Arcane Prodigy

Lanlos slept even less than Fergus because of the nightmares that plagued him. The house was utterly quiet; apart from the insects chirping outside the window, there wasn't a sound to be heard.

Carefully making his way downstairs, Lanlos took a heavy book from the shelf with practiced ease. Then he glanced back to make sure Fergus was still asleep before silently closing the door.

In fact, Lanlos woke earlier than most people. Beneath the light of dawn, the whole village seemed coated in golden powder, its dazzling, warm glow creating a peaceful scene that put the mind at ease.

Looking up at the clear blue sky, a rare blush appeared on Lanlos's pale cheeks. Good weather always lifted one's spirits.

In the more than six months since he had arrived in Azeroth, Lanlos had encountered weather like this almost every day.

After the War of the Ancients ten thousand years ago, the elves blamed the Burning Legion's invasion on the Highborne, led by Queen Azshara, and their abuse of Arcane Magic. As a result, the Night Elves banned the use of Arcane Magic.

Unfortunately, having experienced the benefits magic could bring, the surviving Highborne nobles could not give up that power. In the end, Dath'Remar Sunstrider led a group of Highborne supporters in declaring that the power of the arcane was a fundamental right, and that anyone who feared it was a coward.

He led his followers in studying the arcane without restraint, paying no heed to the Night Elves' warnings.

Of course, Dath'Remar wasn't a supporter of Azshara. He believed that studying the arcane wasn't an act of betrayal, but a way to help Night Elf society grow and prosper.

However, with the queen's example before them, the Night Elves were unwilling to accept his point of view. As the rift between the two sides continued to deepen, Dath'Remar took his followers away from Mount Hyjal to prevent a civil war. They crossed the ocean and eventually settled in Quel'Thalas.

After they established the Sunwell, the most powerful Arcanists among the High Elves raised enormous Rune Stones along the borders of Quel'Thalas to prevent a repeat of the tragedy of the Well of Eternity. Together, the stones formed a powerful barrier.

Ban'dinoriel meant "gatekeeper" in Thalassian. The barrier not only blocked others from detecting their Arcane Magic, but also kept the superstitious, deity-worshipping Amani Trolls at bay.

Within the barrier, civilization flourished. No longer holding back, the High Elves used the power of the arcane to create one miracle after another. One such miracle was bathing all of Quel'Thalas in eternal spring.

Unfortunately, Ban'dinoriel wasn't designed to repel everyone. At least, it wasn't yet...

Watching the Murlocs wandering along the beach, Lanlos's brows drew together.

Based on past experience, Murlocs didn't like bright, sunny weather. As soon as the sun rose, they would gradually return to the deep sea. Even if a few remained, there was no way there should be so many as there were today.

Dozens was an absurd number.

Looks like I'll have to let the village Militia know later. Lanlos pursed his lips and quietly disappeared into the grass.

Following the beach north, the elven boy finally found a quiet spot. He went to a grassy patch near the shore and raised both hands. His lips moved in a slow, measured rhythm as a low voice murmured an obscure incantation.

This was magic!

Fergus knew that Lanlos was an excellent reader, but he didn't know that his practical skills were just as impressive.

Although he had no spellcaster to guide him, he still had Belash's memories in his mind. They were only fragments, but they were enough to help Lanlos open the door to the arcane.

Unfortunately, Azeroth had a complete magical network, managed by the Blue Dragonflight, led by Malygos. On top of that, Lanlos had already given all his power to the Sargerite Keystone to open the portal. As a result, he couldn't manipulate magic as freely as he had in the Shattered Abyss.

Otherwise, it was hard to say how powerful he might have become over the past six months.

Soon, the elven boy finished his incantation. Wisps of rising air curled around his open hands, and waves of scorching wind spread outward.

Taking a deep breath, Lanlos gently pushed his hands toward the ground. The sound of dew vaporizing hissed through the air, and a faint white mist, visible to the naked eye, drifted away on the wind. In only a few seconds, the grass beneath his feet had dried completely.

It looked miraculous, but Lanlos wasn't proud of it. This was just a simple magical trick—not even a first-circle spell, strictly speaking.

While studying the arcane, the ancient Highborne divided common spells into circles one through nine according to their power and cost, along with legendary spells capable of easily reshaping the world.

Correspondingly, the people of Azeroth divided adventurers into tiers one through nine according to their strength, as well as the legendary tier, which couldn't be measured by combat prowess alone. Interestingly, because the fighting ability of different professions couldn't be compared evenly, people tended to describe an adventurer's strength in broad terms as low, mid, or high level.

For mages, measuring strength was somewhat simpler. Even so, mages of the same tier could vary tremendously in combat ability.

