That was how the mortals of Yarian viewed the magi of old and new. Beings of profound status that are able to take hold of their own destinies. But how laughable would it be if they discovered the truth of the matter? That even the very gods are nothing more than pawns in the schemes of fate. And that the magi they revere as the pinnacle of humanity are merely the visible tip of an iceberg, with unfathomable Mysteries lurking beneath the murky depths of this world’s reality?
And yet, even this path—visible for all to bask and dream of its glory, hides a bitter truth. No matter if you’re blessed or cursed, gifted or inept—all beings who wish to exert their will upon this world must first learn to understand it. The hidden intricacies of one’s own true self, and the discoveries—whether insanity inducing or not—are only the beginning.
If climbing the ranks as a Vagrant Phantasm meant struggling endlessly against the tides of time and corruption, then the struggles of a magi would be akin to a worm slowly becoming a part of the mountain it wishes to climb—painfully discarding its definition of its own existence in the process.
But even so, many still decide to walk this uncertain path. For even with all the insanity and misery, each step only takes you closer to discovering more about your own wretched reality. And like an addictive drug, the moment you take your first step, turning back becomes impossible.
In Luvinica, apprentices who study for about three years and reach the 1st Circle are known as Junior initiates and those who advance further into the 2nd Circle are known as Senior Initiates. Going further into the 3rd Circle earns you the title of Adept—someone most nations and guilds desire.
True mastery, however, only begins at the 4th Circle.
Also known as Evokers, those who reach this stage gain a new understanding of their own anima—qualitative changes occur to their control over their Soul Realm that allow them to wield their Channels of Willpower far more freely.
But the changes don’t stop there—as magi ascend to the 5th Circle as Arcanists and 6th Circle as Magisters, their command over their spiritual zone deepens, allowing them to reshape the very structure or essence of their Three Layers of Self.
And then there’s the 7th Circle… Also known as the ‘Great Barrier of Nature.’
To many magi, reaching the 7th Circle was akin to reaching for the stars. Out of a million, only one might have the chance to challenge this threshold. And yet—many still try. Countless Magisters have come and gone, laboring endlessly to grasp even the faintest of clues at reaching that illusory stage… only to realize their efforts were meaningless.
But every decade or so, a miracle occurs. Whether through sheer will or something far more profound, there will be someone who steps beyond the Great Barrier, earning them the right to a new identity… As an Archmage.
Across the entire continent, the Wall of Honor in Luvinica only records thirty five active archmages total. Some are reclusive and tend to never leave their research stations and mage towers, while others wander the continent in search of hidden truths. But one thing that was considered universal amongst all of them was their sheer power.
During the War of Swords, it wasn’t uncommon to see 7th Circle magecraft leveling entire battlefields with a single spellform, or Spirit Realms eclipsing entire cities under the thumb of their will… Such legends remain even today—to the point that the nations of order had signed explicit treaties with one another that disallowed the usage of Archmages in warfare.
The mere existence of Archmages was seen as a threat. In fact, the nations of order remain stable only because the current distribution of Archmages across the continent are balanced—any shift in that power dynamic could instantly shatter the fragile peace that currently exists.
However, these truths are things only the royal families and certain organizations need to care about. To the common man—one who had never seen an Archmage, let alone a Magister or Arcanist—even the simplest 1st Circle magecraft was a terrifying spectacle to witness.
As for facing that power directly…
In a dust-ridden wooden shack long drowned in the scent of cheap booze and the creaking of rotten planks, stood a chestnut haired young man of modest height wearing a black checkered robe with a cone hat to match. In his hand was a strange stick of a foot and a half in length, intricately decorated in silver that encased a faint white gem somewhere near the bottom. His amber eyes flickered with madness, but also intrigue.
Soren flashed a faint smile. “How interesting… The spellform materialized a second faster than usual… Not that I was trying to be fast either.”
“Sir magus! P-please spare us!” A desperate voice echoed from somewhere below. Soren glanced down at the pitiful men before him—all of them groveling at his feet. Despite the comical size difference, it was he who stood above the menacing loan sharks, not the other way around.
“Magus!” The other yelled. “I… We… We didn’t know someone of your esteemed level would be here!”
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“T-the laws of the kingdom! It’s illegal in Aellora to attack a civilian with magecraft!”
Hearing this, Soren chuckled. “Oh? So I broke the law? How unfortunate… If I let you three go, wouldn’t that mean I’ll get punished by the authorities?
“How troublesome… Troublesome indeed…” His eyes glanced at the three like a predator. “Maybe it would be better if I buried the truth forever…” His smile widened, “Wouldn’t that be a reasonable conclusion?”
“No!” The one in the back shrieked and backed away into the door in fear.
“I’m just kidding, I’m just kidding! Relax, I won’t do anything to you… After all, I wouldn’t need to.” He tossed the guild badge onto the floor in front of them.
“Take a long look at what that is.”
