Heir of Synthesis: The World Mage

After the agreement was sealed, Daraen, Sallya, and Inigo were given permission to return to the camp and announce the decision to their former soldiers.

The choice given to each of those little over a thousand Mages was simple, yet final: join Priam’s faction and march into an imminent deadly battle, or leave the group, seek a remote refuge, and wait safely until the mission’s deadline passed.

The truth about the Corrupted Beasts and the 8th Branch’s vile betrayal was revealed without holding anything back. Upon understanding the scale of the danger and remembering the thousands of comrades who had been massacred, a blazing fury erupted in the chests of those men and women.

They didn’t want to run away. They burned with a visceral desire for revenge. However, they knew that marching in as cannon fodder would be nothing more than a pointless waste of their lives.

Seeing the fire in the troops’ eyes, Dandara stepped forward.

Her firm voice echoed through the group, assuring them that if they were willing to endure hellish training and dedicate themselves without reservation, she would personally make sure they became useful and survived.

Dandara’s promise, combined with the impact of witnessing an entire faction of people who had entered the sect alongside them and now stood as an army of Mage Masters, ignited an overwhelming ambition in every one of them.

Not a single soldier chose cowardice.

Those who were still alive had already passed through countless trials, and they were all mentally strong individuals. So, every one of them chose to stay.

With this mass assimilation, Priam’s faction surpassed the mark of two thousand combatants.

...

Shortly afterward, Priam gave the Sacred Fruits to Sallya, Daraen, and Inigo.

In total, he had distributed seven fruits, consumed one, and kept the last two. In the future, he intended to plant the tree in his home world, hoping to obtain many more.

Next, all the methods and knowledge necessary to force a rank breakthrough in the heat of battle were shared with the new members.

However, not everyone was at Level 9, and the amount of Ether required to trigger a breakthrough in rank was astronomical.

Priam gathered the vast mountain of natural treasures plundered from the 4th Branch and, using the power of the System, began forcibly extracting the energy contained within them.

Only Priam could perfectly remove and seal the raw essence into small absorption runes without losing stability.

Most of those herbs contained a dense mixture of Qi, elemental attributes, and the power of nature. Priam isolated the pure Qi and delivered it directly to the Mages, allowing them to build up colossal reserves to convert into Ether at the right moment.

Those who needed to level up would advance within a matter of days. When the final confrontation arrived, every soldier would already be consolidated at Level 9, possessing a real opportunity to break through to the Mage Master rank.

The excess energy was channeled into the Nexus Seed. However, the medicinal properties and unique effects of the herbs were completely destroyed in the process.

Priam burned through practically two-thirds of all the accumulated treasures just to accelerate the strengthening of his troops. It was an astronomical waste—in the hands of an Alchemy Master, those materials could have produced far more efficient energy pills, without any waste.

Priam even possessed the theoretical knowledge of how to make those pills. But the lack of a pill furnace, combined with the lack of time to practice until he succeeded, made it unfeasible.

’I urgently need to recruit a high-level alchemist in the future... maybe just a group of alchemists with some talent would be enough,’ Priam reflected, mentally noting the need.

...

As the date for the opening of the central realm drew closer, the entire inner realm fell into a deathly stillness. An oppressive silence descended over the lands.

Mages, Sorcerers, Impure Beasts, and Calamity Beasts—all factions and creatures withdrew into absolute seclusion, dedicating their time and resources to raising their combat power to its peak.

The air reeked of impending doom. Everyone knew that the final confrontation wouldn’t be just another simple dispute, but an unprecedented bloodbath.

For the Mages, the search for secondary opportunities had ceased to exist. Without their own lives to enjoy the rewards, any treasure was worth less than dust.

Time moved inexorably, flowing like a violent, unbroken river.

The eleven months allotted for their stay in that inner realm passed in the blink of an eye.

And then, on the appointed day, the skies across the entire inner realm transformed.

The crimson dome that had reigned eternally gave way to gigantic webs of golden light that cut across the firmament.

Anyone who raised their eyes toward the heavens felt their very soul being pulled: the glowing lines converged, without exception, toward a single, definitive focal point.

The center of the world had opened its doors.

...

