Chapter 562: Opening Ceremony

Step!

“Wow,” gasped Eva, momentarily stunned by the grandeur of the scene unfolding before us as we stepped out of the carriage.

It was evening, the sky ablaze with hues of crimson and gold, as I returned once more to the towering silhouette of the Archmage’s spire,

However, tonight, the tower’s shadow will stand as a mere backdrop to the spectacle. The grand opening ceremony will unfold outside its majestic gates beneath the evening sky.

This grand stage, crafted entirely of magic, every shimmering detail seemed alive with arcane brilliance. Just beholding it was enough to leave one breathless, overwhelmed by awe. The sheer magnitude of the event was staggering—millions of people filled the arena, itself a masterpiece of magical construction. It was a feat of such immense scale and complexity that only a select few could hope to achieve.

The entire venue was jam-packed, a sea of anticipation and excitement. Tickets for this extraordinary event had been sold out years in advance.

“Lord Silver, please,” said the guide team leader.

We followed her, bearing the weight of millions of people looking at us. It felt overwhelming.

A staggering two and a half million people filled the arena, seated on intricate chairs crafted entirely of shimmering light.

I wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the crowd. The thought struck me like a jest of the universe—here sat a gathering so vast that even a fifth of their number would outmatch the entire population under my rule.

I watched them as they watched me. The sheer weight of their gazes was overwhelming. Yet, amidst the pressure, I couldn’t deny it—I liked it.

Soon, we begin to climb toward the reserved suite. Passing rows of other suites.

They are for masters of legacies, powerful nobles, powerhouses, and other notable people.

I saw many familiar people. Miss Lindgren, Gale, and even Viscount Luran.

I am excited about his upcoming duel and have already booked seats.

“Lord Silver, your suite,” said the guide as we reached the destination. Despite being made of magic, it’s beautiful and has all the finest amenities, including catering.

Unlike the halls earlier, the suites are named here. The text ‘Velvet Garden’ is floating over it in bold letters.

Also, all the people from my entourage were sitting there, including my family and the spots I had given to others.

“Lord Silver,” they got up and greeted me as I entered the suite.

“Everyone,” I replied, sitting on the red chair, with Margaux sitting to my left and my sister sitting to my right.

Unlike the common seats, which are made of magic, the seats in the suite are real ones, and they are comfortable. The red one for the masters is big and very comfortable.

I needed it; the exhaustion of the long walk weighed on me.

A wheelchair would have made things easier, no doubt, but with millions of eyes upon me, I couldn’t allow myself such a concession. Despite the weariness, the pride and honor of standing tall demanded that I push forward.

“I hope your journey has been well, Granduncle Everette, Selina?” I asked with both curiosity and concern. They came with the party of Namdar through the sea route.

“Our journey was smooth, but I heard yours was not,” Granduncle Everette remarked, his gaze shifting between me and my sister.

“It was just a slight hiccup, nothing more,” I replied, brushing it off.

He turned to my sister, seeking clarification, but she simply smiled at him.

Reading the conversation, Selina changed the subject with enthusiasm. “Archmage City is truly amazing. I leveled up just by being here,” she said, her voice brimming with awe. She was likely referring to her mage class.

It may be strange outside, but not here. Some lucky mages get epiphanies just experiencing it.

“Congratulations,” replied my sister. I congratulate her as well.

I made small talk while looking at the people still arriving. Lots of important people have come.

Powerful nobles, kings, and figures of legend filled the arena. I even caught whispers in the air that the mistress of the Melodious Coast, the Archmage of the Herald Continent, had arrived.

“These pitiful souls, visiting continent to continent to save their legacy,” said Margaux, looking at a familiar elf in his mid-thirties and entourage.

“Why pitiful, Miss Swan? He has a legacy,” asked Granduncle.

I smiled. So, has Margaux and Varza.

“Tranquill Bathhouse, a Grade III legacy, which became subject to Wander’s Inn, a Grade IV legacy, hundred and forty years ago,”

“It is a beneficial arrangement for both. Tranquill Bathhouse got a long extension, larger emotion slate, and other benefits,”

“While Wander’s Inn and its hosts got Tranquil Bathhouse and its Masters Skills, along with its abilities,” she replied before pausing.

“They had a good run of one and a half-century, but now the Master of Wander’s Inn is feeling his end and wants to cut off Tranquill Bathhouse to lessen the pressure,”

“Which Tranquill Bathhouse won’t survive. It will kill the legacy, absolutely,” she explained.

“There is nothing pitiful about it. As you had said, headmistress, they had a century and a half of extra time. They should be happy with the time gained,” said Baron Husk.

Once more, we smiled.

“You missed the point, my lord. I am saying they are pitiful because they are still keeping hope in their heart,”

“They want to latch on to another Grade IV or above legacy and are meeting masters across the world for it.”

“They are unlikely to succeed, but they are still running around having that desperate hope in their heart,” she replied.

Hope is good, but not always.

Being a subject gave it a long life. The original master died a hundred and thirty years ago, but now it is being cut loose, and they are searching for another legacy.

Which is unlikely to happen.

Because when it separates, its condition will be very delicate. It will split from the throne, which has overseen it for over a century.

It will start dying almost immediately. Within a day, it will be entirely dead.

This will make things dangerous for the throne that wants to take it. If it fails, it will suffer damage and contamination from the subject’s legacy.

This risk stops most thrones. It is why thrones rarely take on the subjects of other thrones.

Still, these masters roam around the world in hope.

From what I heard, five people like him have come here. Four are Grade III legacies, while one is from Grade IV.

“I have a question,” said my sister. “Yes, my lady,” replied Margaux.

