Inheritence Of The Fallen
The Endless Void's unforgiving darkness stretched before Lennon as he continued his solitary journey. His recent triumph in crafting two powerful third-circle spells had drained him, leaving him physically and mentally exhausted. The effort had also pushed his robot companion's computing power to its limits.
The cold reality was clear: developing new spells would not come so easily again.
**"Master,"** the robot's mechanical voice broke the silence, **"The probability of creating another third-circle spell within the next few years without significant breakthroughs is less than 1%. The recent spell formations pushed both your mind and my processing core beyond optimal capacity."**
Lennon nodded, his expression devoid of frustration. He had expected this. In the Magus World, even the most talented Magi required decades—sometimes centuries—to create a single spell. The four spells he had crafted were an anomaly, a product of desperation and technological assistance.
"Understood. We'll focus on accumulation for now," he replied coldly, already considering his next move.
Several weeks later, while traversing a dead plane riddled with ancient ruins, Lennon stumbled upon something extraordinary. Hidden beneath layers of obsidian-like rock, a faint magical pulse caught his attention. He knelt, placing a hand on the ground as his senses extended.
A concealed entrance to an **inheritance ground** revealed itself—a domain left behind by a deceased Fourth-Circle Magus. The energy signatures were old but still potent, suggesting the place had remained undisturbed for millennia.
The robot's voice chimed in, **"Scans confirm residual energy matching that of a Fourth-Circle Magus. Probability of valuable resources and knowledge: 87%."**
Lennon's golden eyes narrowed. This was an opportunity he couldn't ignore, but it would be fraught with peril.
"A decade," Lennon murmured to himself. "It might take a decade or longer to claim what lies within."
He knew the dangers were beyond his current capabilities. The traps and guardians would be designed to annihilate anyone below the Fourth Circle without mercy. But the potential rewards-knowledge, treasures, power-were worth the
risk.
#'ll come back prepared," he said coldly, turning away. "This
inheritance will be mine, no matter how long it takes."
Lennon stood on the edge of a jagged cliff, his gaze fixed on the ruins sprawled in the valley below.
The air crackled with latent energy, and even from this distance, he could feel the oppressive presence emanating from the ancient structure. It was an inheritance ground, undoubtedly left behind by a Fourth-Circle Magus.
The ruins had been his goal for years now. He stumbled upon the site a decade ago, but even then, he knew he wasn't ready. A Fourth-Circle Magus was leagues above him. Even a single spell from such a figure could obliterate him in an instant.
Unlike the Level 4 creatures he had fought and narrowly survived against, Fourth-Circle Magi were intelligent, methodical, and ruthless.
Their power had no glaring weaknesses to exploit, only overwhelming strength.
Lennon clenched his fists. He had spent the past ten years preparing for this moment, but doubt lingered.
Was it enough? The answer didn't matter. The risk of death was ever-present in the Magus World, and hesitation only invited annihilation.
The ruins beckoned him, promising unimaginable power and knowledge.
But it also promised suffering and death for the unworthy.
"A decade," Lennon muttered, his voice a low growl. "It's taken me a decade to stand here again. I won't turn back now."
He descended the cliff slowly, each step deliberate as he approached the entrance to the ruins. The ancient runes carved into the stone glowed faintly, a warning to any who dared intrude.
Lennon extended his hand and traced the runes, activating the ancient mechanism. A low rumble echoed through the valley as the stone gates slid open, revealing the darkness within.
Taking a deep breath, Lennon stepped inside. This would be his greatest trial yet.