Reinventing Magic: An Inventor's Tale-Chapter 78: The Unsealed Gate

Kael’s fingers hovered over the glowing interface, the vast network of holographic data shifting and rearranging itself in response to his presence. The term ’Rift’ stood out prominently among the swirling texts, its importance underscored by the sheer amount of information attached to it. Unlike the scattered remnants of the Project Golem files, this seemed more intricate, layered with security clearances and encrypted glyphs.

Lucien and Isolde stood just behind him, their eyes locked onto the cascading ancient text that illuminated the chamber. The glowing words formed an intricate lattice, shifting and rearranging themselves in ways that no modern magical script could replicate. The patterns moved like living things, adapting and reforming as if responding to the presence of the inheritor.

Lucien narrowed his eyes. "Even if I devoted my entire life to deciphering these inscriptions, I doubt I would ever fully grasp their depth. This... is beyond anything we’ve ever studied."

Isolde was equally mesmerized. "This is not mere language. It’s a construct, a self-adapting mechanism built to prevent unauthorized access."

Kael, who had effortlessly navigated through the complex interface, barely reacted to their words. To him, the ancient text might as well have been modern Common. He wasn’t sure how, but ever since waking up in this world, he could understand and read any language with unnatural ease, including this ancient text. It was as if his mind had been rewired to interpret the lost knowledge of the Ancients effortlessly.

Lucien finally voiced the question that had been burning in his mind. "My lord, if I may ask... how is it that you can read this?"

Kael’s eyes flicked toward the artificer, contemplating his response. He had been asked this before—by Keira, but he had no real answer. The knowledge had simply been there, as natural as breathing. And so, he gave the same answer he always did.

"I read a lot of books."

Lucien’s lips parted slightly, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "Books...?"

Kael merely nodded, offering no further elaboration. It wasn’t a lie—he had studied relentlessly in his past life. But this knowledge of the Ancients? It was something else entirely.

Kael’s eyes remained fixed on the glowing interface, the flood of information absorbing his full attention. The ancient text scrolled rapidly, lines of data shifting and reorganizing as if responding to his very presence. His mind worked tirelessly to process it all—diagrams of unknown mechanisms, coded inscriptions layered with complex glyphs, and theories of magical principles that defied conventional understanding.

Each symbol, each formula, felt familiar in a way that he couldn’t explain. It was not a matter of study or conscious recollection—rather, it was as if the knowledge had always been there, waiting to be recognized. His fingers hovered over the interface, instinctively tracing a sequence of characters that adjusted the projections, refining the clarity of the data.

Lucien watched Kael closely, his thoughts drifting back to the past. He had always prided himself on being the best artificer within the Kingdom, his mastery over rune inscription and artifact enhancement unmatched. But that belief had been shaken when he first laid eyes on the Aetherwing Skiff.

He had been granted the opportunity to study it at the Duke’s request, the very moment he beheld its craftsmanship. At first, he was certain that no enchantment or magical construct could surpass his understanding. Yet, as he examined its intricate sequences, he found himself utterly perplexed. The enchantments woven into its structure did not follow the familiar principles of modern magic. The runes pulsed with an unfamiliar rhythm, their sequence both alien and impossibly efficient.

Lucien had spent weeks pouring over the designs, consulting tomes, and even reaching out to fellow scholars, but none could decipher the exact mechanism that allowed the Skiff to fly. The realization had been humbling—no, infuriating. The knowledge he had taken pride in suddenly felt inadequate. And now, standing here, watching Kael navigate the legacy of an ancient civilization as if it were second nature, that same feeling crept in once more.

He clenched his fists. The Baron of Valtieri was young—only fifteen. And yet, he possessed knowledge beyond Lucien’s comprehension. A prodigy? No. Something more than that.

Lucien exhaled, steadying himself. He had spent too long questioning his place. Now was the time to learn, to expand his own understanding. If Kael was truly the inheritor of this forgotten knowledge, then perhaps... he could grasp even a fraction of it.

Kael, unaware of Lucien’s internal struggle, returned his focus to the glowing interface. With a simple motion, he pulled the encrypted file into full view. The title reshaped itself into a more comprehensible form.

