun learning runes.
After all, the two were somewhat considered a set and subset of each other, and for him, learning both was easy.
But regarding runes, they were like learning a language. He had to learn their symbols, signs, and words.
And it could be said that runes were essentially words that carried offensive or defensive power, depending on their type.
"Surprised?" Varcas said without turning around.
Daniel didn’t answer.
"Most people think the magic tower is the oldest structure on this continent." Varcas continued.
He paused for a few moments.
"But the truth is... this part is older than the tower itself."
Varcas gestured to the surrounding walls.
"When the founders placed the tower’s first stone on the ground, this place already existed."
"They built the tower on top of this structure, not the other way around."
A heavy silence spread through the hallways.
"I thought this place was also built by the tower’s founders?" Daniel asked curiously.
"Well, that’s the common belief among all people, and we’ve made no effort to change it. But the truth is different. Otherwise, why do you think the tower was built on an island in the middle of the ocean?"
"That’s logical."
The further they went, the stronger the feeling of something unknown grew; something that was neither enemy nor friend, but had simply been waiting for thousands of years.
After a few minutes, the hallway suddenly ended.
Before them stood a massive door of black stone, several meters high.
No handle or lock could be seen on its surface, but thousands of golden runes flowed through the stone like living veins.
The door moved aside with a quiet sound.
Beyond the door lay a hall that even Daniel’s gaze lingered on for a moment.
A circular hall, so vast that its ceiling disappeared into darkness.
Around the hall, massive statues stood at regular intervals. Each statue represented one of the tower’s founders.
Faces in different robes, staves of various designs, and gazes that, even from stone, radiated majesty and authority.
But what drew the most attention was the writing beneath each statue.
881
892
830
900
897
Numbers that followed only a short phrase.
"Accepted Spells."
Daniel walked slowly among the statues, until he reached the largest one. The statue of a man in a long robe, both hands resting on a simple staff.
In his stone gaze, neither pride nor violence could be seen, only a deep calm. And beneath the statue, only one number was carved.
904
"The main founder... the highest record in history." Serys whispered quietly and then continued.
"He is considered the greatest mage in history. He built the entire current system of magic: mana rings, how to use spells and magic. He was the founder of all of it."
"So even he didn’t reach a thousand." Daniel stared at the number for a few seconds.
He now understood how difficult it was to reach a thousand spells, when even the strongest mage in history hadn’t been able to reach that number.
And also, the face of this statue looked noticeably familiar to him, as if he had seen it somewhere before.
Behind them, the sound of slow footsteps could be heard. An old man with a bent posture, completely white hair, and a gray robe emerged from the darkness.
His eyes had a strange color; neither blue nor silver, but transparent, as if they had lost their natural color years ago.
Varcas bowed his head respectfully.
"Master Azreon."
Serys immediately bowed as well.
But the old man didn’t even glance at them. All his attention was on Daniel. He looked at him for a few moments without speaking.
"So... you’re the one who fully comprehended the main tablet." Then he said quietly.
Daniel just nodded, and at the same time, he briefly assessed the man, realizing he was a Heavenly King.
That was why Varcas had shown him respect.
The old man gestured toward a massive gate at the end of the hall.
"Before you enter, you must know the truth about this trial." He walked slowly, his voice echoing throughout the hall.
"Most people think this test measures memory or talent." A very faint smile settled on his lips.
"They’re wrong. The spells inside the trial... are alive."
Azreon continued.
"Each spell has its own will. Each one asks you only one question: ’Did you truly understand me?’"
"If your answer isn’t convincing, it won’t even let you finish your second sentence."
"But if it’s satisfied... it enters the sea of your consciousness on its own."
The old man fixed his gaze on Daniel.
"That’s why no one ever forgets the spells they’ve accepted."
"Because they’re no longer just information... they become part of the person." Daniel said quietly.
"Exactly." For the first time, a very faint smile appeared on Azreon’s face.
But that smile quickly faded, and his expression became serious again.
"However... I also have a warning for you." All eyes turned back to the old man.
"The Trial of a Thousand Spells... despises ordinary people."
Azreon continued.
"If it feels that your goal is just to break a record... if it feels you’re just seeking fame or proving your superiority..."
His gaze deepened.
"It might not give you even a single spell."
The hall fell into silence for a moment, and Daniel asked only one question.
"So what it measures... is the sincerity of the seeker of truth."
The old man didn’t answer, but his silence was more telling than any confirmation.
At that moment, another group entered the hall. Among them, Lioran walked calmly.
The same familiar smile could be seen on his face, and unlike many of those present, his gaze held neither curiosity nor competition.
Only calmness.
They had also come to watch. In fact, not just them, but behind them, other groups of students, senior and junior professors, had also arrived.
And even some senior council members had shown up.
"If your record is broken... won’t you be upset?" One of the professors asked Lioran loudly.
Lioran, without taking his gaze off the ancient gate, answered:
"Records are meant to be broken."
The professor looked at him in surprise.
"If no one can surpass me... it means I haven’t improved either." Lioran continued.
Daniel involuntarily glanced at him for a moment. For a few seconds, their gazes met in silence.
There was neither enmity nor friendship in it. Only the gaze of two people who knew their paths would cross again sooner or later.
Azreon walked toward the massive gate. He placed his old, thin hand on its stone surface, and suddenly thousands of ancient runes lit up simultaneously.
Golden light flowed through the stone’s grooves.
The ground beneath everyone’s feet trembled.
A tremor born not of power, but of age.
It felt as if something that had been asleep for thousands of years was slowly awakening.
A deep sound echoed throughout the hall.
The ancient gate began to open slowly, but beyond it, neither a hallway nor a room could be seen.
Only endless white light, so bright that it was impossible to gauge its depth.
Varcas stood beside Daniel.
"From this moment on..." His voice was quiet but firm.
"No one can help you."
Daniel stepped forward without any hesitation. No excitement could be seen on his face, no fear, not even curiosity. Only a strange calmness, as if he had been waiting for such a moment for a long time.
He took one step into the light, and at that moment, all the sounds around him faded away.
Time stopped moving.
And a voice so ancient that it was impossible to tell whether it was male or female echoed in the depths of his mind.
"Welcome."