Reincarnation of the Last Magus Emperor

As the Inner Court disciples began filing into the classroom, the energy in the room shifted. Their red robes were a striking contrast to the black robes of the Outer Court disciples, a visual representation of their status and the gap in cultivation between the two groups. The robes bore intricate embroidery unique to their elemental affinities, signaling their specialization and talents.

The disciples were a diverse group in terms of appearance and demeanor. Some exuded confidence, others radiated calm focus, and a few carried themselves with an air of indifference. Despite their varied personalities, they all shared one thing in common: the disciplined aura of those who had advanced to the 3rd Circle Adept Realm.

Merlin, sitting quietly in the middle of the room, observed them closely. He was the youngest in cultivation and the only one with a lightning affinity—a fact that set him apart, though it didn't garner much attention from the others.

The disciples, aware of his presence, glanced at him briefly as they entered. While a few seemed mildly curious, most quickly dismissed him, assuming him to be unremarkable due to his 2nd Circle Novice cultivation. Their focus shifted back to their own discussions or preparations, unconcerned with the quiet Southerner who had taken a seat among them.

Merlin, for his part, made no effort to stand out. He kept his lightning aura tightly controlled, dampening the natural intensity of his mana. He understood that revealing too much too soon would only invite unnecessary attention, and he had no intention of playing into anyone's expectations or judgments.

Instead, he took a deep breath, centering himself. His reserved demeanor wasn't born of fear or insecurity but of deliberate control. The memories of Myrddin reminded him that strength wasn't always about loud declarations—it was often better to let others underestimate you.

Still, a few disciples couldn't entirely ignore him.

One woman with water affinity, her dark hair braided into a crown, leaned toward her companion, a stocky man with an earth affinity, and whispered, "Outer Court, do you think? He doesn't have the robes of a Deacon."

The man shrugged. "Probably. He's young and low in cultivation. Maybe a trial case. Who knows?"

Merlin caught their glances but remained expressionless. He knew this trial wasn't just about him proving himself—it was also about observing and learning from the others. His journey wasn't meant to follow their path but to carve his own.

As the room filled, the noise level rose, conversations blending into a low hum. Elder Fergus, who had been standing silently at the front, finally stepped forward. His mere movement silenced the room instantly, a testament to the respect his presence commanded.

"Settle down," Fergus said, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade. His green eyes swept over the group, pausing briefly on Merlin before moving on. "We have much to cover today, and I don't intend to waste time on pleasantries."

Merlin straightened in his seat, his attention sharpening. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready.

Elder Fergus clasped his hands behind his back as he paced the front of the room, his commanding presence ensuring every disciple's attention was firmly on him. His voice, steady and deliberate, filled the hall.

"Adept," he began, his green eyes briefly locking onto Merlin's before sweeping across the rest of the room. "The 3rd Circle. A realm of progress and peril, where you begin to separate yourselves from the limitations of mere talent and step into the true understanding of magic. It is here where the essence of mana manipulation matures."

His words carried weight, and the disciples leaned forward slightly, instinctively drawn to the wisdom of a seasoned Master. Fergus continued, "An Adept is not defined by the size of their mana core but by the precision with which they wield it. Your spells, no longer crude or elementary, gain depth and complexity. You are now capable of weaving mana into forms that not only interact with the physical world but resonate with the deeper, more esoteric forces of nature."

He stopped pacing and turned to face them fully. "But do not be mistaken. This is not a realm of comfort. The Adept Realm is where many falter, where arrogance and complacency lead to stagnation. Too often, I see those who have reached this level forget the fundamentals—forget that mastery is built on a foundation of discipline and understanding, not raw power."

His gaze rested on Merlin again, this time longer, before addressing the room as a whole. "The precision of an Adept allows for the crafting of complex spells, true. But it also demands something greater—attunement. To your element, to your surroundings, and to yourselves. If you cannot attune, if you cannot harmonize, you will falter. And the path forward will remain forever out of reach."

