Within the Royal Capital, a bunch of old mages were gathering in a large room. It was a room full of alchemist tools and magical artifacts. It smelled like medicine everywhere, and there was a faint humming coming from nearby magic artifacts.
"Will you finally tell me what we're doing here?" asked a teenage boy.
He was addressing an old man next to him. Like all the old mages in the room, he was fully gowned in a light blue robe with a few magic artifacts on him. Unlike him, the young boy wore less flashy robes, showing his rank as a mere apprentice.
"Well, since we're in a secure place, might as well tell you." The old man slightly smirked as he played with his long white beard.
"Remember the research I've been going through for months now?"
"Oh, the scrolls the King himself sent?" The boy scratched his head, trying to remember what the correlation was with this day.
"Yeah, those scrolls. It's a top-secret matter, but since the ritual will start today, it shouldn't matter."
The old man looked around to see if anyone was staring at them before whispering in the young apprentice's ear:
"The King himself chose the most prestigious masters of magic to conduct a ritual that has been rumored to have kept the kingdom safe since forever."
"Hehe, and your master is one of these honored individuals."
As the old man was about to gloat more to his apprentice, another old mage interrupted their small interaction.
"I thought only distinguished mages were to be in this room? What is a mere peasant doing in front of me?"
This one mage had far more magic artifacts on him and also had an annoyingly arrogant look on his face.
"My lord, should I remind you the King chose me personally, unlike some people who got here just because of, um... special circumstances." The apprentice's master responded respectfully, but the hint of shrewdness and sarcasm still spoke very loudly.
"Humph." The arrogant mage could only glare as he distanced himself from the pair.
"Don't mind him, boy." The master tried to comfort his apprentice, who looked a bit uncomfortable from the latter exchange.
"I don't know what will become of this kingdom… almost half of these old-timers here somehow managed to bribe the Royal Advisor to get here without the skills and reputation necessary." He slightly shook his head while gazing at some mages who were both obese and dressed extravagantly.
"Gentlemen, now that everyone is present, may I have your humble attention, please?"
The mages' pleasantries and small talk were interrupted by one person. He wore a white robe and looked like he was one step away from the grave. He also looked so frail, but his voice could be heard by everyone despite speaking in such a gentle and weak way.
"Archmage Vis!" They immediately recognized the humble-looking old man.
Everyone even bowed once they saw that one figure. That was no ordinary old man. He was considered one of the most powerful mages within the kingdom!
"You honor me too much." Archmage Vis signaled them to stop the formalities with a small smile on his face.
Now, with the crowd settled down, it was time for him to get to the serious matter: what they were here for.
"I want you all to listen carefully, for this matter is very important to the Great Kingdom's safety…"
"This information shall pass through your ears once and never be uttered through your mouths again. The Inquisition itself shall mandate it, so heed my words strongly."
A chill passed through everyone's spine once the word Inquisition was mentioned. This was an Order personally created by the Founding King. It was the protector of the secrets of the Kingdom. If there was ever one loose mouth—no matter how—it, and all hearing ears, would be shut forever by them through all means possible.
Archmage Vis approvingly nodded, seeing the crowd's reaction.
"Now watch and listen." The old mage waved his hand, and a projection appeared for everyone to see.
He pointed towards a blue-colored continent in the North: "The Great Kingdom, founded by King Ortus 800 years ago. It lived through undisturbed prosperity for decades until…"
The old man slowly moved his finger towards a blood-red continent in the West: "The wretched demons from the Red Continent. They, out of nowhere, concentrated all their armies in one powerful and fast attack."
The blue continent slowly lost its color, and almost half of it was now painted in blood red.
"Their advance was unstoppable… countless lives were lost. And the demons were slowly reaching these same walls that protect us."
Archmage Vis took a deep breath, and hope filled his eyes as he continued speaking.
"When the shadow of defeat loomed over the Royal Capital, one man—no… one Hero—fought valiantly against the horde."
The projection was now showing a dazzling youth with blonde hair and blue eyes, his sword raised high, with the surrounding demons watching in fear.
"Hero Bob…" the apprentice whispered, looking in amazement at the projection of the young man.
"With his heroism and strength, we managed to disrupt the demons' offensive and finally chase them away from our Great Kingdom." The old man sighed and closed his eyes with relief, as if appreciating the great act of victory centuries ago.
"But master… we already know all this. What's the point of him saying all that?" the apprentice curiously whispered to his master.
The old man could only wryly smile at the question.
"You might not believe it, but Archmage Vis used to be an opera maestro. He likes to add plot to everything…"
"Weird guy…" the apprentice whispered to himself.
The Archmage slightly coughed a few times once he noticed the crowd giving him weird looks.
"Of course, that is the story that you all believe to be true. But it is only half true!"
"Listen well! The Hero Bob is not of this world!"
His statement was immediately followed by whispers and raised eyebrows.
"Not only that, but the Hero is nothing but the byproduct of research coming from the founders of the Council of Truth! The same research you were all given!"
The former maestro's plot twist proved to be effective on the crowd. He nodded delightfully, seeing everyone's reaction.
And the crowd—they were not only shocked but also utterly convinced. Such words coming from the mouth of the Archmage himself would never be a lie. And also, the scrolls they had studied were another undeniable proof. They all had a general idea of what kind of purpose these scrolls were used for. And the summoning of a foreign entity was part of it.
"And your purpose today will be the same as the founding fathers of the Council of Truth."
"Summoning the next Hero!"
A long while after the orchestrated revelation, all the mages in the room were working on a particular magic circle inscribed on the ground. Some were enchanting, some were inscribing more runes, and some were mixing herbs. And there was only one apprentice running around doing chores for every small needed thing.
The Archmage was slowly passing by each mage, verifying if everything conformed to the quality standard.
He slightly frowned when checking on almost half of the mages. Not only were they working slower than the others, but the quality of their work was also not that good.
'Bunch of incompetents… That advisor be damned for choosing these fools,' he thought to himself.
'We don't have time nor resources to teach another batch… I'll have to make up personally for the gap they're creating…'
Hours later, they were finally finished with everything. Everyone was exhausted as they watched the shining magic circle on the floor.
"It's beautiful…," said the apprentice weakly as he poured water all over his head.
It was beauty in the eyes of the apprentice, but the Archmage did not look satisfied at all.
'Despite my aid and instructions… the magic circle is not perfectly stable… the runes are not perfectly aligned… whoever concocted the herbs needs to resign… That damned advisor!'
The white-robed old man was internally raging. Now he'd have to use more mana than usual to stabilize and make up for everything.
"We take a pause of an hour to recuperate, then start the ritual. The King expects the Hero. We're already behind schedule. There is much more to do…"
An hour later, once everyone had recovered, the ritual finally started. As instructed by the scrolls, each mage channeled their mana toward the circle, activating it for the first time.
Archmage Vis stood closest to the circle, controlling the mana flow and keeping it as stable as possible.
'This is worse than I thought… The quality of the circle is so bad that it's draining my mana at an alarming rate!'
"We must stop this!!!!" the Archmage shouted.
If the magic went out of control, he did not know what might happen. It could vary from a small explosion to a city-wiping one. Hell, it was even probable to summon a horde of demons at this point. The possibilities of what might happen if they failed were infinite. The ritual had to be stopped immediately!
"W-we… we can't!!" the apprentice's master shouted back at him.
The Archmage soon realized that even he couldn't control his mana anymore. It was like his mana was being sucked into a strong whirlpool with only a small rope to try to pull it back.
"Oh no…" The old man's eyes widened—it was too late.
It happened within a matter of a second. An explosion so big, so loud, that even the King himself could hear it.