At Blackthorn Path!The so-called Blackthorn Path was a passage between planes. In fact, as early as the 3rd dynasty, some people had suggested that Glassview wasn’t the only world in the boundless universe. But those theories had no physical evidence to back them up at the time.That was the case up until the end of the 3rd era when some mages brought it up again and tried to prove the existence of different planes. In the last hundred years of the 3rd dynasty, the Crimson Tower finally opened a Blackthorn Path.Afterwards…There was nothing afterwards. The powerful group of mages from the Crimson Tower set foot on the Blackthorn Path, but they never returned. The entire Crimson Tower fell apart overnight and finally died out due to endless power struggles created by the void left behind.After that, speaking of Blackthorn Paths was a taboo topic for a long time.Up until the current times, many years later.All kinds of magic research would progress day after day, mages would grow m
“What’s that?” Caster jumped back when he heard the strange sound, quickly summoning a small, bright flame at his fingertips.As the flame lit up the area, Caster saw a skeleton emerging from the ground where he stood. Covered in black mud, the skeleton held a rusty sword, with flickering flames in its empty eye sockets.‘An undead thing?’ Caster was scared. This wasn’t just any undead—it was a lowly Skeleton Warrior, the weakest kind. ‘Why do I always end up in trouble? I find a path, but it leads to the dreaded Nethers Plane?’‘How unlucky…’ Even at the peak of magic, mages avoided the Nethers Plane. It was too dangerous, even for the strongest.Endless undead, fearless and tireless, made the Nethers Plane one of the hardest to conquer. Caster remembered a note saying only three people had ever truly conquered it in ten thousand years.‘What now?’ Caster felt weak. This wasn’t a joke—the Nethers Plane was no place for a 9th Rank Mage like him. Even a High Mage, even an Archmage, wou
The good news was that Caster had plenty of time.If history followed its course, it would be over ten thousand years before the young mages of the Oaker Tower stumbled upon the Skell Plane. Caster still had time to grow stronger. When he could contend with a Undead Dragon, conquering the Skell Plane would follow naturally.And until then, Caster had to keep a low profile.The Skell Plane was dangerous for him to explore. Even though he could handle it, he had to be vigilant. The fertile land posed many dangers for him.If more than ten Skeleton Warriors appeared at once, Caster would struggle to keep up, let alone the dormant Nether Demon, nearing High Mage level. If he encountered it, his only choice would be to flee.So, even though the vast black soil seemed endless, Caster could only explore the small area near the Blackthorn Path. There, he would be mostly safe. If he encountered something he couldn’t handle, he could flee quickly.Caster was exploring that area now. In just a d
Caster hid behind the rock and thought about it while letting out another Mage Eye. But this time, after this Mage Eye flew near the Nether Iron Vein, Caster not only gave up control of it, but he also poured a large amount of mana into it, making that Mage Eye quite strange.It had definitely been separated from Caster’s direct control, but thanks to the support of the residual mana, it could stay there for a long time.Caster studied the environment and decided within himself to move forward and obtain the Nether Iron. He knew this was his chance to rewrite history. He had survived death and transmigrated into a new body; luck must have been on his side. Either way, he had nothing to lose but something to gain. Chanting a laser spell, Caster moved with precision. He knew he could create a vast array of magic weapons and use some of the proceeds from the sales of whatever he could to improve the Gilded Rose and take it to newer standards.Stepping forward and making a quick run, Cas
Although he was just a 9th-rank mage, Caster didn’t seem to retreat even though it was obvious he was losing the battle.He kept chanting his spells and called out a multi-fire turbo sword spell. With the sword he held his ground, striking each shadow warrior. “Oh no, I should have gone back and come back another time,” Caster said, realizing his mana was at an all-time low.He was close to the Nether iron by a close distance, and he knew wielding the Nether iron, he could finish them off with a single swipe.‘Seems like these dead skeleton warriors are not running out of supply’ He thought.This wasn't what he envisaged getting into the Blackthorn Path. Had he known he would have remained at Gilded Rose and kept practicing his skills.As he approached the nether iron, an Undead Dragon spit out fire in his direction.Caster knew he was in shit, deep shit. ‘What could I do at the moment,’ He thought, still fighting off the warriors.Before he could turn his head the other way around,
As Caster made his way to escape out of the Nether plane and out of the Blackthorn Path, he was struck to the ground again.He looked upward and saw another Undead Dragon flying toward him, it was almost 30 minutes. If he didn’t return within that time, he would be stuck in this plane forever.‘I thought I killed this thing, how did it come back here,’ Caster thought to himselfHe couldn’t understand what was going on. Caster didn’t know what to do as he couldn’t fully understand himself. He tried to cast a spell and noticed nothing seemed to work anymore.“What happened to me? It must have been that stupid Nether iron.” He said angrily, crawling to safety.Ever since he held that Nether Iron, he seems unable to cast a spell. His knowledge both from his past life as Caster and in his present life as Sifa Spellbound.This was the least of his worries, he needed to deal with this dragon that was about to snap the life out of him.‘Alright, I can't fight, my mana seems not to work anymor
