Amid Wayne's call that seemed to echo from beyond the heavens, the sand soldiers roared with an ancient fury passed down through generations, raising their spears in unison as their forms gradually dissipated, coalescing back into primal sand.
Slowly, a massive city constructed from yellow sand emerged, with a grand altar at its very centre, its long steps stretching up into the clouds.
A colossal golden disc, engraved with countless mysterious runes, descended from the sky and hovered at the heart of the altar, completely blocking out the sun's radiance.
Grace witnessed this awe-inspiring scene from beginning to end.
Sand soldiers building a city, a divine artefact descending from the heavens—was this the great power of ancient Shurima?
"W-Wayne," she stammered, her voice trembling, "you're not actually some Shuriman prince, are you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Wayne scoffed. "I'm more like Shurima's ancestor."
Shurima had risen to power through the Sun Disc, and the Sun Disc itself harnessed the power of the Dragon King. So him claiming to be Shurima's ancestor wasn't far off.
"Alright, let's begin the Ascension. Relax, there's absolutely no danger," Wayne reassured her, patting her hand encouragingly.
Grace nodded, her composure fully restored, becoming remarkably calm.
She was no stranger to grand events; she had merely been stunned by the Sun Disc's marvel and the spectacle Wayne had created. Now, having regained her bearings, she ascended the sandy steps with unwavering determination.
Wayne, too, rose slowly into the sky, overseeing everything from hundreds of metres above.
As Grace set foot on the first step, a massive magical circle appeared across dozens of miles, and the Sun Disc began to rotate.
With a single pointed finger, Wayne's stellar magical power found its outlet, surging forth violently.
To forge a legend-worthy champion required an immense amount of energy.
He had spent half a month, channelling roughly fifty units of magical power into the Sun Disc daily, just to satiate the colossal device.
Considering Wayne's current total magical power was only a little over twenty units, it was only thanks to the enhancement of his arcane runes—granting him exceptionally fast magical recovery—that he managed this. An average Legend would likely need a full year to meet the requirement.
Now, this surge of power was merely to fully activate the disc, officially commencing the Ascension Rite.
'The road is winding, I cannot see its end; the future is bright, yet I cannot perceive it.'
Although he had drawn the safe version of the Ascension Rite, free from any risks, transcending mortality to achieve Legend was no easy feat. In Shurima, failure in Ascension meant utter annihilation—the Dragon King's divine radiance, greater than the sun itself, was not something just anyone could endure.
Now, Grace's situation was far better. Each step of the sandy staircase was like her path to godhood. While the ritual held no risks, her body was undergoing a transformation, enduring pain beyond ordinary tolerance.
Wayne could only hope that Grace would reach the end smoothly, completing the ritual consciously to maximise its effects.
Fortunately, Grace's will was exceptionally resolute; halfway through, she showed no signs of agony.
Truly worthy of a goddess who had reached the pinnacle in this ruined world.
Under Wayne's watchful gaze, it took her a full hour to reach the summit, her body already drenched in sweat. Grace murmured to herself, reciting the divine words Wayne had taught her.
The light from the Sun Disc also reached its zenith, as if another great sun had risen from the ground, gradually engulfing Grace's body.
Within the radiant, blazing sun, that frail dark silhouette was strikingly distinct. Wayne remained vigilant, scanning his surroundings, fearing some fool might charge into the vicinity. If there was even the slightest chance of disrupting Grace, he would not hesitate to eliminate them.
The great sun gradually shrank, its energy wholly absorbed by Grace.
By the time the sun set in the west, the Sun Disc had ceased its rotation. Grace's eyes snapped open abruptly, and a formidable surge of magical power instantly erupted. A circular shockwave, carrying yellow sand, swept outwards in all directions.
"Congratulations," Wayne said as he landed beside her, his smile radiant.
"Thank you," Grace replied, embracing the young man. "I can feel it... this sensation is worlds apart from before."
She finally understood why Wayne referred to her and Slytherin as pseudo-Legends. This gap was one of life essence, like the difference between an elephant and an ant.
"The transformation isn't over yet," Grace said with some regret. "I estimate it will take another month for this conversion to be completed entirely."
"That's normal," Wayne said, gently tapping her nose. "You're converting raging solar energy into a form that a mortal body can absorb. How fast did you expect it to be?"
"Nothing like that," Grace said sheepishly, not a trace of Ravenclaw's usual demeanour visible. "I'm just a bit impatient, that's all."
The allure of becoming a true Legend was simply too great. Her magical proficiency and magical power had fully met the requirements; the only thing separating her from Legend status was her life essence. Standing at the precipice, she naturally wished to cross over sooner rather than later.
"Take it slow. There's plenty of time ahead," Wayne said with a laugh. "Becoming a Legend is just the beginning. In the future, you'll advance to Demigod and even become a true God."
"By then, you'll be Ravenclaw, the Goddess of Wisdom."
At this point, Wayne's expression suddenly turned somewhat peculiar.
Goddess of Wisdom... in his recollection, that wasn't exactly a favourable image. And, as luck would have it, Ravenclaw's most favoured colour was blue, which made it even worse.
"Let's head back," Grace said, still unaware of Wayne's internal criticism, her eyes filled with joy and eagerness to return and quietly study the changes within herself.
"Alright, let's go."
