O Império Mágico de Vinte Mil Anos
“Os elfos criticam nós, humanos, por não termos fé, por não conhecermos o temor; nos acusam de sermos utilitaristas demais com a magia, colocando mortos-vivos para trabalhar nos campos; zombam da falt
In the floating city high above the clouds, deep within a magnificent palace:
“Have I returned?”
Arian opened his eyes.
There were no stars extinguishing one by one, no heavens and hells collapsing step by step, no giant serpent devouring the sun, no grotesque flesh masses corrupted by twisted maternal love consuming nations, no planets growing eyes and mouths, no fleets of mind-stealers almost covering every corner of the endless star sea.
The apocalypse had not yet come.
He found himself in a luxurious chamber. The walls were adorned with vivid murals, mottled candlelight flickered across a painted domed ceiling, and an obsidian throne pressed down on a dark red cushion.
—This was the royal bedchamber of the ancient human magical empire, Eldoren.
“I succeeded…”
Arian smiled with relief as he took in his surroundings. The immense stone hanging over his heart finally fell away.
“My magic has reversed time—I have returned twenty thousand years into the past!”
For a moment, Arian was overwhelmed with emotion.
Just moments ago, he had crossed back from the apocalypse, the terrifying scenes still vivid before his eyes.
Countless memories surged through his mind.
This was Arian’s second time traveling through time.
The first time he arrived in this world, discovering it was a fantastical realm of genuine supernatural powers, he was once full of youthful vigor.
He became a mage, passionately pursuing the truth of magic, integrating knowledge from his past and present lives, continually ex