Dominante's eyes instantly lit up. The prospect of having a real, fully equipped laboratory was the dream of any artificer. "Of course I do. This place is a nightmare for delicate runic carving. The ambient humidity ruins half my parchment." She looked at Lencar expectantly. "Do you have a base? A syndicate headquarters where we can reside?"
Given the sheer amount of power Lencar wielded, and the political influence he had just demonstrated, Dominante fully expected him to say yes. She pictured a massive, sprawling underground fortress, heavily guarded by an army of elite mages, complete with state-of-the-art facilities.
Lencar paused. He thought about his small, rented room in the Scarlet household, and the chaotic, roaring wilderness he was currently trying to tame.
"No," Lencar replied flatly. "I don't currently possess a base of operations."
Dominante blinked, utterly flabbergasted. Her mouth fell open slightly. "You... you don't? You just single-handedly extorted the Diamond Kingdom's Military Tribunal, but you don't have a headquarters?"
"I operate independently," Lencar explained smoothly, completely unbothered by her shock. "However, a headquarters is currently a necessity. While I do not have a finished base, I can have one created. In fact, I have already selected the perfect location."
"Created?" Fanzell echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Where? Building a fortress takes time, money, and a lot of quiet space if you want to avoid the Magic Knights' patrols."
"Space and privacy will not be an issue," Lencar assured him.
He raised his right hand, extending his index and middle fingers. He tapped into the immense, oceanic reserves of his Stage 3 Peak mana, visualizing the specific spatial coordinates he had memorized during his violent excursion into the wilderness.
"Spatial Magic: Void Step," Lencar commanded.
Right in the middle of Dominante's cramped workshop, the air violently tore open. A massive, swirling portal of dark purple energy materialized, humming with an intense, vibrating frequency that made the loose tools on the workbenches rattle.
But it wasn't just the visual of the portal that stunned the room; it was what spilled out of it.
The moment the tear opened, a wave of incredibly dense, violently chaotic ambient mana flooded into the safehouse. It felt like standing on the edge of a raging hurricane. The air coming through the portal was freezing cold, smelling of ancient pine, raw ozone, and untamed elemental fury.
Fanzell, highly attuned to atmospheric changes due to his mastery of Wind Magic, took a sudden step back, his blue eyes widening in absolute shock. "By the gods... that mana density. That chaotic elemental flow. That's... that's a Grand Magic Zone!"
Dominante gripped the edge of her workbench to steady herself against the pressure bleeding through the portal, her orange hair whipping around her face from the magical wind. "You want us to live in a Grand Magic Zone?! Are you insane? The natural mana there is completely erratic! It warps spells, mutates beasts, and crushes ordinary humans!"
"It is entirely inhospitable to the weak, yes," Lencar agreed, his voice cutting clearly through the roaring sound of the portal. He stood perfectly still before the swirling vortex, his dark cloak billowing heavily around his legs. "Which makes it the absolute perfect place to hide. The Clover Kingdom's Magic Knights do not patrol deep within Grand Magic Zones, and bounty hunters do not survive them. It is a natural, impenetrable fortress."
He turned his masked face to look at the stunned trio.
"I will carve a sanctuary out of the chaos," Lencar promised, his tone ringing with absolute, unshakeable confidence. "I will erect wards that will stabilize the ambient mana and keep the beasts at bay. I will build you the finest workshop on the continent, Dominante, where you can forge without fear. And Fanzell, you will have an entire wilderness to train in."
With a flick of his wrist, Lencar severed the spatial connection. The purple portal snapped shut, instantly cutting off the roaring wind and the oppressive, heavy mana. The sudden silence in the safehouse was deafening.
Lencar pulled his dark hood back over his head, casting his featureless wooden mask back into deep shadow.
"Gather your most vital equipment, your research, and your personal effects," Lencar instructed them, his voice returning to its calm, measured cadence. "Leave the heavy furniture. You won't need it. Pack your things quietly and prepare to move."
"When?" Mariella asked, her blue eyes still fixed on the spot where the portal had vanished, awed by the sheer casual display of high-tier Spatial Magic.
"Soon," Lencar replied, turning toward the heavy iron door. "I have preparations to make at the site. Remain in this safehouse until I return. When I open the next door for you, it will lead directly to your new home."
Without waiting for a response, Lencar pressed his hand against the locking mechanism of the iron door, slipped out into the dark stone corridor of the Black Market, and vanished into the shadows, leaving Dominante, Fanzell, and Mariella standing in stunned, hopeful silence.
The moment Lencar stepped through the swirling purple vortex of his Spatial Magic, the chaotic fury of the world hit him like a physical blow.
He had left the cramped, damp confines of the Nairn Black Market and emerged directly into the heart of the Shivering Crags Grand Magic Zone.
It was a place that existed in a state of perpetual, violent twilight. Towering, jagged peaks of obsidian-black rock pierced the sky like the teeth of a dead leviathan. The ambient mana here was not a gentle, flowing river like it was in the Common Realm; it was a raging, erratic hurricane. Unseen currents of volatile magic whipped through the air, causing the temperature to plunge from freezing to boiling and back again within the span of a single breath. The sky above was a bruised canvas of deep purples and violent crimson, illuminated by occasional, silent flashes of atmospheric magic.
Lencar stood near the base of one of the largest crags, his heavy black cloak whipping violently around his legs. To an ordinary mage, standing here without a constant, heavy layer of Mana Skin would result in instant, agonizing death—their mana violently drawn out of their body or crushed inward by the atmospheric pressure.
But Lencar simply breathed it in. Beneath his wooden mask, his eyes scanned the desolate, hostile landscape.
It was absolutely perfect.
No Magic Knight patrol would ever wander this deep into the Crags without a massive escort. No bounty hunter would risk their life navigating the unpredictable mana storms just on a hunch. It was a natural, impenetrable fortress, completely isolated from the politics and the prying eyes of the Clover and Diamond Kingdoms.
Lencar looked up at the towering spire of solid black rock before him. Initially, he had considered hollowing out the peak itself, creating a high-altitude aerie. But he quickly dismissed the idea. The higher you went in a Grand Magic Zone, the more volatile the elemental storms became. An above-ground structure would act as a lightning rod for anomalous weather and migrating, mutated beasts.
If he wanted true security, and if he wanted Dominante to have a stable environment for delicate runic forging, he needed to go down. He needed an underground base.