Noah concentrated his entire mind, guiding the flow of spiritual energy that swirled chaotically around the pentagram.
In a single instant, two pentagrams formed over the two runic circles surrounding the main one, shining with lights that contrasted with the blazing red that enveloped them.
These two pentagrams were the innate spells of rank 0 and rank 1 that Noah had created.
Since he previously had no access to any rank 0 innate spell, he had to advance without inscribing any. This meant he possessed no innate abilities. An innate spell normally consumes much less energy than a normal spell of the same rank and its casting is instantaneous; unlike a normal spell, these can grow and evolve as the mage ascends in ranks, since they are integrated with the soul.
After traveling to the world of Sorcerer's Apprentice, Noah obtained a few spells that he could modify to adapt them to the magus system and inscribe them into his soul.
The rank 0 spell he created was called Soul Fire. It created a spiritual flame with which he could directly attack the target's soul and burn it. It could not be resisted by conventional physical means, unless one had an object or ability that could protect the soul.
As for the rank 1 spell, Noah chose the Absorption Spell he had used to absorb Dave's powers in the world of Sorcerer's Apprentice. The Absorption Spell was performed through physical contact between the target wizard and the caster's catalyst. Upon being touched, the target wizard would have their energy and supernatural abilities absorbed into the user's body through the catalyst in question, manifesting as threads of neon blue light around them. By becoming an innate spell, its absorption speed multiplied and began instantly upon touching the target with his hands.
The main pentagram expanded until it covered the entire sky of the spiritual sea, shining with a spectral light that contrasted with the blazing red that enveloped it.
As soon as it stopped expanding, the red light roared like a living tide and rushed toward the sky, enveloping the spiritual runes that made up the pentagram in an attempt to dye them with its own color.
Bang!
A deafening blast resonated in the depths of his mind. The spiritual runes flashed violently as they rejected the unknown contamination.
An overwhelming impact force traveled through the sea of consciousness, striking Noah as if a wave of fire had hit him from within.
His vision darkened, the balance of his consciousness wavered, and for a moment he felt as if his soul was about to collapse.
—Suppress! —he roared with all his might.
He channeled his entire spiritual strength, gathering his mind into a single point, and imposed his will upon the rebellious pentagram.
An intense buzzing filled the void. The pentagram trembled, resisting at first, but gradually yielded under the pressure of his mental dominion.
Pop!
A dull sound resonated in his consciousness.
The pentagram's runes stopped resisting. The red light slowly sank into them, and the runic pentagram began to take on a red hue.
Soon, the entire pentagram burned with a crimson tone.
Under this forced fusion, mysterious patterns began to manifest on the pentagram's surface as it shrank back to its original size.
Those patterns continued to grow, intricately connecting with each other until they formed a blue octahedron-shaped crystal with a bright red pentagram inside.
Bang!
In the center of the spiritual sea, the mysterious octahedron emitted one final blue flash, and a surge of force passed through it, expanding Noah's spiritual sea and causing his spiritual strength to increase as if he had taken steroids.
The scorching heat vanished abruptly, absorbed into the sea of consciousness like water sinking into sand.
Everything returned to an abyssal silence.
Noah felt his consciousness violently expelled from the place.
A sharp buzzing resonated inside his head.
After the advancement, his spiritual strength skyrocketed from the initial twenty points to twenty-eight. A considerable leap.
The next threshold was much further away. To become a rank two magus, he needed to reach one hundred points, a slow process impossible to accelerate by normal means. But Noah was in no hurry; on the contrary, he had all the time in the world.
---
In the midst of a cold castle, presiding over the space, stood the seat of a monarch.
The throne was of gray stone, cold and bare like the heart of the old man who occupied it. At his feet, the capital of the Land of Sky stretched out in a labyrinth of smoking workshops and metal towers that pierced the clouds. The noise of hammers and gears was incessant, a mechanical heartbeat that never ceased.
The king rested his cheek on his fist, his tired eyes scanning the horizon without really seeing it. The wrinkles on his face were deep as cracks in rock, and his skin hung from his bones like an old rag.
