The Magical Tower rose above the capital like a dark spear touching the clouds. Few people dared to enter its upper floors. Only the most powerful mages were allowed there.
At the very top floor, inside a quiet chamber filled with ancient books and glowing runes, stood Lucas de Hein.
At only twenty-three years old, he had already become the Master of the Magical Tower—a title many older mages had chased for decades.
Lucas stood beside a large window, looking down at the vast imperial capital below.
His black hair moved slightly in the cold wind coming through the open window, and his silver eyes shone faintly like metal under the dim magical light.
Behind him, several magical circles floated in the air, slowly rotating.
A young mage nervously stood near the door, holding a stack of documents.
"Master Lucas… the council is requesting your presence for the imperial meeting tomorrow."
Lucas didn't turn around.
Silence filled the room for a moment.
Then he spoke in a cold voice.
"Requesting?"
The young mage swallowed.
"Y-Yes, Master…"
Lucas finally turned his head slightly, his sharp silver eyes making the young mage freeze.
"If they want something," Lucas said calmly, "they can climb the tower themselves."
His tone was flat, almost bored.
The young mage quickly lowered his head.
"Yes… Master."
Lucas turned back to the window, completely uninterested in the politics of the empire.