Lazros sat alone in his room, the book resting in his hands as he continued to unlock its mysteries. The more he read, the more he felt the presence of something—or rather, someone—inside the pages. It was a feeling that came to him not as a whisper, but as a voice that resonated deep within his soul. It was almost as if the book was alive, its consciousness aware of him. His heart raced as the voice spoke again, clearer this time.
"You have awakened me. At last, the bloodline of the has returned."
The voice was rich, ancient, and powerful, reverberating through his very being. Lazros had learned much from the book, but this was the first time he had heard it speak to him directly. His hands shook as the book's pages began to turn on their own, revealing an image that was unfamiliar and yet strangely comforting. It was a vision of a powerful mage, a man whose features were etched into the very essence of the book. His eyes glowed with wisdom, his face lined with age and experience, but there was also an undeniable strength that emanated from him.
The voice continued, and with it, the memories of Lazros' ancestor began to flood his mind.
"I was once the greatest mage in all of Zephyria," the voice explained. "I reached the 10th circle of magic—an achievement beyond even the most powerful of mages. No mortal had ever dreamed of such a feat. With my power, I was able to challenge the Demon King and wage a war that would forever change the course of history."
The vision of Lazros' ancestor materialized further in his mind. The mage, once a towering figure of strength, now stood amidst an army of mages from all across the kingdom, each one ready to stand against the encroaching demon forces. The battlefield was chaotic, filled with the sounds of magic and steel clashing in an endless struggle. But despite the might of the kingdom's greatest warriors, the Demon King was an opponent unlike any other. His power was overwhelming, a force of darkness that seemed to grow with each passing moment.
The ancestor's voice faltered as it recounted the battle.
"We fought with everything we had. The demons were relentless, and our forces began to dwindle. But I could feel it—my magic, my very life force, was nearing its end. I knew the battle could not be won through sheer strength alone."
Lazros' heart pounded as he watched the memory unfold. He could feel the desperation, the sorrow, and the resolve of his ancestor as he faced the impossible odds. The ancestor had given everything to protect his kingdom, his people, but in the end, it had not been enough. The Demon King was too strong, and as the mages of the kingdom began to fall, his ancestor had made the ultimate sacrifice.
"With my last breath, I poured what little magic I had left into a single spell, a spell that would bind my soul to the book. I knew that the day would come when the bloodline would awaken, and that the legacy of my power would once again be needed. I became part of the book, a guide to the next heir, to the one worthy of carrying on the mantle."
Lazros' eyes widened as the realization hit him. His ancestor had not only achieved unimaginable power but had also ensured that his legacy would continue long after his death. He had sealed himself into the very book that had now chosen Lazros as its bearer.
The book's voice softened, almost like a whisper.
"I am but a fragment of what I once was. My magic is not enough to defeat the darkness that threatens this world, but through you, my legacy can be revived. You must learn, train, and grow stronger. The Demon King is not gone. He waits, biding his time. But you, Lazros, you have the potential to stop him."
Lazros stood frozen in place, the weight of the words sinking into him. He was no longer just the weak, useless son of a Duke. He was the heir to a legacy far greater than anything he had ever imagined. The magic inside him, the magic that had once been part of the greatest mage in history, was his to command. But it was not something he could take lightly.
"Your power is not fully awakened," the ancestor's voice cautioned. "You must train, study, and prepare yourself. Only then can you hope to face the challenges that lie ahead. Your family may not understand, but you must rise above their expectations. The fate of the kingdom rests on your shoulders, Lazros."
The vision faded, and the voice of his ancestor was gone, but the weight of the revelation lingered in Lazros' mind. He now understood that the book was not just a tool—it was a conduit to his ancestor's strength, wisdom, and knowledge. It was a living testament to the mage who had once stood as the kingdom's greatest protector.
Lazros knew that he had no time to waste. The Demon King's return was inevitable, and he needed to be ready. But as the only one chosen by the book, he had to keep its existence a secret. No one—not even his family—could know the true power that lay within him. For now, he would continue to play the role of the weak, forgotten son. But in secret, he would train. He would unlock the full potential of his magic and, one day, fulfill the legacy of the greatest mage in history.
And, when the time came, he would face the Demon King, not as a boy, but as the heir to a legacy that could change the fate of the world.
After the revelation of his ancestor's sacrifice and the weight of the legacy bestowed upon him, Lazros began his training. With the book's power surging within him, it wasn't just a tool for knowledge—it was a guide, a mentor, and a living testament to the might of the greatest mage in history. His ancestor's soul, though a mere fragment, was still a profound force that could shape Lazros into something far beyond what he had ever imagined.
The first few days after the discovery were chaotic. Lazros spent hours reading and practicing, but it wasn't until his ancestor began directly instructing him that he truly began to understand the depth of the magic he had inherited. The voice of his ancestor now came with clarity, offering specific techniques, ancient spells, and exercises to help him tap into his power.
"Focus, Lazros," the voice would say, "You must center your mind and spirit, just as I did in my training. Only then will you be able to control the power within you."
For the first time in his life, Lazros felt as though he was no longer stumbling in the dark. His magic, once weak and unrefined, now surged through him with purpose. He felt the ancient currents of power that had flowed through his ancestor's veins, guiding him as though they were one.
At first, it was difficult—his body was not yet accustomed to the magic that coursed through him. But with every passing day, he grew stronger, his control more precise. It was as if the book itself was reshaping his very soul, unlocking dormant potential. His ancestor's knowledge, forged through centuries of experience, was now his to command.
Two months passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. Under the intense guidance of the book and his ancestor's soul, Lazros achieved the impossible. At just 16 years old, he had broken through into the 3rd circle of magic—the fastest anyone had ever reached that level, especially considering his age and lack of prior magical aptitude.
The power surged within him, stronger and more refined than ever before. His control over magic became instinctual. Spells that had once seemed impossible to him were now second nature, flowing from his hands with a simple thought. His aura had changed too, and those who might have sensed his power would now feel a depth of magic far beyond his years.
But Lazros understood that this power had to remain hidden. His family still saw him as weak, as a failure, and revealing his newfound abilities would only make things worse. He had learned a technique from the book—a secret technique that allowed him to hide his magical presence from even the most experienced mages. It was a subtle art, one that masked his true magical energy, cloaking him in an illusion that made him appear as if he had never advanced beyond the weakest of mages.
The technique worked flawlessly. No one, not even his father, could sense the true depth of his power. Lazros wore his façade like a mask, hiding his true self behind the image of a boy who had failed to live up to expectations.
Though he now possessed the strength of a 3rd-circle mage, Lazros knew that this was only the beginning. He had a long road ahead of him, a road that would require more training and discipline to master the full extent of his ancestor's legacy. But for now, he would remain in the shadows, a ghost among his family, biding his time.
Lazros would become the greatest mage the world had ever known. But only when the time was right. Until then, he would continue to walk the path of the "useless" son of the Duke, hiding in plain sight, and preparing for the moment when the world would finally learn of his true power.
And with time, the book, once separate from him, became an inseparable part of his being. It was no longer just a physical object that he carried or kept hidden—it was embedded within him. Whenever Lazros wished, he could summon it, its presence materializing in the air before him as if it had always been there, waiting. The magic within the book flowed into him effortlessly, as natural as breathing.
No longer confined to the physical world, the book had become a manifestation of his own soul, an extension of his power. A silent companion that would guide him on his journey toward greatness—always present, always watching, always ready.