Capítulo 429: Legacy and Amrita
The incessant dinging of my phone filled the room, each vibration rattling against the polished wood of my desk. I sat back in my leather chair, head tilted against its plush backing, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers I desperately needed. The light from the screen reflected dimly on the walls, casting fleeting shadows that flickered and danced.
I closed my eyes, exhaling a breath that felt like it had been caught in my chest for hours. My hand drifted to my forehead, brushing away the faint sheen of sweat that had gathered there. The weight of everything bore down on me, heavy and unrelenting.
Magnus Draykar was dead.
Rank 1. The Martial King. My master.
The news had come days ago, and yet, the reality of it hadn't settled. It felt unreal, as if some part of me still expected to see him stride through the doors of Noctalis headquarters, his usual unshakable presence filling the room. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.
He had died fighting Caladros von Noctis, the Vampire Monarch—a foe that no other human alive could have stood against. And yet, he had. He stood, he fought, and he fell.
All because of me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would somehow block out the gnawing guilt clawing at the edges of my mind. Magnus had joined Mythos Academy because of me, had been pulled into this war because of me. And now, because of me, he was gone.
Gone.
The word echoed, a cruel taunt that refused to let me be.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk, my head falling into my hands. "Weak," I whispered, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "I am so fucking weak."
The room felt stifling, the walls closing in with every passing second. I should have been there. I should have been strong enough to stand beside him, to shoulder the burden he carried alone. But I wasn't. I was still clawing my way up, scrambling for power, for recognition, for the ability to protect the people I cared about.
And it hadn't been enough.
Magnus had always been there. His teachings, his strength, his unwavering support—all of it had built me into who I was today. He had seen potential in me when I could barely see it in myself, pushing me to become more. And yet, when he needed someone to stand beside him, I had failed.
My breath hitched, and I slammed my fist into the desk. The impact reverberated through the room, the sound sharp and jarring. Papers scattered, and the phone finally fell silent, as if it understood the futility of its demands for attention.
"I should have been stronger," I muttered, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and despair. "I should have—"
But I hadn't been.
The reality of my insignificance burned, a cold flame licking at the edges of my pride. Caladros had been a monster beyond comprehension. Even now, I doubted I could scratch him, let alone defeat him. And Alyssara… Alyssara had transcended.
And I? I was just Arthur Nightingale.
My breathing grew heavier, each inhale jagged and uneven. I clutched at my chest, the guilt wrapping itself around my ribs like a vice. "Goddammit," I hissed, my voice cracking under the weight of it all.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the electric lights. I let the silence wash over me, sinking into it like a drowning man clinging to the last gasp of air. My hands trembled as they fell to the desk, my knuckles white from the force of my grip.
I couldn't let this break me. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.
But the question loomed, as it always did: 'How much longer can I stay this weak?'
Magnus was gone, and I couldn't change that. But I could honor him. I could rise, not just for myself, but for the legacy he left behind. For the promise I made to never let this world fall into chaos.
The fire that always burned faintly within me roared to life, rekindled by the suffocating weight of failure. The only way forward was through. If I was too weak to face them now, then I would grow stronger. If the gap was insurmountable, then I would build a bridge.
I would become the sovereign not just of Mythos Academy, but of this era. Magnus had believed in me, and I wouldn't let that belief die with him.
I straightened in my chair, the weight on my chest still present but lighter, more bearable. There was no time for mourning—not the way I wanted to. The world didn't stop spinning just because my heart felt like it had been torn in two.
"Rest easy, Magnus," I whispered, my voice firm. "I'll carry the rest from here."
The warp gate shimmered as I stepped through, the ethereal hum of its energy dissipating as my boots touched the polished stone floor of the Creighton estate. I straightened my coat, my eyes immediately scanning the vast laboratory that now stood as a monument to progress—aetherite's first proving ground.
