Chapter 62: Drop of blood (9)
Dereck gathered both of Leigh’s arms, which had fallen to the floor, behind his back and tied them tightly with a torn curtain.
Then he wrapped the remaining fabric around his entire body and used the Star Level 1 transformation spell, Attribute Imbuement, to harden it like stone.
The sequence of actions flowed so naturally it seemed he had done it countless times before. Freya, seated in a corner of the hallway, watched Dereck wide-eyed.
‘The former student of Master Katia? I heard he was a commoner, and yet…’
Five minutes earlier, Lady Freya had tried to quickly flee from Dereck, but was instantly caught.
It was the first time in her life that her confusion magic had been detected so swiftly. She was so shocked that she had begged for her life, but the white-haired mercenary had recognized Freya and reassured her.
Without mentioning her surname or affiliation, the boy, who briefly introduced himself as Dereck, said he knew Freya was the eldest daughter of Count Elvester’s family.
The man who greeted her politely, following noble etiquette, exuded a calm completely unlike the monster who had just subdued Leigh.
“You said your name is Dereck? Master Katia spoke a lot about you. She said you were exceptionally gifted in magic among commoners…”
“How is Master Katia?”
“…Of course, she’s doing well. Her position as the Elvester family’s magic instructor is admired by everyone.”
Dereck, who was firmly securing the bindings, responded without even glancing at Freya. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t afford to observe every formal courtesy with the count’s daughter.
“Seems like we’re something like siblings. I also received great teachings from Master Katia. Knowing she’s well is a relief. But now isn’t the time for nostalgia.”
After completely immobilizing Leigh, Dereck spoke.
“The young lady from the Beltus family is hiding in the upper section of the VIP rooms. We plan to gather the survivors there, so you should head upstairs as well.”
“No, I… was trying to escape the mansion.”
“Outside the mansion is filled with moving corpses. If you try to escape recklessly on your own, you’ll regret it.”
“If I decide to escape, no one can catch me. I even escaped alone from the great fire at Roventer Castle caused by bandits.”
“Didn’t I just catch you?”
“…”
Freya couldn’t answer. But only because Dereck’s ability to sense magic was abnormally sharp.
In truth, Countess Freya was so skilled at diverting others’ attention that even Katia had to search the entire mansion with all her might to barely find her.
Dereck rested his chin on his hand and thought for a moment.
Indeed, Freya’s level of illusion magic had reached a considerable degree. If he hadn’t been personally trained by Drest in magical detection, he might not have noticed her at all.
It seemed unlikely that ordinary detection magic would work on Freya.
A third-rate mage would hardly detect her presence, so she could easily avoid the corpse monsters.
The thought crossed his mind that it might actually be better to send Freya out of the mansion to seek help. It was a seriously viable alternative.
‘I’ve seen many people die… but why is this girl so calm?’
Meanwhile, Freya was watching Dereck like she’d discovered a magical unicorn. Even in a situation where the mansion was full of possessed people, he was searching for survivors, had subdued Leigh, and even stopped her—without showing the slightest bit of nervousness.
His magical ability was excellent, his judgment precise, and he was linked to Katia by fate. Freya quickly reassessed her position.
‘It’s better to trust this guy for now. My gut tells me so.’
“Then I’ll head to the guest rooms and meet the young lady from the Beltus family. But… what’s your plan in gathering the survivors? Given the situation, wouldn’t it be better to focus on escaping first?”
“Let’s save as many as we can. Every guest in this mansion is a key figure in the empire, aren’t they?”
“Loyalty to the empire?”
“If someone from the empire asks, I’ll say yes.”
“And the real reason?”
“Half of it is the duty to save lives as a human being. The other half is that if I save the guests, I’ll likely be rewarded.”
It was said that nobles from the northeast would pay hundreds of gold coins for their lives without batting an eye. They’d generously donate that much even to rescue prisoners, so saving a noble’s life would be seen as a major achievement.
“There’s no law that says a person’s motivations have to fit into one category, right?”
