Epic Sorcery

The next day, every magician of the Felchiershi family gathered of their own accord, sitting upright before Vanmour, their faces tense with anticipation.

Becoming a legendary magician requires both natural talent and relentless training.

Talent is an innate affinity for the magical elements that flow through the air—something one is born with and cannot develop through practice.

Training, on the other hand, is about learning to control those magical elements. It's not enough for the elements to be drawn to you—you must also master them and make them obey your command. This ability is primarily determined by one's spiritual strength, and the purpose of training is to enhance that strength over time.

Vanmour's goal today was to elevate the Felchiershi family's magicians by strengthening their spiritual power. The key to this lay in expanding the mental domain within their minds. Having mastered this technique, Vanmour found the task effortless.

Taking a deep breath, he summoned a gentle current of magic to his fingertips and, one by one, lightly tapped each magician's forehead. With each touch, a stream of soft magic flowed into them, gradually expanding their mental domains.

The transformation was immediate. The entire Felchiershi family experienced a surge in their magical abilities, their cultivation soaring to new heights. Knowing that the family had lost its only Grand Archmage, Antonio Felchiershi, Vanmour took special care with Nathaniel Felchiershi and Olivia's parents. He pushed them forward, guiding them through consecutive breakthroughs until all three reached the long-coveted rank of Grand Archmage. Thanks to Olivia, they had received Vanmour's special favor and ascended directly to the highest ranks of magic.

"How do you feel?"

"This is unbelievable!"

"I can't believe it's real!"

Never before had the Felchiershi magicians experienced such an instantaneous leap in power. They were overwhelmed, lost in the exhilarating sensation of their dramatically heightened spiritual strength.

But Vanmour had paid the price. After helping Nathaniel Felchiershi and Olivia's parents reach the pinnacle of magic, he collapsed onto his bed, utterly drained. For a Blood Angel of the Blood Clan to be this exhausted, it spoke volumes about the difficulty of elevating so many magicians at once.

For the sake of the Leviathan Sea Dragon's essence and the Blood Clan Spirit Staff—one of the Thirteen Sacred Relics of the Blood Clan—Fanmuir was willing to expend such a tremendous amount of his internal magic. However, it was clear that without at least a month of focused cultivation, he would not be able to fully replenish his lost power.

Seeing Fanmuir in such an exhausted state, the mages of the Felchierxi family watched over him in silent concern. Only after observing his pallor gradually improve following a brief moment of meditation did they bow deeply and withdraw without uttering a single word. It was not that they did not wish to express their gratitude; rather, the enormity of the favor bestowed upon them was so overwhelming that they found themselves at a loss for words. Perhaps, they thought, some debts of gratitude were best carried in the heart, unspoken but never forgotten.

After a brief rest, feeling some of his strength return, Fanmuir summoned André Alexandros. Retrieving a selection of delicately scented medicinal pills he had personally refined from the spatial dimension of the Blood Clan Spirit Staff, he bestowed them upon André. He then carefully instructed him on their proper use and issued a command: André was to consolidate control over the three newly subjugated great families, ensuring their loyalty and stability. Moreover, he sternly warned him never to reveal the existence of the Leviathan Sea Dragon's essence or the Blood Clan Spirit Staff to outsiders. The same restriction applied to the members of the three families—this secret was to be kept under absolute seal.

Though André Alexandros did not fully understand why his master was so concerned about that vial of crimson liquid and the Blood Clan Spirit Staff, Fanmuir's emphasis on the matter made its significance unmistakable. Overjoyed by the rare gift he had just received, André readily pledged his unwavering obedience, vowing to handle the matter flawlessly.

Fanmuir had initially intended to study the magic manuals left behind by Bertram with Nathaniel Felchierxi that very night, but Olivia intervened.

"Rest for a day. We can discuss it tomorrow," she said, her gaze filled with warmth and concern. Fanmuir did not insist.

