CHAPTER 1160: POSSIBILITIES

Saeldir walked among the scattered corpses outside the palace walls, the drizzle forming thin, silvery lines across his white hair and shoulders.

The air was quiet. Too quiet for a battlefield that had been bursting with undead hours ago.

He extended his hand, conjuring faint threads of detection Magic that flowed from his palm and spread over the bodies like translucent mist again.

He still found nothing. No lingering traces, hidden marks, or any spells. There were no threads of corruption leading back to a source.

Just dead bodies.

He moved to the next one, then the next, kneeling briefly to inspect the edges of a corpse’s flesh.

The skin had the familiar dull gray texture and the smell of decayed enchantment. But that, too, was normal for this kind of enemy.

He checked the broken bones, the ruptured tissues, the crystallized remnants of whatever foul Magic had animated them.

Still nothing.

Saeldir exhaled slowly. "This isn’t right..."

He turned toward the far away in the northern horizon. Hours ago, he felt that necrotic energy had pulsed violently from that direction. So strongly that even novice Mages could sense its presence.

But now it was gone. Completely gone. Like someone had blown out a candle.

Without residue and without the usual aftershock of corrupted Magic energy.

Something like that never happened before. Not naturally.

The Archmage straightened, eyes narrowed toward the distant trees.

"I need to speak to the Forest Elves... they must have noticed something."

If not, he would have to go with the scouts himself and recheck every marked location where the necrotic points had surged earlier.

Because energy of that magnitude didn’t simply vanish.

He turned back toward the wall. "Continue your work," he instructed the nearby soldiers and Mages. "Report immediately if anything feels unusual."

They saluted, and Saeldir walked through the open gate, his footsteps echoing softly along the polished floor as he entered the palace.

Inside, the air was warm and quiet, scented with rain carried by the breeze.

He made his way up the staircase and stepped onto the balcony where he found Aurdis and Aerchon standing together.

Aurdis turned first. "Saeldir. Is there any news?"

The Archmage shook his head. "No. And from your expression, I assume there’s still no word from Erend?"

Aurdis lowered her gaze and shook her head once.

Saeldir sighed. "I’ll be in my chamber. If anyone needs me, tell them I’m not to be disturbed unless it’s urgent."

Aurdis studied him for a moment. "You feel it too, don’t you? That something is still wrong."

"Yes," Saeldir answered without hesitation. "This calm... it isn’t natural. Something is missing. Something we haven’t seen yet."

Then he nodded to both of them and walked away.

He moved through the quiet corridors until he reached his private chamber.

The room welcomed him with dim blue torches and shelves overflowing with scrolls and tomes.

At the center stood a wide table holding a Magic map in black parchment to track necrotic fluctuations.

He wiped his fingers across the surface, activating the runes beneath the parchment.

The map shimmered to life.

For a moment, the necrotic points he had marked earlier flickered faintly.

Then they vanished again.

Saeldir’s expression hardened.

"That shouldn’t be possible..." he whispered.

He stood over the trembling map in silence for a few seconds, the torches casting shifting shadows across his face.

He closed his eyes, letting his mind sift through every possibility he knew. He started thinking of every theory, forbidden text he had read, and every anomaly in the long and complex history of Magic.

Necrotic energy didn’t behave like this.

It never vanished before being sealed or extinguished.

It always left scars in the air, like thin traces of corrupted mana, residue clinging to the wind or the soil for days, sometimes weeks.

Even after the source was gone or destroyed, the stain remained. That was the very nature of necrotic Magic: lingering, stubborn, and parasitic.

So how could it disappear?

Saeldir’s thoughts raced.

"Could the source have been destroyed instantly? No... even if Erend had managed to do it, the aftershock would remain. And there was no aftershock.

"Could someone have cleansed it? A purification of that scale without any of us noticing? That is impossible."

His eyes narrowed as another thought surfaced, one he didn’t want to consider.

"Unless the source deliberately withdrew it."

He placed both hands on the table, leaning closer.

Necrotic energy was not just a raw force. It was tied to will. Tied to intent. Something controlled it.

If the energy had been drawn back, it meant the entity manipulating it had done so consciously.

Like a hand pulling back its shadow. It could mean that Erend failed.

Saeldir felt a cold weight settle in his chest. A chill that had nothing to do with the rain.

"What if the entity right now were hiding its signature on purpose and waiting for the right moment to attack again?"

There were ancient, cunning, powerful beings that could mask themselves. They could shift their presence, cloak their Magic, and slip through the threads of detection like mist.

But such beings were rare. Very rare. And they were not supposed to be anywhere near this world anymore based on the records he had.

Saeldir lifted his hand and let the map fall still, the last flicker of its runes fading into darkness.

"This isn’t disappearance," he murmured. "This is concealment."

That thought twisted uneasily in his mind.

He straightened, pacing slowly around the room, each step measured, his cloak brushing against the stone floor.

If the energy was being concealed, then the enemy wasn’t defeated.

It was waiting and preparing for something.

Saeldir stopped walking and turned toward the window where the drizzle continued its gentle descent over the palace.

He shut his eyes, inhaling sharply.

"If this thing can pull its presence back so completely... then we might be facing something far more intelligent than what we assumed. And if Erend really fails, we need to prepare for the worst."

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