[FOR EVERY 100 POWERSTONES = 1 EXTRA CHAPTER]
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The grand dinner continued, but for John Ashborn Pendragon, the food had lost all taste. His Six Eyes, now calibrated to this new magical reality, had unlocked a profound new layer of perception: Soul Sight.
He saw the world not just in chakra and magic, but in the very essence of being. Sharon, his Vidya, glowed with a soul strength of around 40—a vibrant, resilient light forged across two lifetimes. Yet, it was housed in a body that could only channel a fraction of that power, a vessel rated around 20. That's the key, he realized with a jolt. Innate talent, the ease of learning… it's all dictated by the soul's inherent strength. Our reincarnation, our accumulated experiences… that's why chakra came so easily to us. We weren't starting from zero.
His gaze swept the table. The future founders—Godric, Helga, Rowena, Salazar—they all possessed soul strengths in the 30+ to 35+ range. Exceptional for their age, the raw, unrefined ore of the legends they would become. Ruffes Embryos, with the blood of Merlin, shone at a respectable 200+ Even though his age was 22.
Then, almost involuntarily, his Sight turned to Agni.
His breath hitched. Where the others were candles or torches, Agni was a sun. A miniature, contained star of pure soul energy, so brilliant it was almost painful to look upon. The sheer magnitude of it was staggering.
'System!' he mentally barked. 'What in the name of all that is holy is that? Her soul strength… it's astronomical!'
The System's voice was infuriatingly calm. Analysis: The Reality Warping Card optimized all parameters for seamless integration. In this era, magical prowess is intrinsically linked to perceived soul potency. A being of Agni's designated status—Progenitor of Magic—required a commensurate soul signature to avoid immediate scrutiny and challenge from powerful local entities. I augmented her soul matrix to a baseline equivalent of 10,000 years of accumulation. It is a defensive measure.
'Defensive? You've turned her into a walking deity! And this era… you said they're powerful?'
The System's voice was infuriatingly calm. Analysis: The provided Identity Card for subject 'Agni' included the parameter 'Celestial Phoenix, Hybrid of Phoenix, Thunderbird, and Pokémon Ho-Oh or they called Celestial with some True Celestial Blood he blood if Sun God.' To ensure plausibility within this reality's high-magic paradigm and to prevent detection by powerful entities who can perceive soul essence, I optimized. I augmented her soul matrix to a level commensurate with a 10,000-year-old divine progenitor of magic. This era, Host, is not the weakened magical society of the future Harry Potter timeline. This is the Founder's Era. The wizards and witches here are potent, and skepticism is their default setting. A weak soul in a supposedly ancient celestial being would be immediately identified as a fraud. The individuals you dine with are not yet the institutional founders, but they are the prime disciples of Merlin himself. Trust is earned, not given. Appearing weak is an invitation for domination or elimination.
John digested this, a cold knot forming in his stomach. They were playing a high-stakes game in a world of giants.
The System wasn't just creating backstories; it was rewriting their very spiritual signatures to fit the narrative. It was terrifying and brilliant.
As the founders continued to pelt a slightly overwhelmed Agni with questions about the fundamental nature of magic She also Explaining to them Because she was born with the knowledge of Both Pokémon and Wizarding word All Knowledge, John sensed a new presence. A pressure. A soul signature approaching that was vast, deep, and ancient, like a placid ocean hiding untold depths. It wasn't as explosively powerful as Agni's sun-like aura, but it was immense, easily equivalent to 1,200 years of refined, cultivated power.
All conversation ceased as a man entered the hall. He appeared middle-aged, with a neatly trimmed beard and eyes that held the weight of centuries, gleaming with a wisdom that saw through facades. This was Myrddin Ambrosius Emrys. The Merlin.
The founders and Ruffes bowed deeply, their respect genuine and profound.
Merlin's gaze swept the room and settled unerringly on Agni. He walked towards her, his movements graceful and deliberate, and offered a formal, respectful bow of his own.
"Greetings, Celestial Phoenix. Progenitor of Magic. I am Myrddin, though most call me Merlin. It is an honor beyond words to stand in your presence."
Agni, remembering her role, gave a regal, slow nod of her head, projecting a telepathic response that echoed with carefully crafted, ancient authority. "The honor is shared, Mage of the Dragons. Your legend precedes you, Your name echoes through the ages."