The World Core Mountain rose right at the center of the inner realm, like a colossal monument.

Its geography was strange and monumental: it stretched for fifteen hundred kilometers in width and reached sixteen thousand kilometers in altitude, culminating in two gigantic peaks divided by an abyss.

The ground beneath the mountain had a deep scarlet-red hue.

It wasn’t the natural color of the earth, but the result of countless ages being drenched in fresh blood every time the central realm opened its doors. There, the life and death of all races were put on the line.

Across the entire stretch of land, shattered weapons, ruined armor, and skeletons corroded by time could be seen. The wind howling through the cracks seemed to carry a distant echo of lamentations and crying.

After millennia of conflict, it was impossible to calculate how many Mages, Sorcerers, and Beasts had been reduced to dust on that soil. Every inch of the place radiated an oppressive aura of death.

Exactly three hours remained before the portal opened—a perfectly predictable window of time known to everyone.

All the powers were converging from every direction. Armies of Mages, Sorcerers, Impure Beasts, and Calamity Beasts had all positioned themselves in distant camps, separated by dozens of kilometers around the mountain’s base, keeping a safe watch on one another.

The Mages wore grim expressions. From time to time, they cast uneasy, furtive glances toward the Sorcerers’ contingent, gripping their weapons tightly and remaining alert for any movement from them.

With Dioma already dead, the remaining leaders of the 8th Branch and their allies were completely unaware of the agreement with the Sorcerers.

However, they strictly followed Dioma’s last order: do not provoke the Sorcerers.

The plan of the leaders of these Mage factions was quite simple: when chaos erupted against the Sorcerers, they would take advantage of the turmoil and try to have the 11th Branch completely destroyed.

They would attempt to do this without directly acting as the Sorcerers’ allies. The simplest way was to lure the native Beasts of this world toward them, directing them to surround the enemy Mages.

The reason for all this? Many of them had openly killed members of the 11th Branch over the past few months. If there was evidence, the sect would severely punish the offender.

Knowing they might have left traces behind, the only way to guarantee their own immunity upon returning was to make sure no survivors from the 11th Branch remained alive.

A great battle was inevitable.

After the three-hour deadline, the spatial rift to the Central Realm would remain open for a mere fifteen minutes. Considering the millions of people trying to pass through, the time was ridiculously insufficient.

Surely, once there was little time left before it opened, the fighting would begin. And during the time allowed for entry, the battle would become even more brutal.

But that imminent bloodbath wouldn’t be a battle of organized formations.

Direct clashes between terrifying figures of the same level were rare, as everyone’s main goal was to quickly massacre the weak, steal treasures, and secure their passage. The strongest acted like lions at the top of the food chain, devouring those at the bottom to reap the rewards.

Every Mage stared toward the horizon, coldly calculating how to survive or how to seize the greatest opportunities.

However, no one dared to make a single sound. The entire crowd remained immersed in a tense, deathly silence.

Until a force slowly marched forward, approaching the mountain region. The instant that group appeared, everyone’s pupils contracted.

"It’s Priam!"

At the head of the contingent of more than two thousand Mages walked a young man of average height and slender build. His clothes fluttered lightly in the cold valley wind, while his face carried an icy indifference.

He didn’t need to raise his voice or draw a weapon; his mere presence radiated an invisible, crushing pressure, like an emperor looking down upon mere mortals with arrogance and disdain.

Priam’s aura had grown so dense that it seemed almost tangible—a colossal rock weighing down on the chest of every person present.

Within this world, he had gained a lot. His form had risen several levels, and it was impossible for that not to naturally be transmitted to others. His presence conveyed an overwhelming majesty.

Of course, he could forcibly conceal it... But why would he do that now?

Upon seeing him, the hearts of the Impure Beasts and Calamity Beasts began to pound. Arvid and Mo Lan clenched their fists tightly.

Most of the Mages from the rival branches tightened their grips around their swords, their gazes filled with resentment and cold apprehension.

In contrast, among the ranks of the Sorcerers, sadistic and excited smiles appeared on the faces of their leaders.

Noticing that bizarre reaction, many Mages felt a chill run down their spines. The Sorcerers were far too calm. Far too confident.

Something unbelievably terrible was about to happen.

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