Southern Continent, Creti Empire.
Hidden deep underground stood pitch-black palaces, symbols of absolute power.
This primordial subterranean city was enveloped in night, yet magic-engineering devices cleverly imitated a blood moon, casting deep, eerie shadows. The buildings lining the broad, deserted streets were constructed of dark stone—towering, heavy, their contours tracing the silhouettes of ancient artistry as they lay quietly in this dark city, preserving the dust of endless ages.
At the far end of the subterranean city-state, radiating a chilly, sinister, and potent magic, stood a towering castle. Its outer walls were built of natural obsidian, inlaid with cold silver trim and translucent medieval-style red crystal carvings.
A figure draped in a long cloak arrived at the castle entrance. Step by step, he ventured deeper inside, passing through layers of opulent decorations and corridors before pushing open the heavy black iron double doors before him. What greeted his eyes was a magnificent hall resembling a grand council chamber, steeped in a profound aura of authority and the weight of history.
Beneath rose windows paved with immortal crystals at the high ceiling, cold iron chains held chandeliers that cast a lavish glow. A carpet stretched like a river of crimson to the limits of vision. Light refracted through the crystals like a scattering of stars, lending the vast space a touch of somber beauty.
In this expansive, high-ceilinged chamber, the center was dominated by a banquet table dozens of meters long. Forged from ink-black refined iron, it was inscribed with intricate runes of Blood Clan magic script—a hallmark of the Blood Clan's artistic heritage. Along both flanks of the long table, each high-backed chair resembled a throne, the top of each backrest engraved with a gemstone totem corresponding to its master.
Yet at this moment, the chamber was eerily quiet. Of the thirteen high-backed chairs, only one was occupied.
The figure who had entered the hall stood gracefully at the far end of the long table without taking a seat.
"Marchioness Heriteer, the believers of the Resurrection Church encountered that half-demon, but they failed."
He bowed as he spoke, his voice distinctly male.
In the distance, the figure seated upon the seventh high-backed chair kept her eyes closed. Slowly lifting her head, she seemed able to look through the vaulted ceiling and see the star-woven totems gleaming in the deep night sky.
"It shouldn't be," she murmured to herself. "The omen of death for that half-blood demon has appeared twice, yet both times it was averted."
"..."
The man said nothing. He naturally knew which two omens of death the marchioness was referring to.
The first: Hyperion should have failed the entrance exam and met a tragic death in the Hutton royal capital.
The second: Hyperion should have been killed by the Resurrection Church cultists in the Shadow World.
Yet neither of these events, which ought to have transpired, had taken place. Their outcomes had been completely overturned.
And all of it was tied to a human freshman who had emerged out of nowhere at Ikerite Academy.
"The remnants of the demon race must be purged at all costs."
The Blood Clan marchioness's voice was distant and cold, carrying what seemed like melancholy, resentment, resignation, and perhaps a trace of regret that even time could not erase.
"History teaches us that only when the power of humanity and the demon race unite can a force capable of threatening us be born."
The marchioness finally opened her deep crimson eyes. Shrouded in shadow, none could discern how many ancient memories spanning past and present were hidden within them.
In this era, the demon race had already been destroyed by humanity's own hands.
Driven by boundless swelling desires, evil cults ran rampant, the Southern and Northern Continents had fractured, and humanity remained locked in endless civil wars over power.
These foolish actions pointed to only one conclusion—
"The golden age of the blood moon will surely return. Humanity must be reminded of their slavish nature."
The marchioness's chilly, elegant visage remained entirely calm, imbued with a distant majesty that none dared desecrate.
Every word echoed through the hall like the crisp chime of melting icicles before winter's end.
...
Hutton Kingdom, royal capital of Ikerite.
As the golden rays of the rising sun gently washed over the ancient campus of Ikerite Academy, the brick and stone buildings were bathed in a warm yellow glow, exuding the rich weight of history.
The School of Sages dormitory building also seemed to awaken, with students coming and going from its doors now and then.
It was the morning of the third day of the term.
Lanqi held a cup of coffee, leaning against the doorframe of his balcony. Listening to the chirping of birds among the trees, he watched his classmates heading off to school.
Having returned from the Shadow World yesterday morning, he had slept for a long stretch, only waking up in the early hours of this morning.
After slipping out of the dormitory in the dead of night for a meal that could be considered either breakfast or a late-night snack, he had returned to his desk to study card making. Resting beside the desk was the book *Southern Continent Card Makers Association Registration Charter*.
Now that he had reached Tier 3, he possessed the baseline eligibility to take the exam.
Only by becoming a registered card maker of the Southern Continent Card Makers Association could one obtain official patent protection, bypass numerous tedious appraisal and guarantee procedures, and receive fee exemptions.
Moreover, the scale of benefits was tied to a card maker's rank.
If he wanted to open a shop to sell exclusive magic cards, besides the business license Hyperion needed to handle, he had to secure the status of a registered card maker—and the higher his rank, the better, as it would directly determine the momentum of their venture.
The next registered card maker examination hosted in the Hutton royal capital would not take place for more than a month.
While that felt like a long time away, even if Lanqi were given an extra month, he would still lack the confidence to pass on his first attempt.
As for crafting Tier 3 magic cards, he still needed to study under Talia.
His card-making technique remained too unstable. Unless he made substantial improvements, whether he could successfully produce a finished card during the exam would come down entirely to luck.
However, things were not hopeless.
Lanqi recalled Talia telling him that if he wanted the highest card-making success rate, all he had to do in the exam was choose the magic category with which he had the greatest affinity.
This directly affected a card maker's success rate.
It was also why card makers chose their own areas of specialization in later stages.
For example, the three types Talia excelled in most were Curse, Mental, and Poison magic, which were also the three categories she had the highest affinity with.
Among them, Curse was superb, while Mental and Poison were both excellent, which had led Talia to specialize as a curse-type magic card maker.
As for other types of magic, such as elemental magic and certain special categories, her affinity was rather poor.
According to Talia's visual assessment, Lanqi's affinity for Mental magic was relatively good, Poison was poor, and Curse was abysmal; the rest she hadn't bothered to evaluate.
If he had a magic category with superb or excellent affinity like Talia did,
then he could simply craft that type during the card maker exam!
Furthermore, those magic categories might also become potential specialization paths in his future career as a card maker.
Chapter 86