It seems I really have been teleported. That means a significant amount of Ryoku was used. It's more commonly called "magical power" and I'm certain no one in my village possesses the ability to use Ryoku. Moreover, this isn't a simple spell: teleportation on this scale requires a very high-level mage. Yet I don't even know where I am.
Using Ryoku is difficult, especially for ordinary people—and even more so for someone as young as me. The first step is to purge the body of its impurities to free the blood vessels. Once this stage is complete, Ryoku begins to circulate naturally.
There are several methods to achieve this. The first, now nearly extinct, involves calling on a mage to inject their own Ryoku into the recipient's body, cleansing the channels and forming a Kai core. This technique is expensive and reserved for nobles or those deemed worthy by a mage.
The second, much more common method, is simply to wait. Over time, the vital energy known as Kai, located at the center of the body, develops naturally. Ryoku, in contrast, is a refined and converted version of Kai. Imagine Kai as water in a reservoir, blocked by impurities in the body's pipes. Once the blockages are cleared, that water becomes Ryoku fluid and powerful.
The higher the Kai, the stronger the Ryoku.
Lastly, there's a third method, much faster than the others. But it's reserved for a very particular elite far beyond someone like me.
Now that I think about it… that voice in my head—it called me "host"… and "heir"? Heir to what, exactly?
I walked straight ahead. On either side, the walls were lined with unlit torches. Then I saw a massive stone door, several meters tall, carved with strange patterns. The entire place lit up with an orange aura, and a halo appeared around my medallion. The same voice echoed:
[Host's arrival confirmed].
The halo vanished, and the door opened with a loud rumble.
I stepped forward, slowly. On the other side stood a gigantic statue, carved from grey stone. It radiated an imposing presence. It was clearly human: long hair, fine features—almost feminine—a striking beauty. Its clothes resembled those of traditional mages. Its mouth was closed, eyes blank.
Or so I thought… until its eyes lit up with an orange glow. The entire room began to tremble.
A sadistic, almost demonic smile slowly stretched across its face. The glow in its eyes pulsed with a disturbing intensity.
— So you're the one… my heir, it said with an amused tone.
The muscles in its face had moved, but the rest of the statue remained still. I was relieved—it couldn't move. Not fully.
— You've caught a glimpse of my power, and yet you don't flee. Why?
I replied calmly:
— If you wanted to kill me, I'd already be dead. I can't wield Ryoku. I'm no mage, unlike you. Running wouldn't change anything. Besides, you said I'm your heir. Why would you attack me?
The statue burst out laughing.
— Clever, aren't you? Indeed. Killing you would be trivial. But you're my heir. Let's keep introductions brief—I don't have much time. I am the Archmage.
My breath caught.
— I'm sure you already know who I am, so let's move on. What's speaking to you isn't really me. I'm a residue of Ryoku I left behind for my descendant. A fragment of the true Archmage's consciousness.
The statue sighed.
— Why do you make that face? I asked.
— If the medallion brought you here, you must be my last descendant. This room was created in haste, in anticipation of the Prophecy's fulfillment. And I fear it's coming true. Luznid… my brother. I should have stopped him.
— You're talking about the war ten thousand years ago? I asked.
— I'll spare you the details. After the battle with Gargaroth, my brother and I took the lead of the Empire. I thought sharing power would calm his jealousy. We each founded our own lineage. My descendants, at first unable to wield my power, eventually inherited it. My first grandson could wield the same energy as me. But he disappeared. Officially, no trace of him was ever found. But I knew. Luznid had made him vanish. But I loved him too much to confront him. I remained blind.
— What power? I asked.
The statue gave a bitter laugh.
— He even erased that… I possessed the Original Ryoku. Infinitely pure. It can copy all other forms of Ryoku and amplify them. It grows faster than any other and can be wielded with absolute freedom. All who carry it share a distinctive trait: an orange aura, especially in their eyes when they unleash their power.
I was stunned. I'd never heard of such a power. The only known exceptions were the Four Great Families, capable of modifying the Origin of the common Ryoku.
— Tell me, child, he asked with hesitation. What color are the eyes of the current Schattenkrieg Emperor?
— Green. I heard they're green.
— I knew it… If his eyes are green, then my younger brother's bloodline is on the throne. The throne that was meant for me—the savior of humanity! My former companions, founders of the Grand Duchies, betrayed my line. They must have hunted my descendants to extinction. Your family is no exception, boy.
A heavy silence settled. Then the room began to quake violently. Cracks spread across the walls, the floor fractured. I felt an overwhelming pressure. An orange aura radiated from the statue. It felt like a thousand swords were pressed to my throat.
— I ASK YOU, HEIR! IN THE NAME OF OUR BLOODLINE, AND THE HUMILIATION IT HAS SUFFERED: AVENGE US! TAKE BACK THE SCHATTENKRIEG KINGDOM FROM THE IMPOSTORS AND MAKE THEM PAY! BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!
I clenched my fists.
— If what you say is true… If those bastards destroyed my family and made me believe they abandoned me… Then yes. I'll make them pay. I'll feed the earth with their blood, rip out their guts and throw them to the dogs.
I'll start with the Grand Duchies. Then I'll bring down the Empire of Schattenkrieg. I'll reunite these lands—my lands—and make them one single nation.
***
The statue remained silent. It was stunned. It hadn't expected such a direct answer. To accept such vengeance was to defy the entire Empire. It was to carry the memory of all one's ancestors. And in that instant, the Archmage understood that Metsuen truly was the Chosen One foretold in the Prophecy—the one who would reform the Empire and usher in a New Age of Magic.
The statue smiled, this time a soft and sincere smile. Metsuen shivered. He didn't understand the change in tone.
— Good… You are worthy of receiving my legacy. It is time to begin the transmission ceremony.