Although to Alaric, compared with Hogwarts where he once studied, this new academy still seemed rather crude, to these ancient Greek youths before him, the sight of the academy was already incomparably luxurious.
In ancient Greece, most houses were made simply of earth and stone.
Only temples and palaces were built with great blocks of stone, and even then, they were at most a single story tall.
Yet before their eyes now stood a castle whose tallest towers soared dozens of stories into the sky, with a main structure that itself rose seven or eight stories high, tens of meters above the ground.
The entire castle was constructed of cut stone bricks, something none of the students had ever seen.
At the very moment they stepped into the academy, they felt as though they had walked into the divine realm itself.
What struck them most, however, was the sheer perfection of the castle, a perfection that seemed beyond the work of human hands.
Every edge of the structure was sharp and true, with not the slightest flaw.
Every brick was identical to the next, without a single chip, crack, or blemish, all stacked neatly together as though the entire fortress had been sculpted from a single block.
Daedalus, who prided herself as the most skilled in stonework and sculpture, swore that even if she worked with all her strength, she could never craft two stones as identical as those that composed the castle.
And yet, before her eyes were not two, but hundreds of thousands, millions of such bricks. To her, this was nothing less than a miracle.
In this moment, they came to understand magic's wonder from an entirely new perspective.
And the marvels did not end there.
Once they entered the castle, they felt like country bumpkins stumbling into a vast imperial garden, their eyes dazzled at every turn.
Forget the self-opening gates, the moving staircases, the living lights, for even the interior furnishings alone left them speechless.
After the main structure was built, Helena had drawn fully upon both her own memory and Alaric's, commanding the earth-elemental laborers through stone-shaping magic to carve beams and pillars, statues and reliefs.
Spirit maids had woven silks and draperies, transforming the entire castle into a palace of breathtaking splendor.
These decorations, drawn from the styles of medieval Europe and even the palatial aesthetics of the industrial age, far outshone anything in Greece.
Even those born to royal households, like Daedalus and Sisyphus, had never seen such beauty.
They even felt that the palaces of the gods upon Olympus could not be much grander.
Daedalus, most versed in art, thought to herself that if this place were not a magic academy, it could become the very paradise of Greek art.
If even a glimpse of the castle's designs were revealed to the world, every artist in Greece would flock here without hesitation.
Even Apollo, the god of art, and the Muses themselves would not be able to resist coming to study these unfamiliar yet dazzling styles.
A new age of art might very well be born here.
Yet for Daedalus, what stirred her heart most were not the carvings, nor the marvelous moving portraits, but the animated armors, the gargoyles, and above all, the spirit maids.
Originally, after mastering all that she could in art and learning, Daedalus had turned her pursuit toward the mysteries of the human body and of life itself.
She reasoned that if humanity could not rival the gods in wisdom, then they should turn inward, seeking the secrets of their own form.
Since humans were shaped by the gods, then surely the body concealed some divine mystery.
If one could unravel it, perhaps mankind could shed their frail flesh and ascend to a higher level of existence.
She had heard that the first humans were shaped from water and clay, and that later generations were born from stone.
Thus, she had immersed herself in models and sculptures, hoping to uncover humanity's truth through them.
She molded clay, carved stone, tried every material she could, yet never achieved a breakthrough.
But here, before Alaric, she had discovered a new possibility.
Learning that the living armors, the gargoyles, and the spirit maids were all Alaric's creations, she realized she had found a new path to approach the gods' mysteries.
The creation of life had always been the sole province of divinity. Yet now, a mage had broken through that boundary. Such was the height of magic's brilliance.
Of all Alaric's creations, the one that captivated her most was none other than Sakuya.
For among them, only the head maid truly looked like a woman of flesh and blood.
The earth-elemental workers, the gargoyles, the armored sentinels, all were clearly not human, their forms shaped of metal, stone, and earth.
The spirit maids, though indistinguishable from humans in appearance, still carried an ethereal glow; their materialized bodies shone faintly with magical light.
Only Sakuya was different. She had the face and body of a real woman, human skin, human voice, human needs of food, drink, and rest.
She was the perfect image of mankind's creation, indistinguishable from a true human being.
Daedalus swore to herself that here, in this academy, she would master such techniques, techniques to fashion life and to transform the human body.
Meanwhile, Sisyphus saw the castle, and the academy, in an entirely different light.
To this ambitious youth, the magic academy represented the possibility of humanity's independence from the gods.
Sisyphus had always been clever and proud, unwilling to bow to anyone, neither his elder brother, the favored heir to his father's throne, nor the lofty gods above the clouds.
He disdained his brother, though not enough to plot a usurpation. For him, inheriting his father's kingdom was meaningless compared to carving out a domain of his own.
He had long resolved that, once grown, he would depart to establish his own realm. That, to him, was true greatness.
As for the gods, he harbored resentment of another sort.
In this age, though heroes were many, humanity as a whole was weak. The land was plagued with disasters, and the wilderness teemed with monsters.
Whenever mortals faced such trials, their only recourse was to pray to the gods for protection.
But Sisyphus thought differently. He believed humanity must break free of the gods' control. And to do so, they had to learn to overcome their hardships themselves.
But not everyone could be a great hero, and even the greatest heroes could not fend off floods and droughts.
He had long pondered how humanity might free itself from divine rule. Now, at last, he had found an answer: the path of magic.
A fortress this strong could shelter mortals from any disaster.
Creations this powerful could rival even the fiercest beasts.
And when he beheld the enchanted plants growing wild and lush in the castle's gardens, he even glimpsed a future where mankind would never know hunger again.
.
.
.
Guys, do leave some power stones and reviews.
✌patreon.com/bobthewriter✌
If you guys enjoy this story, you can support me on Patreon and get access to 30 Advance Chapters, it really helps me to work on new chapters.