Time Passed Like Fire on Wind
Fourteen years passed since the day Alen was reborn into the Crimson Lion Clan.
From a boy who barely walked, he had grown into a man who ran ahead of his generation.
Alen Crimsonflame—heir to one of the continent's most powerful clans—was now eighteen.
His eyes, once filled with innocent wonder, now gleamed with determination and quiet confidence. His body, forged by both magic and martial discipline, stood tall and lithe—unshakable like a tree struck by lightning but refusing to fall.
He had walked a path none had dared.
A Magician in a world of Cultivators.
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Forging the Magic Circle
It began when he was still a child.
While most cultivators built their strength by refining their meridians and Qi core, Alen walked a path inspired by memories of his past life—the game he once loved, Magic World.
With the blessing of the Creator, mana had flowed through him from birth. But to channel it properly, he needed a core.
He chose the heart.
Where others built cores in their dantian or gut, he formed a magic circle in the very heart of his being, much like the dragons in that old game once did.
It was dangerous.
It was unheard of.
But it worked.
Years of relentless training, meditation, and controlled experiments led him to forge six stars within his magic circle, placing him at the rare and elite level of a 6-Star Mage.
At this level, Alen could summon flame-light spears, manipulate raw lightning, and reinforce his own body to clash with martial artists twice his cultivation rank.
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The Fusion of Magic and Martial Might
Had Alen been born to a lesser family, his path may have died before it began. But he had the Crimson Lion Clan behind him.
His training hall was carved from sunstone and imbued with mana-absorbing runes. Potions to refine his body were provided by the clan's elite alchemists. He sparred daily with young cultivators and elders alike, adapting martial forms into magical ones.
He created his own techniques:
Crimson Pulse Armor – Fire and light woven into a defensive shroud.
Thunderroot Chain – A whip of lightning used for binding enemies.
Lion's Howl Nova – A wide-ranged explosion of pressure and flame, channeled through his heart core.
Every day, he became more than a magician. He was becoming a force that transcended disciplines.
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The Letter
Then, one evening, a sealed envelope arrived at the front gate.
The symbol of the Four Pillars Martial Academy—a phoenix wrapped in runes—was etched into the wax.
Alen opened it with trembling hands.
"You are formally invited to join the Four Pillars Martial Academy—Northern Division. Recognized candidate: Alen Crimsonflame. Exceptional aptitude in mana-based techniques. Invitation approved by High Chancellor Aevarra Flamewing."
His heart skipped. The academy was more than just a school. It was a legendary institution that trained the continent's most powerful warriors, tacticians, scholars, and kings.
He ran to his father, eyes bright.
"I've been accepted!"
But Darius... frowned.
"You want to go there? Out there? To those places full of hot-headed brats, hidden sect politics, and power-hungry nobles? No."
"But—!"
"No. Absolutely not. My son isn't leaving my sight."
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The War of Generations
Frustrated, Alen stomped to his grandfather's study, expecting backup.
"Grandpa, Dad won't let me go to the academy! He even tore the letter!"
Darius's father, now Elder Dorian Crimsonflame, looked up from his paperwork and raised an eyebrow.
"Hmm… my son is finally acting like a father."
Alen blinked. "Wait… You agree with him?"
Dorian stood and placed a hand on Alen's head.
"My grandson is far too cute to be sent into the wild just yet."
The two older men shared a laugh, while Alen fumed.
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Summoning the Matriarchs
In a flash of desperation, Alen did the unthinkable—he ran to his mother, Lady Selene, and his grandmother, Lady Ashra.
He knocked on their private tea chamber, tears slightly welling in his eyes.
"They won't let me go…" he sniffed. "They burned the letter. They say I'm too cute to leave…"
Lady Selene stood in silence. Lady Ashra slowly put down her tea.
"…They said what?" Selene asked, voice dangerously calm.
"They said I should never leave the house, that I'll always be a baby."
That was it.
The flames of maternal fury ignited.
Within minutes, both women were standing in front of Darius and Dorian like wrathful lionesses.
"You dare deny our son a chance to grow?!" Selene scolded.
"Do you want him to be a child forever? He is a Crimsonflame, not a caged bird!"
Lady Ashra glared. "You two should be ashamed. He's stronger than both of you were at his age."
Darius and Dorian looked like scolded cubs.
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A Bittersweet Victory
Later that night, as the family sat together, Alen stood proudly between the two men.
"You both are the best… and the strongest," he said with a grin. "I love you the most."
Both father and grandfather smiled in defeat.
"You win," Darius said, shaking his head. "Go. Show the world what a magician can do."
"But," Dorian warned, "make no mistake. If you ever come back injured, we'll march on the academy itself."
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World Expansion: The Four Pillars Academy
The Four Pillars Academy stood at the center of the continent, a neutral zone ruled by ancient accords. It trained warriors from all nations—be they nobles, clan heirs, or wandering prodigies.
It was divided into Four Divisions:
1. Northern Division – Elemental Studies and Tactical Warfare
2. Southern Division – Cultivation Arts and Weapon Mastery
3. Eastern Division – Spirit Bonding, Beast Taming, and Alchemy
4. Western Division – Rune Arts, Forbidden Techniques, and Ancient History
Each student represented a future leader or power.
Alen was about to enter a den of monsters.
And he would be the only magician among them.
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