With a grand sweep of his hand, Wayne stored the Sun Disc away. As the two vanished, the city forged from yellow sand rapidly crumbled, eventually forming a small hill several dozen metres high.
...
Hogwarts.
In the blink of an eye, nearly two months had passed since the start of the new term. By the end of October, the castle experienced a sudden, sharp drop in temperature. Many students came down with the flu, queuing up outside the hospital wing for a special potion.
Watching the crowd of coddled young wizards, Wayne made a decisive command: breakfast would be delayed by half an hour. During this time, all students, led by their Prefects, were to run laps around the Quidditch Pitch.
He, too, had once detested mandatory school exercise, but only upon growing up did he understand what a robust physique truly represented.
And so, amidst a chorus of miserable groans, the students began their wretched morning training.
The sky was barely light when students formed a scattered, weary line on the Quidditch Pitch, running with little energy.
Three laps in half an hour, with professors supervising nearby – wasn't this practically killing them?
Only a group of first-years stood out, maintaining a neat formation as they continually overtook older students. Though exhausted themselves, they had no choice but to keep up the pace under their leader's watchful eye.
By the time they returned to the Great Hall for breakfast, the thousand-seat hall was unusually quiet, with only the sounds of eating audible – everyone was too tired for conversation.
"Won't running this much every day affect their classes?" Snape asked, frowning at the half-dead students.
"There might be some impact initially, but they'll adjust," Wayne replied while eating his bacon. "Persistent exercise will improve their stamina and energy levels, which should actually make them more focused in class."
Hearing Wayne's perspective, Snape found no grounds for further objection.
After breakfast, Wayne didn't head to class but went to his office to wait for Grace.
Around nine o'clock, Grace appeared in the fireplace.
Today was Halloween Eve – the day she planned to meet Helena, which for ghosts represented their birthday. This was her gift as a mother to her daughter.
"Let's go," Wayne set down his quill and led Grace to their usual meeting place—the balcony.
He had informed Helena yesterday that he would bring "evidence," so she had been waiting there since dawn. When she saw him approaching with a woman, she looked at Wayne, confused.
Though there was something familiar about the woman... having seen so many Hogwarts students over the years, familiarity wasn't unusual.
Grace's appearance naturally differed greatly from the former Rowena Ravenclaw. The purpose of her reincarnation was to evade Slytherin's notice – looking identical would have been inviting discovery.
"This is the witness I found for you," Wayne said, then gave a meaningful look that Grace understood.
The child was young, so gentle words were best.
Grace felt utterly speechless inside...
Even excluding all the years since her death, Helena had been older than him when she was alive!
After Wayne left, Helena's questioning gaze shifted to Grace. "Do you really have information about... about my mother?" she asked, both nervous and sceptical.
She had ultimately referred to Ravenclaw as mother, just as Wayne had said – the love that raises a child outweighs the bond of birth. The fact that she had never doubted her origins showed how well Ravenclaw had treated her.
That word "mother" touched the softest chord in Grace's heart, her eyes suddenly complex with centuries of emotion.
"Lena..."
Helena's ethereal form trembled. That nickname – only her former mother had ever used it.
An hour later, Wayne saw Grace and Helena enter from the balcony.
The smile on Helena's face vanished when she spotted Wayne, replaced by a complicated expression.
She finally understood why Wayne had always spoken to her so kindly, with such caring and affection in his eyes.
Bloody hell, this was her living father!
"Lena," Grace interrupted with feigned displeasure. "Now that everything's out in the open, you mustn't be so rude. Even if you won't call him father, you should at least address him as uncle."
Though she appeared stern on the surface, she was already laughing hysterically inwardly.
If raising a daughter wasn't for teasing, then there was no point at all. Since Helena was already like this, there was no harm in having some fun.
Might as well cooperate with Wayne to amuse herself.
Sure enough, Helena's ghostly form grew slightly more transparent, her millennia-old sense of shame barely allowing her to squeeze out the word.
"Uncle..."
Making her call him 'father' was simply impossible for her.
"Good child, good child." Wayne nodded benevolently, taking Grace's hand. "Your mother and I will take good care of you from now on."
"You're overacting..." Grace whispered as a reminder, but with the three of them so close, how could Helena not hear?
She suddenly felt a wave of regret.
Could she... take back acknowledging this mother?
But regardless of what Helena thought, the matter was settled. After Wayne fussed over her for a while, Helena couldn't take it anymore and fled.
Watching her slightly flustered, retreating figure, Grace's eyes narrowed happily.
"I must visit more often - little Lena's expressions are just too adorable."
"Take it easy, she's our good daughter," Wayne reminded.
Grace rolled her eyes without responding.
You were the most enthusiastic about teasing her just now.
Neither of us should point fingers at the other.
"Come on, accompany me around the school," Grace invited, linking arms with Wayne.
As Rowena Ravenclaw, she was familiar with the Hogwarts of a thousand years ago. As Grace, she was familiar with the Hogwarts of a thousand years later.
But after her memories revived, she wanted to observe her life's work from a more unique perspective.
Wayne naturally wouldn't refuse. Chatting and laughing, the two descended from the astronomy tower, their first destination naturally being the Ravenclaw Common Room.
...
Just as the two were touring the castle hand in hand, beyond the void, dozens of white light spheres had already breached the boundary between the inner and outer void, continuously approaching the prime material plane.