Merlin listened intently, absorbing every word. Though Elder Fergus had clearly tailored his explanation partially for his benefit, he knew the lesson applied to everyone in the room. It wasn't just about learning what it meant to be an Adept—it was about remembering the core principles that governed all realms of cultivation.

"Consider this," Fergus continued, his voice steady but sharp. "When was the last time you practiced a basic mana technique? The last time you meditated on your affinity without reaching for a spell? Most of you will struggle to answer. You've grown so enamored with your achievements that you forget the foundation of what brought you here."

The silence in the room was telling. Even the most confident disciples appeared contemplative, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Merlin, however, remained still, his mind racing with the implications of Fergus's words.

Fergus's tone softened, though the intensity in his eyes remained. "Do not let your grasp exceed your reach, Adepts. For those of you here, particularly our trial member—" His gaze flicked to Merlin again. "—this realm is not just a stepping stone. It is a crucible. And only those who emerge refined will have any hope of advancing further."

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before nodding. "Now, let us begin. Today's lesson will remind you of the basics you've forgotten and challenge the limits you think you've mastered."

The first half of the lesson was focused on mastering precise mana control and understanding the intricate balance required to manage one's mana effectively during battle. Elder Fergus began by outlining the significance of body augmentation, particularly for those whose combat styles demanded a close-quarters approach or quick, fluid movement in dynamic environments.

"Body augmentation is not simply flooding your limbs with mana," Fergus stated, his voice firm yet instructive. "It is a dance of precision and efficiency. The goal is not raw power but seamless integration with your body's natural movements. If you cannot control your mana to this level, you will waste it—and in a battle, wasted mana is the same as a wasted life."

To demonstrate, Fergus activated his mana. A faint green glow shimmered around his body as he calmly walked to the side of the assembly hall and began ascending the wall as if it were a flat surface. Each step was deliberate, the soles of his feet glowing faintly as his mana distributed evenly to maintain his balance and grip. Once at the ceiling, he casually walked across its surface before flipping back down to the ground, landing silently.

"This," he explained, "is Wall Walking. A fundamental skill that tests not only your mana control but your understanding of gravitational forces. Mismanage the flow, and you either fail to adhere to the surface or overexert your mana and lose efficiency."

He then stepped to a basin of water that had been placed in the hall earlier. Without hesitation, he stepped onto its surface, the liquid rippling slightly but not breaking beneath his weight. "And this," he continued, "is Water Walking. While similar in principle, this technique requires constant adjustments to counteract the instability of the surface. Think of it as mana weaving—continuous, minute corrections to maintain equilibrium."

The disciples murmured among themselves, some clearly impressed, while others looked more skeptical of their own abilities to replicate the feat.

"Now, you try," Fergus said, gesturing for the disciples to come forward. "You'll begin with Wall Walking. Remember: focus on distributing your mana evenly to your feet while adjusting for the angle of your body. Start with a small incline before attempting a vertical climb."

As the disciples began practicing, Fergus turned his attention to a secondary principle: the laws of energy mechanics and their application in battle. "You must understand that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred or transformed," Fergus began, drawing a simple diagram on the board with a piece of glowing mana chalk.

"Let's apply this to combat," he continued. "When augmenting your body for speed or strength, you are effectively converting your mana into kinetic energy. However, if you do not calculate the recoil, momentum, or strain on your body, you risk injuring yourself or losing balance mid-attack."

He gave a practical demonstration, launching himself forward with a sudden burst of speed before coming to an abrupt stop, his mana visibly dispersing through his legs and into the floor. "The technique I used is called Energy Dissipation. By channeling the excess energy into the ground, I avoid strain on my muscles and joints. This principle applies equally to blocking powerful attacks—redirect the force rather than absorb it head-on."

Merlin, while observing the lesson, couldn't help but compare Fergus's teachings to the knowledge he had gained from his past life as the Last Magus Emperor. The precision Fergus demanded was admirable, but Merlin knew these techniques, though foundational, could be refined further. He noticed subtle inefficiencies in the mana flow demonstrated by some of the other disciples and silently adjusted his own mana accordingly as he prepared to join the exercises.