—Report —he said, his voice rough as sandpaper.
To his left, an assistant dressed in blue robes bowed. His hands trembled slightly as he unfolded a scroll filled with diagrams and figures.
—Your Majesty, reports from the border are concerning. The Land of Fire has mobilized three additional battalions toward our demarcation. It seems our movements have not gone unnoticed.
—Naturally —the king replied, without changing his posture—. Building a flying fortress in the middle of nowhere is not something you can hide with a tablecloth. What else?
The assistant hesitated.
—The envoys from Konoha have requested a diplomatic meeting. The Third Hokage…
—Hiruzen —the king interrupted him, and a bitter smile twisted his lips—. That man still clings to the illusion that dialogue can stop the inevitable. Ignore him. For now.
The assistant nodded and continued.
—The chakra reserves for the winged devices are at seventy percent. The pilots of the Third Squadron have completed their offensive formation training. As for the jutsu… —he paused— we still cannot surpass B-rank.
The king snorted.
—It has always been this way. Our shinobi are… adequate. Nothing more. While the great nations have entire clans capable of splitting mountains with a thought, we can barely scratch the surface of what true power means. —His fist struck the arm of the throne—. That is why we invest in technology. Because blood did not give us a Kage. It gave us ingenuity.
—Indeed, Your Majesty. That is why our only hope is…
—The Ancor Vantian —the king completed, and for the first time, something glimmered in his dull eyes—. Tell me. How is it progressing?
The assistant swallowed. His fingers traced the scroll to a section marked with red ink.
—The outer structure is complete, Your Majesty. The walls, the towers, the perimeter defense systems… everything works as planned. The main cannon has been installed and calibrated. In theory, it could pierce a mountain.
—In theory —the king repeated, with dangerous slowness.
—In practice… —the assistant hesitated—. We need a power source. The central engine, as designed, would require an amount of chakra impossible to generate by conventional means. We have tried to accumulate reserves from hundreds of shinobi, we have tested experimental reactors… nothing works. Without a stable power source, the Ancor Vantian is nothing more than… a building of rock and metal. It cannot float. It cannot fire. It cannot do anything.
Silence settled in the hall.
The king remained motionless, staring fixedly at the assistant. Then, with a movement that seemed to cost him a titanic effort, he grabbed the wine goblet resting on the armrest of his throne and threw it with what little strength he had left.
The glass struck the assistant's forehead, shattering into pieces. Red wine slid down the man's face, mixing with the blood oozing from a small cut above his eyebrow.
—Garbage —the king spat, his voice rising for the first time—. Incompetent garbage! We have been working on this for decades. Decades investing every resource, every soul, every coin into that fortress. And you come to me saying it cannot even float?
—Your Majesty, if only we had a little more time, or a jinchuriki we could…
—We have no time! —The king collapsed onto his throne, gasping. His fury faded as quickly as it had come, leaving behind only exhaustion—. We have no jinchuriki. We have no powerful clans. We have nothing that we have not built with our own hands. And now… now I am running out of time.
His voice broke on the last whisper.
The assistant, still bleeding, did not dare to move.
—The doctor said I have a year left —the king continued, almost to himself—. Perhaps less. My heart is rotten, like the rest of me. And I will die without having seen the Ancor Vantian take flight. I will die without having shown the world what we can truly do.
He lowered his gaze to his hands, wrinkled and trembling.
—Conflicts have already begun, you know? Our neighbors are sniffing out weakness. The Land of Fire is preparing to crush us before we can become a real threat. And we cannot blame them. If I were in their place, I would do the same.
—Your Majesty…
—Leave me alone.
The assistant hesitated for a moment, then bowed and withdrew. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, fading into the distance.
The king was left alone in the dimness of his throne. Outside, the hammers kept striking, the gears kept turning. The Land of Sky kept building its dream, even as its king crumbled.
—Ancor Vantian —he murmured, stroking the stone arm of the throne as if it were a lover's cheek—. My legacy. My obsession. My greatest failure.
He closed his eyes.
—At least… at least before I go, I want to see you fly. Just once.
The wind entered through the open windows, carrying away his words.