Not all watched with admiration.
Neighboring empires began to panic. They copied his systems but lacked his soul. They installed pipelines but used slaves. Built machines but ignored training. Their nobles hoarded knowledge. Their citizens rebelled. What was built on exploitation cracked from within.
Sharath's kingdom stood tall.
From his palace balcony, Sharath watched the future ride past him — dozens of Aetherion Riders gliding across the marble causeways, citizens waving, merchants expanding, healers smiling.
He exhaled softly.
"Innovation," he whispered, "only thrives when anchored in compassion."
A hand slid into his.
Elina stood beside him, hair loose, eyes radiant.
"You've given them a new world."
"We did," he corrected, voice quiet. "The soot has cleared. Now we lay stone."
Thus, the Magic Cycle Era began — not with war, but with will.