When it was his turn, Merlin stepped up to the wall. Closing his eyes briefly, he focused on his mana core and channeled a steady flow to his feet. The room quieted as he took his first step, his movements smooth and deliberate. To those watching, it seemed as though Merlin was moving effortlessly, his mana control razor-sharp. He reached the ceiling in record time before leaping down with a fluid grace that left the other disciples murmuring in surprise.

Elder Fergus raised an eyebrow, his keen eyes catching the subtle differences in Merlin's technique. "Efficient," he remarked. "Perhaps too much so. Tell me, trial disciple, where did you learn to walk walls as though you've done it for years?"

Merlin met Fergus's gaze evenly. "Just a matter of understanding the flow of energy, Elder," he replied humbly. "And adapting it to my body's rhythm."

Fergus studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Very well. Continue. Let's see how you handle the water next."

Merlin approached the basin with calm confidence, his thoughts briefly dwelling on the concept of elemental hierarchies—a principle he was certain the sect understood but deliberately avoided teaching. He knew this was likely to ensure all disciples could cultivate without feeling disadvantaged by their elemental affinity. However, that didn't change the reality: Lightning, as an element, stood at the pinnacle of the hierarchy due to its innate power, speed, and versatility.

• Fire burns brightly but is easily extinguished without fuel.

• Water is fluid and adaptive but can be contained or redirected.

• Wind is swift and pervasive but lacks substance.

• Earth is stable and enduring but struggles against agility.

• Lightning, however, is not only fast but also conducts through water and bypasses traditional defenses with its sheer force and reach.

This understanding gave Merlin a unique edge. Lightning wasn't just an element of destruction—it was a bridge between energy and matter, capable of adapting to almost any situation.

As he stepped up to the basin, he focused on the water's surface, rippling softly under the dim light of the hall. Merlin's Lightning mana wasn't just raw power—it was an extension of himself, capable of fine-tuned precision. He exhaled, letting the tension leave his body, and directed a steady flow of mana to his feet. Unlike others who brute-forced their mana to create buoyancy, Merlin knew how to weave his mana into the surface tension of the water, synchronizing with its natural rhythm.

With a measured step, he placed one foot on the water. A faint crackle of lightning coursed beneath his foot, stabilizing the surface beneath him. He took another step, and another, moving as though he were walking on solid ground. The water rippled gently under him, but there was no sign of instability.

The assembly hall fell silent as the disciples watched Merlin's performance. There was no hesitation in his movements, no wasted energy. Elder Fergus leaned forward slightly, his red brows furrowing in thought.

"Interesting," Fergus murmured to himself. "He's not just maintaining balance—he's harmonizing with the water itself. And that lightning… it's not interfering with his control; it's enhancing it. That's not something I've seen in a disciple at this level."

When Merlin reached the end of the basin, he turned smoothly and walked back to the starting point, his steps as calm and deliberate as his initial approach. As he stepped off the water and onto solid ground, he looked up at Elder Fergus, his expression neutral, though his mind was buzzing with thoughts of how to improve the technique further.

Fergus crossed his arms, his expression a mix of curiosity and approval. "That's twice now you've exceeded expectations, trial disciple. I'll admit, I'm curious. How did you achieve such balance and control on your first attempt?"

Merlin bowed respectfully. "Elder, it's a matter of understanding the nature of mana and its interaction with the world around us. Water, like all elements, has a rhythm. If you match that rhythm, it becomes less of an obstacle and more of an ally. Lightning simply adds… refinement."

Fergus narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing that there was more to Merlin's explanation than he was letting on. But instead of pressing further, he nodded. "Well said. But let's see if you can apply that understanding in combat. The next lesson will test your ability to maintain that balance under pressure."

Merlin stepped back into line with the other disciples, who were now watching him with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Though they hadn't regarded him earlier, it was clear that his performance was starting to shift their perceptions. For Merlin, however, this was just another step on his journey—a chance to refine his skills and further integrate the knowledge of the Last Magus Emperor with his own.