Leaving Charlotte in her tower, still processing the sheer scale of the gift I'd left her, felt like closing a small, necessary chapter. The new framework for all nine circles of magic was not my personal power; it was not The Grey, nor was it the Divine-level sorcery I could now access. It was a reimagining of the very foundation of spellcasting, a correction of a thousand years of flawed, inefficient theory.

Julius Slatemark had founded the mana core system, a brilliant, revolutionary way for mortals to gather and manage power. That was the engine, and it was a masterpiece. It didn't need to be changed; geniuses could already optimize it for themselves, and it provided a clear path for everyone else.

But the spellcasting... the Nine Circles we all used... that was the transmission. And it was inefficient. It was a system built through trial and error, full of redundant code, energy leaks, and conceptual misunderstandings. My breakthrough to the Divine-rank, my ascension, had not just given me access to the Tenth Circle – the realm of Divine Magic itself. It had given me a top-down, architectural view of the entire system, allowing me to see all its flaws.

What I gave Charlotte, and by extension the Creighton family, was the optimized, rewritten, and perfected framework for all nine mortal circles. New casting methods, new energy pathways, new conceptual anchors that were vastly more stable and powerful, yet required less energy. It was a gift designed to raise the baseline strength of all human mages, a necessary upgrade for the wars I knew were coming.

I stepped from the Grey seam back into the absolute quiet of my penthouse in Avalon. The lights were off. The city glittered like a sea of diamonds far below. I moved silently through the living room, the familiar, comforting scent of Stella's projects and the faint trace of Reika's presence a balm on my senses.

Being Divine-rank was... different. Incomparably so. The power was not a tool I held; it was the very medium in which I now existed. I felt the change in the simplest interactions. When I had arrived at the Tower of Magic, I had not bothered to bypass the dozens of high-level wards Charlotte maintained. I had simply... walked through them. And they had not triggered. They had not resisted. They had bowed. They had parted for my presence as if it were the most natural thing in the world, recognizing a higher, more fundamental authority. The world no longer argued with me; it simply agreed.

I paused at Stella's bedroom door. It was cracked open slightly, and I could hear the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing. She was asleep. I felt a surge of profound, aching love, the quiet, human anchor that held my new, god-like power in check. This was why. This was the reason for all of it.

I walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out not at the city, but up. The night was clear, and the moon hung high and bright, a perfect, silver-white disc against the black.

Four hundred thousand kilometers. An impossible, sterile distance.

Before, at Peak Radiant, I could not have sensed it. My perception, though vast, was terrestrial. I could feel the flow of mana in the continent, but the void of space was a wall, a silent, unbridgeable gap.

But now... now I saw the structure. My Divine perception, forged in the battle with Alyssara, didn't just see the three dimensions of space. It perceived the higher-order layers, the spatial folds that composed reality like the pages of an infinite book. The universe was massive, yes. Our galaxy, a place we could never hope to cross physically. But that was only if you traveled on one "page." When you learned to move between the layers, distance became a far more... malleable concept.

It was how the Slatemark warp gate to the moon functioned, folding space for near-instantaneous transit. It was how Lysantra, a being of similar power, could project her will from galaxies away, touching the mind of her subordinate. She wasn't shouting across an ocean; she was whispering through a perfectly placed pinhole, a connection utilizing these higher spatial layers.

I closed my eyes. I focused. I extended my consciousness, not outwards, but upwards, through the layers. It was not like pushing, but like... unfocusing my eyes to see a different image. The strain was immediate, immense, a conceptual pressure building behind my temples as I peeled away the familiar reality of my penthouse.

Layer one. Layer two. Layer ten. The spatial dimensions folded. The four hundred thousand kilometers of empty vacuum ceased to be an obstacle. In an instant, I was there. My senses, disembodied, floated over the cold, grey, silent dust of the lunar surface. I could feel the stark temperature difference between the light and the dark, the faint, lingering energy signatures of our own unmanned rovers.

I expanded my senses, searching. And I found it. A faint, silver-thin latticework of energy, spread across the near side of the moon – the Aegis Luna defense system I had personally funded. It was a fragile, beautiful, intricate web of wards and detectors, designed to watch for threats approaching Earth. It was our first line of defense. And it was, I now realized with a chilling certainty, hopelessly, pathetically inadequate.

I needed to see what it was supposed to be watching for.

I pushed further. The strain intensified, a warning siren in my mind. This was new territory, dangerous. I ignored it. I peeled away more layers, moving my perception deeper into the spatial manifold, using the moon as a relay point to gaze out into the true, deep solar system.

Beyond Mars. Beyond the asteroid belt. Beyond the orbits of the gas giants. I pushed my Divine senses to their absolute limit, out into the cold, dark, empty void at the edge of our system...

And I found them.

At first, it was just a subtle wrongness, a ripple in the spatial layers that didn't belong, a discordant note in the silent music of the cosmos. Then my senses focused, and the wrongness took shape.

They were still impossibly far away in physical space. Years, perhaps decades, at conventional speeds. But they were not traveling at conventional speeds. They were moving through the higher spatial layers, taking the same shortcuts I was using to perceive them, and on that path, they were close.

I couldn't see them with light, but I could feel them. The cold, hungry, otherness. The unmistakable, suffocating taint of miasma, not as a subtle corruption, but as a dominant, conquering force.

It was not one. It was a fleet. A vanguard.

The demon ships were incoming.

The war I had been preparing for, the threat that had been an abstract, distant future... it was no longer abstract. It was a tangible, approaching reality. And it was almost here.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.