The next day, Nathaniel Felchierxi was in the midst of instructing the mages when he received word that Fanmuir had summoned him. Without hesitation, he abandoned his tasks and hurried to Fanmuir's chambers. When he heard that Fanmuir wished to study Bertram's magic manuals with him, he was both shocked and deeply honored. Without delay, he led Fanmuir to the grand library housed within the ancient castle—a sacred repository containing the Felchierxi family's accumulated magical knowledge spanning thousands of years.

Many of these ancient tomes were recorded in the language of antiquity, a script lost to time for most. However, for Fanmuir, who had lived for over fifteen centuries, mastering such a language was merely an exercise in memory. As long as he could commit each character's form and meaning to mind, it would suffice—and memory, after all, was one of his greatest strengths.

With Nathaniel's guidance, Fanmuir required only two days to commit the entirety of the ancient language to memory.

Bertram was truly worthy of the title "Ancestor of Magic." His grimoire contained an unparalleled mastery of magical elements, a level of control and application that stood at the absolute pinnacle of the magical world. To Nathaniel, every word in this tome was worth more than its weight in gold—an irreplaceable treasure. Yet to Fanmuir, it held no real value. He had no need to learn how to manipulate magical elements through mental power, for the Blood Clan's arcane force he wielded was already far beyond the capabilities of such spells.

Just as Fanmuir was about to dismiss the book out of boredom, his gaze was drawn to the words inscribed on the twenty-seventh page.

The twenty-seventh page of Bertram's grimoire detailed the lost art of spatial magic. A single page—deceptively simple—held the secrets of a magic thought to have vanished from the Western magical world for millennia. Yet here it was, recorded in the writings of Bertram.

Martial masters of unparalleled strength, as well as the Blood Clan's Blood Angels, were capable of flight—even circling the entire globe in a matter of hours. However, their flight remained bound to the same spatial dimension. Spatial magic, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. It enabled instant transmission by traversing the subspaces of this world. Compared to flight, spatial magic required less time, consumed less energy, and stood on an entirely higher level.

According to Bertram's grimoire, the world we inhabit contains a rare magical element known as spatial essence. This element, interwoven with other forms of energy, was indistinguishable from ordinary magic particles and existed in incredibly scarce quantities. As a result, wielding spatial magic required an extraordinary level of spiritual power—only the most advanced mages could hope to achieve it, and even then, it demanded lengthy incantations.

But Fanmuir was a Blood Angel of the Blood Clan. Unlike mages, who had to summon elements through sheer mental exertion, he could directly manipulate magic through his immense arcane force. The true challenge for him was not controlling spatial essence—it was identifying these scattered, elusive particles. Fortunately, the grimoire provided an exceptionally detailed explanation of their properties. With Fanmuir's keen comprehension, he immediately grasped how to gather and command spatial essence using his own power.

Now understanding the principles of spatial magic, Fanmuir felt an undeniable urge to put it to the test. Without hesitation, he activated his arcane force, drawing the sparse spatial essence from the surrounding world to converge around him. Then, he exerted his will to tear open the fabric of space itself.

In an instant, a vortex of twisted reality appeared before him. A mere heartbeat later, a blinding light engulfed his vision—and then, as if pulled by an invisible force, Fanmuir was swept into an entirely different realm.

Unlike the familiar dimensions of everyday life, this space was multidimensional—a single viewpoint revealed countless locations, layered and interwoven in a complex, shifting arrangement. At last, Fanmuir grasped the true meaning of "subspace", as described in the grimoire—the secret behind instantaneous movement.

In this realm, linear distances were rendered meaningless by the overlapping nature of multidimensional space. What once required an arduous journey could now be bridged in an instant. For example, in the normal world, the distance between Italy and England spanned vast stretches of land and sea. But within this subspace, their spatial separation collapsed to nothing more than a single step.

