In the days following the Green Death, a heavy, reflective silence settled over Blaviken. The purple scorch marks on the cobblestones were scrubbed away, but the memory of the emerald flash remained. The noble, a man who had seen his world collapse and be rebuilt in a single night, followed the clues—the silver-green herbs, the unnatural silence of the marsh, and the quiet boy with the "modern" eyes.
He traveled alone to the sea-cave, standing before the curtain of the waterfall until Aris stepped out from the blue-lit mist.
"It was you," the noble said, his voice devoid of his usual authority, replaced by a raw, paternal gratitude. "The diaries, the medicine... the green light."
"I am a student of a different path," Aris confessed, his voice steady. "I could not let a lie burn your daughter to ash."
The noble bowed his head—a gesture of submission rarely seen from a man of his station to a fisherman's son. "You dismantled a conspiracy that would have claimed dozens of lives. You saved this town from a madman's fire. Blaviken owes you a debt it can never repay. My daughter is alive because of you. If the people fear you, I will ensure that fear is tempered with the knowledge that you are our protector."
True to his word, the noble's decree spread. The villagers, though still making the sign against evil when Aris passed, decided to tolerate him. He was no longer the "Witch-boy," but the "Sage of the Cliffs."
As Aris returned to the solitude of his sanctuary, a new, radiant notification flared in his mind—gold flecked with starlight.
[HIDDEN REWARD UNLOCKED]
Achievement: Savior of the Innocent & Architect of Truth.
Reward: The Ritual of Celestial Distribution.
Knowledge Gained: The Source of the Sage.
As the data flooded his mind, Aris gasped, dropping to his knees. For years, he had wondered why his Harry Potter magic felt so different from the volatile, destructive Chaos of the Continent. Now he knew.
While the sorcerers of Aretuza drew their power from the elemental planes—fire, earth, and air—a process that often led to madness or physical deformity, Aris's power originated from the Universal Cosmos. It was a safer, more fundamental version of energy—an orderly power that flowed from the stars and the spaces between worlds.
The Ritual of Celestial Distribution was the key to his goal of guiding the world. Unlike Chaos mages, who guarded their power jealously because it was finite and dangerous, the Cosmic Source was limitless.
Aris stood in the center of his cave, his hands raised toward the ceiling. He began the ritual, not to hoard power, but to act as a conduit.
Aris tapped into the boundless energy of the vacuum, his body glowing with a soft, white radiance that outshone his ever-glowing stones.
Because the source was infinite, Aris realized he could "gift" drops of this energy to others. He could create Cosmic Mages—men and women who could wield magic without the risk of being consumed by the fire of Chaos.As the energy flowed through him, Aris felt no drain. Instead, the ritual acted as a tonic, his own reservoir of power replenishing instantly as it circulated.
He looked at his hands, which now hummed with the light of distant suns. He wasn't just a survivor anymore, and he wasn't just a wizard. He was a Human Sage capable of raising an army of healers and protectors who would never have to fear the madness of the Source.
"The Continent is dark," Aris whispered, his eyes reflecting a thousand stars. "But the stars have finally arrived."
With the Cosmic Source now anchored in his soul, Aris knew that a single Sage could not change the world. He needed a foundation—a lineage of mages who did not draw from the volatile, mind-breaking elements of the Continent, but from the silent order of the stars. However, the requirement was absolute: the recipient must have no trace of Chaotic energy. They had to be "empty vessels," untouched by the traditional magic that the Brotherhood of Sorcerers guarded so fiercely.
Aris hired a local artisan to craft hundreds of posters. They were simple but carried an undeniable weight, distributed to every tavern and crossroads from Blaviken to the borders of Aedirn:
"Seeking seekers of truth. Those who have studied the mysteries but found no power. Those who are empty of Chaos but full of resolve. Come to the cliffs of the North. A new light is rising."
While the general populace remained suspicious of anything involving "witchcraft," the promise of a "safer" power sparked an wildfire of curiosity. Soon, seven scholars arrived at the mouth of the sea-cave. They were men and women who had spent their lives in dusty libraries, studying supernatural forces they could never hope to touch because they lacked the "Source" required by the mages.
The day of the ritual was unlike any other in Blaviken's history. A crowd gathered on the jagged rocks above the cave, watching with bated breath. Aris's parents, Marek and Hana, stood at the front, their faces a complex tapestry of pride and holy terror. While the villagers expected a dark, forbidden ritual involving blood and sacrifice, they found something entirely different.
Aris led the seven scholars to a flat plateau of granite outside his sanctuary. He didn't use a wand or draw a pentagram. Instead, he simply stood in the center and commanded them to join hands, forming a circle.
"Do not fear the energy," Aris said, his voice carrying over the roar of the surf with an unnatural clarity. "It does not come from the earth. It comes from the sky."
As Aris took the hands of the two scholars nearest to him, the ritual began.
Instead of the violent, crackling energy of a typical mage, a profound silence descended over the plateau. The air didn't turn hot; it turned crisp and pure.
A pillar of soft, pearlescent white light descended from the clear blue sky, striking the center of the circle. It wasn't fire; it was Cosmic Energy, the limitless power of the universal vacuum.
The light flowed through Aris's arms like liquid starlight, passing into the scholars. Their eyes didn't turn yellow or bloodshot; they glowed with a steady, serene silver light.
The villagers watched in stunned silence. There were no screams, no smell of sulfur, and no blackened earth. Instead, the area around the circle felt peaceful—divine. The scholars, once frail men of books, stood taller, their skin radiating a faint, healthy glow as the cosmic energy settled into their veins.
Hana gripped Marek's arm, tears streaming down her face. While the other villagers whispered about "miracles," she looked at her son and felt a terrifying realization. He wasn't just a boy born in a fisherman's hut. He wasn't just a mage. To her, Aris looked like a God-Child, a celestial being who had borrowed human flesh to lead humanity out of the dark.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
Ritual Complete: 7 [Cosmic Mages] Created.
Status: [Sage Authority] Increased. Your reservoir has been fully restored by the infinite cosmos.
New Perk Gained: [Architect of a New Order].
The seven scholars knelt before Aris, not in fear, but in recognition of the path he had opened. The "Human Sage" had officially founded his school. For the first time in history, magic was no longer a curse of birth or a gift of Chaos—it was a reward for the disciplined mind.