Edward Vistro lay in complete darkness, gasping for air. Each breath felt like breathing in hot, broken glass. Deep inside him, the Saint Fla had sparked to life. This blazing white fire was ant to save him, but it felt like it was going to be the end of him.
This white fire wasn’t just burning; it was hungry. It was like a raw force from the heavens, needing a perfectly pure body to live in. Even after all the tempering Edward had, his body felt like it was about to break. He could feel tiny cracks forming and his mana channels twisting inside out. His mana as the Peak of the True Mage stage reacting violently to the sudden presence of the white fla.
’Is this the end?’ he thought. ’After a thousand lives, surviving battles and challenges... will I die here, a puddle of ash in a forgotten cell?’
"No," Edward said, the word bubbling through the blood in his throat.
He squeezed his blood wet fingers tight, his nails digging into the damp stone floor until they drew blood. With a burst of willpower that went against everything his body was telling him, Edward pushed himself up. He stood there, swaying, covered in his own blood.
He had activated the Saint Fla perfectly, but he had slightly overestimated the amount of mana he surged into his core, overloading it with more mana than necessary. This left the core in a weakened state just as the Saint Fla ignited, causing it to struggle to fully contain the power. This kind of miscalculation rarely occurs in his previous life, when he had mastered the Elven way of awakening. Yet, as in every lifeti, the ambient mana that saturated the world could never be asured with absolute precision.
The fla was trying to burn its way out, threatening to destroy the body that dared to contain it. He was only seconds away from a core fracture—the mont when a magic user’s soul and mana core shatter beyond repair.
Edward’s hands began to move. Even in his weakened state, his body rembered what to do from a thousand years of practice. He started forming multiple runic seals, each one taking shape as it hovered around him.
"Since I cannot endure the fire," Edward thought, his eyes burning with a cold, desperate brilliance, "then I shall cage it."
He manifested his spiritual sense, forcing it into the air above him. Then a Golden Mana Circle began to take shape, turning slowly in the darkness. The circle shimred, its light showing the blood on Edward’s face, making him look like a statue of pain covered in gold.
From the middle of the golden circle, a beam of pure light shot out, hitting Edward right in the chest.
This was the Seven Golden Revolution Seal.
It was a technique of the ancient celestials, designed to restrict the output of primordial energies. By placing a seven-layered boundary within his core, Edward could trap the Saint Fla in a localized space. He would allow it to burn just enough to mature the core, but not enough to incinerate it.
The first seal hit his core with the force of a hamr. Clang. A magical resonance shook the cell. Edward coughed out another mouthful of blood, but he didn’t stop.
The second seal. The third. The fourth.
With each turn of the golden light, a new layer of containnt was placed on the surface of his mana core. He felt the white fire pull back, its powerful expansion stopped by the golden seals.
The fifth. The sixth.
Edward’s body was shaking so much that his teeth were clattering. He was playing a dangerous ga of trapping energy, where the smallest mistake would an his death.
Finally, the Seventh Seal snapped into place.
The Saint Fla inside his chest quieted down to a steady burn. The Saint Fla was now trapped, like a sun burning inside a golden cage made of seven layers. The danger of a Core Fracture was gone, replaced by a dull, throbbing pain.
Edward leaned against the wall, finally starting to breathe normally again. He knew what this ant. By sealing the fla, he had slowed the maturation of his core. The Saint Fla would now take weeks or even months to fully mature his Mana Core, aning his cultivation progress would slow down compared to how fast he had been going before. He would stay at a single level for a while.
But he was alive. And he had a core that was matured enough to hold the weight of the next stage.
He reached into his core with his spiritual sense, verifying the seals. They were stable. One day, when his core reached the Archmage stage, he would remove the Seven Revolutions and unleash the full, unbridled power of the saint fla.
Edward sat back down in the lotus position. He ignored the blood on his skin and the tattered state of his clothes. He had one final task to complete before the sun rose.
He drew upon the ambient mana once more. With control, the energy flowed into him with an ease that was almost intoxicating. His channels, widened by his tempering and strengthened by the recent event, felt like vast, open highways.
He began the inscription of the 1001st Mana Circle.
This was the threshold. This was the mont a ’Mage’ beca a ’High Mage.’
In the world of the Seven Kingdoms, a High Mage was important, soone whose power could change the course of a war. His father, the Marquis, had spent his whole life trying to reach this point. But Edward had reached it in less than a month.
He inscribed the 1001st ring around his sealed core. It was a surge of power, more refined and dense than anything he had felt in this regression, filled his limbs. His spiritual sense swept outward, no longer a needle, but a tidal wave that reached the extre of the kingdom.
The first light of dawn ca through the high window, shining a beam of gold into the cell. It lit up Edward’s face—clean of the dirt, but still covered in dried blood.
Edward opened his eyes. The raging color in his eyes was gone, replaced by a deep color that matched the rising sun. He felt the 1001 circles turning perfectly, like a machine of power.
High Mage Stage: Initial Level.
Edward took a breath, the air in the room shaking with his power. He had his foundation. He had his rank.
"It’s ti," Edward whispered.
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