They felt it, the unparalleled, overwhelming energy from the leylines of Colchis Island was now endlessly channeling into the great magic array, its power continuously devoured and absorbed.
Some sharp-minded magi immediately hurried back to their workshops, only to realize in shock that such a vast leyline, such boundless magical energy, had been wholly monopolized by this array.
Even though their workshops were connected to the same leyline, not a single drop of power could be drawn from it.
Even the magic lingering in the very air was beginning to dry up.
What are they trying to do?
Confused and uneasy, the magi could only watch. They knew this was far beyond their ability to interfere. All they could do was stand aside as witnesses.
In truth, it wasn't only them, many teachers and students of the Academy were gathering to watch as well.
From first-year novices who had barely stepped into the path of magecraft, to long-serving professors who had already ascended to the Seventh Circle, none of them could comprehend why the Academy would construct such a magic array.
Among them were magi who had themselves been dispatched by the Academy, tasked to bury mystic devices at distant leylines.
They instinctively sensed that this array must be related to those tools they had installed with their own hands. Yet even so, the connection between them remained a mystery.
After all, even the most erudite and powerful of them could not decipher the runes inscribed upon those mystic devices, nor the ones now glowing across the surface of the array.
At Mystra Academy, the curriculum included lessons on common magical runes.
But none of those corresponded in the slightest to what was before them. Not even the faintest resemblance.
Clearly, these runes were the creations of the Academy's highest echelon, the Supervisory Council itself. This entire grand design was their doing.
Naturally, dissatisfaction lingered in the hearts of some.
They, too, were members of the Academy. Even if they had no right to participate, surely they deserved the right to know what was happening?
But no such right had ever been granted. The Supervisory Council had always been composed of the same women since the very beginning, unchanging, immutable.
No, not entirely unchanged. At some point, Daedalus had joined them. After becoming the Headmaster's personal disciple, she too had stepped into the circle of those women.
Thus, a small fraction of the Academy quietly harbored discontent with its system.
The only reason such dissent had never grown beyond whispers was simple: every single member of the Supervisory Council had stepped into legend.
Unfortunately, after so many years of peace, few truly understood what "legendary" meant. Few grasped the abyssal gulf separating a legendary magus from an ordinary one.
Yet perhaps, after this day, not a single magus would ever dare harbor rebellion again.
As the array devoured more and more power, the torrent of energy finally surged to its peak.
And before the gathered crowd, a woman stepped into the glowing array.
From her robes and her silhouette, all recognized her immediately, it was their Vice Principal.
And yet, even with that recognition, many stood dumbfounded.
Not because she dared step into a space suffused with such suffocating power. But because of her face.
For decades, Pandora had never once revealed her true visage before anyone but Alaric and her sisters.
To all the graduates of Mystra Academy, she was remembered only as a veiled beauty, her features hidden, her allure imagined.
Now, unveiled at last, her goddess-like beauty drew every gaze, every breath.
But Pandora paid no heed to such distractions. This was not the time for vanity.
She walked to the heart of the array and stood still.
Then she closed her dazzling eyes, letting her consciousness merge seamlessly with the magic array.
At the array's edge, Alaric appeared.
He fixed his gaze on Pandora within the glowing lines, waiting silently for her signal.
At last, her voice echoed softly in his mind.
"The main control array has been fully linked. I am ready."
"Good," Alaric answered her in thought. "Then, let the Apotheosis Ritual begin."
Yes. This entire array, and the elaborate setup that had been prepared across all of Greece for the past three days, existed for one purpose alone: the Apotheosis Ritual.
And the one to ascend was not Alaric, but Pandora, the creation of the gods themselves, born closest to divinity.
In Alaric's eyes, Pandora was not a true deity. She was but a mortal, fashioned by the gods' hands.
Yet her body was divine-made, blessed by the pantheon. Compared to any other, she was far better suited to channel godly power, far more likely to be accepted by heaven and earth.
Even so, Pandora had endured immense suffering for this ritual.
For three days, countless crystalline spheres had been placed across Greece's leylines. Each one contained a fragment of Pandora's very soul.
And these spheres had been forged by Alaric himself, through the union of soul materialization and the waters of the Sunwell.
The Sunwell was his gift from Quel'Thalas, in the world of Azeroth. Its waters, drawn from the primal Well of Eternity, carried the same ability: to transmute magic endlessly from the Void.
The materialized souls came from Alaric's magic of soul manifestation, using Pandora's soul as the core.
Though Alaric could not directly wield the truths he had witnessed when observing the genesis of the Type-Moon world, those truths seeped into his being.
By absorbing them passively, he could approach even the Five Grand Magics as though they were ordinary spells to be studied and mastered.
In time, he had naturally gained command of this art.
By fusing soul materialization with the waters of the Sunwell, Alaric had created the crystalline spheres.
Though to outsiders they looked like crystals, their true name was Myther Energy Cores. Of course, unlike the "mythallar" of Dungeons & Dragons, these cores bore distinct differences.
Each one was not merely a mighty energy source, akin to a magical reactor, but more.
Pandora's soul fragments allowed her to control them, while the runes Alaric had etched upon them ensured that, once activated, they could merge seamlessly with any leyline.
Thus, once all the Myther Energy Cores were awakened, every leyline in Greece would become connected directly to Pandora's soul.
Which meant, Pandora alone would command all the leylines of Greece.
The plan sounded flawless.
But in truth, there was a fatal flaw.
Pandora's soul could never withstand such colossal strain.
To command all the leylines of an entire divine realm of Greece, that was no task for a mortal.
That was a miracle only a god could achieve.
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