Devourer's Legacy: I Regressed With The Primordial Crest
Chapter 87: Stairs (2)

Chapter 87: Stairs (2)

The crackling energy of the blue lightning still hung in the air like an electric afterglow, making the hair on the children’s arms stand on end. Several of them were still crouched on the ground, their hearts pounding so hard they could hear the blood rushing in their ears. The smell of ozone filled their nostrils, sharp and metallic, a reminder of the raw power they had just witnessed.

This was the Blue Lightning of the Stormy Hills - the very reason why the whole region was considered one of the five forbidden regions of the Astralis Continent.

There were stories about travelers who had ventured too close to these mountains only to be struck down by lightning that came from nowhere. The storms here didn’t follow normal patterns.

And to think that House Aster had a protection spell cast against such powerful lightning on such a massive scale! The dome that had deflected the bolt must have covered several acres at least, maybe more. The amount of magical energy required to maintain something like that continuously would be staggering.

’These guys seems more impressive than I thought,’ Renard thought to himself as he watched the last traces of blue lightning disappear around the edges of the protective dome.

Among all the children standing there, Renard was the only one who truly understood what he had just seen. While the others were simply terrified or amazed, he was calculating the implications.

This was the first time he had been to the Silent Monastery in both of his lives. During his first life as the seventh army commander of the demon forces, he had passed through the region controlled by House Aster several times, but he had never once seen a protection spell of such magnitude - at least not a defensive type spell. Most of the magic he had encountered back then had been focused on attack and destruction.

The memories came flooding back as he stood there, the other children’s frightened whispers fading into background noise.

When the Great Demonic War had started, the first targets of the demon army had been House Aster and House Umbra. These two great houses situated to the borders of the demonic army, making it a neccessacity to defeat them to spread their influes all over the continent.

Renard, as the seventh army commander, had been ordered to work alongside the sixth army commander - Death Supreme - to bring down House Umbra. Meanwhile, the first army and the second army had been tasked with targeting House Aster. The demon forces had been confident in their strategy, dividing their attention between the two powerful houses to prevent them from coordinating their defenses.

Their plan had been a success.

Many people had fled the war zones entirely, abandoning their homes and possessions to escape the conflict. But in the end, the demon army had brought down both great houses, scattering their survivors and claiming their territories.

Looking back now, Renard realized that maybe it was because the first and second armies were on a completely different level compared to his seventh army that he hadn’t fully appreciated just how powerful the magicians truly were.

The first and second armies were elite forces, led by commanders whose abilities bordered on the invincible. They had resources and support that the seventh army could only dream of.

’Or maybe it was just that the first army commander was too powerful,’ Renard mused.

The first army commander had been the second in command of the entire demon army, a figure so formidable that his mere presence on a battlefield could turn the tide of a war.

He had defeated House Aster with what seemed like ease, taking them completely by surprise and overwhelming their defenses before they could mount an effective resistance.

Because of how quickly and decisively the first army had achieved victory, Renard had never actually had the chance to fight against magicians on a large scale. His seventh army had been relegated to cleanup operations and smaller skirmishes. He had faced individual mages, certainly, and even small groups of them, but nothing like the organized magical defenses that the great houses could deploy when they had time to prepare.

Seeing this protection spell now, feeling the residual magical energy in the air, Renard was beginning to realize that magicians would be far more annoying to deal with than whatever he had previously imagined.

The defensive capabilities alone were staggering. If they could maintain a barrier strong enough to deflect the Blue Lightning of the Stormy Hills continuously, what other protections might they have in place? What offensive capabilities were they hiding?

But dwelling on past battles wouldn’t help him now. Concentrating on the present situation, Renard turned his attention back to the stairs stretching up the mountainside in front of him.

The stone steps looked deceptively simple from where he stood. Just climbing them didn’t seem particularly difficult, or at least that’s how it appeared to someone who didn’t know better. The steps were evenly spaced, the stone looked solid and well-maintained, and the incline, while steep, wasn’t impossibly so.

But Renard was pretty sure there was much more to this test than simple physical endurance. His previous life had taught him to be suspicious of anything that looked too straightforward, especially when it came to magical institutions like the Silent Monastery.

As he focused his senses, he could feel a faint pulse of essence emanating from the inscriptions carved into each stair. The magical energy was subtle, barely detectable unless you knew what to look for, but it was definitely there. Each symbol seemed to thrum with its own rhythm, like a heartbeat made of magic.

It was likely that the mages had done something to the stairs themselves, probably multiple somethings. Maybe the steps would become heavier to climb as you progressed higher. Maybe the inscriptions would create illusions or mental challenges. Maybe the magical energy would drain a person’s strength or test their willpower in ways that pure physical conditioning couldn’t prepare them for.

’Well, I’m looking forward to it,’ Renard thought with anticipation.

He hadn’t been able to train properly for the last month. Living in the orphanage had been comfortable but sedentary, with limited opportunities for serious physical exercise. Then the long journey in the cramped wagon had made his body even stiffer, his muscles tight from sitting in awkward positions for days on end.

It seemed like he could finally get some real exercise again. The prospect of pushing his body to its limits, of testing himself against whatever magical challenges the monastery had prepared, filled him with a excitement he hadn’t felt in weeks.

Around him, the other children were starting to look more and more nervous as the reality of their situation sank in. Some were whispering to each other, trying to form alliances or make plans. Others were stretching their legs or adjusting their clothing, making what small preparations they could. A few of the younger ones looked like they might start crying at any moment.

"Start climbing if you guys hope to make it to the top," a voice suddenly cut through their worried conversations. "Time is running out."

It was Viel, who spoke this time and She just turned away from the group without another word, walking back toward the wagon where they had arrived.

Aldric followed her, his heavy boots crunching on the gravel as he moved. But just as he was about to climb back onto the wagon, he stopped and turned around. His eyes scanned the group of children until they found their target, locking onto one boy in particular.

"And for those of you who are planning on running away..." Aldric said, his voice carrying clearly across the open space and his eyes locking with Ian.

"No one will stop you," Aldric continued, his voice taking on an almost friendly tone. "Please, try hard!"

But as he spoke these words, a creepy smile slowly spread across his face. It was the kind of smile that promised terrible consequences, the kind that made it clear that running away would be far worse than facing whatever challenges lay ahead on the stairs.

The smile lingered as Aldric finally climbed back onto the wagon. Viel was already seated and ready to go, her hands folded in her lap as she waited patiently. The wagon driver, who had been silent throughout the entire exchange, cracked his whip and urged the horses forward.

As the wagon began to roll away, leaving the children alone at the base of the mysterious staircase, Renard took one last look around at his fellow test-takers. Twenty-three children, all between the ages of twelve and fifteen, all hoping to survive whatever the Silent Monastery had in store for them.

Some looked determined, others terrified. A few were already taking their first steps toward the stairs. Renard ignored all of them and stepped forward.

It was time to work on his plan.

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