Chapter 74: Who the Hell Was Staring at Me! |
Allen stood before the stone platform, both hands pressed against the crystal pillar, his heart racing faster than usual.
He recalled his failed experience at the Arcane Sanctum in Stormwind, that time when the crystal ball had died completely in his hands, not even bothering to grant him a sliver of light.
Amy Marlin had stood nearby back then, her expression shifting from anticipation to awkwardness, and from awkwardness to pity.
That was a pain he would carry for life.
He could have become an upright and enthusiastic archmage, not some pitiful, weak, and helpless shadow priest and wild warlock.
With a restless heart, Allen began the test.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
The crystal pillar was cold as a dead stone, the runes silent, the inlaid magic crystals dim and lifeless like extinguished stars. The entire testing apparatus sat there like a gravestone.
Antonidas’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Krasus set down his teacup, a flicker of confusion passing through those amber eyes.
Was the instrument broken?
Allen was utterly focused.
He sank all his attention deep into his body, trying to perceive something he had never truly sensed before—Arcane magic, the Ley Lines.
Those azure energies that had always flowed through the air of Azeroth.
Arcane arcane arcane arcane arcane. He chanted inwardly, like some devout prayer.
Ley energy… Arcane elements… Where are you!
The crystal pillar showed no response.
Just then, Allen seemed to faintly detect a trace of arcane energy.
The crystal pillar flickered faintly.
Antonidas and Krasus exchanged a glance. The instrument lit up, meaning it wasn’t broken.
So the person chosen by the former Guardian Medivh was actually a magic novice???
Right then, Allen felt something was off.
That arcane energy carried a strange emotion.
Grievance.
Like a lover from a distant land, trekking over mountains and rivers, finally arriving at the promised meeting place, only to be blocked by an invisible wall.
She knocked countless times, called out countless shouts, waited endless days and nights—yet the person inside the wall never heard.
Now, at last, he turned his head.
Those eyes looked toward her through the thick barrier—she was almost in tears.
Allen’s pupils contracted slightly.
A bold guess surged into his mind.
No way?
No way, no way?
He gripped Xal’atath tightly. When he closed his eyes and sank his perception deep into his body—
Shadow energy surrounded him like a black tide, completely sealing him off.
Dense, viscous, omnipresent, like the most loyal guards, yet also like the greediest cage.
Could it be… you damned shadow elements have walled me in, making it impossible to sense arcane energy?
Allen took a deep breath.
He tried to push against the shadows.
With his mind, he gently touched that layer of black tide, like shoving a heavy iron door.
He added a bit more force.
Shadows surged from all directions, layer upon layer, wave after wave. Every inch Allen pushed open, ten new inches of shadows filled the gap.
Allen concentrated entirely, achieving total focus, unleashing his maximum strength, and roared in his mind:
“Get lost! All of you shadows!”
His will was like a sharp sword, cleaving through the layers of darkness.
Finally.
A crack appeared.
But it was enough.
Those arcane elements, isolated for so long, finally saw a passage.
Like a tsunami, like a burst dam, those arcane elements, held back too long, carrying a pent-up longing, with nearly insane joy, surged into that gap in a frenzy.
They pressed together, like long-lost lovers throwing themselves into their beloved’s embrace, like pilgrims finally touching the fingertips of their deity.
Allen saw an endless expanse of purple.
Saw a flood that covered the sky, devouring everything, dyeing the whole world deep purple—
At that moment, Allen remembered when he had changed class to Wild Warlock, how some existence had glanced at him, bestowing the wild magic power sealed within his body.
That chaos, that blinding light, that brilliance like a cluster of stars.
Who exactly was He?
It couldn’t be the world spirit, could it?
The testing crystal pillar ignited in an instant, its radiance as blinding as the sun. Those magic crystals erupted with dazzling blue light, cracks spreading from within, fragments flying everywhere.
The outer Arcanite shell began to melt, golden droplets splashing through the air, vaporizing before they even hit the ground.
Allen couldn’t control the arcane torrent and could only shout: “Run!”
Antonidas reacted immediately, raising his hand abruptly as a pale blue barrier spread out, enveloping the crystal pillar. Krasus moved at the same time, tracing a silver arc in the air with his fingers as the glow of a teleportation spell surrounded everyone present.
A flash of light.
Everyone was teleported to safety just before the explosion consumed the hall.
Then…
A beam of violet light shot up from the ground, like a divine sword thrusting from the depths of the earth, tearing through the ceiling, through the dome, through the sky of Dalaran!
Clouds were ripped in half, the sunlight paling before that violet radiance.
When it finally dissipated, half of the hall’s ceiling had collapsed, stone pillars broken into several sections, and the exquisite rune murals reduced to charred black ash.
The air was thick with residual arcane energy, crackling purple arcs dancing among the ruins like lingering ghosts unwilling to leave.
And in the center of this wreckage stood Allen Prestor.
Unscathed.
He looked down at his hands, his fingers spreading slightly, then slowly clenching into fists.
Holy crap.
Those who had escaped the disaster peered in cautiously.
Not just the apprentice onlookers—even Antonidas and Krasus were stunned.
This was really messed up…
The crowd buzzed with discussion, while Krasus muttered like some prophet, “One day, Medivh will manifest in him again.”
Jaina, as if having proven something, looked a bit elated.
So he really hadn’t lied to me that day.
Which meant it was because I asked about such a basic spell as Frostbolt that I offended a grand mage?
Soon, alarms sounded from every direction.
Hasty bells, shrill horns, the sound of countless boot soles crushing rubble.
Dozens of Kirin Tor battle mages flooded into the ruins, staffs raised high, arcane energy at their tips like arrows poised to strike, all aimed squarely at the person in the center.
“Enemy attack! Enemy attack!!”
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Allen nearly ended up in the Violet Prison for a second time.
If not for two grand mages from the Council of Six personally vouching for him, he would have been keeping company with those bizarre inmates in the Violet Prison by now.
His test results were sealed away as classified, and all witnesses at the scene were ordered to keep silent.
Of course, no one could come to a conclusion about the incident anyway, since never in Dalaran’s history had anyone ever blown up a testing instrument.
For Allen, this half day was like opening a door to a whole new world.
So he wasn’t an arcane idiot after all.
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