If Thea's own innate magical responsiveness were rated at ten—meaning that without relying on any magic arrays or spells, whether by jumping off a cliff, suffering severe injury, or triggering memories, she would have a ten-percent chance of awakening her mage bloodline—then Damian would rate around three, and Malcolm probably wouldn't even reach half a percent.
Now, however, with the aid of modern magic, Malcolm had finally reached this stage. The process was extremely painful. The purification array continuously consumed his body, making every second feel like hell.
But Malcolm was no young man. He understood that gain was proportional to sacrifice, and his willpower was even stronger than Damian's had been back then. Gritting his teeth, he endured it.
Thea watched him without pause. Whenever the magic within Malcolm was about to be exhausted, she manually replenished a portion. Then the array refined it, consumed it—and she replenished it once more.
Twice during the process he nearly collapsed and used the magic gemstones Thea had given him to heal his body. His physical condition recovered, but the mental strain was unavoidable. He could only endure it second by second.
After the fourth replenishment, a single drop of magic truly belonging to Malcolm finally condensed within his body. Thea immediately shut down the array. She herself was utterly exhausted.
"That's it? I do feel something, but the effect seems rather underwhelming," the knight remarked with faint disappointment, having watched the entire process.
Thea couldn't be bothered to respond. No wonder this man had only ever amounted to an ordinary knight—he truly didn't know how to speak. Besides, this wasn't a movie. What kind of spectacle was he expecting? Was a mage apprentice's bloodline awakening supposed to come with earth-shattering phenomena? It was a ridiculous notion.
Seeing that almost no magic remained in the staff, Thea simply injected the rest into Malcolm's body. Later, she would give him a few spellbooks. Even a rough understanding would allow him to cast a handful of spells.
Malcolm himself was an adult who had undergone brutal training—essentially a high-level character with a professional foundation, unlike Damian's beginner-level state. With the additional magic Thea supplied, he rested briefly. Though his entire body trembled and he was drenched in sweat, his spirit was remarkably strong. His eyes were bright and focused. Taking a deep breath, he stepped steadily out of the array.
Thea reached out, intending to give him a high-five. The childish gesture made Malcolm feel awkward, but unwilling to spoil the mood, he returned it.
The taciturn, socially inept knight stared at Malcolm for a long moment. "You've got a bit of form now—but you're still far from sufficient."
Father and daughter were already used to his manner of speaking. He was serious, rigid, and inflexible—but at least he was consistent in word and deed. He wouldn't stab someone in the back.
"Any new abilities?" Thea asked curiously. She herself had manifested the unicorn tattoo, while Damian had awakened dark-attribute damage amplification. According to records, a magical awakening—strong or weak—would always produce an ability aligned with one's personality.
Malcolm said nothing. After pondering for a long while with his eyes closed, he suddenly leapt upward, twisted lightly in midair, and vanished without a trace. A faint breeze passed, and when he reappeared, he was already ten meters away.
Invisibility? Haste? Spatial magic? Several familiar spells flashed through Thea's mind, but none quite fit. She waited for him to explain.
"The information conveyed by my bloodline calls it Wind Walk," Malcolm said. "I can become wind itself. For now, I can only borrow the power of the wind, but in the future I should be able to control it—and perhaps even become a hurricane."
Thea nodded to herself. This ability suited Malcolm perfectly. It allowed both offense and concealment, and most importantly, it was excellent for retreat. The Merlyn bloodline had awakened wind-aspected abilities for generations. It was a solid talent with room to grow. With Malcolm's inclination toward research, he might even develop something new.
Talent was only a small factor. Acquiring knowledge and accumulating magic power were the true path forward.
Thea was about to advise him to focus on steady study when Malcolm hesitated and spoke again. "I think I may have another ability…"
What? Thea was startled. Her unicorn tattoo had two manifestations, but they were still part of a single ability. What did he mean by another one?
"It's… rather abstract. I can't explain it well. I'll show you."
During those three days, Malcolm hadn't been idle. He had contacted his subordinates and vaguely learned that the Cult of the Cold Flame had been beaten into near annihilation by some unknown group. He had already realized that his daughter was no longer the little girl who once trained martial arts with him. She was now a powerful mage. If he didn't understand something, asking her was the right choice.
He extended his hand and traced strange lines through the air. Seven illusory stone slabs engraved with hexagrams appeared. Malcolm frowned, seemingly uncertain of what to do next.
Thea hurriedly stopped him. With her extensive theoretical knowledge, she understood immediately—this was none other than the ability of Faust's observatory.
Previously, the sea beast had absorbed roughly thirty percent of the observatory's magic power, then returned about fifteen percent of it to the Dead King's Scepter. After being consumed and refined by the array, the amount now reflected in Malcolm's body was likely less than ten percent of the original total.
Through the bloodline purification process, this magic had merged with him, granting him a trace of divinatory ability.
Thea herself had studied many schools of magic—spells, secret arts, rituals, curses—but she had almost entirely ignored divination. There was no need for it. With her foreknowledge of events, divination—which consumed both vitality and mental energy—was meaningless to her.
"Don't use this ability again," Thea said seriously. "If I'm not mistaken, this is a Star Mage technique—predicting future events through an observational method entirely different from modern astronomy. The burden it places on you is too great. Promise me you won't use it lightly."
"These are words of wisdom. Listen to her. Do not attempt to wield power you cannot control."
A sudden female voice interrupted the conversation.
A woman in a simple, floor-length purple dress and cloth shoes stepped forward. Her attire was plain, but her bearing was refined and extraordinary. A headband held back her hair as she walked calmly into view.
"You are…?" the knight asked uncertainly, as if witnessing something unbelievable.
Thea answered directly, bowing slightly. "Madame Xanadu. It's been a long time."
Madame Xanadu returned the greeting with flawless etiquette. "Descendant of Merlin. I told you we would meet again."
"Madame… your body seems off," Thea said, after only a brief glance.
Compared to a hundred years ago, Madame Xanadu's strength had declined significantly. More troubling was that she seemed to be enduring the constant erosion of some vast power, her foundation being steadily worn away.
The demigod who had once effortlessly trapped Thea and Diana now appeared barely stronger than the senior members of the Cult of the Cold Flame. What had happened over the past century to damage her to this extent?