Once back in his room, Erevan thought it would be good to test the limits of his regression.
He moved his bed towards the door of his chamber to create more space. Sitting in the center of his room, Erevan closed his eyes, focusing. He recalled the necromancy lessons he had once studied at the Imperial Academy. Taking a deep breath, he delved into the inner darkness of his own will, seeking a connection with the flows of death. He sought in the air the resource every mage needed: Mana.
[Mana]: Represented as a flow continually pouring into the air, it allows those who sense and perceive it to harness the magical resources available in the world and use the magic present in their circles.
He concentrated on the pattern of the first necromantic magic circle, striving to visualize it with crystalline clarity. Mana began to gather around him faintly but perceptibly, a dark glow emanating from his trembling palms.
His murmured incantations grew louder, more assured. The runic symbols he inscribed on his chamber floor were a means to utilize necromantic force despite his poor 1st circle. He settled on etching the EIHWAZ rune, enabling him to tap into the energies of death and life. It was represented by a yew branch, symbolizing the yew's toxicity and durability. The shadows seemed to stir, responding to his call, as a vague form began to take shape before him.
[Runes]: A type of magic accessible for beings of the 6th circle or higher that allows the use of magic through symbols over a larger area and with the same or better efficiency based on the mage's mastery.
An electric charge ran through his body as he saw the 1st circle appear on his hand and, amidst the dark smoke curls, the bones of a skeleton. The creature stood there, a pale and eerie specter, holding a short sword in its bony hands.
[Remaining summons: 4/5]
Erevan held his breath, excited by his success. He had managed to summon an undead being, a mere skeleton. But for a 1st circle necromancer, it was extraordinary, perhaps even unthinkable. It was a significant step forward for him, a sign that his connection with necromantic magic was rekindling.
The bony creature seemed to wait, obedient to its new master's will. Erevan looked at his skeleton with a mix of astonishment and satisfaction, aware of the long path ahead to regain his full power.
However, he was relieved to realize he could manifest a form of control over magic again, even after losing his magical circles. It was the start of his redemption, a glimmer of hope in a world of mysteries and uncertainties.
[The skeleton returns to the void...]
Eager to swiftly reclaim his immense former power, Erevan promptly began awakening the 2nd necromantic circle.
Seated cross-legged on the runic symbols at the center of his chamber, surrounded by lit candles casting dancing shadows on the walls, he had spent weeks, even months, mentally preparing for this moment in his life, delving into the necromantic arcana to understand and master the second circle. Today, it was just another test for him.
He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to delve into the depths of death. His hands trembled slightly with excitement, yet he focused on the task at hand. He recalled the teachings before his regression and the need for inner mastery to reach the second circle.
His consciousness slowly ascended, exploring the mystical flows around him. He delved into memories of his past studies, feeling the emotions and knowledge accumulated over the years.
In a low voice, he recited incantations seemingly ingrained in his very being, feeling the cursed energies respond to his call. The words resonated in the room, filled with power and force.
Gradually, a pale, shimmering glow appeared on his palms. The outlines of the second circle began to form, rising from his skin in a symphony of lines and symbols.
The atmosphere became electric. Erevan felt the power gather around him, releasing a thrill of excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. He was about to take a new step in his vengeance.
The circle stabilized, a dark and mysterious glow emanating from his palms. He could sense the flow of power awakening within him, heightened balance, a deeper connection with the necromantic arcana.
Breathless, he gazed at the symbols engraved on his hands. It was time to move to the next stage.
He stood before his old mirror, carefully examining the palms of his hands. The magical circles, once evident and bright, were now concealed, invisible to the naked eye. It was the result of the concealment incantation he had learned during his studies at the Imperial Academy.
He focused, reciting in a low voice, in a language known to few: Solesh, an ancient language from 3000 years ago used by archmages of that time to cast metaphysical spells, whose possibilities are such that no one can imagine. The series of mystical words that emerged from his mouth caused an abnormal magical condensation in the air:
The magical flows coursing within him began to vibrate, responding to his call. A subtle energy escaped from his palms, as if a fine magical mist enveloped them.
As the ritual progressed, the magical circles, once etched on his skin, began to conceal themselves. They faded slowly, merging into the natural texture of his hands, becoming undetectable to the ordinary eye.
It was a skill he had perfected over time, a way to hide his magical potential from prying eyes. The circles were still there, always ready to be summoned, but hidden from curious glances that might seek to unveil his secrets.
Stepping back from the mirror, a satisfied smile spread across his lips. His power was now concealed behind a barrier of subtle yet potent magic, waiting to be unleashed by his desire and will. The skeleton still lingered in the corner of the room, awaiting its master's orders.
He was now ready to depart for the Imperial Academy.