Awakening in The World of Gods

In the stillness of the night, Poll activated a spell that drew the surrounding light into itself, shrouding his form in impenetrable darkness. With a flick of his wrist, a mana suppression spell followed, cloaking his presence entirely. His mana signature vanished as though he were never there, leaving him a phantom in the shadows, invisible to both sight and the heightened senses of any approaching mages.

From his vantage point, Poll observed the intruders steadily closing in—approximately 700 meters away. He could sense their careful movements, the faint ripples of mana betraying their cautious approach. Not bad, he thought with a faint smirk. But not good enough.

Poll extended his mana like a spider weaving its web, delicate threads unfurling across the area. The traps he had placed earlier hummed faintly as they activated, invisible to all but him. These were no ordinary snares—they were intricate spells of his own design, calibrated to bind to a target's mana flow without detection. Once latched, each trap established a silent link back to him, a conduit through which he could cast spells remotely. It was a masterpiece of subtlety and ingenuity, leaving no active signature to betray its presence.

The traps had another advantage—a unique marking system visible only to Poll. Through this, he could track each target's position and movements without them realizing they were compromised. He watched with satisfaction as faint markers began to light up on his mental map, one by one. Gotcha.

With his web set, Poll moved soundlessly, scaling the side of his home to the rooftop. The cool night air brushed against his face as he settled into position just beyond the boundary of his safe zone. From here, he had a perfect view of the surrounding terrain—a predator lying in wait, calm and calculating.

The enemies were close now, their figures barely discernible in the faint moonlight. Poll's sharp eyes caught the flicker of their movements, and his enhanced senses picked up the faint shifts in mana as they tried to probe his defenses. He resisted the urge to chuckle. Keep trying, he thought, amused. You won't find anything until it's too late.

He flexed his fingers, feeling the surge of mana pulse through his gloves. The embedded stones glowed faintly, a reassuring reminder of the power at his fingertips. This was his domain, a world crafted by his intellect and mastery of magic.

Settling into a crouch, Poll whispered to the night, his voice a low murmur filled with anticipation. "Come on… Enter my world."

The moment stretched, tension thickening in the air. Poll's heart remained steady, his mind a maelstrom of strategy. This was no ordinary defense—it was a game, and he was always three steps ahead.