Rank 1: Ezekiel of Tradespire (Von Hohenheim) — 17 years — Middle-tier Grand Mage.
Rank 2: Linus Geistreich — 21 years — Intial-tier Grand Mage.
Rank 3: Lara Sonnenstrahl — 21 yers — Intial-tier Grand Mage.
…
Zeke's lips curled into a satisfied smirk at the sight of the na he had just surpassed. He didn't know much about Linus Geistreich, but that last na told him everything he needed to know. A descendant of the Emperor of Arkanheim, no doubt—likely a prodigy in his own right, judging by his swift advancent.
Yet, no matter how impressive Linus's achievents were, his first-place record on the advancent list had just been obliterated. Zeke hadn't just beaten the record; he had shattered it by a full four years. And as for the strength of their respective Cores, there was simply no comparison.
Of course, Zeke knew that part of his advantage ca from his unique circumstances. Having three affinities instead of one naturally resulted in a larger Core and a higher overall Mana capacity. While it was true that his individual affinity output lagged behind specialists, the sheer volu of his Mana allowed him to be rated as a Middle-tier Grand Mage—despite having only just advanced.
The confirmation of his placent caused a far greater uproar than his earlier performance. It seed the weight of what had just occurred was finally sinking in—a long-standing first-place record had been broken. A new na had not only entered the rankings but claid the very top spot.
Zeke's smile widened further as he noticed how the Mage's Association had chosen to display his na: Ezekiel of Tradespire (Von Hohenheim). The inclusion of his forr title was a clear affront to the Empire that had publicly stripped him of that honor. Yet, it also served as a subtle tribute to his ntor, Maximilian. Zeke suspected that was the deciding factor behind their choice.
Whatever else Maximilian might have been, he had always been a scholar—a man devoted to advancing the field of Magic. His ideals, whether by coincidence or design, aligned closely with those of the Mage's Association. It wasn't difficult to imagine the organization favoring such a figure, regardless of political affiliations or accusations leveled against him.
Licking his lips, Zeke's gaze drifted to the list on the right—the one displaying records for reaching the Archmage level. His excitent vanished in an instant. His entire body froze as he skimd through the first dozen entries. Any hopes of making another splash in a few years were utterly dashed.
Rank 1: Nova Fortuna — 0 years — Initial-tier Archmage.
Rank 2: Orion Fortuna — 0 years — Initial-tier Archmage.
Fortuna…
Fortuna…
Fortuna…
Zeke's mind reeled as he stared at the list. Of course, he had heard tales of the miraculous Fortuna bloodline—the most revered family of Ti Mages on the continent. Rumors claid that any child born of their bloodline would enter the world already an Archmage. Zeke had always dismissed such stories as fantastical nonsense. But now, faced with undeniable proof, he could no longer refute it.
His thoughts raced as he reevaluated all the information he'd once discarded. Honestly, who could bla him for not taking those rumors seriously? The Seers of Serevan, typically known for their impartiality and wisdom, seed to lose all sense of reason when it ca to the Fortuna family—spouting prophecies and praise like a band of crazed zealots.
Their claims bordered on lunacy—ranging from a divine mission to guard the continent to the audacious assertion that they were descendants of the God of Ti himself.
But if the rumor about them being born as Archmages was true, perhaps Zeke shouldn't dismiss their other claims so readily. After all, sothing like this was unheard of. No other power could boast anything remotely comparable. Even the Emperor of Arkanheim—an Exarch with the Mind affinity and widely regarded as the smartest man on the continent—had been unable to replicate the secret behind the Fortuna bloodline's gift.
"Congratulations, sir," the attendant said, pulling Zeke out of his thoughts. "This is a splendid achievent that will surely elevate your fa."
Zeke nodded modestly. He had expected this result when he ca here, so it wasn't hard to keep his excitent under control. Even so, he couldn't help but feel pleased with himself. His gaze drifted back to the board displaying the various records.
Now that his advancent was public knowledge, would it really hurt to show off a little more?
Of course, Zeke wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could break just any record that had stood the test of ti. Many of those had been set by Grand Mages who had spent decades—if not centuries—honing their strength. But earlier, he had noticed a list that seed tailor-made for him.
For one, he wouldn't have to reveal any of his secrets. And second, he could shatter the first-place record with ease while still holding back most of his capabilities.
It was perfect.
He extended his hand, pointing toward the list in question. "I'd like to undergo another test."
The attendant blinked, visibly surprised. It was clear Zeke had only just advanced, so competing with other Grand Mages seed almost impossible. Many had lingered at that stage for years, their power refined to its absolute peak.
Still, curiosity got the better of him, and he followed Zeke's finger to see which list he intended to challenge. The title of the list read: Simultaneous Spellcasting.
The attendant's mouth fell open as he saw the category. Zeke smirked at the reaction, though he understood perfectly why the man was so stunned. Simultaneous spellcasting was a discipline that demanded extraordinary focus and ntal capacity. It was a skill that needed to be honed and developed over years of grueling practice.
It was simply that difficult.
Creating a Spellform could be likened to drawing a picture. Even if the picture was simple, most people would struggle to draw two at the sa ti. The human mind simply wasn't built to focus on multiple tasks simultaneously. With training, it was possible to manage two, perhaps three, with so proficiency. But there was a hard limit. For most, even with extensive practice, trying to focus on more than 3-5 Spellforms at once would cause the quality of their work to plumt.
