Chapter 271: Garon's Bad Reputation

In the continent of Ferun, in the north, lies .

In the arcane city belonging to Ioleum, an unusual atmosphere pervades, different from any ordinary day.

Under the morning light, arcane mages in robes gather, discussing something with excitement, though the non-mages looking on wear faces full of worry.

Netheril has half the ratio of spellcasters compared to Alphatia.

Yet, it's still a high ratio.

Among ten people, approximately one possesses notable arcane talent, earning the respected title of an arcane mage. Even if one can't become an arcane mage, with the Weave's presence, a slight sensitivity to elemental energy allows for the casting of simple arcane tricks. Half of Netheril's population can perform basic spells.

But only arcane mages are considered true spellcasters.

Knowing some simple tricks only qualifies one as a commoner in Netheril.

Currently, although Ioleum's floating city hasn't ascended, its news has spread across Netheril, drawing many arcane mages eager to witness this marvel.

Ioleum envisions the floating city as an enclave for arcane mages, a sanctuary for arcane study.

This means the floating city welcomes only arcane mages.

It's difficult for Netheril's commoners to gain access to the floating city.

Of course, whether the first floating city can actually ascend remains uncertain. If successful, the Netheril citizens unable to enter the floating city would lose the protection of arcane mages, making life on the ground even harder. Many commoners worry about this prospect.

In this polarizing atmosphere, time quietly passes.

Minutes later, a silver-white figure appears in the golden morning light, growing clearer amidst the roaring winds. The figure, initially a distant silhouette, becomes visible in mere moments.

Bathed in the dawn, the silver dragon shimmers with a layer of faint gold, where gold and silver intertwine, radiating an aura of luxury and nobility that captivates onlookers.

Whoosh!

The legendary dragon's arrival stirs a tempest, overshadowing the arcane city.

Its massive wings cast a fleeting, profound shadow on the streets below, drawing the gazes of countless Netheril citizens. Fear and awe mix on their faces as they behold the silver dragon.

"I heard Lord Ioleum has a legendary dragon friend."

"It seems true now."

Some Netheril citizens whisper.

"Who do you think is more powerful, Lord Ioleum or this legendary dragon?"

"Lord Ioleum is a Grand Arcanist, of course, he's more powerful."

"I think so too, but that dragon is so large, it seems it could crush the tallest mage tower with one swipe."

"."

Garon restrains his draconic aura.

As a guest, scaring the locals to death would be impolite.

Seconds later, a mage tower, standing out from the rest, catches Garon's eye. This towering spire, built entirely of magical stone, is etched with countless arcane runes that dazzle spellcasters with elemental brilliance.

Garon has seen this mage tower before.

At the onset of the saints' arrival, it was atop this tower that Ioleum communicated with him.

This tower serves as Ioleum's abode, a solitary Grand Arcanist without heirs. Having lost his family to time's erosion, Ioleum spends most of his days in this tower, engrossed in arcane research.

Now, atop the tower, a figure in a simple gray robe stands prominently.

Numerous arcane barriers with alert functions are arranged around the city. When Garon approaches, Ioleum senses his arrival.

The silver dragon folds his wings, calming the winds as he securely lands atop the tower.

Ioleum's mage tower, already a city landmark, now hosts the arrival of a colossal legendary dragon, drawing nearly the entire city's attention, including legendary arcane mages. Many of Netheril's Grand Arcanists have come to Ioleum's city.

"You've arrived at just the right time," Ioleum smiles.

His appearance remains that of an elder, showing no further signs of aging since Garon first met him.

Ioleum has employed the spell of eternal life, a fact Garon, who also knows this spell, recognizes.

Not just Ioleum.

Nearby Grand Arcanists have also used the spell of eternal life.

Shortly after its development, Ioleum shared the spell, benefiting all Netheril's Grand Arcanists.

Garon, casting a massive shadow, envelops the arcane mage within.

"Is the first floating city ready?" Garon surveys the city.

Compared to his first visit, it has grown somewhat, marked by arcane influence, but Garon doubts the city's ability to fly; its changes seem minimal.

Noticing Garon's gaze, Ioleum shakes his head, "It's merely a framework."

"The actual floating city has a different carrier, not the current city."

"This city cannot fly."

Elevating a human city rooted in the ground would lead to collapse. Moreover, cities inhabited by commoners and arcane mages are too large. The current core of the Weave cannot support such a massive floating city. The floating city's exclusive welcome to arcane mages is not just Ioleum's vision but also a necessity.

Ioleum explains briefly.

Then, eyeing Garon curiously, he looks towards the rising sun in the east, "I've heard quite a bit about the Imasca Empire."

Pausing, he continues, "Some say a terrifying silver dragon breached the mechanical legion's defenses."

"He destroyed the Imasca Empire's key creation meant to deceive the gods, evading pursuit from demi-godly mechanical beings."

"This dragon indirectly led to the fall of the eastern mechanical empire."

The Imasca Empire has fallen, but a small number of its people survive in Ferun, lucky to have escaped the gods' wrath. The saints, mercifully, let them flee the eastern continent.

Among these survivors were mechanical engineers who witnessed Garon's temporal powers.

Thus, tales of the Time Dragon spread.

Leaving the Imasca Empire to interact with other races, given the war's continent-wide attention, inquiries about the empire's downfall were inevitable. Most engineers remained silent, but a few, harboring resentment, needed to vent.

However, having witnessed the saints' might, these people dared not speak ill of them.

The saints are still active.

Therefore, these engineers attributed the empire's downfall to Garon.

They needed a target for their hatred, psychologically scarred by the saints and utterly demoralized, they irrationally shifted their resentment towards Garon.