After all, spells were classified according to their effects into eight schools of magic and a universal school: abjuration, conjuration, divination, enchantment, evocation, illusion, necromancy, and transmutation. The knowledge contained in each school was complex and vast. Most spellcasters spent their entire lives mastering only one or two.

Of course, some exceptionally gifted spellcasters could break out of this framework. Even a first-circle spell could become a weapon of destruction in their hands.

Spellcasters called this talent and skill metamagic!

Doomguards had once been creations of the Titans. Their memories contained a wealth of techniques that could let Lanlos completely escape the restrictions imposed by Azeroth's magical network and the Blue Dragonflight. Unfortunately, he didn't dare to touch those techniques just yet.

After Belash began serving Sargeras, these metamagic techniques became inseparable from Fel. For some reason, Lanlos couldn't find a trace of his old knowledge. If he continued to study using the methods in his memories, he would inevitably ignite Fel again.

It was like taking in food or medicine: different external influences could change the enzymes and hormones in the body, causing the brain to produce more or less dopamine, endorphins, and hormones. Whatever the power, it wasn't generated by the body; it came from outside. It could also grow, eventually guiding a living being beyond the limits of mortal life. So the subtle influence of power was inevitable; it was only a matter of degree.

Though the power contained in the Sargerite Keystone was incredibly pure, it was still Fel, and Fel was a symbol of endless chaos. Lanlos hadn't forgotten that when he obtained this power, he had felt not only elation but also an uncontrollable urge to kill. Arrogance, recklessness, and self-importance had made him feel like a demon through and through.

This was a power that could even influence a renowned Titan like Sargeras. Lanlos had no confidence that he could master it, and he wouldn't use it lightly. After all, he didn't want to become a member of the Burning Legion...

Lying on the grass, the elven boy opened the book in his hands. The dense Thalassian script was enough to make anyone's head spin, but he was clearly used to it. He searched between the lines for the answers he longed to find.

Just as Fergus had said, he wasn't a spellcaster. The books in the cottage contained no knowledge of the arcane, and the few related volumes offered only a cursory overview.

So, without enough material to study, Lanlos had spent the past six months stuck somewhere between a mage apprentice and a full-fledged mage.

But he didn't feel frustrated. This mysterious power had been beyond his reach in his previous life. Now that he could experience and study it, he was already overwhelmed with excitement. Understanding and growing one step at a time had dispelled the fear of the unknown that this power once inspired in him. The unprecedented sense of fulfillment had sparked a deep interest and joy in studying the arcane. In his previous life, he had struggled to survive and had never had many chances to be like an ordinary child, dreaming that effort and knowledge might reveal the world's mysteries.

And today was a very special day, one that filled him with excitement.

After reviewing the primer for novice spellcasters, which he could nearly recite from memory, Lanlos closed the heavy book. As he settled his mind and focused on connecting with the magic, a gentle breeze suddenly appeared around him, stirring the surrounding greenery in an unhurried rhythm.

That should do it.

Sensing that the magic around him had reached the limit of what he could control, Lanlos held his breath and slowly raised his index finger, sketching a shape in the air, stroke by stroke.

Purple arcane energy crept onto his fingertip. Guided by his will, it steadily formed an increasingly complete circular pattern in the air.

Spell modeling was a step required only for formal spells of the first circle and above! It was also the sign that someone had become a first-tier mage!

Fine beads of sweat gradually appeared on the boy's forehead. His taut mind sent wave after wave of exhaustion through him, but his finger continued to move through the air without a tremor. He knew that if he could just hold on, the door to the arcane would swing open before him!

At last, Lanlos connected all the spell nodes. The circular spell model began to hum, its blue-violet light brilliant and regal.

But the boy still didn't relax.

He had only completed the first step. Next, he had to activate the spell nodes. Only when the magic successfully began to flow would he truly have mastered the spell.

Taking a deep breath, the elven boy slowly brought his fingertip toward the center of the spell circle.

Ding!

Magic collided, and a faint, crisp chime made Lanlos's heart leap into his throat.

The energy-conversion node at the center of the spell circle suddenly began to tremble violently. After a brief pause, a wave of scorching air surged out!

In an instant, the crimson energy burst forth like a beast breaking free of its cage, rampaging through the channels connecting the nodes!

The spell model let out a series of mournful cries. Alarm bells rang in Lanlos's mind. Just as he widened his eyes and tried to leap back, the spell circle, now completely enveloped in red light, erupted in a blinding flash. Scorching air licked at the boy's cheeks and hair, but he wore an expression of utter delight.

He'd done it!

The light appeared and vanished in an instant. When everything had settled, the obscure and complex spell model had disappeared. In its place floated a fireball the size of a fist.