In the history of the Roland Empire, a renowned emperor once uttered an iconic declaration:
"The Empire's Code of Laws is sacred and inviolable! Within the bounds of the Empire, all must strictly adhere to its statutes."
This emperor would go on to usher in the most glorious era in the Empire's history, marked by rigorous law enforcement and unshakable governance.
However, it is also said that alongside his celebrated proclamation, the emperor added a private caveat—one that was never officially documented but widely circulated through various means:
"Everyone must obey the Empire's laws, but there are two exceptions. The first is the emperor himself, for imperial authority may, in certain circumstances, transcend the law. The second… is the magicians."
Powerful magicians often possess abilities far beyond the comprehension of ordinary mortals. At their peak, they can move mountains and drain seas, reshaping the destiny of entire nations. Historical records describe such overwhelming power as godlike, their presence so formidable that even gazing upon them is daunting.
These extraordinary individuals can level mountains with a wave of their hand, fill seas with sand, summon storms and blizzards, or scorch plains into barren deserts under a blazing sun. They can annihilate armies and wreak havoc so catastrophic it might obliterate a small kingdom in mere moments.
For beings of such unimaginable power, mundane legal systems hold little sway. To demand that such titans abide by the laws of mortals is, quite simply, unrealistic.
Even excluding the legendary figures whose might approaches that of deities, the mere skirmish between two ordinary magicians is enough to cause calamities, often leveling entire cities.
Before the continent's unification, during an era of chaos and strife, duels between magicians could obliterate city-states. Though large-scale conflicts subsided following the establishment of the mighty and unified Roland Empire, historical records still recount instances of magicians' private battles "incidentally" destroying towns and villages.
Remarkably, the Empire's laws have never explicitly prohibited magicians from dueling in public, although commoners are subject to regulations against public brawls. Magicians, however, are conspicuously exempt.
Even the Mage Guild merely advises magicians to avoid resolving personal disputes in densely populated areas—advice, not a mandate. The guild's agreement with the Empire dictates that any prosecution or punishment of magicians at the intermediate level or above, barring treason, requires a joint tribunal involving the Empire, the Mage Guild, and the Temple of Light. Without this triad's consensus, no magician of such rank may be detained or sentenced.
Over centuries of imperial history, no intermediate or higher-level magician has ever been punished under the law—an unequivocal testament to their unique status above the ordinary populace.
To the common folk, magicians are an awe-inspiring, almost untouchable class of beings, wielding extraordinary power and autonomy. Their actions, whether virtuous or malevolent, often follow their whims, unchecked by conventional authority. Thus, magicians evoke both reverence and an even greater measure of fear.
That night, nearly every resident of Halfhorn City was violently jolted awake by a tumultuous uproar.
The intense tremors threw many from their beds. Lights swung wildly, wooden doors creaked ominously, and countless terrified citizens stumbled outside, unable to find their footing amidst the quakes.
Emerging into the streets, they were greeted by a sky lit with blinding flashes, the night torn apart by bursts of light. From the distance came a bestial roar—primal and unnerving, striking fear deep into their hearts.
Waves of tremors rippled through the city, as if heralding some apocalyptic event. The northern city wall crumbled under the relentless shaking, and its collapse triggered an even greater wave of panic among the citizens.
In the direction of Halfhorn Mountain, two colossal orbs of light—one silver, the other fiery red—clashed with escalating ferocity. Each collision unleashed dazzling brilliance, illuminating the darkness and rendering the moon's glow insignificant.
The deafening booms that accompanied these flashes echoed like thunderclaps, shaking the very core of those who heard them. The guards stationed in the city, outnumbered and as fearful as the residents, were powerless to maintain order.
Reports soon arrived from the garrison outside the city: the camp had been devastated. Soldiers lay unconscious, many injured, and even the esteemed Knight Span was gravely wounded. The scene was one of chaos, as though the camp had been savaged by some monstrous force.
Amidst the mounting terror, a chilling cry rang out from the high ground:
"The mountain! Halfhorn Mountain has collapsed!"
The news spread like wildfire. Indeed, the once-familiar silhouette of Halfhorn Mountain had vanished, reduced to a heap of rubble. It was as if the mighty peak had been struck by an unseen hand and shattered into dust.
The battle raged through the night, the violent flashes visible for miles, the tremors felt across great distances. Residents clung to the hope of dawn, desperate for the nightmare to end.
Finally, as the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon, the chaos subsided. The blinding lights and terrifying booms ceased, leaving behind an eerie silence.
At the break of dawn, the injured soldiers and knights began to regain consciousness. Among them was Lady Jorlin, whose wounds from the previous day's battle had spared her the nighttime devastation. With her strength still depleted, she awoke first, followed by the injured Knights Robert and Span.
Upon learning that the young master of the Rolin family and the enigmatic sorceress were both missing, panic set in. The knights and their guards hastened to Halfhorn Mountain, determined to uncover the truth behind the cataclysm.
What they found left even the most seasoned warriors speechless.
Once a verdant mountain range teeming with life, Halfhorn Mountain was now a wasteland—a colossal scar upon the land. It was as though an otherworldly force had swept through, obliterating all in its path.
The knights could only gape in disbelief, the horrifying scene before them erasing all doubts. What had transpired here was no ordinary battle. It was a cataclysm, a reminder of the unfathomable power wielded by those who dwelled above the laws of men.After waiting for over an hour, it seemed that the nameless catastrophe had finally come to an end. Only then did the trembling hearts of the people gradually find solace.
Knight Span and his companions, who had been rescued by soldiers seeking aid from the city's garrison last night, finally awoke, along with Robert and the others.
