Chapter 88: A Whole New Day for Lance

In the Krati Empire of the Southern Continent, a pitch-black palace lay hidden deep underground, a symbol of absolute power. This ancient subterranean city was shrouded in eternal night, yet magical devices inside cleverly mimicked a blood moon, casting deep, eerie shadows.

The towering and massive buildings lining the vast, empty streets were constructed of dark stone. Their silhouettes bore the marks of ancient artistry as they rested silently amid the darkness, layered with the dust of endless ages.

At the far end of the underground city was a towering castle that radiated a potent, chilling, and uncanny magical aura. Its outer walls were fashioned from obsidian, and were inlaid with cold silver trim and translucent red medieval crystal ornaments.

A person clad in a long coat arrived at the castle entrance and ventured deep within. After passing through a series of lavishly decorated chambers and corridors, he pushed open a massive, heavy door of black iron. A magnificent hall that resembled a council chamber was behind it, exuding an atmosphere of profound power and heavy history.

Beneath a rose window[1] inlaid with immortal crystals were chandeliers that cast a lavish glow as they hung from cold iron chains. A crimson carpet, resembling a flowing river of red, stretched endlessly. Pinpoints of light scattered through the crystals like a field of stars, lending the space a dark, haunting beauty.

In the center of this vast hall was a banquet table spanning dozens of meters. Crafted from refined iron as black as ink, the table was etched with intricate, swirling runes, a hallmark of vampiric artistic style. Flanking the table, high-backed chairs stood like thrones, each bearing a gemstone totem at its crest that corresponded to its occupant.

However, the hall was unnervingly silent. Of the thirteen high-backed chairs, only one was occupied. The person who entered the palace stood gracefully at the far end of the long table, making no move to take a seat.

After saluting and bowing, he said, "Marquise Heritier, members of the Church of Resurrection encountered that half-demon, but they ultimately failed."

In the distance, the figure seated in the seventh high-backed chair slowly lifted her head, but her eyes were still closed. Despite that, it was as if she could see through the vaulted ceiling to the shimmering woven tapestry of the stars in the deep night sky.

"That shouldn't be right," she murmured to herself. "The Star of Doom for that half-demon has appeared twice already, yet fate has been averted both times."

The man remained silent. He knew full well which two omens of death the marquise was referring to.

The first omen: Hyperion should have met a wretched end in the capital of Hutton after failing to gain admission to Ikerite University.

The second omen: Hyperion should have been slain by the cultists of the Church of Resurrection within her Shadow Realm challenge.

However, these events, destined to unfold as they were, never came to pass. Instead, their outcomes were rewritten. All of it traced back to a human freshman who had burst onto the scene at Ikerite University.

"The remnants of the demon race must be eradicated, no matter what the cost." The vampire's voice was distant and cold, and it had a tone that held traces of wistfulness, resentment, and resignation, yet also a lingering regret that not even the passage of time could erase.

"History has taught us that only when the powers of humanity and the demons converge can a force capable of threatening us emerge." The marquise finally opened her deep crimson eyes. Shrouded in shadow, their depths concealed memories spanning ages past. There were secrets far too ancient for any to fathom.

In this current era, the demons had already been annihilated by the humans. Driven by insatiable greed, cults ran rampant, the two continents had fractured, and humanity remained locked in an endless civil strife over power.

Such foolishness signified only one thing.

"The golden age of the Blood Moon shall rise again. Humanity must be made to remember that they are innately servants."

Her face, striking and cold, remained utterly serene, radiating a distant majesty that none dared to profane. Each word rang out clearly through the palace, like the crisp chiming of melting icicles at winter's end.

***

In Ikerite, as the golden light of the rising sun gently bathed the campus of the ancient university, the masonry buildings were tinged with a warm, amber glow, exuding an aura steeped in history. The dormitory building of the Sages' College stirred into wakefulness as well, with students coming and going through the entrance.

It was the morning of the third day of the new term. While holding a cup of coffee, Lance leaned against the doorframe of his patio, listening to the chirping of birds among the trees and watching his fellow students head off to class. Having returned from the Shadow Realm in the early morning the day prior, he had slept for a long stretch, only waking up in the early hours of this morning.

After leaving the dorm in the middle of the night for a meal that could have been called either breakfast or a late-night snack, he had returned to his desk to study card making. The Registration Regulations of the Southern Continent Card Making Association lay open beside him.

He had reached Rank 3, so he was now eligible to apply. Only by becoming a registered card maker with the Card Maker’s Association could he secure official patent protection, bypass numerous tedious verification and guarantee procedures, and enjoy reduced administrative fees.

The extent of these benefits was directly linked to the card maker's certification. If he wanted to open a shop selling exclusive enchanted cards, he needed to obtain registered card maker status, ideally at the highest certification possible, in addition to the business license Hyperion was handling. However, his certification would determine the momentum with which they could launch their venture.

The next registered card maker examination to be held in the capital of Hutton was still over a month away. While that might feel like a long time, Lance wasn't confident he could pass the exam even if he were given an extra month. He still needed to learn how to craft Tier 3 cards from Talia.

His technique remained inconsistent. Without significant improvement, successfully producing a finished card during the exam would be largely a matter of luck. Still, it wasn't a hopeless situation. Lance remembered Talia telling him that to achieve the highest success rate in card making, he simply needed to choose the magic type that best suited his natural affinity during the exam.

Affinity directly influenced a card maker's success rate. It was also the reason why card makers would eventually choose a specific area of specialization as they advanced in their careers.

For example, Talia's greatest strengths lay in Curse, Mental, and Poison magic. Her affinity for Curse magic was exceptional, while her aptitude for Mental and Poison magic was excellent. Consequently, she specialized in making Curse related cards. As for other categories, such as elemental magic or certain specialized forms, her affinity was relatively poor.

Based on her assessment, Lance showed good affinity for Mental magic, poor affinity for Poison, and abysmal affinity for Curse magic. She hadn't even bothered to evaluate the others.

If he, too, possessed any exceptional or excellent affinity for a particular type of magic, then that was exactly the type he should focus on for the card making exam. Moreover, these types could potentially become his areas of specialization in his future career as a card maker.

1. A large ornate circular window often found in Gothic and Gothic revival churches ☜