“I heard separating subjects is damaging for the thrones as well. So, by that logic, separating the subjects should quicken the demise of Thrones instead of prolonging it?” she asked.

Leila is intelligent, as always.

“You are right, my lady, but you have to understand. The weight of the subject legacy on the throne is massive.”

“Compared to it, the damage of separation is small and has a possibility to heal,” replied Margaux.

“If subjects create such problems, then why do thrones have them?” asked Husk.

When I heard the question, I wanted to laugh. Given his position, he should understand the reason better than anyone else.

“Because, my lord. Having a subject gives them another domain, which they have absolute control over, superseding the original master,” replied Margaux.

“Not to mention, the skills of subject legacy, its specialty, and also the skills of its master, all of it makes the process quite desirable,” she added.

There is another outside reason: politics.

Sometimes, Sovereigns force thrones to make a subject. Especially if the subject’s legacy is fading within their kingdom or in its final years.”

It increases the life of the subject legacy and the harvest of emotion essence.

“I wish we had advanced to a throne. Tranquill Bathhouse would have been an excellent addition to us,” said Margaux in privacy.

“Yes,” I said, sighing with the same sentiments.

She does not mean gaining another domain. Velvet Garden is big enough for us, but new skills and specialties will be needed.

Tranquill Bathhouse is a great legacy. It is a bathhouse that focuses on rejuvenation and healing. Velvet Garden would have benefited tremendously, as it aligned with the spa we have.

One thought entered my mind, but I crushed it just as it came.

It is far too dangerous.

Minutes passed in discussion while we watched more people arriving and sitting in their booths.

Finally, the Archmage made his entrance. He wasn’t alone; behind him were the five grand mages.

I spotted Grand Mage Asin, whom I would meet in a few days for an important discussion, and Grand Alwatyr, who had welcomed me earlier.

Hun!

They sat down when a gentle drizzle started, and the breeze moved in a melodious sound.

“Can you hear it?” asked Selina.

I nodded and saw a woman appearing on the seat beside the Archmage.

She is a dwarf woman with thick blond hair. Her age is hard to determine, but she looked to be in her late forties to early fifties.

“Mistress of Melodious Coast, she did come,” said Leila, looking at the Archmage of Herald Continent.

She is a true Archmage. Unlike the Archmage of Archmage City, it is the title the master of Archmage Tower gets.

He might not be a true archmage, but he isn’t weak.

The subtle entrance wasn’t as grand as one would expect from one of the world’s most powerful people.

She has the power that doesn’t need a grand entrance.

Additional people arrived and sat beside the Archmage—the representatives of Spirits and Titans, along with a Masters of Grade VI legacy.

There was a silence for a few seconds before the band began to ring out through the arena.

“His Majesty Caius Magnus Lysander, King of Ilazard,” A herald announced as the King of Ilazard made his entrance.

He is a middle-aged man, handsome but slightly overweight.

He is the most relaxed king in the world, as no enemy has ever attacked his kingdom.

Kingdoms disappeared, and boundaries changed for thousands of years, but Ilazard never did, after the Archmage Tower rose.

Not because it is powerful, but because they are the puppet of the most powerful.

The Kingdom of Ilazad is controlled by Archmage City. It always has been.

The man walked over and sat beside the archmage.

A few minutes later, two more kings and one queen came. Filling all the seats beside Archmage.

A minute later. It was seven, and the loud drums rang out.

At that exact moment, the archmage tower lit up. A hundred and two human-sized balls of energy shot out from it.

I know the exact number: the number of legacies on the continent.

They reached the arena and spread to all sides before transforming into massive flags. Each flag shows the emblem of the legacy.

“There is ours,” said Varza proudly, pointing at the flag of Velvet Garden.

It is massive and beautiful.

Every person could see them clearly. These flags will remain there till the end of the synod conclave.

I turned to the other flags.

Each flag is the same size and shape. Here, they have not been divided by grade.

I was looking at the flags when the bright light rose in the center. When it disappeared, the Archmage was standing there.

Right at seven.

“Dear members of the synod and guests from near and far, I welcome you all to Archmage City,” the voice resonated, calm yet assertive, echoing through the arena.

“This is the Conclave—a meeting of minds, a forging of destinies.”

“Here, amidst these hallowed grounds, we do not celebrate individuals. We celebrate the legacies—the lifeblood of our world, the force that binds us to one another, the land beneath our feet, and the stars above.”

“The Conclave is more than an assembly. It is a reminder that no legacy stands alone. That our differences—of language, tradition, and belief—are not barriers but strengths,” he proclaimed, his voice filled with such conviction that it seemed to pierce through the crowd, reaching into the very core of each listener’s heart.

“Yet I will not stand here and claim that the path ahead is free of shadows,” he continued, his tone deepening with gravity.

“Forces that seek to unravel what we have built will rise. They will try to divide us, pit us against one another, but I tell you this,” he said, pausing for effect, his gaze sweeping across the assembly, “So long as we stand united, so long as we hold true to our shared purpose, no darkness can extinguish our light. No matter how great it is!”

The words rang out, powerful and unwavering, like a rallying cry that resonated deep within the soul.

“Today, we gather. Tomorrow, we ascend. The world is watching. Let it witness our greatness!” The declaration echoed through the air, a promise that transcended time, carrying with it the weight of a legacy that would not be so easily undone.

He finished with a roar, his voice so powerful that every hair on my body stood on end. The energy in the air seemed to crackle, electrified by his words.

Immediately, the entire arena rose to its feet, a thunderous applause cascading through the crowd. The sound was overwhelming, a unified expression of admiration and respect for the man who had stirred something deep within them all.

His speech had elements of the earlier one—the warning, the insinuation of looming threats—but there was something else, something brighter—a deep sense of optimism.

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