They had stood no chance against the overwhelming might of the sorceress and were swiftly struck down. In the aftermath, the entire hall collapsed under the sorceress's ice magic, further injuring several who were already incapacitated.
The first to regain consciousness was the female knight, Jorlyn. Having been gravely injured in the daytime skirmish and weakened by excessive blood loss, she had been resting under the effects of sedatives provided by Solskjaer. Ironically, her inability to fight during the nocturnal ambush spared her from further harm. Though awake, her frailty was evident—lost blood could not be replaced in mere hours.
Robert awoke next, followed by Knight Span and the Rowlin family guards. Upon discovering that their young lord and the fearsome female assailant were nowhere to be found, a surge of panic swept over them.
Learning the situation from nearby residents, the injured Robert, despite his scorched wounds, rallied his remaining strength. Accompanied by a few lightly injured men, he prepared a carriage and set off for Half-Horn Mountain. Span, devastated by the news of the young lord's disappearance, could do nothing but command the still-capable garrison soldiers to follow Robert. According to accounts, the terrifying female attacker might have fled toward Half-Horn Mountain.
Simultaneously, Span dispatched riders to the spring training camp for reinforcements and reported the events at Half-Horn City to the governor's office in Lier Province.
While Span was gripped by concerns over his career prospects, Robert and Jorlyn reached the now-devastated Half-Horn Mountain. The scene before them was so utterly astonishing that even the most composed individuals were left speechless.
Just a day prior, this had been a typical southern empire hillside, stretching three to four miles and cloaked in lush, verdant forest. The mountain's central peak had offered a panoramic view of Half-Horn City in the distance.
Now, however…
Robert and Jorlyn, supported from the carriage, stared agape at what lay before them—a sight they could scarcely believe.
A colossal crater, at least three miles in diameter, occupied the very space where the mountain once stood.
What remained of Half-Horn Mountain? This question echoed relentlessly in their minds.
The carriage stopped at the edge of the enormous pit. Robert felt a chill run through his body as he beheld the surreal scene. The crater appeared to be the result of a massive explosion, with jagged rocks scattered along its rim. The ground was no longer earth but a thick layer of sand, as though the original terrain had been obliterated.
What was even more unsettling was the crater itself. It seemed divided into two distinct halves.
To the left, everything was encased in thick ice, a glacial expanse that appeared ancient and immutable. Frost coated every surface, from the ground to the rocks, creating a world of silver-white stillness.
The right side, by contrast, was desiccated and scorched. The ground was cracked and dry, littered with fine sand and fragmented rock, as though every ounce of moisture had been burned away.
The stark juxtaposition left everyone present in awe and terror.
Robert, despite the overwhelming shock, was the first to regain his composure. "This... this must have been the site of a battle last night—a battle on a scale beyond our comprehension. That sorceress, Vivian, is missing. I suspect she and the female attacker fought here. But our concern is not this destruction—it's the young master. He wasn't with us when we were rescued, and if he isn't here, he must have been taken—or worse..." He trailed off, unwilling to voice the grimmer possibilities.
Regaining his resolve, Robert issued two immediate orders: those who could move were to search the area thoroughly, while others were dispatched to the Rowlin family estate to report the dire situation.
But where, amidst this chaos, was the young master?
Meanwhile, the young master, Du Wei, was experiencing something he could have never imagined—not even in his wildest dreams.
He was riding a dragon.
High above the clouds, the wind howled so fiercely that he could barely keep his eyes open. Wrapping his clothes around his head for protection, he clung tightly to the dragon's scales, marveling at the beast as it soared through the skies. The vast sea of clouds below and the adrenaline coursing through his veins filled him with an almost euphoric urge to shout.
"P-please don't g-grab its s-scales so hard!" came the trembling voice of Vivian, the young sorceress. She lay sprawled weakly on the dragon's back, her pale face a picture of fragility. Seeing Du Wei gripping the dragon's scales, she whimpered, "It... it doesn't like that. Dragons... dragons are proud creatures, and this one, my Luminous Sun, is still a child. It... it doesn't like being handled like that..."
"What else am I supposed to grab?" Du Wei snapped, only to cough as the wind whipped into his open mouth. "With this wind, if I don't hold on, I'll fall off!"
"If we survive your sister's attacks, I'll make reins for it!" he muttered angrily.
Reins? The gods above! Vivian could hardly contain her despair. Did this man think dragons were mere mounts to be tamed?
Just then, the dragon let out a mournful cry, its movements faltering.
"What's happening?!" Du Wei shouted, alarmed.
"It... it's hurt!" Vivian wailed. "It's... it's still a juvenile dragon. It was injured earlier, and now... carrying us both is too much for it..."
Du Wei saw the deep wound on the dragon's wing, blood still oozing from the injury. The creature was clearly at its limit, its flight increasingly unstable.
"Think of something!" Du Wei barked. "If it collapses, we'll both die!"
"I... I don't have any more spells... You... you already took all my potions!" Vivian sobbed, tears streaming down her face as she wailed like a frightened child, calling for her parents.
"Stop crying!" Du Wei snapped. "If you don't pull yourself together, we're done for!"
But his words fell on deaf ears. The dragon, exhausted and wounded, finally faltered. With a despairing cry, it began to plummet, carrying Du Wei and Vivian toward the earth below.
"Think of something quickly! Your dragon is failing!"
"Waaah... Daddy! Mommy!! Mommy..."
"Stop crying! If you keep wailing, we're both going to plummet to our deaths!"
"Waaah... Mommy... Please come and save poor little Vivian..."