Since that day of celestial upheaval, when magic was no longer tamed, the continent of Til has been plunged into a slow but persistent upheaval.
The old order crumbled piece by piece amidst the magical revelry and riots. New rules have yet to be established, and the whole world is like a giant that has just broken free of its shackles but does not know where to go, stumbling forward in confusion and pain.
Blacksmith and Mars
In a town called Stoneraven on the border of the Kree Empire, old blacksmith Hank Anvil was frowning at his furnace. His blacksmith shop had been passed down for generations, and his farm tools and swords were well-known in the area.
But ever since "Liberation Day" (that's what people call the day the sky changed), everything has gone into chaos.
He no longer needed to laboriously pump the bellows; the flames in the furnace seemed to have their own temper, sometimes so weak they were almost extinguished, and sometimes they would suddenly leap up to a height of more than a person, carrying an ominous purple or green hue, burning the fine iron into strangely shaped slag.
What alarmed him even more was that he discovered his hand, which was holding the pliers, would occasionally uncontrollably emit tiny sparks of electricity, and once it even almost ignited the leather piled in the corner.
"A curse...it's a curse!"
Hank muttered to himself as he stared at the empty shop, his calloused hands trembling slightly. The craft he relied on for a living was failing him. The town's captain of the guard had come a few days ago to order a batch of arrowheads, but he hadn't been able to finish them yet, not because he had lost his touch, but because he simply couldn't control the wild flames.
Noise could be heard coming from outside the window.
Hank peered out and saw several thugs from the town surrounding the tax collector's son.
One of the thugs stretched out a finger, a small, flickering flame dancing on its tip, threatening to burn the other man's nice coat.
The tax collector's son was deathly pale, and the family crest he wore at his waist, which was said to be imbued with "strong" runes, was now dull and unresponsive.
In the past, these thugs would never have dared to be so arrogant. But now, the boundaries of power have blurred.
Hank sighed and silently closed the shop door.
He knew that in Stoneraven Town, and indeed throughout the entire empire, there were increasingly more people like him, stirring with the sliver of magic they had suddenly acquired. Law and order were becoming more fragile than ever before in the face of power held by individuals.
Silent Prayer
In a remote rural church under the jurisdiction of the Holy Spirit Church, the young mute Mary kneels before the Holy Symbol, just as she has done every evening for the past ten years.
Unable to speak, she could only pray to the Holy Spirit with a pure heart.
But today, her prayers were interrupted. Not by sound, but by light.
Just as she closed her eyes and concentrated, she "felt" that the emblem seemed to be glowing. She opened her eyes in confusion and found that it was not an illusion—the surface of the stone emblem was flowing with an extremely soft and warm white light.
What shocked her even more was that she found her hands, which were rough and cracked from washing clothes for a long time, were now enveloped in the same faint light, and a tingling sensation came from her palms. The cracks were slowly healing at a speed visible to the naked eye!
Maria withdrew her hand in alarm, and the white light vanished. She looked around; there was no one there.
She tried again to concentrate, thinking of Tom, the old hunter who was bedridden at the edge of the village.
The warm white light flowed from her fingertips again, faint yet real.
She can "cure" him? But she's mute and has never learned any prayers or magic! The old pastor of the church once said that only the most devout clergy who have undergone years of arduous practice can receive the grace of the Holy Spirit and perform miracles.
Maria's heart pounded with a mixture of inexplicable joy and deep fear.
She gained power, but this power did not seem to come from the Holy Spirit she knew. How would the Church view such an "outcast" as her? Would the villagers see her as a savior, or... a witch?
She silently hid her hands, no longer daring to pray, nor to tell anyone. Only in the dead of night would she sneak to the old hunter's window, trying to send that warm white light into his aching body. The power in her hands was like Pandora's box, bringing both hope and an unspeakable burden.
withered vines and rampant thorns
Deep within the ancient "Eternal Song Forest" of the Elven race, the Life Priestess Elvina stroked a withered silver vine, her face filled with worry and sorrow.
Eversong Forest is the foundation of the elves, its vitality inextricably linked to their magic and even their very survival. Since ancient times, the forest's pulse has resonated harmoniously with the magic network, carefully guided and maintained by the elves. But after the Day of Liberation, this delicate balance was shattered.
A surge of magic indiscriminately flooded the forest, causing some originally mild plants to mutate and grow wildly. Thorny brambles, like a black tide, eroded the ancient forest paths and devoured the living space of other plants.
Meanwhile, other precious plants, such as the Silverleaf Vine, which are extremely sensitive to magical fluctuations, withered in large numbers because they could not adapt to the sudden and chaotic energy shock.
The forest became "noisy" and "irritable".
The elemental creatures lost their former tranquility and became extremely aggressive. Some weak forest spirits and flower fairies grew rapidly under the influence of magic, but they also became capricious and even began to challenge the elves' traditional management of the forest.
