Chapter 319 Integration of the Fallen Horn

After channeling his mental energy and a stream of silvery light into the golden horn, visions unfolded before Shaoke: a lone colossal beast traversing barren lands, clashing with other titanic creatures—scenes he had glimpsed before, now seamlessly interwoven and flashing rapidly through his consciousness. Finally, the vision froze on a female figure over a thousand meters tall, holding an unfamiliar horn in one hand, tracing intricate patterns in the air while chanting in an unknown tongue.

At the sight, Shaoke suppressed his dread of the altar’s imminent collapse and forced himself to memorize the simple glyphs hovering in the void—yet this effort triggered excruciating pain.

The glyph emitted a gentle radiance, pacifying the lightning bolts tearing across the sky and sealing the fissures splitting the earth. Then it spun violently, sharpening the entire vision. Shaoke felt his mental energy and magical power surge uncontrollably into the golden horn. Suddenly, the glyph shattered—and the towering woman appeared to sense something. She glanced upward in bewilderment, then gathered several other giants and marched deeper into the canyon, horns in tow.

Once her form vanished, the torrential drain of magic and mental energy ceased abruptly.

No further visions remained—only the quietly burning altar and the swirling vortex formed by alchemical substances.

Letting out a long breath, Shaoke turned his focus inward to meditation; the recent depletion had left his inner realm nearly barren.

After meditating, he concentrated again on the blazing altar, using his mental energy to perceive the drifting magical inscriptions and incantations emanating from it—deepening his grasp of the Ancient Magic Scripts and catching fleeting glimpses of ancient spellcasters locked in combat.

When he finished this perception and prepared to withdraw from the meditation space, an utterly alien script materialized before him: large, threadlike, and softly luminous with silvery light. Though puzzled, he extended his mental energy to probe it.

The attempt backfired. His mental energy couldn’t make contact—the silvery script swiftly evaded the Arcane Fire’s searing reach, drifted slowly across the meditation space, and was absorbed by the alchemical vortex. Unlike other scripts, it remained unbroken, floating serenely until—after an indeterminate span—it merged into the wall of the meditation space under Shaoke’s tense observation.

That fusion violently expelled him from the meditation space. As the strange character fused with the wall, a flood of hazy, fragmented images flooded his mind. Even with his formidable mental resilience, the sudden influx sent violent ripples through his inner realm. Fortunately, the Arcane Fire enveloping the altar flared outward, its silvery light soothing the turbulence.

Once stabilized, Shaoke recognized these images as echoes of those previously transmitted by the golden horn—some entirely new to him. He didn’t pause to examine them closely but re-entered the meditation space to investigate further.

This time, he noticed an anomaly: thirteen unusual scripts were etched at the very base of the altar—each glowing faintly silver, encircled by intricate patterns. A cursory analysis confirmed they originated from the golden horn.

Closer inspection revealed they were slowly siphoning his mental energy and magical power. He estimated that once saturated, they would detach from the altar like earlier scripts and embed themselves into his meditation space—triggering unpredictable transformations.

Powerless to halt this enigmatic process, Shaoke reluctantly withdrew. Only then did he realize the golden horn hanging from his chest had vanished. He surmised it had somehow merged with his altar through unknown means. Having never encountered such a phenomenon, he could only hope it signaled a favorable turn—a stroke of luck for a transmigrator. Of course, that was little more than self-reassurance.

Judging by the dwindling candles nearby, dawn was near. Suppressing his doubts, he lay down and fell asleep—so exhausted from prolonged mental strain that he failed to notice Mage Roman slipping in later to hold him as he slept.

When Shaoke awoke, Mage Roman and the Cleric had prepared a lavish breakfast. As usual, she exchanged brief pleasantries with him, kissed his cheek, and departed to teach her young students. She’d once boasted to Mage Roman that she’d train several formidable spellcasters for Shaoke to witness—so she now pursued that goal with unwavering dedication.

“The fallen horn is gone,” Mage Roman murmured softly after Lan Wei’er left. Shaoke hesitated, then claimed he’d stowed it away—wearing it was inconvenient. Naturally, neither the Cleric nor Mage Roman believed him, yet the two female spellcasters, out of mutual understanding, chose not to press further—knowing well that everyone, especially high-rank mages, guarded their secrets.

An awkward silence followed Shaoke’s reply. To break it, he recounted the giant-like figure he’d witnessed through the horn and asked Mage Roman for clarification. The Cleric listened intently, then frowned in contemplation.

“They must be the ancestors of today’s Savage Giants,” she finally offered. She didn’t care where Shaoke had seen them—she knew this male mage would never disclose such matters.

“Ancestors of Savage Giants?” Shaoke recalled every text he’d read—none mentioned such beings. He found the Cleric’s claim hard to accept: modern Savage Giants stood at most ten meters tall, dwarfed by the thousand-meter colossi he’d seen.

“It’s said Savage Giants existed in the Primeval Age—but I’ve never encountered any verified records,” Mage Roman mused, frowning. “Still, based on your description, certain fundamental traits do bear resemblance.”

Under this topic, the three resumed their lively conversation and debate until it was time for their next meeting.

The Rulers and over a dozen Eighth-order beings spent another day deliberating within the mage tower, ultimately finalizing the operation plan. Then they returned to their respective territories—not only preparing for the impending battle but also gathering rare magical materials to trade with Shaoke.

As the Eighth-Tier Female Mage departed, she cast Shaoke a peculiar glance, frowned deeply for a long moment, and left. Over a dozen other Eighth-order Practitioners did likewise—leaving Shaoke bewildered, with no one to question. Other rulers, assuming Shaoke had offended these elite figures, secretly rejoiced.

To seize full control of the Fallen Academy’s capital, Shaoke and his allied organizations undertook exhaustive, frantic preparations. Vast quantities of alchemical substances were stockpiled; numerous physicians and mercenary bands were either forcibly recruited or subdued. Only when the first cohort of young Fallen Academy spellcasters mastered First-level spells—such as Fireball—did the campaign for dominance commence. Shaoke and his allies had spent six years preparing for this conflict. Notably, Lan Wei’er successfully ascended to Fourth-Tier Mage status the night before the battle began.

This war wasn’t waged solely by the Blue Feather Empire—other empires made parallel preparations. The tensions among Shaoke’s factions couldn’t remain fully concealed, and the frequent visits and persuasion efforts by Eighth-order beings further consolidated internal alliances within each empire.

To Shaoke, the battle seemed almost absurdly simplistic. The five empires controlling the largest swaths of the Fallen Academy capital suddenly united to obliterate rival factions—erasing all traces of their existence. Only afterward did hostilities gradually reignite among those five empires.

Though Shaoke had long grasped the broad strategy, he still felt baffled and unsettled. When the battle erupted, the Blue Feather Empire unexpectedly deployed large numbers of Wandering Mage Alliance members and other affiliated groups into the fray—mirroring actions taken by the other empires.

Yet the battlefield lay not within the Fallen Academy capital—but deep inside a vast mountain forest in the Desasi Empire. To outsiders unaware of the true stakes, victory hinged on capturing and holding a laboratory atop a remote peak. But Shaoke and the other rulers knew the real determinant: the number of alliance-affiliated participants engaged in the battle.