Caster looked down at the three Chaos Mana Diamonds and sighed. He was perplexed at what was happening within him.He didn’t seem to feel the same. The weakness within Sifa’s body was gone, there was no need to prepare the potion for the enhancement spell, and he felt renewed strength within him. He felt his weight for the first time. Sifa was lightweight and had skinny bones; he used his clothing to cover his body, which gave him a hefty appearance, but there was no need for all that anymore.‘I need to get to the Sorcery Guild and see if there’s something I can find on this Mage-God system,’ he said as he paced back and forth.Caster walked down and asked the old butler to get some new sets of pants and some clothes to fit his new look. He couldn’t tell, but his body seemed to struggle with his clothing. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw that his body features had changed. “Young master, did you cast a body-enhancing spell?” The old butler questioned him, giving him a sur
Name: Sifa SpellboundHP: 40Mana: 492Mage-Level: 5Strength: 15Vitality: 4Endurance: 4Intelligence: 42Willpower: 19Magic Power: 50Martial Skill: 22Speed: 7Status Effects: Body Mishap ( Recovering)You have mastered the Basic Mana Whirlpool Skill."What is this again?" Caster thought to himself, still trying to understand what was happening to him.The sounds were something in a language he was hearing new but seemed to understand every word in it. It seemed like an ancient magic language.He looked around to see if someone had come into the room, but there was no one there, not even the old butler or even Raymond, who was supposed to have come back from his task.'So, I've gained a new skill according to this thing,' Caster thought as he laughed hysterically. He knew how to gather mana, although not in this fashion, but he didn’t consider it a new skill himself.He checked the description, but it didn't say much; besides being an indicator that he knew mana whirlpool gatherin
Caster was mature enough to see the world as it was. He understood that most younger folk saw it through a lens of hope and ambition, their dreams of treasure and fame setting them apart from his more grounded approach. Some were from humble beginnings: sons and daughters of farmers; young people from families that were better off but that had fallen on hard times and now were boy or girl determined to claw back some of that perceived lost respect, no matter the price."My jaw twisted into a small smirk as I imagined their wide eyes and wide, baseless plans and all they think is, ‘Get some gold, a shiny sword, you’ll be a hero.’" It was the same story, time and again: things that were often only dreams, rarely aligning with reality.Lowfield had been a deliberate choice despite what she had become. Knowing full well it wouldn’t be clear, he took the fast route but he took the fast route. The road taught him about its steep hills, its rocky passages and on occasion, the unfriendly tra
The early morning breeze bit into the cloak and the underdress at Caster’s shoulders as he walked the narrow cobblestone path into Lowfield. Today he had gotten rid of his imposing helmet and heavy armor. Dawn's fresh smell of its own earth together mingling with the familiar taste of his workshop on his clothes. He wasn’t hiding his identity, or painful silence had been left behind, today. Today was about remembering the life that kept breathing after his magesmith-tools stopped.The caravan had added liveliness to the town which reminded me of festival time, the town was waking up. Some of the faces settling onboard Caster recognised—newcomers amongst the adventurers. With fresh ambitions and none of the resolve yet tested, they walked on their own journey wide eyed and reminded him of the person he used to be. He watched the newcomers with a kind of quiet amusement, catching snippets of eager chatter about dungeons and imagined battles, bravado thick in the air.A young man, prob
Casting his small treaty of provisions, a load of stale bread crusts, some wrinkled fruits, and a hard wedge of cheese that once lived on a more hospitable broke surviving clunk to clunk. He made a gagging noise as he peered at the dried meat again and poked it with distaste. "Wouldn't it kill the fates to give me a real meal?" Just once. Something hot, even." He sneaked a look over at where a stove should be, the ones that made his mouth water when a hearty stew bubbled away. For a moment he smirked, "No stove yet … maybe I could conjure a magical pan up." "Oil might be asking for a miracle."Peering out the window he squinted at the city in the early light. Carts creaked along cobbled paths and vendors hawked fresh fish and newly baked bread in the place I had walked into, even now. He’d done a lot with the house in the week that he’d been there, turning it into something livable, barely. "What the hell?' he murmured, 'Doors actually close now' he concluded feeling a bit more proud
