The ritual had been going on for nearly two entire days now—two long, exhausting days filled with chanting, glowing runes, and the kind of pressure in the air that made it hard to breathe. The enormous royal hall was thick with mana, every sound slightly distorted as though reality itself was straining to hold everything together. Countless people had gathered to witness it, nobles and soldiers alike, all standing in reverent silence. Among them were my mother and father, seated in the high balcony that overlooked the grand chamber.
My father's expression caught my attention immediately. He wasn't just curious—he looked deeply fascinated, his eyes fixed on the massive magic circle drawn across the marble floor. The glow from the runes danced against his eyes, making his face look almost inhumanly determined. Commander Lilia stood beside him, her back straight and her hand resting casually on the hilt of her sword, her hair shimmering faintly under the arcane light.
