His fingertips lightly pointed, and a complex magic array instantly took shape, emitting a light far purer than the divine art of the divine hall.
The wizards were utterly shocked.
This was not "communication"... it was completely a "feast of magic"! The night was deep and the candlelight flickered in the barn, the air filled with the scent of paper, ink, and the remnants of magic. Ian sat in front of a worn-out wooden table, with an ancient parchment spread out before him, densely written with the knowledge he had just acquired.
It wasn't just a matter of simple acquisition either; as he learned the ancient theories of magic, souls, and astrology of this era, he unreservedly imparted his own knowledge to them—from the basic principles of energy flow, to the deep logic of consciousness building techniques, to how to enhance spiritual power through meditation.
"You must understand," Ian stood in the midst of them, his tone firm, "true power does not come from the gifts of the gods, nor from the complexity of spells, but from that unyielding will deep within your heart."
He swept his gaze across the crowd, eyes like torches:
"You are wizards, not priests. You should not kneel to the gods, but should control the rules. You must believe that as long as you are strong enough, nothing can truly harm you."
He paused, his voice deep yet filled with strength:
"So, remember this: Wizards are kings, heart is the world."
This statement was like a thunderclap, exploding in the hearts of these wizards long oppressed by the gods and bound by faith.
They looked at each other, some with eyes sparkling with excitement, others plunged into deep contemplation.
An elder witch slowly spoke: "If... if we can really do as you say, do we still need to fear Olympus?"
"No need," Ian answered, "but the premise is that you must unite, establish your own order, create an ideal haven for wizards."
"What about you?" a young witch couldn't help but ask, "Are you willing to lead us? You are the strongest, you have the qualification to become our leader."
The room fell silent, everyone holding their breath waiting for his answer.
Ian smiled softly, shook his head: "I ultimately have to leave. I can help you, but I cannot protect you."
His words left them a bit disappointed, but they understood.
After all, this person was never a mere mortal of this era from the beginning.
Just as the atmosphere grew a bit low, suddenly—
"After you leave, I can protect the wizards."
A cool and dignified female voice came from the doorway.
Everyone turned their heads abruptly.
They saw a woman standing quietly at the barn door, clad in a silver-white battle robe, a golden crown on her head, and a long cloak draped over her. Her demeanor was noble and calm, her eyes reflecting unparalleled wisdom and power.
"Goddess Athena!" someone exclaimed, immediately kneeling to the ground.
The rest also bowed their heads, faces pale, as if already foreseeing the impending disaster.
However, to everyone's surprise, this goddess of wisdom from Mount Olympus was neither angry nor did she deliver any punishment. She merely gazed quietly at Ian.
Her eyes deep as the sea.
"As long as at the coming of the gods' dusk, you can spare my life." Her voice was light, yet it clearly reached everyone's ears, with even a hint of pleading in her tone.
Silence.
The wizards widened their eyes.
Hardly daring to believe what they had just heard.