Priscilla Creighton was easy to spot. Her tall frame and composed demeanor set her apart from the bustling researchers. She stood at the center of the lab, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her tailored coat, observing the glowing vial in her hand with an intensity that bordered on reverence.
"Priscilla," I called, striding toward her.
She didn't glance up, but her lips curled into the faintest smile. "Arthur," she said simply, her tone neutral. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
I stopped beside her, my gaze drifting to the vial she held. The liquid within shimmered like molten gold, catching the light with an otherworldly brilliance.
"How's it going?" I asked, gesturing to the vial.
Priscilla finally turned to me, her sapphire eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and exhaustion. "This," she said, holding up the vial like a trophy, "is the world's first SSS-rank elixir. I call it Amrita. Aetherite has made it possible to break through the limitations of beast blood elixirs. This little wonder can heal even Ascendant-rankers. It's... miraculous."
I blinked, taken aback by the revelation. "That's... incredible," I murmured, the weight of her words settling over me.
"It's more than incredible," she said, her voice tinged with excitement as she turned the vial in her fingers. "This is the pinnacle. The absolute limit of what aetherite can achieve in potions. Amrita isn't just a product—it's a declaration of the new era we're entering."
"What about other elixirs?" I asked, curiosity sparking.
Priscilla's grin widened, a rare flicker of raw enthusiasm breaking through her usual composed exterior. "Oh, we've developed plenty. Lower-tier elixirs, potions for all ranks up to White, and everything in between. The best part? Aetherite potions are not only superior in quality but also cheaper to produce. The old market doesn't stand a chance."
My brow furrowed. "Cheaper? Even with the current supply constraints?"
She nodded, her expression calculating. "The amounts of aetherite required are minuscule. We're talking a fraction of what's used for artifacts or other applications. With just one vial's worth of raw material, we can produce dozens of potions. Once you expand the supply chain and establish more mining operations, the market for traditional beast-blood elixirs will collapse under its own weight."
"And this isn't just about healing," she continued, leaning slightly closer as if sharing a secret. "I've already tested preliminary formulas for energy recovery, mana augmentation, and even specialized potions tailored for specific elemental affinities. Aetherite enhances everything."
"Potions to aid White-rankers near Integration, too?" I asked.
Priscilla inclined her head. "Naturally. These potions won't just be luxury items; they'll be essential tools for climbers and mages alike. Of course, they lose their efficacy beyond Integration, but that still leaves us with an enormous customer base."
The implications were staggering. The sheer reach of aetherite's potential was greater than even I had envisioned. It wasn't just a tool; it was a weapon—a weapon that could dismantle the old systems and build something entirely new in its place.
"And the supply?" I asked, shifting my focus.
Priscilla's grin dimmed slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. "That's where you come in. Right now, the supply is manageable, but if demand grows at the rate I expect, we'll need more—much more. We need more deposits, better refining methods, and faster processing facilities."
I nodded. "I'm already working on expanding mining operations. Kaelion is securing additional deposits on the moon, and the Creighton family has been instrumental in processing what we've extracted so far. But we'll need to scale up everything—logistics, transportation, storage—if we're going to keep up."
Priscilla tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. "And what about the Tower of Magic? Are they still in play?"
"For now," I said. "But their involvement is temporary. The Creighton estate will take over as the primary hub for aetherite processing once the infrastructure is solid. I trust you more with this than I do them."
Her lips twitched into a satisfied smile. "Good. Because once we fully dominate the potion market, we'll be ready to move into other industries—artifacts, transportation, even spell arrays. Aetherite isn't just the future, Arthur. It's our future."
I glanced back at the glowing vial in her hand, the light from Amrita reflecting in her eyes. For a moment, the weight of guilt and loss lifted, replaced by something else. Hope. Determination.
This wasn't just about power or profit. This was about building something new—something Magnus would have been proud of.
"Let's change the world," I said quietly.
Priscilla's smile widened. "Oh, we will."
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