Chapter 132 Might
A week had passed since the opening of the secret plane. Since then, the entire Southern Federation seemed to have come alive. Every notable Magus family and organization had begun their preparations.
After all, this was an event that happened once every thirty years. The results yielded this time would lay the foundation for the next thirty years when the secret plane opened once again.
Countless Magus families have risen and fallen in the long history of the Southern Federation. The only constant was the Soaring River Secret Plane.
On this day, the leaders of all the kingdoms, prestigious Magus families, magic academies, and other organizations that made up the Southern Federation had arrived at Moon City.
The King of Nightingale Kingdom was hosting these leaders in an opulent hall within the royal palace.
Inside this palace, dozens of Magi could be seen seated around a long table. Magi of all four major races were present and the lowest-ranked Magi were at least Rank 2.
Other than that there were also Rank 3 Magi present. Five of them to be precise. Two humans and one from the other three major races. These Rank 3 Magi were undoubtedly the representatives of their races in the Southern Federation!
The King of Nightingale Kingdom was sitting at the head of the table and looking at everyone present with calm eyes. He was a middle-aged man with a head full of chestnut hair and facial hair that was neat and trim.
He wore regal robes and donned a golden crown over his head. He had the dignified aura of not just a monarch but also a Rank 3 Magus. His name was Arnold Nightingale!
Seeing that everyone's attention was on him, Arnold spoke with a faint smile, "My fellow Magi, as you all know, the Soaring River Secret Plane has once again opened its doors to us. This is a cause for celebrations."
"Here, here!" All the Magi nodded their heads in acknowledgment.
The secret plane was home to countless treasures and magic texts left behind by its owner. After numerous expeditions inside the secret plane, it was deduced that its owner was a Magus who majored in the School of Summoning.
Anyone who entered the secret plane was bound to come across fortuitous encounters, even after so many years had passed. After all, it was a vast land full of riches. However, since time immemorial, opportunity has always coexisted with danger.
The Soaring River Secret Plane was also home to magical beasts as well as other races that have lived in the secret plane since its inception. However, the greatest danger had never been the natives of the secret plane, but the outsiders.
After all, be it human or elf, dwarf or gnome, greed and self-interest knew no bounds.
Arnold's face turned solemn and so did the aura around him. It heavily weighed down on the Rank 2 Magi who couldn't help but gulp nervously.
"However, we must also be vigilant. There are dangers that stem from both inside and outside the secret plane," he said.
After a brief pause, he continued, "I must remind you of the agreement reached by our forefathers. Whatever happens inside the secret plane, stays inside the secret plane. I do not want unnecessary bloodshed after everything is over. I hope that is clear to everyone."
Towards the end, Arnold began to release his mana, giving everyone such pressure that they couldn't help but nervously sweat. Even the Rank 3 Magi of the other races had solemn expressions.
This was the might of a king!
This was the might of a Rank 3 Magus!
After he'd made his message clear to everyone, he faintly smiled. The intimidating aura around him was now nowhere to be seen.
He glanced at Professor Godfrey sitting next to him and nodded. "Headmistress Godfrey, you have the floor."
The Headmistress of the Clover Academy nodded. She then looked around at everyone present and began, "It goes without saying that the entrance to the secret plane is restricted to only Rank 1 Magi. Moreover, the maximum number of people it can hold is three hundred.
"If more people are to enter, the portal to the secret plane will become unstable. Judging from past experiences, we cannot allow that. The goal is to keep the portal stabilized for as long as possible. Only then can we reap the most benefits."
What followed was a long discussion regarding the allocation of spots. There were numerous parties, big and small, in the Southern Federation and each of them wanted a slice of the pie.
After an hour-long debate, mostly by the five Rank 3 Magi present, the slot allocation was finally decided. Everyone was more or less satisfied with the result.
"It will take a month, give or take, for the portal to fully open. That should be enough time to complete all preparations." Professor Godfrey got up from her seat, concluding the meeting. "I wish everyone good fortune. May we find what we seek."
Suddenly, the representative of the dwarves, a Rank 3 Magus with a thick, braided beard glanced at Arnold and asked a very important question, "What about those damn orcs?"
Everyone turned solemn at the mention of the orcs.
The orcs that lived in the Murky Mountains were a constant source of trouble for those who lived in the Southern Federation. The land and resources were limited, so there were bound to be disputes.
"I have already come to an agreement with the Orc Chief," Arnold flatly replied, "they will be sending eight Magi."
The dwarven representative clicked his tongue in annoyance and cursed under his breath. However, he did not protest.
The orc chief was a very powerful Rank 3 Magus, and in this world where might makes right—both literally and figuratively—
the orc chief was able to secure spots for his people every time the secret plane opened.
This spoke volumes about the orc chief's strength and influence.
With everything out of the way, the Magi departed from the royal palace. A lot was needed to be done before the portal to the secret plane fully opened.
…
Somewhere in the Murky Mountains.
At the center of a large orc village, a massive yurt stood tall, guarded by tens of menacing orc warriors.
Inside this dwelling, a towering and muscular orc with scars all over his body sat on a throne made of bones from various species, including the four major races!
His visage wasn't visible, only his silhouette could be seen with the flickering torches placed on both sides of the throne. The orc looked at the youth kneeling before him and muttered flatly, "The time has come to prove your worth, young warrior."
"Yes, chief!" The youth, who was sporting a long mohawk tied into a ponytail, replied with zeal. He gathered his courage to look at the chief, his face expressing nothing but reverence.
The youth had red and white face paint that orcs only put on when they went to war. His eyes blazed with fighting intent.
"I shall make the tribe proud!"
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