Just hearing those words, Freya felt she had glimpsed a side of Dereck’s character. Deep down, he was a good person, but not naive about personal gain.
He was selfish where it counted and selfless where it mattered.
Far better than someone obsessed only with one extreme. Freya removed the necklace she was wearing and handed it to Dereck.
“…What’s this?”
“It’s a magical accessory gifted to me by the Arendelle Academy at my coming-of-age ceremony. It’s part of a set with this ring; when worn together, they allow each wearer to detect the other’s location.”
“Isn’t this expensive?”
“It’s better not to know the price. Either way, if we’re moving through this mansion, we should be able to track each other.”
Dereck slipped the necklace around his neck quickly and tucked it under his clothes.
“If you go to the main hall, you’ll see many unconscious mages seated at the banquet table. Most don’t appear to be dead.”
“Banquet table?”
“Yes. I don’t know why, but the servants of this mansion are still preparing the ball. In fact, it seems more like a kind of ritual than a ball.”
Dereck’s brow furrowed.
A ritual where a banquet is served, music played, and mages are murdered was, quite literally, something only a necromancer would do.
By worshipping the god of corpses or the god of souls, they would kill a high-level mage to absorb the magical power embedded in their soul, and transfer part of it to another mage.
Disguising it as a ball was certainly a clever move. It allowed high-ranking guests to gather naturally, and the music and food wouldn’t raise suspicion.
Using Diella’s debut event as an excuse, the guests had completely let down their guard.
It was the mansion of the Duplain family, one of the most prestigious on the continent.
No one could have imagined something so atrocious would happen.
The problem was, from Duke Duplain down to his subordinates, there wasn’t a single person who seemed capable of leading such madness. Especially Dereck, who knew the Duplain family well, was certain of this. Valerian, Leigh, Aiselin, Diella… none of them would dare touch such a taboo.
‘There must’ve been some shocking trigger. Someone provoked them… or maybe they were corrupted by a magical artifact with its own will…’
Dereck quickly assessed the possibilities. It was impossible to hastily guess who in the Duplain family had turned to necromancy.
However, Dereck had enough reason to suspect someone.
— Before reaching adulthood, Valerian Duplain will become involved with necromancy.
— And when that happens, you must kill him.
Drest, who had foreseen it all, had already warned Dereck. He told him he must kill Valerian. No one else.
He himself, already a 6-Star mage, would not get involved. Now that events had unfolded this way, his intent was clearer than ever.
Most of the continent’s distinguished guests were captured and at risk of death.
If Dereck cleaned up the scene and captured the culprit, the merit would be immeasurable.
Saving the lives of numerous nobles would propel Dereck to a new level. The empire would have no choice but to reward him publicly.
Drest planned to hand over all that merit to Dereck.
He had trained him back then to ensure he reached the level necessary to subdue Valerian, who would one day be lured by necromancy.
‘It was impossible to know just how far ahead he had planned.’
Having a 6-Star scouting mage as backup meant that much. Yet, Dereck felt conflicted.
The Valerian he remembered was a young man sweating buckets while clumsily sewing a doll to win his sister Diella’s favor.
He had always been someone who thought only of his family—the most worthy candidate to lead the Duplain house in the future.
Dereck, who rarely acknowledged others, had seen Valerian as a leader deserving of everyone’s respect.
‘Still… if he strays from the path, he must be eliminated.’
Because Dereck was a man of resolve. Even when emotionally shaken, he never hesitated to draw his sword when the moment demanded it.
And so, Dereck advanced with steady steps toward the mansion’s main hall.
***
The moon was approaching its highest point.
Even near midnight, moonlight filled the main hall of the Duplain mansion.
Step, step.
As he entered, a scene beyond description unfolded before him.
Several banquet tables stretched in a straight line across the immense hall.
Lavish feasts were laid out temptingly atop them, and numerous unconscious mages were slumped on either side.
An orchestra, seemingly entranced, sat silently near the grand staircase, clutching their luxurious string instruments to their chests, their eyes vacant.
