The basement felt different that night.
Not just occupied.
Charged.
The twelve-meter magic circle carved into the stone floor glowed faintly in anticipation, its layered sigils catching the low lantern light like veins of silver beneath rock. Concentric rings interlocked with geometric precision, etched channels branching outward into stabilization nodes embedded directly into the foundation.
Xavier stood at the outer ring, boots planted carefully between carved lines. He could feel it already—the subtle hum in the air, like pressure before a storm.
Alvin knelt at the center.
Crates of level zero zombie crystals had been stacked neatly along the perimeter. What once looked like dull, cloudy shards now appeared strangely translucent under the circle's faint resonance, as if aware they were about to become something else.
