>Quest Activated: Win the Trial of Lythandor!
The challenge remained vaguely defined, yet I understood its essence: to suceed Sylvana's trial.
"Only if you withstand our magic assault will your status as the chosen sorcerer, Alstair, be prepared!" Sylvana declared with unwavering conviction.
A potent surge of magical energy emanated from each elf, culminating in a formidable torrent from Sylvana herself—a clear prelude to an impending spell. Instantly, a volley of fireballs erupted, a coordinated assault designed for my annihilation.
A high damage spell was impossible to solve this since it took relatively long casting time.
Even I attack with quick casting spell; the elves formed an impenetrable ring, leaving no avenue for evasion or complete countermeasures.
Their attack threatened from all directions!
Adding to this life-threatening condition, Sylvana herself conjured a spectral, airborne blade, aiming for my jugular—an evidence to her mastery of the obsidian sword technique.
However, I possessed a hidden advantage, a decisive counter to these formidable sorcerers.
>Utilize Magical Magnification!
>Triple damage magic output ready to use!
Instantly after activating Magical Magnification, I raised my Dragon Scepter, unleashing a Mana Drain spell already supercharged to its maximum potential.
A torrent of magical energy, previously fueling the elves' incantations, abruptly reversed course, surging towards me.
My body and spirit absorbed this colossal influx of mana, nearly overflowing with its power while simultaneously leaving the elves utterly depleted.
Their nascent fireballs winked out, extinguished by the complete absence of magical sustenance.
Further attempts at conjuration proved futile, their mana reserves utterly drained.
Sylvana, her astonishment palpable, watched as her prepared magical flying swords dissolved, their power and number drastically diminished by her own mana deficit.
Despite their weakened state, she launched the remaining, half-formed magical blades.
My Fire Pillar barrier, however, shattered those pathetic projectiles, reducing them to incandescent ash.
Terror gripped the elves as they grappled with the inexplicable vanishing of their magical power.
Only Sylvana, stubbornly clinging to her resolve despite her depleted reserves, continued her incantation.
She forged a formidable magical spear, its potential for destruction undeniable, yet its creation rash given its extended casting time.
Anticipating her attack, I launched a dual offensive spell.
An Ice Javelin pierced Sylvana's magical defenses, followed instantly by a Lightning Bolt that paralyzed her, interrupting her spell.
She crumpled, pain etched on her face, her body rendered immobile.
Seizing the moment, I conjured a colossal Fire Storm with adjusted power, but its fiery mass swelling enough to nearly engulf the sacred structure's roof.
Fear paralyzed the remaining elves; even Faelor, his jaw wide open, surrendered his defiance.
Sylvana, struggling to rise from her paralyzed state, witnessed my overwhelming display of power and succumbed to despair.
Her defeated posture, her resigned sigh, spoke volumes; the trial was finished.
The system's notification confirmed my assessment.
> You get 100.000 Monser Diamonds!
> You get Hematite Gemstone (x1)
The reward was modest, a trivial thing that I could assess later.
A palpable dread gripped the elves, their eyes wide with apprehension.
With a resolute effort, I cancelled the burgeoning inferno of my Fireball spell, its potential devastation replaced by a gesture of calming down.
I advanced deliberately, halting before Sylvana.
"Do you trust me now, Sylvana?" I asked, my voice steady.
Defeat etched itself upon her features; a silent nod acknowledged her surrender.
With this, my journey to venture Abandoned Tower Dungeon for getting Miracle Potion for my family had just begun!
***
A long corridor stretched before me, flanked by elves whose gazes, ranging from resentment to apprehension, followed my every step.
I followed Sylvana, her presence a stark contrast to the noticeable hostility radiating from the assembled figures.
She had summoned me to her chambers for a private consultation.
Faeral, shadowing Sylvana closely, couldn't entirely mask his malevolent scrutiny, a stark reminder of his lingering fear from our last confrontation.
His animosity was echoed by the numerous elves lining the hallway; their expressions – a volatile cocktail of anger, suspicion, despair, and dread – were unmistakable.
Only Sylvana seemed to accept me, as the unexpected savior, a role I still struggled to understand.
Their defeat at the hands of the sorcerer, coupled with the acceptance of a human as their leader, remained a bitter pill to swallow for many.
Their hushed whispers of discontent – "A mortal? Are there no Elven sorcerers left to avert this catastrophe?" or "Sylvana, bereft of wisdom, easily manipulated by her own kin! Lythandor's glory is fading!" – pierced the air, sharp and accusatory.
My unwavering stare silenced one particularly outspoken elf, his defiance dissolving into abject terror under the weight of my gaze.
"Alstair," Sylvana's voice, calm amidst the tempest, cut through the tension. "We haven't time for this."
Her stoicism hinted at her awareness of the simmering discontent, yet her resolute demeanor suggested a determination to forge ahead.
I suppressed my own irritation, acknowledging the wisdom in her decisive action.
The imposing sun-and-star adorned doorway marked the hallway's end, the threshold to Sylvana's private chambers.
The absence of flanking guards signaled its exclusivity.
It was here, in this secluded sanctuary, that our crucial discussion would unfold.
Faelar swung open the massive doors revealing a vast, stone-floored chamber, reminiscent of a throne room.
"Remain outside, Faelar. Alstair and I require an immediate, private consultation," Sylvana commanded, her voice laced with an icy authority as she entered the expansive space.
"But, my lady…" Faelar began, his protest cut short by Sylvana's curt interruption.
"Faelar. Outside."
He could only obey, his resentment on me palpable as he reluctantly withdrew, leaving me alone with Sylvana in the echoing grandeur of the throne room.
The chamber door sighed shut, its movement orchestrated by Sylvana's mana.
She sat upon her throne, her gaze settling upon me with a weighty concern.
"Where, then, shall we commence?" she murmured, her legs crossed, a thoughtful frown etching itself onto her brow.
The pressure of her current complicated condition was palpable.
"Simply tell me Vorgruth's location. Is it those encroaching orcs that trouble you?" I offered, attempting to alleviate her burden.
"I understand your urgency," she replied, "but you must grasp the details and the contexts of the Abandoned Tower."
"Enlighten me," I prompted. Sylvana paused, her eyes distant.
"The Abandoned Tower transcends the comprehension of most in this realm. It's not merely a structure; it's an emblem of power, signifying a clan's dominion over conquered territories."
Hearing her explanation, I know my initial guess regarding the definition of Abandoned Tower is proved remarkably accurate.
"So, this realm…is the 444th floor of the Abandoned Tower, as the System indicated. Does this reflect your clan's elevated status?" I asked curiously.
Sylvana's response was stark.
"Zeta's curse offered you a clue: the 444th floor. While seemingly high, it represents the lowest rung on the clan hierarchy. To obtain the holy water for the chalice, you must ascend to the 1111th floor."
Eleven thousand one hundred and eleven floors?
The sheer scale of the task pressed down upon me.
Yet, my family's salvation hinged upon this perilous journey.
Regardless of the obstacles, I must secure that holy water for creating Miracle Potion!