Chapter Seventeen: Awakening

It truly came as a surprise to Patrick just how formidable those so-called Wild Gods were, far exceeding his expectations. He had always assumed the animal deities of the trolls were weak and impotent, never imagining that their divine power could also manifest spiritual energy into reality. This suggested that troll spellcasters possessed abilities not unlike those of mages. Patrick recalled Malakas, the Fifth Witch Lord of Zul’Aman, who could ensnare even the undead, and whose soul-draining powers had been a thorny problem in the past.

In this recent battle, Patrick had recklessly cast a high-level arcane spell, forcibly constructing its form with his own mind. He was nearly drained to a husk by the spell’s model, and if Allen hadn’t intervened to supply the necessary mana, Patrick doubted he would have survived. Using such powerful spells beyond one’s capacity always came at a price: if mana proved insufficient, a half-formed spell would begin to devour the caster’s mental strength, even their life force and soul, treating them as fuel. Attempting such a feat was little different from suicide.

Patrick survived only because Allen had stored vast reserves of energy. His mind was still a tangled mess, his head pounding as if it had been struck with a hammer. When he tried to rise from the bed, he found his body unresponsive, beyond his control.

“You still cannot control your body. Your mind is too depleted to manage arcane energies, which are now surging uncontrollably from within you.”

“Very well…” Patrick steadied his spirit and slipped into a profound state of meditation. The ordeal had sparked new insights into his arcane studies. He let his consciousness relax and carefully extend outward. Although his mental strength had been severely depleted, Allen’s timely assistance meant he suffered no lasting harm—only a deep emptiness remained.

As his mind expanded, Patrick sensed Aurelia nearby. “How much longer until you awaken?” he could feel her heart silently wishing for his recovery.

He continued his spiritual exploration. The world outside was shrouded in mist within his perception, and he could only slowly probe, gradually clearing away the fog to sense the elves and the environment beyond. Feedback from his mental waves revealed that Hawksbill and his group had completed their handover, new reinforcements from Silvermoon had arrived, and the crisis at the Eastern Sanctuary was temporarily averted—though it would now demand much greater defensive strength.

Patrick’s mental power began to surge, drawing arcane particles from the surroundings into his body. He felt the world within his sea of consciousness bloom with color, as if a black-and-white image had become vivid and alive. Time lost all meaning as arcane energy, drawn by his mental force, flowed back into his body in an endless stream, even the ley lines responding to his call. His spirit was recovering at last.

Patrick examined his sea of consciousness. The framework of a new world was taking shape, and the spiritual transformation of reality had found its first form. He delved deeper, feeling his spirit reaching fullness and extending outward to sense the real world. His mana surged, the leakage of arcane energy ceased, and he was on the verge of ascending.

“So soon?” Even Patrick was surprised—it hadn’t been long since his last advance to the fifth circle.

He didn’t force anything; as the saying goes, a boat will straighten out when it reaches the bridge. Patrick had always focused on gradually accumulating arcane energy, spell mastery, and mental discipline.

Now mostly restored, Patrick rose and stretched, savoring the freshness of air he’d been denied. “Good morning, everyone!” he greeted as he entered the great hall of the Eastern Sanctuary.

“You’re awake! How’s your recovery?” Aurelia asked, a note of concern in her voice.

“I’m almost fully recovered. And this is…?” Patrick glanced at the unfamiliar face nearby.

“This is Baron Sanguinar, commander of the reinforcements. The two behind him are Lanaea Sanguinar and Varela Sanguinar,” Aurelia introduced. “Your help in the last battle was invaluable. The report has already been sent to the Silvermoon Council, and I expect their reply will come soon.”

“Very well. I’ll head to the mage quarters in the tower—I need some spell materials.”

He left the hall and made his way there.

“Master Patrick, you’re awake?” Idonis exclaimed in surprise. “And you’ve advanced again?”

“Yes. I need some Dreamleaf and Emperor’s Grass. Do you have any?”

“We do. I’ll have a servant bring them to you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Patrick replied.

“We’re deeply grateful for your presence in the last battle,” Idonis said respectfully, bowing his head. “Candiris and I owe you much.”

Patrick could sense the vibrant arcane energy flowing within Idonis—a mage of remarkable talent. Both Idonis and Candiris, who had entered the Forest of Life with Patrick, were familiar names; in his previous life, they had been among the archmages presiding over the Battle of the Wraiths.

With the Dreamleaf and Emperor’s Grass in hand, Patrick quickly prepared a mental elixir to hasten his return to peak form. As a scion of a renowned alchemist family, potion-making was second nature to him.

Once fully restored, Patrick returned to his study to resume his arcane studies. He had originally planned to seek opportunities in Dalaran but had ended up joining Aurelia’s forces along the way.

Now at the sixth circle, Patrick maintained an extended state of spiritual perception—a rigorous exercise for the mind, and an efficient use of his time. He was determined to continue his training without pause.

Back in his study, Patrick prepared for his arcane practice. He had just sat down when there was a knock at the door; Aurelia entered.

“You are the most diligent mage I have ever met. Nowhere in all Quel’thalas could one find your equal,” Aurelia said, and her praise was genuine.

The elven woman settled languidly on the sofa, her slender waist exposed, one leg draped over the other, the hem of her ranger skirt revealing a sweep of snowy thigh—so dazzling it nearly unsettled Patrick.

He brewed a cup of blood thistle tea and set it before Aurelia. “Is there something you need?” he asked.

Aurelia lifted the tea to her lips and looked at him. “When did you advance?”

“During my unconsciousness. Forcing that spell drained my spirit, but it also broke the shackles on my mana. As my mind recovered, I focused on restoring my magical power.”

“I sensed the arcane energy converging on you earlier. So that was you recovering,” Aurelia replied, her ears twitching gently. “I’ve submitted a request to the council to appoint you as special advisor to the Eastern Sanctuary. You’re to remain here until this campaign is done. What are your plans?”

“I’ll gladly accept. There is still much at the Eastern Sanctuary I have yet to learn—staying on is an opportunity for growth.”

Aurelia nodded in satisfaction and rose to take her leave.