John and Sharon rose, offering their own respectful bows. Merlin's eyes, those ancient, knowing pools, turned to them, and a genuine, if weary, smile touched his lips.
"I never thought to see the Pendragon bloodline again in this world," he mused, his voice a resonant baritone. "But an even greater surprise… you are still bound to the Ashborn. It brings an old man joy." His expression grew distant, touched with a profound loneliness that John recognized all too well. "Did you know, young Pendragon" Merlin said, almost jovially, "that I was the one who officiated the marriage between Arthur And Shreya Ashborn?"
John looked at the immortal wizard, the loneliness etched into the very lines of his soul, and thought, This is the curse of a long life. You become a monument, watching everyone you love becomes turn to dust by the Time you only person stand lonely.
Merlin's gaze sharpened, returning to the present. "But you sought me for a reason, John Pendragon. Tell me."
John took a steadying breath, launching into the cover story the System had provided. "My lord, my homeland in South Asia is ravaged by war between the Cholas and Pandya's muggle kingdoms. They have begun forcibly conscripting wizarding families, dragging us into their conflicts. Many have fled. I came seeking the counsel and aid of my ancestor's most trusted ally."
Merlin's brows furrowed. "The Cholas and Pandya's? And what of Raghavendra Cholla? He was one of the greatest wizards of the Current age's Second only to me. He would never stand for muggles interfering in wizarding affairs."
'System, who the hell is Raghavendra Cholla?!'John thought in a panic.
In that moment, a flood of information—names, dates, political intricacies of a wizarding world History he'd never known—was forcefully downloaded into John's mind by the ever-"helpful" System. He didn't even flinch.
"Lord Raghavendra," John said, his voice laced with a grief he didn't feel but now perfectly understood, "Lord Raghavendra… he passed away two years ago. Poisoned. We never discovered the culprit With his passing, there was no one powerful enough to stand against the muggle kings. and without his unifying strength, the Muggle kingdoms grow bolder."
Merlin's face darkened, a storm gathering in his ancient eyes. Salazar Slytherin, who had been listening intently, slammed a fist on the table. "Poison? They dare touch one of the greatest wizards of our age? This is an outrage!"
Merlin held up a hand, silencing him. A deep, weary sigh escaped his lips. "This is the nature of man, Salazar. When desire for power, money, revenge, or land consumes them, they lose their humanity. Remember this lesson, all of you. Never let your desires control you."
He then turned his penetrating gaze to Sharon and spoke in a flowing, melodic language that was utterly alien to John. Elvish.
To John's astonishment, Sharon responded without hesitation, her voice taking on the same musical cadence. She was speaking of her lost people, of the Joyce family's long isolation, her words carrying the weight of a history the System had woven into her very being. John could only watch, a spectator in his own life, as the System seamlessly handled the verification process.
After a moment, Merlin nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. He turned back to John. "Your words are true. The grief is real, the purpose just." He gestured to the four young wizards and witches. "The two of you may stay here. Learn magic from me, alongside my other students." He gestured to the founders.
Finally, he looked at Agni. "Lord Agni, when you are rested, would you accompany me? We must travel to South Asia. This pointless war, this poisoning of a guardian… it cannot be allowed to stand. The balance must be restored."
Agni's telepathic voice was calm and resolute. "You have my word, Mage of the Dragon's. We will go. The ambitions of the greedy should not be paid for with the blood of the innocent."
Merlin gave a final, approving smile and, with a soft swish of displaced air, vanished from the hall.
He reappeared in the castle's outer courtyard, under the starlit sky. The genial host was gone, replaced by the supreme wizard, his expression deeply contemplative.
"They are true," he murmured to the night air. "Their identities are genuine, their intentions pure. And yet…" He frowned, his senses that brushed against the very fabric of reality tingling. "Why do I feel as if the world itself has been… edited? As if a divine hand wrote them into the story just moments ago?" He was nearing the pinnacle of magical power, close to a state akin to godhood, and he could feel the faint, cosmic-scale stitches in the tapestry of reality. The players were real, but the stage had been slightly altered to accommodate them. And that, he knew, was a mystery far more intriguing than any war.
He shook his head, a wry smile touching his lips. Whether they were a gift from fate or a insertion from a higher power, their intentions were pure, and their potential was immense. For now, that was enough. The game was afoot, and Merlin had new, fascinating players to mentor. And a war to stop.
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