Caster adjusted his grip and took a close look at his work, scrutinizing every line and angle of the newly crafted weapon handle. The wood was tough but carefully sanded, bearing faint, meticulous patterns he had engraved over hours of work. "Alright," he muttered, almost to himself. "Let's see if this holds up."He lowered his gaze to the small, rough-edged mana stone beside him. Its surface shimmered faintly, a testament to the raw energy that pulsed within it. With precision, he made a tiny opening at the base of the handle, using one of his tools to keep the gap just wide enough for the stone to fit snugly. Holding his breath, Caster slid the stone into place, his hand steady even as he felt the twinge of nervousness in his gut. One wrong move, one crack, and the handle would split, and the entire effort would be wasted. He exhaled, the pressure off his shoulders as the stone was secure. He picked up a little hammer and taps the opening closed, sealing the stone.Caster was co
Caster’s gaze shifted between his rough tools and the iron-cast walls around him. The dim, flickering light from a lone torch cast dancing shadows on his workbench, where the worn mace lay, waiting. Each scuff and nick in the wood handle held a tale of its own; it wasn’t just a tool but a companion, a weapon that had been through as much as he had. And here he was, weighing its life and usefulness like a weary healer judging the last pulse of an old patient.He ran his hand over the handle one last time, tracing the grains and grooves with a practiced eye. “Adding a stone’s one thing,” he muttered. “But what it needs is stability.” His fingers slid to a small crack, an old fracture that hadn’t yet spread but threatened to. “If that widens… this thing’s done.”His hands worked without thought, reaching into the assortment of stones, metals, and powders he had scavenged over time. His fingers found a small, rough mana stone, and he rolled it between his fingers, feeling its faint warm
Caster knocked metal hard on metal, the sound reverberating in the almost pitch black workshop. With every hook an aura of magical energy was discharged providing brief glimpses of light on the roughly completed stone walls. It smelled of hot metal and a low, tense buzz, which seemed to say that the room itself had tensed to watch him.Caster, still young but hardened by the trials of his craft, stood poised over his latest project: a shield, its shape still raw but which is already starting to look graceful. Though not tall and still somewhat thin, he seemed to possess good illating strength, every punch he landed being calculated. Each movement was accompanied by complex magical ripples, which Indragni had seen on the surface of the shield before a layer of runes he more or less sketched with great detail. In addition to a frown a look of intense concentration took over his face only to be interrupted the occasional lean back to examine the painting.After several more strikes, he
Caster climbed the winding stone stairs leading upward from the basement of Lamba fortress as the red rays of the morning sun spread across Lowfield. He sighed as he breathed in the crisp morning air and hours spent wading through dim and damp caverns had taken a toll on him. The bustle outside was a stark contrast to the quiet gloom below. Merchants, hawkers, and small-time dealers filled the open area, all eager to cater to the steady stream of adventurers drawn to the dungeon.“Potion for mana, sir?” called a nearby merchant, brandishing a small flask that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Clearly, the man wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to sell.He gave her the distinct pleasure of a faint smile and a polite shake of his head. “Not today, but thanks.” The merchant glanced up as he passed saying “As he passed his gaze fell on a young boy standing beside the merchant with his hands outstretched each palm held small stones of different colors.”“Lucky charms,” the boy put out
Caster climbed the winding stairs stone leading upward from the basement of Lamba fortress as the red rays of the morning sun spread across Lowfield. He sighed as he breathed in the crisp morning air and hours spent wading through dim and damp caverns has taken a toll on him. The bustle outside was a stark contrast to the quiet gloom below. Merchants, hawkers, and small-time dealers filled the open area, all eager to cater to the steady stream of adventurers drawn to the dungeon.“Potion for mana, sir?” called a nearby merchant, brandishing a small flask that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Clearly, the man wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to sell.He gave her the distinct pleasure of a faint smile and a polite shake of his head. “Not today, but thanks.” The merchant glanced up as he passed saying “As he passed his gaze fell on a young boy standing beside the merchant with his hands outstretched each palm held small stones of different colors.”“Lucky charms,” the boy put out
Caster met them along the way quite often, which slowed down his progress. As he fought, he had to wait for them to finish before he could move on. “Hey, Caster! Need a hand?” one adventurer called out, swinging a sword at a monster.“No thanks! I’m good,” Caster replied, keeping his eyes on the battle ahead. He knew he could be accused of stealing if he forced his way through. Caster wished to avoid conflict with others, at least for now. He didn’t want to risk incurring their wrath or losing potential allies. “Once I get a silver-grade card, things will be different,” he thought. With higher levels, prestige wouldn’t be far behind, and the dynamics of encounters would shift dramatically.The level wasn’t that large; if someone knew the way, they could stroll past most dangers and quickly descend to the second level. Caster recalled hearing about hidden paths that only seasoned adventurers were aware of. These shortcuts could be the difference between life and death, especially dee