A fleeting thought of the Alps crossed Fanmuir's mind, and in the next instant, he found himself at the base of the majestic mountain range. The sight of its familiar peaks and valleys sent a thrill of exhilaration through him. Eager to test his newfound mastery once more, he gathered the scattered spatial elements, manipulated them with precision, and in the blink of an eye—he reappeared before Nathaniel.

"Great heavens! Could this truly be the lost art of spatial magic—missing for thousands of years?" Nathaniel stared in disbelief at Fanmuir, who had vanished into thin air only to materialize again as if stepping through the void itself.

Though he had never witnessed it firsthand, Nathaniel was well-versed in the legends of spatial magic. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that this forbidden magic required lengthy and intricate incantations—far longer than any other spell—just to be activated. Even then, a precisely constructed magic circle was essential for navigation; without it, even a successfully cast spell could send the user to an unknown and uncontrollable destination.

From the moment spatial magic was first discovered, its fate had already been sealed—it was doomed to extinction. What mage would devote themselves to mastering a magic with no offensive capability, shackled by endless limitations? Worse still, the sheer difficulty of learning spatial magic meant that only the most advanced magic users could even attempt it.

Upon closer analysis, however, the fundamental obstacles of spatial magic stemmed from two key factors:

The prolonged incantations were necessary due to the extreme scarcity of spatial elements in the natural world.The magic circle for positioning was required because a mage's frail body was incapable of enduring prolonged exposure to subspace. The function of the magic circle was to forcibly extract the mage from subspace, preventing catastrophic damage to their physical form.

But Fanmuir was different.

His overwhelming arcane force allowed him to instantly accumulate spatial elements, bypassing the need for drawn-out incantations. His warrior-honed physique, capable of withstanding unimaginable strain, meant he could linger in subspace at will, moving freely and selecting his destination without restriction.

In truth, spatial magic was far better suited for Blood Angels than for mages. Yet, the Blood Clan had always dismissed magic as worthless, viewing blood as the only true path to power. They scorned the study of magic, casting it aside like refuse.

How ironic, then, that Fanmuir—entirely by chance—had stumbled upon one of the greatest treasures of all.

Mastering spatial magic and becoming its first true practitioner—Fanmuir's trip to England had been nothing short of a resounding success.

Given that spatial magic held little significance for the Felchierci clan, but was far more suited to the Blood Angels, Fanmuir made a request: he asked Nathaniel to gift him the contents of page twenty-seven of the grimoire, which detailed the secrets of spatial magic. Of course, he had no intention of taking it for free. As an exchange, he presented Nathaniel with six specially refined pills, instructing him on how to use them to strengthen his physique and enhance his body-tempering martial arts. Nathaniel was overjoyed beyond words.

Mages, by nature, devoted their lives to the study of magical elements, constantly expending vast amounts of mental energy to research, manipulate, and refine their craft. This relentless consumption of mental strength, coupled with a lifestyle devoid of physical activity, often took a heavy toll on their bodies. The process of depleting and replenishing spiritual energy left lasting physical damage, and by the time a mage reached Nathaniel's age, their health was typically in a steep decline.

Yet now, not only had Fanmuir helped Nathaniel step into the realm of an Archmage, but he had also strengthened his body. The realization filled Nathaniel with such overwhelming gratitude that, had he been the sentimental type, he might have loved Fanmuir to death.

In the following days, Fanmuir spared no effort in exchanging magical knowledge with Nathaniel. But given Fanmuir's profound understanding of the essence of energy, every word he spoke struck like a piercing revelation. Nathaniel found himself experiencing moments of sudden enlightenment time and time again—each conversation with Fanmuir was worth more than a decade of study.

The insights he gained in these few days surpassed countless years of painstaking contemplation.

Overjoyed, Nathaniel lingered around Fanmuir constantly, unwilling to part from his newfound wellspring of wisdom. Of course, his renewed vitality—a gift from Fanmuir's miraculous pills—certainly played no small part in his newfound enthusiasm.