Harem System In A fantasy World - Chapter 86: Plans for the Legacy World Opening!
Chapter 86: Plans for the Legacy World Opening!
Elsewhere in the academy…
High above the clouds, where the wind screamed endlessly against floating stone, the Floating Academy drifted in silent majesty.
At its highest spire lay the Council Chamber.
A place few students would ever see, if at all.
A place where decisions were made that could alter the fate of generations of students.
The chamber was vast, circular, and carved directly into a single slab of astral marble, its surface veined with faintly glowing lines of mana that pulsed like a slow, patient heartbeat. Tiered seating rose in concentric arcs, with each level being higher than the last, reflecting hierarchy as much as architecture.
At the lowest ring sat the first-year professors.
Above them, second and third.
And higher still, the fourth and fifth-year professors—men and women whose mere presence caused the ambient mana to warp subtly around them, like heat haze over stone.
This was no coincidence.
At the Floating Academy, strength determined authority, as it was meant to be.
As the greatest academy this world had to offer, the talents that gathered here were monstrous by any standard.
Prodigies, heirs, chosen disciples, and once-in-a-generation anomalies filled its halls every year. A teacher incapable of suppressing their students would be mocked, ignored—or worse.
By the fifth year, some students already rivaled mid-rank professors from lesser academies.
Only the truly powerful were allowed into the floating academy and permitted to teach them.
Which was why, seated near the uppermost tier, were figures that radiated quiet, terrifying might.
Professors who were responsible for the sixth years. They each radiated the unmistakable aura of a grand mage!
What Eveline hadn’t told her students when she explained the mage classes to them, was that every professor in this academy was an exceptional talent in their own right, not much unlike them in their youth.
While she was right about most of the professors like her being High mages, that was true for most professors responsible for first to third year classes. She hadn’t told them about the professors for fourth years and up.
Because in most cases, it was of no use.
It was no secret that most students simply chose to drop out or transfer in their third year, because while the floating academy was like any other academy for first years through to the third, when it came to the higher years, the curriculum was on a whole different level.
It was absolute hell!
The dropout rate was well over 75%! So it was no surprise that Eveline felt no need to put such a matter into her students’ perspective.
However, those who were familiar with these professors knew that each of them was an absolute legend!
They each had accomplished an impossible feat once or twice at some point in their long careers as mages, and it was no surprise that almost every single one of them was a member of nobility.
Among the sixth year instrutors was Professor Halbrecht, a towering battlemage clad in deep crimson robes. Each thread of his ribes was reinforced with layered defensive arrays.
Amongst his feats was a rumor about how he had once split a battlefield in two with a single spell and walked away without a scratch.
Beside him sat Mistress Iolanthe, a pale, ethereal lady whose beauty was so captivating and seductive, yet confined to a petite figure, that some wondered if her appearance was some kind of illusion.
Her figure was simply too perfect—her pale skin glowed with an otherworldly luminescence, framing eyes that shimmered like liquid mercury, drawing gazes into their hypnotic depths.
She is a well-known illusionist with techniques so advanced that even her fellow professors sometimes doubted what they were seeing in her presence, her lithe form draped in gossamer veils that accentuated every graceful curve without revealing too much.
Further along was Arch-Instructor Voren, a rune-specialist whose body had been partially converted into a living conduit. Even seated, his runes glowed faintly beneath his skin, restrained only by discipline.
This particular trio were far from being simple teachers.
It was more appropriate to call them weapons given purpose.
Everyone in this room had their eyes trained on one place. At the center of the chamber hovered a massive illusory projection.
A world.
Or rather, the entrance to what remained of one.
The images of the world past the circular entrance were like a floating mass of fractured continents suspended in an endless void, its borders folding inward and outward in slow, unnatural rhythms. Rivers of light flowed through the cracks between landmasses, while storms of raw mana churned endlessly at its edges.
The Legacy Hidden World.
A remnant of an ancient era, sealed away by unknown hands.
It appeared once every hundred years.
And when it did, the world bled.
“The spatial fluctuations are stable,” said Halbrecht, his voice cutting cleanly through the low murmur of the room. “And the opening’s coordinates have been verified across three divination towers.”
He gestured, and runic symbols appeared beside the projection.
“This next opening will occur in approximately six months. Nine, at most.”
A ripple went through the chamber. Some leaned forward expectantly, while others closed their eyes in contemplation.
“A century,” murmured someone softly. “An entire century since the last convergence.”
“A century of buildup,” another replied grimly. “And blood.”
The Legacy World was not a dungeon. It was not a simple trial ground either. It was more like a war zone.
If the legacy world did not have an age restriction that only allowed youths in, even these men and women here would pine for an opportunity to enter this legendary space.
Not like some had never tried, but they had all died without suspense. The spatial fluctuations were extremely violent. Even the greatest mage would be ripped to shreds if they tried to force their way in.
When it opened, every major magic academy, organisation, and independent power across the world would converge upon it. Alliances would form and shatter overnight. Betrayals were expected. And of course, casualties are inevitable.
Yet still, they sent their youths in.
Because the rewards were worth it.
Lost legacies. Ancient spells. Bloodline awakenings. Artifacts that could elevate a kingdom—or destroy one.
“Preparations are proceeding as planned,” said Mistress Iolanthe, her voice sounded calm, and almost bored. “Supply chains, extraction arrays, and inter-academy protocols are already in motion.”
“Which leaves,” Voren added, fingers tapping softly against the table, “only one unresolved matter.”
The Selection.
