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{Chapter: 100: The Wall of Wutomag}
Standing by the creaking wooden window of their hillside cottage, Charles stared up at the sky with wide, unblinking eyes. The vast skies above were no longer blue, nor clouded in the usual grays of oncoming rain—but cloaked in something far more eerie. A massive, glowing veil descended from the clouds like an ancient tapestry unfurling across the world. Its surface shimmered faintly with complex runes and geometric arcs, alive with a gentle hum that resonated deep in his bones.
It was like watching the sky bleed light.
Charles opened his mouth in a reflexive gasp, ready to call out in panic, but a sudden sense of unease made him glance over his shoulder. His breath caught.
His mentor—Todd, the ever-carefree eccentric who usually had his nose buried in a battered alchemical manual or was busy harassing squirrels for magical experiments—now stood solemnly behind him, his expression carved from stone. His playful grin, ever-present even during magical misfires, was gone. The mischievous glint in his eyes had been replaced with a glimmer of dread.
Charles took a tentative step back and asked, confused and increasingly alarmed, "What's wrong with you, Master?"
He had known Todd for nearly five years now. The man had taken him in when he'd been a ragged street orphan, fresh from the outskirts of the southern border, and had introduced him to the world of arcane knowledge. Todd's methods were strange—his teaching style oscillated between cryptic philosophy and chaotic improvisation—but he had a good heart. Charles had come to truly respect him as both a teacher and the closest thing to family he'd ever known.
But now, that dependable warmth had been replaced with tension.
Todd's voice came low, almost grating with irritation—though not at Charles. "You really don't know what that is, do you?" He frowned, rubbing his temples. "I swear, what are they teaching at the academy these days? How to fry magical potatoes?"
Charles blinked. "Huh?"
Todd sighed and straightened up. "That is the Automag Wall," he explained, his tone heavy with reverence and unease. "It's also called the Skyward Curtain. But more formally—it's the Great Wall of the Wizarding World. A living artifact forged during the world's formative centuries. Not built, mind you—grown—from the roots of worldstone and infused with the lifeblood of the Ancients."
Charles swallowed. The name sounded familiar now, but only vaguely. Something from the old scrolls. He recalled it being referenced in a dusty tome he'd skipped over for being "too theoretical."
Todd continued, his voice now touched with a deep solemnity that gave Charles chills. "It is our first and final line of defense—our shield against outside invasion. And when it falls like that?" He pointed toward the sky, which now seemed to pulse with slow, rhythmic light. "It means only one thing: war."
He paused and allowed the silence to settle, as if the very word demanded respect.
"…War?" Charles echoed, barely above a whisper.
His blood turned cold.
Todd nodded slowly. "Yes. This isn't a training exercise or a misfire from a rogue nation. The Wall only drops under the most dire of circumstances. It is our alarm, our declaration, and our warning to every wizard, noble, beast, and wanderer: the Wizarding World has entered a state of total war."
Charles staggered back a step, his hand gripping the windowsill as if he might collapse. His knees trembled beneath him. The sheer scale of what Todd had just said... it was overwhelming.
He knew enough history to grasp the implications.
There was only one reason the Wall would fall—an incursion from another world. Something beyond their own realm, something powerful enough to warrant full mobilization. It meant enemies who didn't play by the same rules of magic, who possibly didn't even bleed. And now, without warning, they were here.
Or worse, they had already begun their advance.
"This... this can't be happening," he muttered. "We've had peace for over two hundred years…"
Todd snorted dryly. "Peace is a luxury paid for by blood, boy. And every era's peace runs out eventually. Ours just expired."
Charles's stomach churned. He wasn't ready for this. He was still an apprentice—barely halfway through his magical core studies. He could levitate a spoon, conjure flame, and maybe, just maybe, hold a shield spell for five seconds if he was calm and focused. What good would any of that be in a war?
"I… I'm not ready," he whispered.
"No apprentice ever is," Todd said bluntly.
For a moment, the old man softened. He looked at Charles—not as a student, but as someone he had raised. Someone he hoped would live through what was to come.
Todd scratched the few strands of hair that remained on his balding head, which, under the shifting glow of the Wall's light, had taken on a strange golden tint. "Look, unless things go completely to hell, you apprentices will stay behind the front lines. We need logistics. Messengers. Rune chargers. Potion mixers. You'd be dead weight on the battlefield anyway."
He didn't say it unkindly. It was simply the truth.
But even so, his tone carried a weight that suggested he didn't fully believe it himself. In full-scale wars, front lines meant nothing. Once the blood spilled, it spilled everywhere.
Todd fell silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the descending wall. He seemed lost in thought. Then, in a quieter voice, he murmured, "In my four centuries of life… I never thought I'd see the curtain fall. I thought I'd live out my days sipping tea and watching the stars fade in peace."
He chuckled grimly.
"But now... now I get to see history. Real history. The kind they carve into stone and sing about in dirges. I suppose that's not a bad way to go out."
Charles looked at him in stunned disbelief. "Are you happy about this?"
"Perspective, boy!" Todd grinned suddenly, his mood flipping like a coin. "Some see doom. I see a grand finale! If I'm going to die, let it be with sparks flying and a dramatic monologue on my lips. Maybe even a phoenix explosion behind me."
Charles wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. His mentor was clearly unhinged—but perhaps in a good way. Perhaps that madness was how he had survived for so long.
Just then, a deep chime echoed from the ceiling—the sound of a scrying bell activating.
A flickering illusion materialized in the center of the room, suspended in the air. A robed figure in ceremonial indigo stood tall, the insignia of the Supreme Council glowing behind him.
The voice rang out, clear and resonant.
> "Notice to all Academies under the Accord of Silence. The Automag Wall has been lowered. Effective immediately, all wizarding factions are to report to their designated Command Circles. Civilian evacuations will commence at dawn."
The voice shifted, announcing with more weight:
> "To Wizard Hosorn of the Silent Heart Academy—Level Five—this Council acknowledges your timely report. For your outstanding contribution in alerting the realm to the breach, you are awarded one million, five hundred thousand Contribution Points."
Todd let out a low whistle. "Hosorn… that sly bastard. Of course he'd be the one to report it first."
Charles didn't respond. His eyes remained fixed on the fading illusion, still trying to process everything.
War. Other worlds. The end of peace. And through it all, the gentle descent of the Automag Wall, a celestial curtain marking the opening act of something far beyond his comprehension.
Somewhere in his soul, he knew—this was the day everything changed.
*****
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