Each chandelier held flickering candles, and the center of the hall—where the host of the event should have been—was empty, bathed in moonlight.
Had there been cheerful chatter, it would have been no different from a real ball. But the silence was absolute.
As Dereck crossed the hall, only the echo of his footsteps disturbed the air.
He frowned as he looked around. The mages lined up in front of the tables were unconscious, but still alive.
There had been no intention to kill them before the ritual. Sacrificing so many mages to rise in rank wasn’t something a sane mind would do.
All the famous necromancers in history who had attempted such feats had ended up beheaded and erased from the records.
That was the nature of touching the forbidden.
As he walked through that unnatural place and turned his gaze toward the center of the hall, he saw it.
Moonlight filtered through the stained glass of one of the walls and lit up that very spot.
It was likely the seat where the host of the ball was meant to be. Right across from it, a man slouched in a wooden chair, his head deeply bowed.
His blond hair, now shoulder-length, was longer than before, with streaks of gray woven through it. His skin was pale, and his frame appeared more solid.
Once dressed like a distinguished noble, he now wore steel armor adorned with ornate engravings.
Although his appearance was more fitting for the next head of the family, there was a dark and unstable aura around him that hadn’t been there before.
Dereck stopped, keeping his distance.
“…”
“Who is this? Dereck. You’ve come to witness Diella’s debut.”
“…Lord Valerian. You’ve changed a great deal.”
“Yes. Time changes people. Still, I’m sincerely honored that my dear little sister’s most respected teacher has come in person. As the host of this ball, I thank you.”
Valerian raised his head to look at Dereck.
His pale, ominous figure came into full view. His pupils trembled as if shaken by an earthquake.
“However, as you can see, the ball has been canceled due to certain circumstances. If Diella returns to the mansion… could you take her back to Ebelstein?”
“…”
“In my current state, there’s no one I trust enough to entrust that request.”
Behind Valerian stood the grandest, most majestic chair in the entire hall.
It was the seat reserved for the highest-ranking figure at the event.
While Valerian’s seat was well lit by the moonlight, that other chair remained partially hidden in shadow.
Dereck took a few steps to the side and slightly adjusted his angle of view.
Gradually, the figure seated on that throne became visible.
The moment he recognized who it was—head bowed—Dereck narrowed his eyes even further.
Raymond Oswald Duplain, the duke.
The head of the family was slumped in the seat, a dagger buried in his chest.
The dagger bore the clear emblem of an eagle—the symbol of House Duplain.
“…”
Valerian’s expression softened when he saw that Dereck had identified the duke.
“As you can see… I’m now busy picking up the pieces of my mistakes.”
Valerian stood with a bitter smile. The metallic sound of armor echoed through the hall.
“…What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t I just tell you?”
Valerian responded with a faint, unreadable smile, lowering his voice softly.
“I’m picking up the pieces of my mistakes.”
Dereck remained still, silently watching Valerian without blinking. Sometimes firm, sometimes compassionate—his gaze now was resolute. There was no need to ask his intent.
Valerian looked at him in silence, then finally lowered his gaze, defeated.
“I see…”
With that resigned gesture, he kept his eyes fixed on the floor for a moment.
Then, he raised his hand, wrapped in magic. A wave of dark, reddish, ominous energy spread through the hall, concentrating at Valerian’s fingertips until it took the shape of a staff.
It was known as the relic of the five-star summoner Rozin. But contrary to popular belief, Rozin was not a summoner.
Dereck silently furrowed his brow.
Whoosh.
The hall, bathed in moonlight. Its master, now standing, looking down at Dereck.
The necromancer Valerian.
He was now the Master of that mansion.
Diella, who had loved to play since she was little, used to throw a ball around by herself in the central garden of the mansion whenever she had the chance.
When Valerian, working in his private study, saw her playing through the window, he would sometimes come down to the garden to ask how she was doing.
The girl, who would often chase the ball as it rolled outside the garden, sometimes grew uneasy and stepped back when she ran into her older brother in a corner of the garden.