There was, however, one group capable of pushing past that barrier: Mind Mages. Zeke knew of spells that could segnt consciousness, such as [Multiple Minds] and [Parallel Thinking]—both tools that allowed users to divide their attention effectively. Unsurprisingly, the entire list of top scorers was dominated by Mind Mages, with the na Geistreich filling most of the slots.
As Zeke scanned the rankings, he spotted a familiar na near the top:
Rank 6: Linus Geistreich — 29 spells.
It was an impressive record. Zeke, despite possessing a Mind affinity, could only manage a handful of spells simultaneously, no matter how intensely he focused. But it didn't matter. With Akasha by his side, he could control as many spells as he needed. As a Mind-attuned Spirit, her consciousness wasn't bound by the sa restrictions as a human's. Whether she split her focus once or a hundred tis, it was all the sa to her.
"Are you sure you want to compete in that category, sir?" the attendant asked cautiously. "A poor showing might tarnish your stellar performance today…"
"I'm well aware," he replied kindly. He appreciated the man's warning, even if the concern was misplaced. If he failed to even place on the list, people might see him as overconfident or arrogant. Attempting this without certainty of success would indeed be a foolish decision—but Zeke had no doubts.
The man studied his expression, nodded slowly, and, seeing the determination in Zeke's eyes, led him toward an open area. "What spell will you be casting, sir?" he asked, his tone returning to its businesslike cadence.
"[Telekinesis]," Zeke answered without hesitation. Although Akasha could use his Core to cast spells of any affinity, she was most proficient with Mind spells. Of those he knew, [Telekinesis] was the only one with a visible effect, making it the perfect choice.
The attendant nodded knowingly. Zeke suspected that most Mind Mages would choose the sa spell for this test.
The attendant stepped to the side and retrieved a large wooden chest. Without a word, he set it down in front of Zeke and pulled open the lid, revealing its contents—a collection of perfectly identical marbles, each no larger than a fingernail. Hundreds of them rested neatly inside.
"Will these do, sir?" the attendant asked.
Zeke nodded.
"Then please begin lifting them one by one."
Before Zeke could respond, the first marble floated out of the chest, quickly followed by a second and a third. Akasha, as always, was already ahead of him, clearly having understood his intent. Still, Zeke sent her a quick ssage to confirm.
"We're only here to beat the record, not to show off."
A wave of affirmation rippled back to him—her ntal equivalent of a nod. Satisfied, Zeke simply leaned back and let her work.
The crowd that had gathered to witness Zeke's first record-breaking feat had followed him here with no small amount of curiosity. Yet when they realized he intended to challenge the Simultaneous Spellcasting category, their enthusiasm visibly dimd.
Even as the first marbles rose, most of the spectators shook their heads. This was a field ruled by old masters—Mind Mages who had spent their entire lives honing this singular discipline. For a newly advanced Grand Mage, the idea of competing against them was laughable.
Still, as marble after marble floated gracefully into the air, a few people began to take notice. While no one believed he could truly challenge the top rankings, they had to admit his composure was impressive. Most Mages would have struggled to lift even a handful of marbles at once, yet Zeke looked as though he were doing nothing at all—his face calm, his body completely relaxed.
After a dozen marbles hovered steadily in the air, the mood in the crowd began to shift. Where there had been boredom and disappointnt, now a faint spark of excitent flickered. Murmurs rippled through the onlookers as more marbles began to rise.
For the first ti, doubt crept into their minds. Just how far was this boy planning to go?
Zeke watched impassively as Akasha worked, marbles rising effortlessly into the air. Technically, so might consider what he was doing cheating, but he dismissed the thought. Akasha was part of him—her strength was his strength, and he saw no reason to draw a line between them.
10… 20… 30…
The first-place record stood at 36 spells, and it didn't take Akasha long to match it. Zeke's gaze drifted to the crowd, amused as shock spread across their faces. A mischievous thought crept into his mind.
"A few more," he sent telepathically.
Akasha didn't hesitate. The marbles continued to rise—37, 38, 39… until they settled at 41. Zeke nodded, satisfied. There was a reason for his instruction beyond sheer vanity. Beating the record by a single marble would make it obvious he'd been holding back, his true limit far beyond what he showed. By surpassing it comfortably, his attempt seed far more genuine—an actual challenge, rather than a calculated display.
If anyone suspected he could do more, it would remain pure speculation.
Zeke turned to the attendant, who was staring at the floating cloud of marbles with an expression of utter disbelief.
"Is there anything else I need to do?" Zeke asked calmly.
The man blinked, snapping out of his stupor. He still looked at Zeke like he'd grown a second head but managed to find his voice.
"...Please keep your spells active for at least one minute, sir," he said.
Zeke nodded, finally allowing a hint of strain to creep onto his face. He furrowed his brow slightly, shoulders tensing—just enough to make it believable. After all, if he appeared completely unfazed, no one would buy this as his actual limit.
But his efforts were wasted.
Akasha, clearly in a playful mood, decided to pull a little prank. The once-chaotic cloud of marbles shifted, rearranging themselves with startling precision. Within monts, the floating orbs began to spell out letters in the air.
Zeke caught the ssage and could only manage a wry smile as the words beca clear:
Von Hohenheim > Geistreich
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