[It was a battle of one against a hundred, but its outcome was never in doubt.]
[Your Mental Magecraft was completed in a later era, but it has already taken root in the present. It uses your 'mind' as the foundation of its mystic source. Whatever you think, becomes 'Mystery'; wherever you go, becomes the network where that mystery takes root.]
[And you have already lived in this era for eight years.]
[You already have a deep and real understanding of this era.]
[The era exists within your mind.]
[Thus, the magecraft of the mind is also rooted here.]
[Thus, you 'pray' to yourself, and then this 'god'—formed from your own mind, a Foundation belonging absolutely to you—unleashes an extraordinarily powerful mystery.]
[The mystic power that blends magecraft and miracles manifests.]
[You know clearly that, both now and in the future, those who possess an independent Foundation are without exception the ancient magus families—]
[Those branch families are merely receiving a diluted portion of the mystery preserved in the Magecraft Foundation held by the source family.]
[To you, they are nothing to be afraid of.]
[This is the basis of your actions, the source of your confidence.]
The dock at the Port of Calais was instantly a mess.
A 'battle' began, but it also ended quickly.
"It's over."
His figure was childish, but his expression remained very calm from beginning to end. Lu Kang slowly lowered his hand, glanced sideways at his dumbfounded companions behind him, and showed a matter-of-fact smile.
He said, "I told you, a scene like this is far from being 'dangerous', right?"
Except for François Prelati, his magecraft teacher in this simulation who understood how 'monstrous' Lu Kang was, the others truly had looks of horror written all over their faces.
He completely ignored all magical attacks, repelling the bombardment of all elements converted from mystery.
He even used the sanctuary-scale workshop formula, woven from the mystic formulas created from his thoughts in an instant on his clothes, to block all physical attacks.
After establishing an invincible position, the so-called 'enemies' were nothing more than obstacles that could be dealt with one slap at a time!
Although limited by his physical development, Lu Kang's prana in this life was severely insufficient, but that was only in comparison to his reality, and severely insufficient compared to his peak in the first simulation.
With forty-six main Magic Circuits, over a hundred auxiliary Magic Circuits, plus the super-efficient use of prana by his Mental Magecraft—he could still exert a level of mystery at least comparable to a Color-ranked magus from the Magus Association.
Although there was still some gap to the top of the era, the Grand rank, he was already an undeniable powerhouse in the realm of mystery.
And while there were many magi here, and they could all be called elites, without their own individual Magecraft Foundations, the limit they could reach was only the third tier, 'Cause', which was only higher than the lowest 'Frame' and 'Count'.
They were still separated from 'Color' by the ranks of 'Fes' and 'Pride'.
This was the peak level that most ordinary magi could reach.
"Is this what's called 'Grand potential'?"
Compared to the other three, Isabelle de Rais, as the inheritor of a magus family, in addition to her shock, looked at the small boy who barely reached her chest and couldn't help but think of Nicolas Flamel's assessment again.
At this time, Lu Kang looked back at the messy but empty port.
He recalled the fluctuations of mystery he could sense here even when he was in Paris.
Although he couldn't see what specific arrangements the English mystic side had here, they had now clearly been completely destroyed.
His initial action was complete.
"Well then, let's continue."
[You lead Prelati, Isabelle de Rais, and the other three, dispelling the formulas set up at the Port of Calais, and then leave.]
[You do not, as they assumed, hijack a ship and cross the sea.]
[Instead, you engage in guerrilla warfare at the five major seaports controlled by the English.]
[Assassinating the magi they dispatched.]
[You defeat a group of thirty magi at the port of Bordeaux.]
[You defeat a group of seventeen magi at the port of Brest.]
[You at...]
[You encounter a relatively strong magus, whom you estimate to be at least at the 'Pride' level.]
[You defeat him with ease.]
[During this process, you do not stop learning about mystery.]
[Learning on the journey, and learning in battle.]
[In December of this year, after three months of port-side guerrilla warfare, you finally decide to cross the English Channel and go deep into the enemy's main camp.]
[This month, you turn nine years old.]
[You rise to fame on the mystic side, known as ''Atavistic' Victoire'—a genius of geniuses, comparable to the 'Monster of Barthomeloi' from hundreds of years ago, the one who brought the ancient Barthomeloi family to the position of Lord.]
...
CRASH!
The sound of an object hitting the floor and shattering echoed deep within a room adorned with classical luxury. The stirred air caused the surrounding curtains and draperies to billow and sway like rising and falling waves. Under an invisible pressure that seemed to solidify the air, countless people prostrated themselves on the ground, facing the tall figure standing at the head of the room, not daring to breathe.
That figure was indeed tall; the shadow it cast seemed to encompass the entire room.
His golden hair was unbound, and his face, bearded like a lion's, was currently contorted with rage—full of fury!
"'Atavistic' Victoire... it's this damn brat again!"
The man's deep, azure eyes crushed the letter in his hand. His immense prana, almost condensing into a physical substance, continuously radiated outwards.
In this era where mystery was gradually declining, and the prana in the external environment, the 'Great Source', was constantly diminishing, there were very few who could store such a vast amount of prana within their own 'Lesser Source'.
