Those who, like them, had experienced all manner of dangerous powers and tried to control them had long grown accustomed to walking along the blade's edge.
So, in most cases, they were vigilant enough to recognize the extent to which their mental will had been contaminated, as well as how to mitigate or even purge that contamination.
Of course, methods of mitigation and purification differed subtly in the hands of different mages. But one thing remained the same: if one's mastery of magic and control over power had not reached a certain level, it was best not to rashly come into contact with dangerous forces one could not yet resist.
When they did so, they were stealing, robbing, and cutting themselves a slice of the cake.
When those arrogant mages who knew nothing did the same, they were merely offering themselves up as ingredients and food, serving the masters of those powers a delicious soul feast.
Other than a very few relatively orderly demon gods, the relationship between any demon god and a mage was a game between fish and fisherman.
And the reason those few demon gods did not fish was simply because they had their own exclusive fishponds. The fish could not jump out of the pond, and sooner or later, they would become nourishment.
The path Ancient One was taking now was not one of moving from one fishpond to another. She wanted to become the fisherman.
It was a path that no Midgard mage dared even imagine, yet one that every mage dreamed of. Agatha was naturally no exception.
Although she knew full well that the condition Luke had proposed might be a trap, Agatha was still willing to stake everything on that possible miracle. Besides, when Luke had backed her into a corner, she had