The captain’s face paled. “Star Fate Guild?!”
Soren nodded. “Indeed, although I am not a licensed magi, I am affiliated with a recognized guild… In fact, by the guild’s authority, I can have you three arrested right now for trying to extort a fellow citizen with intimidation.”
“B-but! He owes us money!”
Soren turned his head to face Gunther who simply shrugged, then sighed and glanced back at the three men.
“Any proof?”
“Huh?”
Soren crossed his arms. “Do you have any proof he owes you anything? Have you notarized the debt owed at the Church of Brilliance? Can you testify in the name of the Gold-Giver that he owes that amount you claim he does?”
The silence was palpable, but Soren expected it. Even if the Church of Brilliance preaches the doctrine of individualism and material gain, that does not mean that gaining wealth through extortion and other immoral means was tolerated. Simply put, such methods were seen as beneath the Gold-Giver—an insult to his brilliance.
Of course, that didn’t stop many of their believers from engaging in such things—bribery was as common a place in Celestine as the clouds themselves. But the church itself disallowed it, which meant loan sharks like the ones in front of him had no way of proving anything officially.
“So…” His voice cut through their thoughts. “What will you do? I am willing to overlook the fact that all of you were here, in exchange that you look over the fact I used magecraft against you… Or, I could simply bury all three of you here in this alley, where only the rats will find you.
“The choice is yours.”
The answer they chose was pretty obvious. Without even hesitating, they all bowed and turned around to leave in a hurry—afraid that Soren would change his mind.
Seeing them run away, Soren simply sighed. He glanced over his shoulder to where Gunther was. “So I guess you owe me one now, right?”
Gunther’s expression remained blank. “1000 Lorins. Take it or leave it.”
“What?!” Soren frowned. “I did all that for such a small discount?”
“Be happy you even got a discount at all, brat!”
“How come your daughter is never that stingy?!”
“Because I raised her properly!”
“Bastard, then why the hell won’t you raise yourself properly?!”
“Who are you calling a bastard, bastard!” He stomped his boot. “Brats nowadays have no respect for their elders!”
Soren shook his head. “Fine, I’ll pay the damn Lorins! Here, go buy the usual liquor or whatever with it!” Soren dug through his money pouch and handed him the coins. The moment he received them, his whole demeanor changed.
“Ah! Dear customer! Thank you very much for shopping at Gunther’s Magic Shop!”
He turned around in irritation. “Shameless old man.” Gunther, however, ignored him and continued to count the coins. Seeing this, Soren couldn’t help but sigh.
“Hey, old man.”
“Hm?” He glanced up at the young man before him.
“Why… do you stay in this place? Actually, let me rephrase that.” He turned around to face him. “Those bastards from earlier… You could have dealt with them on your own, right?”
He was met with silence. Soren followed up:
“The abilities my Soul Weapon grants me… They allow me to gain information about the things around me. And when I look at you with these mystical eyes… All I see is a void.
“You’re… Not some regular old man, are you?” Not that he ever expected him to be. In fact, it was always the opposite. Ever since Cassia introduced him to this store, he had a faint suspicion that Gunther’s past wasn’t as simple as he presented it to be.
For one, the relics in this store—many of them were fakes, but the few in his possession that weren't… They were too powerful for a normal civilian to possess or acquire normally…
And then there’s the fact that his newly acquired wand… Some of its design features were prominent in relics found in the Avalon Ruins. He had researched this briefly during his workdays in the library. Gunther himself also admitted to finding it in a dungeon, and if it’s the same dungeon Soren’s thinking of, then that would mean… Well, it would mean many things, but he would certainly not be an ordinary person.
The final nail in the coffin, however, had to be the fact that [Eyes of the Fairy] failed to acquire any information about him. The last time this happened—it was due to him using his powers on Dungeon Door #1 when he first arrived in Celestine. Somehow, Gunther was using a method to hide himself from his prying eyes…
The silence continued—Soren continued to stare at Gunther, awaiting an answer that he might never gain. This continued on for a minute or two until the old man sighed.
“Of course I am not normal, brat. What kind of normal senior citizen would ever put up with living in a rundown shack with sewage water leaking from the ceiling?”
Soren shook his head. “Fine, fine… Keep your secrets.” Until I upgrade my Soul Weapon and come find you again, of course!
Unaware of his thoughts, Gunther shooed him away. “Alright I counted the coins, you can leave now.”
Hearing this, Soren clicked his tongue and turned toward the door. Just as he was about to leave, Gunther’s voice reached him again.
“Hey brat… Are you planning on going somewhere far away?”
Soren froze. His brows lifted as he asked, “How… did you know?”
“Your eyes,” Gunther answered. “I recognize that look. It's the look of someone thinking about things beyond his own means.”
Hearing this, Soren couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re right.” His lips curled up. “I’ll be going on a pilgrimage soon… Across the continent.”