Chapter Seventy-Seven: Energy Level Ascension and Regression (Second Update)

Every elf of the Cabron family rejoiced, cheering for the boundless, bright future of their clan.

Patrick nodded in acknowledgment, and Lasya followed him to the threshold of their father’s study.

“Father, I’m back.” Those few words sufficed; between father and son, there was no need for lengthy speech—they understood each other.

“Good... very good... After so many years, our Cabron family finally has a council member.” The elder Cabron's face was filled with satisfaction.

Indeed, it had been many years. The family had lingered in obscurity, powerless under the suppression of the great clans from Silvermoon City. Life was hard for the medium-sized families in Silvermoon, burdened by countless responsibilities.

The entire family gathered together, celebrating Patrick Cabron’s promotion. Everyone was immersed in festivities on the family estate.

Returning home, the family meticulously groomed their appearance, for they would soon meet His Majesty Anastarion. Only after the King’s formal appointment would Patrick possess parliamentary powers.

The next day.

The royal messenger arrived punctually, accompanied by the ceremonial entourage of the Silvermoon council. Throughout Silvermoon City, red blood-thistle petals danced in the breeze, mingling with the fragrant aroma of white roses. The sky was ablaze with brilliant arcane fireworks, as if proclaiming to the heavens that Silvermoon had gained another master of arcane arts.

Patrick boarded the carriage with the royal messenger. The procession, along with the Cabron family and several affiliated minor clans, moved toward the Sunstrider Court. Along the way, elves lined the streets to watch, their cheers and applause unending. The spiritual satisfaction of such honor was intoxicating and enchanting.

After passing through the “inspection” of Silvermoon’s citizens, the ceremonial procession arrived at the front gates of the royal court.

In later years, only the right half of the Sunfury Spire remained, stripped of the grandeur and elegance typical of elven architecture. The city itself bore the scar of death: when Arthas invaded Silvermoon City through its main gate, he cut a path of destruction straight to the Sunfury Spire, obliterating most of it. He left a trail of death from the central spire to the city gates, cleaving Silvermoon in two.

When Lor’themar Theron later reestablished the Silvermoon council, he could only use a small side tower on the right, which functioned at less than a quarter of its original capacity. Yet, he had no choice but to press on, restore normalcy to Silvermoon, and protect his people.

The threats Silvermoon faced after the Scourge invasion were myriad: the upper echelons struggled with the menace of magical addiction; the undead army pressed at the borders; the ancient Amani trolls stirred restlessly within. Each was a calamity capable of annihilating the race, but such matters would have to wait.

(Truthfully, Lor’themar Theron's task was no easy one.)

Inside the royal court, the major clans awaited. The marble floors were strewn with petals, masking the quietly flowing arcane energies beneath. Precious incense filled the forecourt with fragrance; white towers with gilded edges, lush flora, and arcane energy swirled through the air, permeating the soul.

Passing through the long portico, they arrived before the throne of His Majesty Anastarion. The King walked toward his seat adorned with gold and jade, while the representatives of the high-ranking clans gathered. Jade pillars, gilded beams, layers of crystal, warm sunlight on stone platforms, colors blending together; the golden hall gleamed with fantastical brilliance.

Patrick bowed respectfully to the King. Anastarion was already prepared: he wore a fitted garment of fine fabric, snug above and flowing down to his feet, embroidered with royal patterns in gold thread. His wide red sleeves were adorned with golden phoenixes and birds, over which he draped a crimson, gold-edged phoenix-robe. His head was crowned with a silver, ruby, and gold diadem, and he wielded the Quel’dorei golden staff. His hair was sharp as if cut by a blade, his brows golden as thread, his face radiant as jade, his eyes glimmered like jewels—bearing the air of one tempered by experience, yet retaining the refined youthfulness of elegance.

With the King’s approval, the master of ceremonies announced the beginning of the new council member’s investiture.

………………

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Aside from the intricate noble rituals, the ceremony itself was simple: it proclaimed the achievements and status of the new council member, explained the powers and duties Patrick would hold, and discussed the matter of noble estates.

Though Patrick was not yet an executive director, his voting rights made him a target for courtship by the other major clans. The clan leaders all regarded Patrick with goodwill, each eager to establish contact and private conversation.

At the end of the ceremony, Patrick received a teleportation scroll authorized by the King, along with a rune of proof and a mana orb. The destination: the Isle of Quel’danas.

Upon reaching the seventh ring, he would gain access to the arcane secrets compiled by the high elves since ancient times.

Arcane energy shimmered in his hand; Patrick was drawn into the spatial portal, and when the scenery reappeared, he had arrived at the Isle of Quel’danas. There, the captain of the Spellbreaker Guard—Nocron, whom Patrick had met several times with his father—was already waiting.

“Greetings, new council member. Please hand me the rune bestowed by His Majesty.” Nocron was a responsible elf, meticulous in official matters.

Patrick passed the rune to Nocron, and the two were instantly teleported to a place Patrick had visited many times in his previous life—the Magister’s Platform.

“This is the sacred site of arcane research in Quel’thalas—the Magister’s Platform. Within are six millennia of high elven achievements in arcane magic, research materials, and historical documents. Congratulations, new council member; you have earned the right to enter the Grand Magister’s Sanctuary.”

Patrick nodded his thanks to Nocron and turned toward the Magister’s Platform.

Upon entry, a maiden appeared to guide him. He passed the observatory, wound through the academic hall, and the Sunward Platform, descending until he reached the doors of the Grand Magister’s Sanctuary. The maiden withdrew, leaving the final door to him alone.

Entering the sanctuary, he found himself surrounded by bookshelves, arcane patterns etched into the walls. Desks and veils were arranged throughout, and at the center stood a massive arcane apparatus. Patrick approached and embedded the mana orb within.

The device emitted a powerful arcane pulse. The surroundings darkened, the space expanded, and stars began to appear, as if he stood amid the cosmos.

Within the space, an elven figure emerged, dressed in the standard attire of the high elves. The figure looked at Patrick: “It’s been a long time since a young one has entered. You are quite remarkable.”

With those words, the figure transformed into light. The surrounding starlight converged, interwoven into a three-dimensional projection, images appearing as though slides were being cast.

The elf’s voice sounded again:

“‘Advancement and Regression of Energy Levels’—a treatise on the use of arcane energy progression.”