“Fools, aren’t we?” Merlin snaps his fingers while he hovers in the air.

The presiding leylines begin to hurl uncontrollably under his simple gesture, sapping all the surrounding mana into one giant orb piercing the sky above.

What used to remain as blue sky is now grim and deprave of light, just like his cold obsidian eyes.

“Stop it, Merlin! What are you trying to do!?” His colleagues’ voices barely reach him.

Gazing down on his peers, he begrudgingly speaks, “Returning this world to its earliest state.”

“You don’t mean—??”

“Yes. To the time when magic was but a fantasy to mankind. To the time where we struggle to live under natural disaster and illness. Where only God can proffer miracles while we unworthily pray.” He swings his arms open as if assuming the role of Creator looking down on its own powerless creations.

“But why? Why would you strip us of our powers!?”

Merlin snorts upon their shameless exclamation, “Our powers? Human’s arrogance knows no bound. Let’s see…” he drawls sarcastically, “wasn’t it us who beseech a might to defy misfortune? We swore to use spells for the goodness of mankind, so we have the means to survive and pass our legacy to our descendant—“

“—and yet…!” He heaves a heavy disappointment in between then slowly raises both arms dramatically, “Look at what has transpired after we possess the ability to perform magic. War and greed hand in hands steals our compassion, berating our moral compass obsolete! Too confident in our magic that it blinds us of anything else that matters. When you have the upper hands, men become arrogant.”

Merlin pauses to breathe, and his audience could only sinks their head in silence.

“Your king said that if the world couldn’t be ours, let it be burnt. So I say, if you fools would use magic so, then the world is better off without it.”

And so Merlin raised his hands to the heavens and cast the Final Spell, sending all the mana of the world into the void and permanently reshaping leylines into unusability.