The Riftgate: The Cataclysm’s Source

A shiver ran down Kael’s spine as he read the words.

Lucien’s expression darkened as he watched Kael’s eyes move rapidly across the interface. Though he couldn’t understand a word of the ancient text, he could see the intensity in Kael’s gaze, the way his fingers moved instinctively, adjusting the holographic projections as though this knowledge belonged to him alone.

Kael tapped the interface, and the ancient records unfurled before him. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

Lines upon lines of data scrolled past—detailed reports, fragmented records of desperate experiments, and sketches of ominous-looking structures. But what struck Kael the most were the depictions of the Rifts. These were not creations of man or magic; they had simply appeared, tearing through reality itself like wounds that refused to heal.

Lucien and Isolde exchanged uncertain glances. They could not decipher the text, but the images alone told them enough. Cities crumbling beneath the weight of monstrous creatures, ancient fortifications reduced to rubble, and entire landscapes scarred beyond recognition. The ominous symbols, the precise illustrations of devastation—they needed no translation.

Kael exhaled slowly, his mind processing the vast amounts of information. "The Rifts were an anomaly," he muttered. "The Ancients... They tried to stop them."

His eyes flicked across the remaining records, detailing desperate attempts to contain the breaches. The Ancients had studied the Rifts relentlessly, searching for a way to close them permanently. They had developed powerful constructs, erected colossal barriers, and even experimented with manipulating reality itself. And yet—

They had failed to close it permanently. Desperation led them to conceive a temporary solution—a prototype: The Seal of Eternus. This was no ordinary seal; it was a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching shadows. Yet, the seal demanded a titanic price. To activate it, a colossal amount of mana was required, more than any single mage could conjure.

In an unprecedented act of unity and sacrifice, thousands of mages from across the globe converged. They formed a vast circle, their faces etched with determination and trepidation. As the incantations began, the air vibrated with power, shimmering with arcs of raw magic. The earth trembled under the strain of their combined efforts, their life force mingling with the mana they poured into the Seal of Eternus.

Their chants grew louder, more fervent, as the seal began to shimmer with a golden light. One by one, the mages felt their mana drain, their life force ebbing away, until they stood on the brink of oblivion. The Seal of Eternus blazed in response, a radiant barrier against the darkness, forged by their ultimate sacrifice.

Kael’s grip on the interface tightened as he read further. The last known records spoke of how the largest empires of the time, including the Imperius Empire—once thought to be invincible—had crumbled under the onslaught. The massive creatures that emerged from the Rifts had brought destruction that no army, no spell, no fortification had been able to withstand. The fall of the Ancients had not been a slow decline, but a cataclysm, an unstoppable force that wiped entire civilizations from history.

Kael’s fingers curled into a fist. This knowledge—this warning—had been left behind, buried under millennia of dust. If someone in the present era had access to even a fraction of this information...

His thoughts were interrupted as the holographic projections flickered and shifted. A deep, metallic chime echoed through the chamber. The interface had processed their access request and was now displaying something new.

A map.

Kael’s breath hitched. The glowing lines outlined an unfamiliar terrain—ancient topography compared to the maps of the current world. And at its center, marked with pulsating red glyphs, was an unmistakable structure.

A Riftgate had opened.

Then, a red marker flared to life—far too close to their current location.

Before he could speak, a surge of energy pulsed through the chamber. A deep, resonant hum vibrated through the ground, and Kael’s gaze snapped toward the interface. The map flickered erratically, lines distorting as if reacting to something external.

Astra, who had remained silent, suddenly tensed. His glowing spirit crystal pulsed with rapid intensity, and for the first time, a flicker of unease crossed his otherwise impassive face.

"It shouldn’t be..." Astra muttered in the ancient tongue, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. His core pulsed again before he straightened, his tone sharpening. "Now is not the time. We should have four years left before the seal’s power depletes. This... is too soon."

Kael’s expression hardened. He already knew they had four years before the seals would weaken, but if a Riftgate was opening now, something had accelerated the process. This wasn’t just an anomaly—it was a disaster in the making.

Kael clenched his jaw. "We move. Now."

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