? Serie ? Prologue ?

  From the personal journal of Serie…

  The others have urged me to keep a record of the events unfolding in the forthcoming months.

  So I sit here now, penning my worries and contemplations onto this page. I do not understand why they request this of me. To be frank, I suspect none who come after me could ever hope to remedy, or simply comprehend the calamity that looms before us now. Understand that this is not arrogance. I sincerely believe that the horror I discovered is unfit for even my own First Class Mages, much less the common person.

  The tasks that have been bestowed upon me are mine only, and it falls upon me to maintain their sanctity. But alas, the old order of the world has been breached. The rules that have served us so well, for so long, cannot be applied presently. Thus, this record shall serve as advance notice, in the case that I cannot conceive of a method for resolution. That day draws nearer and nearer, and I hesitate to think what may occur should events move out of my control. How ironic, then, that if worst comes to pass, this document should instead come to be evidence of my—and perhaps the entire world's—damnation.

  I am Serie, the founder of the Continental Magic Association, called the Living Grimoire, entitled as a Great Mage from the Mythical Era, existing as a Divine Fragment of the Goddess herself, and one who has never known defeat since before memory…

  And on the seventh day of Hauerst, in the fortieth cycle of the Third Era Adlera, I witnessed something I had long believed beneath me—

  Fear.

  An emotion I had not felt since the Goddess freely walked the Earth in the Mythical Era.

  For months before, I had dreamt of nothing but madness. I slept fitfully, waking in cold sweat, my limbs tangled in the sheets. Strange sensations set my spine alight and coursed through my veins, sundering any notion of rest. I saw shifting forms in my subconscious. Titanic, writhen creatures that stirred in the bowels of some ancient, forgotten place. I could feel it down to the marrow in my bones—these beings, they should not exist, for there is a wrongness that permeates even the air they inhabit. They are far older than even I. The greatest monsters that populate our world do not hold a candle to such minacious colossuses. But I did not fear those old beings, even as cursed as they looked.

  The others tried to comfort me. But they do not bear my responsibilities. They know not the burden that has been placed on me. I am the sustainer of this world. In the most literal sense, I guard the firmament, preventing anything that should not rightfully exist from entering. A task blessed by the Elven Goddess Leunn. I take my responsibilities seriously, never intending to trifle with the divine orders sent down by my creator.

  But on that day, I sensed something as I arose from a particularly horrid nightmare. A force filled my senses: one that dwarfed the stars, broke all semblance of pride, and rendered comprehension a hopeless endeavor. The barriers that I so painstakingly managed, that I crafted from the highest forms of magic gathered over millennia of toil, had been pierced. As if by a needle with an infinitesimally small point, the third and final layer of the world-spanning boundary was breached with a minuscule hole. And the sheer power that funneled into that singular point—it was a plane of mana so gargantuan in its scale, exceeding my own by orders of magnitude I cannot meaningfully quantify. For that single moment, my heart refused to steady. Another heartbeat and the presence vanished. Dissipated into nothing. I probed, but could not feel its oppressive weight. What could such a being even be? Now it has come to reside inside our world, hidden somewhere my eyes cannot scry.

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  This was not foretold by Leunn the Graceful. For the first time in what must be eons... I am lost. Weeks have passed since then, and all I feel is a sharp dread and that unfamiliar fear. Sleep does not come easily, and when it does, I am afflicted with those harrowing visions. Sense tells me that I must make use of the spell I granted as the boon of her privilege. The girl does not understand—it is my duty to preserve the sanctuary of this world, no matter what hardships come with it. If a few meager dreams were all it took for me to forsake my task, the Goddess would have long passed me over for another. I remain convinced that there must be some relation between my nightmares and the presence that touched the world-spanning barrier. Considering that those nightmares may be of use in identifying that connection, I shall continue to bear any number of harsh dreams.

  Aside from Sense, I have shared my experience with a handful of the First Class Mages. None of them have been able to propose a feasible solution, not that I had expected them to; indeed, I cannot even fathom one myself. Some have suggested that I order a country-wide search for the being, but that is beyond the realm of my authority. Lernen speaks of attempting to construct a self-recurring spell so potent that it would render its wielder an equal to that being, if only temporarily. He makes a valid point: there exist certain magics with infinitely repeating properties that, in theory, could reach the same magnitudes of power. But I forbade him; we may only turn to such measures as an absolute final resort. A Pyrrhic victory is none at all, if the entirety of the world is at stake.

  The Emperor has been in correspondence, promising his scholars are already devising an instrument capable of measuring the disturbance. They intend to pinpoint the exact location the being absconded to, and while I commend their initiative, I cannot help but wonder—what shall we do if we manage to unearth this creature? How foolish it would be to engage a being with mana reserves bordering planetary scales. It seems to me the only relevant course of action is research: every single fragment of information must be scoured if we are to know what monstrosity we face. For my own part, I have delved into my private libraries, seeking any theories that slipped my notice. If powers as great as that presence are to exist within our universe, I must know every detail of it.

  And as for the Demon King… we have rarely spoken through the centuries, and my hands are presently too full to consider his plans. I despise schemers like him. We can never speak free of pretense. Plans within plans upon plans. How contemptible. Does he not realize this is a threat that even our fullest might—magic and genius alike—may not suffice to defeat? We are both warmongers, and yet how is it that I have the ability to see reason, but not him? Petty gambits and trifling conflicts take up the span of his concerns. Him, of all, should know not to seek minnows whilst leviathans stir beneath the waves. The First Class mages say we are of the same ilk, which proves they know nothing: that sentiment could not be any further from the truth. I have neither the time nor the inclination to entertain his machinations.

  It is imperative that all matters pertaining to that being must be kept untold to the general public. I have forbidden my mages from discussing them without my explicit permission. We cannot have the panic that ensues if any of this is made known to the masses. This is not to mention how that presence—assuming it has a consciousness like our own—might react if it discovered we knew of it.

  So concludes the end of this record. It is the first, no doubt, of many more to come. I remain optimistic in the Empire's efforts, for they are humans and prone to consider at length methods we elves deem trivial. What they do not understand is not a weakness for them, but rather an inspiration. I hope that all the worries that plague me shall be put to rest soon. Moments of peace have been scarce amidst all these preparations. That is not a concern worth much trouble in and of itself—I can manage well enough, but it strains me still.

  —

  31st of Hauerst, 40th cycle of the 3rd Era Adlera,

  From Strahl,

  The Great Mage Serie.