Elvina addressed the council of elders, her voice weary, “Our generations-old way of maintaining balance seems so powerless in the face of such tyrannical power. The forest is ‘evolving,’ but the direction… is fraught with unknown dangers.”
The magic that the elves were so proud of, which allowed them to live in harmony with nature, now needs a complete overhaul and even a complete overhaul.
This is a painful and lengthy process, during which the Eversong Forest and all elven territories have to face the dual pressures of dramatic internal ecological changes and external surveillance.
Collapsed towers and flames in the streets
Across the mainland, many of the towering pagodas that once symbolized knowledge, power, and status are now in trouble.
Some mage towers, whose energy cores were too deeply bound to the old magic network, were paralyzed after the magic network "disconnected," their tower runes dimmed, and their protective magic arrays failed.
Even worse, some dangerous experiments conducted inside the tower went out of control, or the stored magical items went berserk, causing violent explosions that reduced the magnificent tower to ruins and also damaged the surrounding neighborhoods.
The status of monks plummeted.
When magic is no longer a mystery that requires decades of hard study to grasp, and when even a mischievous child on the street can casually conjure a fireball, the halo surrounding a mage quickly fades.
The people's awe turned into skepticism and even hostility—especially after some sorcerers tried to forcibly control the out-of-control magic using old methods, resulting in even greater disasters.
In some cities, angry crowds even stormed local mage towers, looting spellbooks and artifacts they once treasured, believing that mages had long monopolized the power of knowledge.
The city's defense forces, tasked with maintaining order, were also overwhelmed. They found that their weapons and armor, enchanted by mages, were unreliable and often ineffective against the endless stream of criminals with all sorts of strange abilities.
Bandits and ambitious men ushered in their "golden age".
A mercenary who originally only knew a few basic skills might suddenly discover overnight that he could melt an iron sword with his bare hands, and thus dare to lead a team to attack a lord's castle.
A wanted thief may suddenly gain the ability to blend into the shadows, making it impossible for the guards chasing him to catch him.
Chaos spread like a plague.
Trade routes were cut off, villages were abandoned, and cities were placed under martial law.
The fragile peace agreements between countries have become mere formalities, border frictions are escalating, and everyone is cautiously probing each other's strengths and weaknesses in the new environment, while desperately trying to control the out-of-control situation within their own borders.
The Lights of Blackrock Territory
Amidst the chaotic storm sweeping across the continent, Blackrock Territory stood out remarkably as a reef in a raging torrent.
This is not because Blackrock Territory is completely unaffected.
Awakened magic users have also appeared in the territory, and mutated monsters are also harassing the border.
But unlike other places, this place has a powerful core and a self-contained system of solutions that does not rely entirely on the traditional magic network.
The city's protective system, based on light pulse energy and crystal skeleton technology, is operating stably, effectively filtering and channeling the wild magical flow, ensuring the relative stability of the core area.
The administrative system led by Astaire operated efficiently, quickly registering and guiding the newly awakened population into a new training and control system, rather than simply through fear or rejection.
Narosh's Shadowbinders act like the most sensitive tentacles, monitoring every anomaly inside and outside the territory.
Any force or individual attempting to exploit the chaos to stir up trouble in the territory will be met with ruthless action immediately.
More importantly, the name itself—Lind Truk—is a powerful deterrent.
His deeds of banishing the God of Fusion and fighting against the God of Magic (although the details vary) have long been known, and in the eyes of the world, he himself is one of the most powerful beings in this wild age. With him around, the hearts of the people of Blackrock Territory are largely at ease.
Therefore, while other parts of the continent were engulfed in flames, riots, and chaos, the nights in Blackrock Territory remained marked by the steady, warm lights of the city and the Starfire Base. These lights drew displaced people from all directions, converging here like moths to a flame.
They bring chaos, but also vitality; challenges, but also opportunities.
Linde stood atop the lord's manor, overlooking this city that stubbornly shone brightly amidst a turbulent world.
He could sense that the land beneath his feet was becoming one of the centers of a new era.
The situation on the mainland is like a game of chess that has been disrupted; old pieces have become ineffective or changed, and new pieces are being born.
While spending time with his family and enjoying a brief period of peace, he was also quietly observing and deducing all of this.
"Chaos is a ladder..." he murmured to himself, his cold purple eyes reflecting the darkness in the distance and the lights nearby.
For some, chaos is an abyss of destruction; for others, it is an opportunity for rise.
The prelude to the Wild Age of the continent of Til has just begun, and the chapters belonging to Blackrock Territory and to Lind Truk are far from over.
What he holds in his hands is not just power, but also the legacy of a divine kingdom, the key to a civilization, and... a crucial influence on the direction of this new era.
The storm has arrived, but the real battle has only just begun.
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