For a child her age, that much older brother was more intimidating or uncomfortable than comforting—especially in a noble environment, where formalities abound.
Valerian wasn’t unaware of this, so he fully understood his younger sister’s distant attitude, never opening her heart to him. To Diella, Valerian was nothing more than a difficult-to-approach older brother.
That’s why, even when Diella locked herself in the annex and behaved violently, he couldn’t bring himself to scold her. It was only recently, as her debut approached, that Diella began to exchange a few words with Valerian.
When they passed each other in the hallway, she would lower her head and ask how he was, or during meals, she’d comment on the taste of the food. Even that was a significant step forward.
The turning point behind all these changes was the visit of Dereck, the magic instructor, to the Duplain mansion.
He changed Diella. Valerian once again felt grateful for that connection.
— Diella?
On one occasion, Valerian saw her from a distance, setting up an easel and contemplating in a corner of the garden.
Determined to speak to his younger teenage sister, Valerian approached from behind and called her name, causing Diella to let out a hiccup. At that moment, the brush slipped from her hand and ruined the painting she was working on.
— I-I’m sorry, Diella.
— N-no, brother.”
As he approached the easel, he saw that Diella had been painting her former magic teacher, who had once been a mercenary.
The portrait looked slightly idealized compared to the real person, but Diella didn’t seem to notice.
— This is…
— Yes, I was painting my former teacher. I heard he’d be attending my debut ball. I thought of giving this to him as a gift…
When Valerian silently observed Diella’s expression, she lowered her gaze, hiding her embarrassment. She seemed quite flustered that her family had discovered the painting she intended to give to someone special.
Unfortunately, the errant brushstroke had left a dark blue stain on the clothes of the man in the portrait. Valerian looked at her with regret, as though the carefully painted watercolor had been ruined because of him.
— I’m sorry, Diella. I startled you… What will we do with this precious painting…?
— Oh, no, brother. It’s not a big deal.
With that, Diella continued moving her brush skillfully, layering various colors over the stain. After several strokes and some thoughtful touch-ups, the mistake had blended naturally into the shadows of the painting.
Valerian was impressed by how quickly she resolved it. He had always known of Diella’s artistic talent, but seeing it firsthand was more astonishing than he had imagined.
— A poorly made stroke can be covered with other colors and fixed by adjusting the tones.
— But doesn’t it feel different from what you initially planned? I thought the colors you wanted were brighter than these.
—It’s fine. After thinking about it, if I draw it too bright and cheerful, it doesn’t match the image… And it seems like I painted it with too much emotion… It’s a little… you know… like I’m the only one feeling excited…
— ….
— And when you layer and keep painting like this, the direction changes, and a new painting emerges… That’s the magic of watercolor. That’s why I like it.
Valerian didn’t know much about art. But that little girl already seemed to have built her own artistic world.
— Hmm, I like it. The arm’s a little thin, but… it’s good like that.
The young artist, arms crossed as she observed the painting, finally smiled in satisfaction. She looked excited at the idea of giving the portrait to Dereck.
On the canvas stood the figure of a tall man with white hair, dressed as a mercenary. He was the person who had influenced Diella’s life the most.
That girl, who once acted like a tyrant and made all the servants tiptoe around her, only showed a gentle side when it came to the man in the painting.
Seeing her like that, one could feel that the little girl who used to chase a ball around the garden had grown into a young lady.
Admiring someone, developing a crush, wanting someone close… Experiencing those feelings helps us grow without realizing it.
Valerian smiled softly and looked at the canvas.
The man’s red eyes in the painting looked as if they were burning with fire.
***
Dereck’s red eyes burned like flames.
Clang!
Valerian swung his staff to block Dereck’s sharp sword.
The sword and staff clashed, locking in a standoff, testing each other’s strength.
Dereck knew exactly what that staff in Valerian’s hands was. It was one of the most noble relics of the White Zone, a unique and rare weapon even across the continent.
Though its value wasn’t initially recognized when discovered, Dereck had memorized all the famous artifacts.
It was a treasure hidden in the labyrinth by the Five-Star Necromancer Rozin.