Unaware, Garon has gained several nicknames across Ferun.

Time Dragon.

The End of the Mechanical Empire.

Disaster Silver Wing.

Ioleum's gaze lingers on Garon's shimmering scales, speaking oddly, "Being a dragon, I assume you know this one."

The elder clearly suspects Garon, given the rarity of powerful silver dragons in Ferun, and Garon's initial inquiries about the mechanical empire upon arrival.

"No need for circumspection, it was me."

Garon admits openly.

Ioleum feigns 'shock': "It was you."

Garon: .

"You already guessed, didn't you?"

"Stop pretending."

Garon bluntly exposes Ioleum's poor acting.

Scr

atching his head, Ioleum smiles awkwardly.

Seconds later, he curiously asks, "Why did you do it? I recall you inquiring about the Imasca Empire upon our first meeting."

"For some personal grievances," Garon states succinctly.

Ioleum nods, not probing further.

He muses, "Such a great empire, with over six thousand years of history, gone just like that. Fate is indeed unpredictable."

Looking at Garon, he adds, "But you're quite something."

"To have destroyed a magical empire at its peak."

Garon is displeased.

It sounds as if he selfishly doomed the Imasca Empire. He merely expedited the empire's inevitable fate; after all, a swift end is better than prolonged agony.

"I must clarify, the downfall of the Imasca Empire was their own doing."

"Whether I was involved or not, their end would have been the same."

Ioleum nods profusely, placatingly, "Right, right, I believe you."

Others unaware of the future blame Garon for breaking the mechanical pyramid, inviting the saints, thus firmly believing him to be a root cause of the empire's downfall.

Garon stretches his wings, not dwelling on the matter.

If the remaining Imascans see him as a target for vengeance, Garon welcomes their challenge.

Subsequently, Garon and Ioleum delve into discussions on spells and arcane topics, becoming engrossed as time slips away. As dusk replaces dawn, Ioleum halts their discourse, "It's about time."

He refers to the first floating city's ascent.

"Netheril's first floating city will rise tonight, floating amidst the winds and clouds."

"I look forward to it," Garon says.

Next, Ioleum, enveloped in magical brilliance, flies southward towards a mountain range.

A procession of figures, shimmering with elemental light, follows him.

All are arcane mages drawn by the floating city's news.

Without an arcane mage's escort, commoners can only watch from the city, yearning as the mages depart.

Garon is also keen to witness the floating city.

If all goes well, the glorious Netheril Empire will boast majestic floating cities, forming its legacy.

Witnessing the progression of history and the rise and fall of civilizations is a passion of his.

Soon, the group of mages and the dragon arrive at their destination.

The Netheril Mountain Range.

This is the largest range within Netheril, named after Netheril itself, featuring towering mountains over thousands of meters high, with undulating peaks and dense forests.

Many arcane mages now wonder why Ioleum has led them into such a mountain range.

Could the floating city be built amidst these mountains? They ponder.

However, their question is quickly answered.

After a further ten minutes of flight, Ioleum stops.

A roughly 3,000-meter-tall mountain comes into view.

Its shape is peculiar.

Unlike other tall mountains, it's not rugged or steep but conical, with a vast base circumference of hundreds of kilometers, adorned with lush forests.

"Where's the floating city?" Garon inquires.

He sees no signs of a city.

Proudly, Ioleum points to the nearest mountain, "Right here."

Garon is taken aback.

The arcane mages behind Ioleum and the silver dragon are also stunned.

"Stop joking about turning a mountain into a city. Where is it really?"

Ioleum looks towards the mountain, smiling, "I'm not joking. This is the chosen carrier for the floating city."

As he speaks, the Grand Arcanist descends to the mountain's base amid the watchers' gaze.

Simultaneously.

The Weave begins to tremble violently.

Countless elemental energies converge towards Ioleum. Now at night, the myriad elemental lights illuminate the area as if it were daytime.

With Ioleum's complex and solemn spell chanting, Garon senses the Weave's strain.

Crack, crack, crack. The Weave experiences massive ruptures.

This indicates Ioleum is casting a spell beyond the ninth level, otherwise, it wouldn't pressure the Weave so.

As usual, the Weave's ruptures are quickly mended by a mysterious energy—the Goddess of Magic, who tirelessly repairs the Weave, diligently performing her duty.

Over time, the sky's elemental lights gather in Ioleum's right hand.

The light forms a dazzling palm blade, emitting a dangerous aura.

"This feels perilous."

Garon senses danger from Ioleum's radiant palm blade.

The Grand Arcanist grows stronger.

Then.

Under many gazes, Ioleum solemnly raises his hand, cleanly slicing towards the mountain's base.

Eleventh-level legendary arcane spell—Mountain Cleaving.

Developed from the tenth-level Mountain Crushing, this destructive spell can effortlessly sever a mountain at its base, potent enough for battle.

As Ioleum's palm descends.

Hiss! A sharp, fleeting light seems to slice the mountain's base, extending to the horizon.

A moment later, silence prevails.

Ioleum, looking somewhat tired, lowers his hand.

Then.

A strong night wind blows, causing nearby stout trees to sway slightly before collectively collapsing with a series of rumbling sounds, stirring clouds of dust. The trees' clean, sharp cuts reveal the spell's precision.

The dense forest encircling the mountain's base shows signs of severance.

The mountain itself appears unchanged.

But Garon knows its extensive connection to the ground has been cleanly severed.

"If this spell hit an enemy..."

Garon lowers his gaze, contemplating a discussion with the Grand Arcanist about his potent arcane research over the past twenty years.

"I've been so engrossed in drama lately, I've neglected writing. Sigh."

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