This had nothing to do with the exploration, understanding, or mastery of mystery.
This was a characteristic of an ancient family.
And it was the characteristic of Trambelio—a thousand-year-old family that used 'foundational' mystery as its Foundation and 'foundational' magecraft as its inherited Crest.
The Trambelio family was known for the vast amount of prana in their bodies, or more accurately, for having a number of Magic Circuits at least fifty times greater than a normal magus.
And the inheritor of the Trambelio family in this generation, Edmond, was even superior to the previous heads of the family.
At the young age of twenty-three, he already stood at the pinnacle of all magi, at the 'Color' rank, second only to 'Grand', just one step away from that highest honor!
He came from an ancient family, was deeply entrenched in the Clock Tower, the headquarters of the Magus Association, and had immense power. He was also just one step away from becoming a 'Lord' of one of the twelve departments, the most crucial part of the Clock Tower!
The Magus Association was an undeniable behemoth.
It brought together all the magi of Europe, which was almost equivalent to the entire world. Various factions were intricately intertwined within it, and only the 'Lords' who stood at the very top could dominate everything.
In this era, only by achieving 'Grand' rank was one qualified to be among the 'Lords'—although the foundation for the Grand rank had only been established for four hundred years, and the title of Lord and the status of the twelve departments of the Clock Tower had only existed for just over two hundred years, it was so deeply rooted that it seemed as if it had been this way since ancient times.
Many of the twelve Lord positions were vacant, and countless people had long been eyeing them.
To be promoted to Grand and become a Lord.
For Edmond, who had long since reached the Color rank and had even been immersed in it for many years, this should have been no problem at all.
The criteria for being recognized as a Grand were extremely strict. Only by single-handedly creating a Magecraft Foundation of the forbidden Great Magecraft level and passing it down to the world could one obtain it—this was a dual certification of academic achievement and ability. But for Edmond, all he lacked was time and resources.
As long as he took advantage of the final stages of this Hundred Years' War,
as long as he seized the remaining mystery on French soil,
he would be able to take his family's inherited Foundation a step further, to innovate upon its basis, and reach that realm!
But unfortunately, a huge flaw had appeared in his plan.
That Victoire, a commoner magus from the French countryside...
That damn brat had not only defeated all the branch family magi he had sent to France to seize the ley line prana and plunder mystery, but he had also come to the soil of England.
He was constantly harassing the headquarters of the various families and factions under his command!
This made it impossible for Edmond's plan to proceed.
Of course, he was furious.
Furious at the 'victory reports' he received from the enemy!
"Where is that fellow now?"
Breathing heavily, the lion-like man lowered his eyes and looked at the people prostrating themselves at the lower end of the room.
In this ancient feudal era, these people could all be considered his 'vassals' on the mystic side—ancient magi who had been subdued by the Trambelio family.
Outside, they would all be considered the elite of the elite.
But now, they could only tremble with fear.
Edmond Trambelio, though not yet a 'Lord', already possessed the authority of a Magus Monarch.
The crowd remained silent, not daring to look up.
Only one old man answered tremblingly, "According to the latest news, he destroyed the workshop of the Utrian family, one of the branch bloodlines of the Trambelio family... He should have already arrived in London."
The capital of England.
Also the location of the Clock Tower, the headquarters of the Magus Association.
And the headquarters of the Trambelio family!
"Is he coming for me?" Edmond laughed in extreme anger, his fury erupting. "Then I'll be waiting for him right here!"
...
At this moment, Lu Kang was indeed in London, the capital of England.
[In July of the year following the start of your attacks, you arrive in London.]
[This is the capital of a European maritime power, different from any city you have seen before. It is close to the sea, and you can clearly feel the sea breeze. The mystery stored here is vibrant and burgeoning, and vast amounts of prana seem ready to erupt from deep underground at any moment—the preservation of mystery in the Kingdom of England is already higher than in the continental nations, but London is several times stronger.]
[You know this is because of the primeval Dragon of the World, Albion, buried beneath London.]
[That is the foundation upon which the Clock Tower, the headquarters of the Magus Association, stands. It is a vast, inexhaustible treasure trove—even thousands of years later, in the modern era, the Clock Tower's excavation of Albion's tomb has still not reached its true depths.]
[But that is of no concern to you for now.]
[In the past year, you have led Isabelle, Pierre, Marguerite, and Jean in repeatedly defeating numerous English mystic-side magus families who were attempting to invade France.]
[In the past year, your mystery has further taken root in this era, your body has further developed, and your abilities have advanced by leaps and bounds—as has the combat power you display.]
[In the past year, you have also investigated and found the leader of the English mystic side's offensive—Trambelio, who has not yet become a 'Lord' in this era.]
[You decide to assassinate them.]
[To 'verify' your own growth over the past year.]
[But your plan ultimately fails to materialize.]
[In September of this year, news comes from Paris, the capital of France.]
[The greatest alchemist of the era, the creator and owner of the Philosopher's Stone, the master of the Sorcerer's Stone, the 'Perpetual Stone' of the Magus Association, the Grand Magus—Nicolas Flamel.]
[A north-flying raven has brought news of his death.]