The Sanctus Scroll served as a vital instrument for any magis undertaking a commission. Ensorcelled with precision, it functioned as both a mageia artefact and a specialized scroll.

  Throughout the duration of a mission, as the magis engaged and slaughtered demons, the scroll meticulously recorded every deed and detail of the operation. Although these logs remained somewhat cursory, they provided definitive proof of how many demons or mission targets the magis had eliminated. This innate capability spared the magis the burden of manual reporting, yet it also ensured that none could fabricate their achievements—unless they resorted to the deception of having another perform the task in their stead.

  Furthermore, the scroll contained essential mission parameters and preliminary intelligence on the enemy, derived from both the client’s testimony and the internal intelligence of Sanctus itself. Beyond its logistical function, the scroll acted as an absolute proof of identity. Should an external magis stumble upon this mageia parchment, they would find only a blank void, devoid of any mageia glyphs. Any attempt to forcibly reveal the hidden script would cause the scroll to self-immolate, reducing it to dust. Thus, a magis bearing a sanctus scroll could verify their status to a client without the need for further evidence.

  ? . ? . ? . ? . ?

  Traversing the lands of Laurasia offered various methods of passage. Most travelers relied on their own two feet. Those with deeper purses might purchase passage with a merchant caravan, while the truly affluent could rent or purchase mounts for their journey.

  Seraph possessed the skill to handle a mount. Donkeys remained the most affordable and popular choice among the common folk; however, he now possessed sufficient coin to rent or even purchase a horse. Yet, the price of a horse was far from trivial. Should he rent a steed only to have it perish or escape into the wilds, he would face a penalty fee a hundred times its value—a sum that was anything but negligible.

  Fortunately, Seraph specialized in ventus mageia, ensuring that high-speed travel posed no hardship. Having fused his Mageia Microcosmic with the laws of the Macrocosmic, his comprehension of the natural force and the various elements remained absolute and unobstructed.

  Upon concluding his mission registration, Seraph hurried from the Stormcloud Citadel. It was now noon, and the village surrounding Sanctus bustled as numerous magis emerged to walk about the basilica. The citadel air vibrated with the casting of spells and heated debates over mageia theory.

  The denizens conversed and lived within their own spheres; the Sanctus Sanctum brimmed with a wondrous vitality. No one spared a glance or sought to harass Seraph any longer.

  Since the day the Kambion Group was scorched by fire and forced into the Infirmary Hall, those individuals had vanished, ceasing their provocations entirely. Once their injuries mended, most retreated to their homes within the Capital of Arkpolis; even Kambion himself remained nowhere to be found.

  In the absence of the Kambion Group, no one within the Sanctus Sanctum bothered to torment him. Golden beams of light struck the basilica, causing the structure to shimmer with a crystalline radiance. Despite the demon swarms rampaging beyond the walls, Seraph felt that Laurasia appeared strangely bright today.

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  Seraph descended from the Stormcloud Citadel. The basilica still sat perched upon the high cliff, a part of the towering hillside that offered a magnificent, clear vista of Arkpolis. The journey required a descent through the slopes, where the summit was encircled by the Forest of Gems.

  The woods surrounding the Sanctus citadel were often dusted with frost upon the leaves, causing the forest to glisten like scattered jewels when viewed from afar. Thus, the woods encircling the Sanctus Sanctum were known as the Forest of Gems, and the rise upon which Sanctus stood was hailed as Jewel Hill.

  Autumn still held its grip upon the land. Once winter descended, the summit would be surrendered to the falling snow, veiling the entire forest and the citadel in a mantle of pure white.

  Seraph invoked a ventus spell and departed at once. This remained the supreme advantage of a magis of the ventus element. While the wind was difficult to master and possessed offensive power inferior to the flamus element, it granted unrivaled movement and agility. Consequently, magis of the ventus element often maintained survival rates on the battlefield far exceeding those of earth-aligned warriors.

  The young man leapt onto the treetops, sprinting across the canopy with immense speed. As he raced through the woods, the biting chill of the wind lashed against his face, surrounded by nothing but pristine air. This freshness brought a sense of absolute liberation. As he descended from the Forest of Gems, the great metropolis revealed itself immediately.

  Arkpolis of the Arkflame Kingdom stood as a thriving Capital, preeminent in commerce. Looking down, one could see the myriad burghers moving through the city streets. At the outermost gates, citizens and merchant caravans formed lines hundreds of meters long, waiting to pass through the gargantuan city walls.

  Jewel Hill was a private, modest peak situated within the outer reaches of Arkpolis. The Capital of Arkflame was protected by multiple layers of massive walls, with Jewel Hill anchored in the outermost district.

  Seraph did not enter Arkpolis. Instead, he diverted his course toward the Northern Gate, the path leading toward the city of Balyon.

  The Arkflame Kingdom was defined by its windmills. The entire realm was dotted with these structures, which operated through a fusion of natural force and mageia power.

  Master workshops and metal smithies were almost always constructed alongside a windmill. Even vast farms integrated their barns with these structures; the windmill had truly become the eternal sigil of this kingdom.

  The windmills were massive, bell-shaped edifices, their summits crowned with gargantuan blades. Constructed through the precision of energia engineering, they functioned seamlessly by harnessing the natural force of wind and water, as well as mageia power.

  These towering mageia structures stood as the vital organs of the kingdom. Their perpetually spinning blades drove the mills to grind grain, powered the saws for timber, and breathed life into the smithies of Arkflame. If the rivers nourished the folk, then the windmills nourished the realm itself.

  The fusion of mageia arts with engineering allowed for versatile utility, elevating the potency of every invention by several tiers. It was this energia engineering that bolstered the human kingdoms, preventing their collapse throughout a century of relentless demon warfare.

  Within Arkflame, the ceaseless rotation of the windmill blades had become etched into the collective memory of the denizens. It served as a testament: as long as the winds blew, the veins of the kingdom roared, and the windmills turned, human life upon Laurasia would endure despite the encroaching shadows.

  In truth, other realms beyond also possessed windmills, though they were fewer in number and varied in form according to local tradition. Each structure reflected the prosperity and the way of life of its burghers.

  Seraph gazed upon the dwellings and the simple rhythms of the folk, etching the imagery deep into his soul. He felt a sense of both familiarity and estrangement. In the past, his home had been a village on the forest edge, not far from the outskirts of Arkpolis.

  After his parents were slaughtered by demons, he had wandered as a vagabond throughout the metropolis. Thus, this great city was his home; he had tread through every corner and alleyway, privy even to secret passages unknown to the common folk.