The world shimmered, a kaleidoscope of distorted light and sound, as the energy wave, a tsunami of raw power, crashed against… nothing.
Or rather, nothing visible.
The energy, denied its intended target, recoiled violently, slamming back into the heart of the crumbling ruins with a roar that echoed through the very foundations of the continent.
The remaining arcane mechanisms, already stressed to their breaking point, disintegrated in a spectacular firework display of sparks and shattered stone.
So much for the mysterious robed figure's grand plan.
Boom, roasted.
Dust settled.
Elion, still miraculously perched on his levitating chaise lounge (because, priorities), brushed a nonexistent speck of dust from his impeccably tailored robes.
"Well," he drawled, a hint of amusement in his voice, "that was... something." He took another languid sip of his now-cold beverage. It tasted vaguely of disappointment.
Beside him, Avril, her bow still strung and an arrow notched, but now pointed at absolutely nothing, lowered the weapon with a sigh.
"Show off," she muttered, but the corner of her lip twitched upwards. Even she had to admit, Elion's nonchalant power was impressive, even if it came courtesy of a system he treated like a glorified butler.
Samuel, the adventurer, who until a few moments ago had been convinced his life was flashing before his eyes, just stared, his jaw hanging slack.
He'd seen magic, sure.
He'd seen powerful magic.
But he'd never seen someone just… exist through an apocalypse-level event like that.
He finally stammered, "Did… did that really just happen?"
"Now, let"s get out of this dusty mess. I"m starting to feel a draft." Back in the gleaming, improbably clean metropolis of the Eternal Empire – which, let's be honest, was more like a sprawling resort than a traditional empire – Elion, Avril, and Samuel recounted their harrowing escape from the ancient ruins. The assembled representatives of the various races, from stoic dwarves to ethereal sylphs, listened with rapt attention, their expressions ranging from awe to horrified fascination.
The tale of the mysterious robed figure and his thwarted plan to, well, whatever his plan was, had them buzzing.
Conspiracy theories flew faster than a caffeinated hummingbird.
Elion, however, was less interested in speculation and more interested in application.
Like a cosmic sponge, it had soaked up the raw power, adding it to its own mysterious reserves.
And Elion, ever the pragmatist (when it came to maximizing his laziness, that is), saw an opportunity.
"So," he addressed the assembled representatives, leaning back on his throne – a surprisingly comfortable, temperature-controlled recliner disguised as a regal seat of power – "I've been thinking…" The representatives collectively braced themselves. Whenever Elion claimed to be "thinking," it usually resulted in some radical shift in the status quo, preferably one that involved less effort for him and more benefits for everyone else.
It was a surprisingly effective leadership strategy.
"This energy," he continued, gesturing vaguely in the direction of… well, everywhere, "we could use it. Upgrade the infrastructure, boost magical capabilities, maybe even finally get those self-folding laundry machines working." The representatives, initially perplexed, quickly realized the potential. Combining the ancient energy with their existing magical and technological prowess could usher in a new era of prosperity and power.
A murmur of excitement rippled through the hall.
Dwarven engineers started sketching blueprints on napkins, elven mages debated theoretical applications, and even the usually stoic gnomes cracked a few smiles.
Samuel, caught up in the infectious enthusiasm, found himself appointed head of a new exploration team, tasked with finding more of this mysterious energy.
He still wasn't quite sure how he'd gone from near-death experience to esteemed explorer in the span of an afternoon, but hey, he wasn't complaining.
Besides, the new expedition uniform was surprisingly stylish.
And so, under the decidedly uninvolved leadership of its lazy archon, the Eternal Empire embarked on a new era of progress and innovation.
Cities gleamed with newly harnessed energy, magic and technology intertwined seamlessly, and the very air crackled with potential.
It was a golden age.
A time of peace, prosperity, and unprecedented laziness.
Everything was perfect.
Too perfect.
As the celebrations reached their peak, a messenger, pale and breathless, burst into the grand hall, his words barely coherent.
"Your Majesty… the… the sky…" he stammered, pointing a trembling finger towards the vast panoramic window overlooking the city. Elion, mid-yawn, glanced up, a flicker of annoyance in his eye.
Someone was interrupting his naptime.
This had better be good.
He followed the messenger's gaze, and his jaw… well, it didn't exactly drop.
He was far too relaxed for that kind of exertion.
But a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow did arch ever so slightly.
Above the gleaming spires of the Eternal Empire, the sky, once a vibrant azure, was now swirling with an unsettling shade of deep crimson, pulsing like a diseased heart.
And within that swirling crimson tide, something… shifted.
"That's… inconvenient. The air in the Grand Hall crackled not just with mana, but with a palpable sense of expectation. Elion, still horizontal on his levitating chaise lounge (seriously, the guy"s commitment to laziness was Olympic-level), surveyed the scene with the practiced disinterest of a cat judging a dog show.
Beside him, the ever-vigilant Avril, her emerald eyes darting amongst the assembled delegates like a hummingbird on Red Bull, radiated enough restless energy to power a small city.
"Think they'll actually do something useful for once, or just whine about resource distribution again?" Avril muttered, flexing a hand that could probably punch through a brick wall. Elion took a slow sip of his lukewarm… something.
He really needed to upgrade his system's beverage generation algorithm.
"Patience, my volatile violet. Remember, even a broken clock is right twice a day. And besides," he added, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "the system's been rather… generous with its passive buffs lately. I suspect a breakthrough is imminent." And boy, was he right. Remember that gnarly energy surge from the last chapter?
Turns out, it wasn't just random magical indigestion.
The system, bless its digital heart, had passively absorbed the collective "fear of stagnation" radiating from the populace and transmuted it into… drumroll please …Universal Basic Mana!
Suddenly, a slightly singed Samuel, fresh from another archaeological dig and somehow even more enthusiastic than usual, burst forward.
"This ancient text details a method of converting ambient emotional energy into a stable, readily available power source! Imagine – no more reliance on dwindling mana crystals!" The delegates, previously engaged in a tense debate about goblin tax brackets, went silent. Even the perpetually grumpy dwarf representative perked up, his beard twitching with interest.
Elion, of course, feigned mild surprise.
"Emotional energy, you say? Fascinating. And conveniently timed, wouldn't you agree?" He winked at Avril, who rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. Over the next few hours (which Elion mostly spent napping), Samuel, Avril, and a team of surprisingly competent gnomes worked tirelessly to translate the ancient text and adapt it to modern technology.
The result?
A network of shimmering pylons that subtly channeled the hopes, dreams, and anxieties of the populace into a readily accessible mana grid.
Think of it as a giant emotional battery, but way less depressing.
The implications were staggering.
Mana became practically free.
Low-level mages could suddenly afford to practice their craft.
Innovation exploded.
The grumpy dwarf representative even cracked a smile (a truly terrifying sight).
As the sun set, casting long shadows across the newly energized landscape, Elion finally deigned to stand up.
He stretched languidly, feeling the system thrum with newfound power.
"An era where even the laziest archon can accidentally save the world." He winked. The crowd roared.
Avril facepalmed.
Elion, never one to miss an opportunity for further horizontal relaxation, promptly reclined back onto his chaise lounge.
"System," he murmured, "bring me another lukewarm beverage. This time, surprise me." The system, ever obedient, materialized a frothy drink of indeterminate color. Elion took a sip.
"Huh," he said. "Not bad. Tastes like… victory. And a hint of lime."