Allen stood before the stone platform, both hands pressed against the crystal pillar, his heartbeat a little fast.
He recalled his failed attempt back at the Arcane Sanctum in Stormwind. That crystal ball had died completely in his hands, not even bothering to give off the faintest glimmer of light.
Emmy Malin had been standing beside him at the time, her expression shifting from anticipation to awkwardness, and from awkwardness to sympathy.
That was a lifelong trauma.
He could have become an upright and enthusiastic archmage, instead of a pitiful, weak, and helpless Shadow Priest–Wild Mage hybrid.
With a nervous mood, Allen began the test.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Nothing happened.
The crystal pillar was as cold as dead stone. The runes lay dormant, and the embedded mana crystals were dim and lifeless, like extinguished stars. The entire testing device was as silent as a tombstone.
Antonidas' eyebrow lifted slightly. Krasus set down his teacup, a trace of confusion flashing through his amber eyes.
Was the device broken?
Allen was completely focused.
He sank all his attention inward, trying to sense something he had never truly perceived before—arcane power.
That azure energy that constantly flowed through the air of Azeroth.
Arcane, arcane, arcane, arcane, arcane. He repeated it silently, like some kind of devout prayer.
Arcane energy… arcane elements… where are you?!
The crystal pillar showed no response.
At that moment, Allen vaguely felt a trace of arcane elements.
The crystal pillar flickered faintly.
Antonidas and Krasus exchanged a glance. The device had lit up, which meant it wasn't broken.
So… the person chosen by the former Guardian, Medivh, was actually a complete magic newbie???
Just then, Allen felt something was off.
That arcane element carried a strange emotion.
Grievance.
Like a lover from a distant land, who had traveled across mountains and rivers to reach the promised place, only to be blocked by an invisible wall.
She had knocked countless times, called out countless times, waited through countless days and nights—and the person inside the wall had never heard her.
Now, he finally turned his head.
Through the thick barrier, his eyes met hers—and she was on the verge of tears.
Allen's pupils contracted slightly.
A bold guess surged into his mind.
No way?
No way, no way?
He tightened his grip on Xal'atath. Closing his eyes, he sank his perception inward—
Shadow power surged like a black tide, sealing him in from all directions.
Dense, viscous, omnipresent—like the most loyal guards, and also like the most greedy prison.
Don't tell me… it's you damn shadow elements surrounding me so completely that I can't even sense arcane energy?
Allen took a deep breath.
He tried to push the shadows away.
His consciousness gently touched that black tide, like pushing against a heavy iron gate.
He added more force.
Shadows surged in from all directions—layer upon layer, wave after wave. For every inch he pushed back, ten more inches of shadow filled in.
Allen focused with total concentration, unleashing his full strength as he roared inwardly: Get the hell out of here, you shadows!
His will became like a blade, cleaving through the layers of darkness.
Finally—
A gap appeared.
But that was enough.
The long-isolated arcane elements finally saw a path.
Like a tsunami, like a dam bursting—those arcane elements, suppressed for far too long, surged toward the opening with desperate eagerness and near-mad joy.
They crowded together, like long-separated lovers throwing themselves into each other's arms, like pilgrims finally brushing the fingertips of a god.
Allen saw an endless expanse of violet.
He saw a torrent that blanketed the sky, devoured everything, and dyed the entire world a deep, suffocating purple—
A flood.
In that instant, Allen recalled the moment he had advanced into a Wild Mage, when some unknown existence had cast a single glance at him and granted him the power of wild magic sealed within his body.
That chaos… that blinding radiance… that brilliance like a sky full of stars.
Who was it, exactly?
Don't tell me it was Azeroth?
The testing crystal pillar ignited in an instant, its light as blinding as the sun. The mana crystals erupted with dazzling blue brilliance, cracks spreading from within as fragments burst outward.
The outer shell of arcanite began to melt, golden droplets splashing into the air, vaporizing before they could even hit the ground.
Allen couldn't control the torrent of arcane power and could only shout, "Run!"
Antonidas reacted immediately, raising his hand as a pale blue barrier unfolded to envelop the crystal pillar. At the same time, Krasus moved—his fingers traced a silver arc through the air, and the light of a teleportation spell engulfed everyone present.
A flash of light.
Everyone was transported to safety just before the explosion devoured the hall.
Then—
A pillar of violet light shot upward from the ground, like a divine sword thrust from the depths of the earth, splitting the ceiling, tearing through the dome, and cleaving open the skies of Dalaran!
The clouds were ripped in two, and even sunlight paled before that violet beam.
When it finally dissipated, half the hall's ceiling had collapsed, stone pillars lay broken in segments, and the exquisite rune murals had been scorched into blackened ash.
Residual arcane energy filled the air. Crackling violet arcs of electricity leapt through the ruins like ghosts unwilling to depart.
And at the very center of the devastation, Allen Prestor stood there.
Completely unharmed.
He lowered his head, looking at his own hands. His fingers slowly spread, then gradually clenched.
Holy shit.
Those who had narrowly escaped peeked back in.
Not just the onlooking apprentices—even Antonidas and Krasus were stunned.
Now this was truly bad…
The crowd erupted into discussion. Krasus, like some mystic charlatan, muttered, "One day, Medivh will reappear in this world through him."
Jaina looked as if something had just been confirmed, a hint of excitement in her expression.
So it really wasn't a lie, what he said that day.
Then… was it because I asked about such a low-level spell like Frostbolt that I offended a true archmage?
Before long, alarm bells rang out from all directions.
Urgent bells, piercing horns, the sound of countless boots crushing rubble.
Dozens of Kirin Tor battle mages flooded into the ruins, staffs raised high, arcane energy gathering at their tips like arrows ready to be loosed, all aimed at the figure standing in the center.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!!"
...
Allen almost got thrown into the Violet Hold for the second time.
If not for the personal guarantee of two archmages from the Council of Six, he would already be inside the Violet Hold, keeping company with all sorts of strange inmates.
The results of his test were classified and sealed. All witnesses on site were ordered to remain silent.
Of course, no one could give a definitive conclusion to what had happened—after all, since the founding of Dalaran, no one had ever blown up the testing device.
For Allen, this half-day felt like a door to a new world had been opened.
So… he wasn't an arcane idiot after all.
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