Chapter Eighteen: Drawing Near

Patrick continued his usual arcane practice. Having just reached the sixth circle, he needed to consolidate his newfound mastery. He gathered a sphere of arcane energy in his palm, and under his mental manipulation, the internal movement of the energy became regulated, forming clear pathways—almost as if he were inscribing a runic glyph within the spell itself, resembling a composite spell.

Gradually, intricate patterns emerged within the arcane sphere. Patrick constructed an amplification array inside it, which worked splendidly. Arcane mimicry took effect, and a fireball materialized in his hand, radiating searing heat and casting a vivid orange glow.

“A marvelous composite spell—one that would astonish even the elves,” said Idonis, who had just entered. “Marshal Aurelia has ordered a general assembly. She especially asked me to come fetch you.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” Patrick looked up to see Idonis, dressed as ever in a formal crimson robe, exuding both authority and efficiency.

This time, the tower’s personnel had all gathered to deliberate the next move against the trolls.

Opinions abounded. Baron Sangunar advocated for an immediate offensive—marching straight into the Forest of Life, leveraging their momentum to uproot Sebwasa, then fortifying the shores of Lake Dalomir and, in a single stroke, bringing the entire forest under elven control.

Many supported Baron Sangunar’s approach. Such a campaign would allow the elves to claim all lands west of Lake Ellendar, eliminating any threats to the Eastern Temple standing proud along Salas Avenue.

“What’s your opinion, Patrick?” Aurelia turned to him, hoping for his counsel.

“Sebwasa must be eliminated—of that, there’s no doubt. The only question is when. The trolls, having just suffered a major defeat, will have reinforced their defenses. We know little about the Forest of Life and lack even a detailed map of Sebwasa’s domain. To advance rashly now would be folly.

“Without ample preparation, what are our chances of victory? I advise that now is not the time to invade the Forest of Life. Instead, we should intensify our troops’ training and coordinate with the reinforcements, while dispatching scouts into the forest to reconnoiter and chart the terrain. This will lay the groundwork for a future campaign against Sebwasa.”

Patrick’s primary intent was to minimize elven casualties. Though the population cost of war seemed negligible for now—after all, the high elves lived in comfort and had never worried about a drastic population decline—he knew better. Population might be a renewable resource, but with elven birth rates as they were (his own father had sired only two children, Patrick and his elder brother, in three millennia), it would be best to preserve every life possible. If the trolls had enough food, even a five-to-one exchange would favor them.

Patrick’s proposal won the approval of most present. Life at the Eastern Temple began returning to normal—the wards were lifted, and elven civilians started making their way home.

Patrick then approached Aurelia and Idonis with a request: before the council’s formal orders arrived, he wished to gain access to the high-circle arcane tomes in the Eastern Temple’s library. Since Patrick was not formally serving at the temple and had performed admirably in the recent battle, Idonis and Aurelia could hardly refuse.

Though this diversion and the battle with the trolls had not been part of Patrick’s original plans, he now saw the opportunity to further hone his arcane craft and deepen his understanding of magic.

In Silvermoon City, the social hierarchy was rigid—major clans controlled every aspect of life. Even if Patrick returned as a master from abroad, the other clans would never simply allow a new family to claim a share of the city’s power.

Patrick entered the library. The attendant handed him a copy of “The Synergy of Enchantment and Conjuration.” Conjuration, being the heart of arcane magic, was always worth further study.

He had only just begun reading when Aurelia entered.

“You’re as diligent as ever, Master Patrick. The mages of Silvermoon spend their days lost in salons and parties, building their social networks. You are quite different from them,” Aurelia remarked.

“The truly wise arcanist never squanders time. There’s so much knowledge I must master; I cannot afford to waste a single moment,” Patrick replied, glancing up at Aurelia. Arcane energy shimmered in his gaze, and now fully recovered, his body radiated power—arcane essence emanating from him at every moment.

Aurelia moistened her lips, her red mouth both fiery and gentle, brilliant yet soft; her smile radiant, her teeth pristine; she had not yet spoken, but her breath was as fragrant as orchids.

Patrick found himself briefly captivated.

“Are you well-versed in enchantment?” Aurelia’s words brought him back to reality.

“Hmm?”

“Could you add an enchantment to my Bow of the Windwalker? After the last battle, the magical circuits seem damaged—it no longer responds to enchantment.”

Aurelia unstrapped her bow and placed it on Patrick’s table.

Patrick picked up the longbow. The craftsmanship was exquisite; only a shallow groove on the side revealed any blemish, likely from a sharp weapon. The bow was already enchanted with agility, lightness, and potent eagle-eye—an impeccable set of enchantments, glowing with dazzling magical light.

Aurelia had also brought a trove of arcane crystals, arcane dust, and planar essence—clearly, she had come prepared.

After several days of study, Patrick decided to follow the existing enchantment patterns on the bow, seamlessly integrating new magic. He planned to link the old magical sigils with two new enchantments: Mongoose and Execution, both of which he knew well from the TBC era.

For these two enchantments, Allen considered them mere child’s play.

With an engraving ray summoned in his hand and Allen’s guidance, Patrick inscribed the magical circuit on the bow, filling it with arcane dust. He then engraved the larger magical sigils and arcane nodes, fusing planar essence and prismatic shards, and finally channeled the magic from the arcane crystals into the markings.

Patrick’s enchantment was flawless—the resulting magical effects were enough to capture anyone’s attention.

Now the bow radiated with arcs of lightning, blue light swirling and shooting outward, flecks of dark energy particles swirling in the glow. When Patrick tested the bow in his hand, its brilliance was almost blinding.

When he returned the bow to Aurelia, her delight was unmistakable—her eyes sparkled with joy.

At her request, Patrick also inscribed his magical signature onto the bow. He focused his mind, channeling his will, and etched “Patrick Cabron” along the side, the name itself flowing with arcane energy—striking and impossible to ignore.