Support me and be 30 chapters ahead of webnovel:
patreon.com/Draco_
******
The teleportation through the Main Heaven Gate was noticeably different from that of the other Heaven Gates scattered across the country. At the very least, it caused far less dizziness. Perhaps this was due to its spatial channel being more stable?
While magical transportation methods such as Portkeys, Apparition, and the Floo Network technically had no perceived travel time, people could still feel the passage of time within the transit. The longer the distance, the longer the sensation of time flowing. And this journey to the graveyard… was the longest teleportation Harry had ever experienced.
It could have been five minutes. Or perhaps ten.
When the seemingly endless teleportation finally came to an end, Harry staggered forward, his balance momentarily lost. Had this been any other form of travel, not even his robust constitution could have withstood the overwhelming dizziness of such an extended, long-range teleport.
His vision swam, doubling and quadrupling the images before him into overlapping phantoms. He barely suppressed the urge to retch, instead bracing himself against his knees as he gasped for breath. Nearly half a minute passed before the sensation—one that felt as if his brain had been scrambled like an egg—began to fade. Finally regaining his strength, he cast a glance at Li Jiannan, who had recovered just a fraction faster than him. Aside from a slight pallor, Li had already straightened his robes, looking composed.
"Where… are we—"
Before Harry could even finish his sentence, the sight before him struck him speechless.
They stood on a road paved with long, jet-black rectangular stones. The path stretched forward into the distance, flanked on both sides by towering black structures. These were not mere buildings—they were monolithic gravestones. And at the end of the path, an incomprehensibly massive tombstone loomed, piercing the sky at a height of over a thousand meters.
It was as if a titan, one who had once spanned heaven and earth, lay buried beneath. And it was another titan—an immortal stonemason—who had carved this monument. The gravestone was covered in countless marks, etched with inscriptions that did not belong to any known language of this world. Yet, it felt as though it contained everything—a chronicle of creation itself.
This was no ordinary grave marker.
It was a monolith inscribed with the primal forces that shaped the world.
And within it, the runes of the Awakened had been preserved in an ancient, indecipherable form. To gaze upon it was to glimpse the very fabric of reality.
A sense of overwhelming awe—and even fear—seized Harry's mind, consuming him entirely. In that moment, for the first time, he truly comprehended his own insignificance.
Yet, at the same time, an indescribable exhilaration surged within him.
Because this power—this force that traced the foundations of existence—was something he could wield!
He could not read the characters on the monument, yet he understood them perfectly. Every Awakened rune he had studied had a corresponding place upon this massive stone. Though the script differed, the essence, the attributes of the power within, remained the same.
He finally understood why Senior Seti spent years roaming the world in search of Awakened runes, yet found only a few. It wasn't that the Awakened refused to share their knowledge—it was that their work had already been completed.
A thousand years ago, when those warriors who had battled the Abyss were laid to rest, their runes were not lost. They had been compiled and preserved—etched eternally into stone, hidden in the corners of the world.
Here, within the burial grounds of the Awakened's greatest champions, lay their most invaluable legacy—the inheritance of knowledge.
The rarest, most precious treasure in existence.
Harry's gaze was ravenous.
He would engrave each and every one of these inscriptions into his mind.
As he deciphered the runes—each one a fragment of the world's fundamental power—his understanding of magic deepened. Or rather, he realized just how shallow his previous understanding had been.
It was only now, at this moment, that he truly grasped what power was meant to be.
Li Jiannan remained silent, making no effort to disturb him.
He understood what this monolith meant to those who could read it. To any true spellcaster, this was an unimaginable treasure.
The decline of the Awakened was not merely reflected in their dwindling numbers—it was also seen in the fragmentation of their inheritance. In the past, the Awakened were akin to the Banished Immortals—born with an innate comprehension of their power. There was no need for awakening, no need for research or experimentation. Their knowledge came as naturally as breathing. As they aged, their understanding deepened effortlessly.
But modern Awakened were different.
Had it not been for Hogwarts, had he not set foot on the path of true magic and confronted the depths of his own heart, Setiraris Skogji would never have realized that a force distinct from all others slumbered within him.
The same had happened to Lily Evans.
It was only in the very moment before her death that she had truly grasped her power.
The power of the Awakened.
At School, Lily Had Always Felt Different.
She had even come into contact with the echoes left behind by Senior Seti.
Yet, despite that, she had never been able to properly harness or guide this power—not even by the time she graduated.
This shackle had bound countless Awakened wizards, preventing them from fully unfolding their true potential. Many who possessed this power went their entire lives without realizing what set them apart—never once igniting the brilliance that should have been theirs.
If Lily had awakened sooner, if she had realized her power just a little earlier, then even five minutes would have been enough—Voldemort wouldn't have even known what killed him.
Avada Kedavra?
Even if she had stood still and let him cast it, the Killing Curse wouldn't have been able to pierce the paper-thin, yet impenetrable, magical shield woven from an Awakened's power. And a simple Expelliarmus? She wouldn't have even needed her wand—her free hand alone could have torn his arm off.
A spellcaster channels their magic through spells—even the most skilled wizard, capable of wandless casting, is nothing in the face of an Awakened rewriting the very source code of reality.
After all, the Awakened exist to combat the abyssal force that once threatened to consume the entire world—the Primordial Darkness itself.
At first, the world feared they weren't strong enough.
And now?
It feared they were too strong.
For a thousand years, through countless attempts to nerf their power, one fact remained unchanged—so long as an Awakened wizard realized their own strength, they would always be the protagonist of their era.
The irreplaceable, unmatched chosen ones.
"Sorry… for making you wait."
Reluctantly, Harry tore his gaze away from the monolith, his voice tinged with regret. "I got a little carried away."
"No harm done." Li Jiannan waved a hand dismissively. "Not even half an hour—your control is already impressive."
"Let's go," he said, motioning for Harry to follow.
"Your teacher is waiting."
—
(End of Chapter)