The Mage Association.
With more and more mages flocking to the Dawn Empire, the South District had also become bustling lately.
When Ning Busan entered the Mage Association, he could clearly feel many scrutinizing gazes directed at him.
Everyone knew that the student Lord Saige had taken in had black hair and black eyes. This feature was simply too distinctive.
So later on, Ning Busan simply used Spatial Displacement to travel directly to Saige's residence, bypassing the main entrance of the Mage Association entirely.
Since advancing to an Advanced Mage, Ning Busan had hit a bottleneck.
His level of control over magic elements was already exceptionally high, and he could use various spells with absolute mastery.
To cast magic, one could not do without magic patterns, but the magic patterns on the Landia Continent were limited.
For example, because there was no magic pattern corresponding to a cleaning spell, Ning Busan could not use magic to clear away trash.
To put it plainly, Ning Busan's talent was being restricted by the magic patterns.
Therefore, he went to consult Saige. “Teacher, who created those magic patterns?”
“Some were taught by archangels sent by the Celestial Clan, while others were gradually figured out by our predecessors through experience,” Saige said.
“Converting the surrounding magic element particles into a power humans can utilize requires extremely strict conditions.”
“Up until now, the system we have established achieves this conversion through wands, magic patterns, and chanted incantations.”
Ning Busan asked, “What if I want to create new magic?”
Saige's brow furrowed tightly. “Creating new magic means creating new magic patterns. That process is very dangerous.”
He had not expected that Ning Busan would harbor such great ambition just after becoming an Advanced Mage.
After all, even as a Grand Archmage, he only dared to attempt modifying the pathways of existing magic patterns to allow the spells to unleash greater power.
Ning Busan did not want to give up so easily, so he asked, “What kind of dangers are involved in creating magic patterns?”
Saige pulled out a piece of paper, drew a few strokes on it, and asked, “What is this?”
Ning Busan studied it carefully for a moment before saying, “This is... an inverted pentagram?”
Saige nodded. “Yes, right now it is just an inverted pentagram.”
“But if you arrange the magic particles of the dark element into the shape of an inverted pentagram, it becomes a totem symbolizing the Lord of Hell.”
Ning Busan twitched his lips.
The Lord of Hell?
Wasn't that one of his accounts—Satan?
It was truly hilarious. Even he himself hadn't known that his symbolic totem was an inverted pentagram!
Saige continued:
“There are many known and unknown terrifying existences in this world, and their symbolic totems are often extremely simple symbols.”
“A magic pattern is equivalent to a totem imbued with magical power. A pattern you sketch out inadvertently might very well point to those existences that are considered taboos.”
At this point, Saige solemnly warned Ning Busan, “Do not attempt to create magic patterns on your own. If you happen to disturb those taboo existences, the consequences will be unimaginable.”
Ning Busan readily agreed. “Teacher, I promise I won't just casually research magic patterns.”
Although he had agreed in words, the moment he returned to Roman Lane, Ning Busan decisively began creating a new magic pattern.
With the Mage Exchange Conference just around the corner, he did not know in what manner the match between him and Isabella would be decided.
His opponent was an Archmage, so he had to prepare a trump card.
As for whether he would disturb some terrifying existence, Ning Busan was not worried at all.
He muttered to himself, “Since the inverted pentagram symbolizes Satan, shouldn't I just use the inverted pentagram as the base pattern?”
In any case, he was Satan, and Satan was him. Whether he succeeded or failed, it would not have any negative impact on him.
Ning Busan rolled up his sleeves and began his research.
...
Hell, Purgatory Palace.
Within the luxuriously yet grimly decorated palace, various eerie runes and patterns were embedded in the walls.
Nether fires that would never extinguish burned on giant black candelabras, illuminating the entire palace.
Seated upon a throne carved from piled-up skulls was a handsome, twelve-winged demon.
The desk in front of him was piled high with all kinds of documents and scrolls, which recorded matters great and small in Hell, ranging from disputes between demons to conspiracies against the human world.
He was the Demon King of Pride who held the authority of pride, the current Lord of Hell—Lucifer.
Lucifer held a black quill in his hand, reviewing and signing documents.
The feathers that fell from his wings were incredibly smooth and fluid to use once crafted into pens.
Suddenly, his movements came to a halt.
He had heard a familiar voice. It lasted for barely less than a second before vanishing, so fleeting that it felt like an illusion.
But before long, the voice rang out again, even humming a cheerful tune, sounding as though its owner was in a very good mood.
Lucifer crushed the quill in his hand, deep shock and joy surfacing in his eyes.
It really was him—
Satan!
...
At this moment, after repeated experimentation, Ning Busan had successfully drawn a magic pattern with the inverted pentagram as its framework.
Furthermore, he had gone straight for a massive gamble, attempting to siphon the authority of the Lord of Hell.
If he succeeded, he would be able to directly wield the power of Hell, making him equivalent to a pseudo-demon.
Yet right at that moment, an extremely evil power emerged from the magic pattern he had drawn.
An ominous premonition rose in Ning Busan's heart.
He seemed to have played himself.
Ning Busan wanted to disrupt the arrangement of the dark elements, but even after trying every method available, the magic pattern remained completely immovable.
Ning Busan failed to notice a massive black vortex silently manifesting behind him.
A sudden weight pressed down on his shoulder. Ning Busan's body froze instantly, cold sweat breaking out all over him as his heart pounded like a wild drumbeat.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the hand resting on his shoulder was fair and slender, yet possessed sharp, pointed black nails.
Ning Busan swallowed hard, unsure whether he should look back or run away.
The voice behind him was filled with bewilderment. “Satan, how did you become a human?”
Ning Busan already knew who this demon was.
There had only ever been one demon who would call him directly by his name instead of addressing him as King—the Demon King of Pride, Lucifer.
But how had Lucifer recognized him?
Ning Busan took a deep breath, forcing himself to maintain calm and clear thoughts before finally turning around.
Lucifer was tall and erect, with long silver hair flowing down to his waist like a waterfall, and crimson eyes that were as blood-red and deep as if they had been soaked in blood.
Twelve massive black wings slowly unfurled behind him, a dark luster circulating on every single feather, exuding a noble and inviolable aura.
Ning Busan greeted him calmly, “Lucifer, long time no see.”
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