An object created to pass down his necromantic knowledge to future generations, and it possessed the power to enchant those who touched it.
All mages hunger for power. This staff whispered desires for growth into the ears of mages.
If Valerian had been the first to discover it and bring it to the mansion, he wouldn’t have escaped its temptation either.
Whoosh!
A dark, ominous red magic began to gather around the staff.
Dereck clicked his tongue and leapt back. He decided he had to keep his distance for now.
“Did you kill Duke Duplain?”
“Yes. I killed him. If you murder a high-ranking mage and offer his soul in worship to the god of corpses, you can receive part of his power.”
“…”
“So I stabbed him in the heart with a ceremonial dagger. It all happened in an instant. While he was signing some documents with a quill during this year’s tax plan briefing, I approached my father and struck in a single blow.”
Duke Duplain was a mage who had reached the level of five stars.
However, he would never have expected to be stabbed in the heart by his eldest son—his most trusted—right in the center of Duplain Mansion.
As always, he was focused on reviewing documents in his office. All it took was to walk up to him and stab him with a knife. The whole process lasted barely a second—almost absurd.
Trust is a heavy weapon. If you give it to the wrong person, you can lose your life in an instant.
“It was all my fault. Stupidly.”
Valerian gently closed his eyes. The memories of the past remained vivid before him.
The deepest part of the labyrinth, where many had been injured and bled. The day he first saw the staff he found there.
The ominous sensation that ran down his spine when he held it for the first time.
That strange sense of lethargy that churned in his chest. Even after returning to the mansion, he sometimes felt a chill at the back of his neck when falling asleep.
The sinister feeling he had once dismissed as insignificant eventually took over his mind completely.
Like a disease with an incubation period, it suddenly engulfed his consciousness, and the skull of a long-dead necromancer perched on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
‘Power. What is its value?’
‘How fleeting is death?’
‘What is the right way to use someone’s life?’
‘Is it truly taboo to rule over soulless corpses?’
The thoughts Rozin left behind whispered endlessly in Valerian’s ears.
Constantly urging him to consider what he had to sacrifice to become a great mage. In a distant vision, he glimpsed that forbidden world of taboos.
And when he came to, he found himself before the scene of Duke Duplain slumped over his office desk. Among the scrolls and documents awaiting his signature, a blotch of the old lord’s blood spread across the table.
The old man, still clinging to life… trembled as he lifted his gaze toward his son.
And with lips barely moving, he seemed to say something. Valerian clearly heard his last words, but didn’t fully understand them.
When he finally regained full consciousness, all that remained before him was a cold, lifeless corpse.
It was his father’s body.
“T-this… what…?”
With trembling hands, he covered his face. His fingers were soaked in dark red blood.
He couldn’t even scream. The muffled sound struggling to escape his throat failed to form words. He still hadn’t processed what had happened.
Thud!
At that moment, someone entered the office, pushing the door open.
There weren’t many who could enter without even knocking. When he looked up, he saw an elderly sorceress in splendid royal attire.
It was Kohella, the royal family’s chief magical advisor, a six-star transformation mage.
She had arrived at Duke Duplain’s request to evaluate the staff. However, what she found upon entering with her two assistants was a horrifying murder scene.
Valerian, trembling and covered in blood, clutching the staff. And the Duke, lifeless, lying motionless.
For a moment, her eyes widened in shock, but she quickly narrowed them coldly as she grasped the situation.
She closed the door, locked it swiftly, and approached with determined steps. She knelt before the seated Valerian and said.
“Do not be alarmed, Prince Valerian. I believe I understand what has occurred.”
“T-this… I… I mean…”
“It’s fine. Magic equipment imbued with thoughts sometimes causes these kinds of incidents. Now that this has happened, I can speak freely. I don’t harbor great hostility toward the field of magic persecuted for being taboo. In fact, I believe it should be actively studied.”
Even in that situation, Kohella’s calm tone made her seem like a monster disguised as an old woman.
And her words were highly unusual. For a royal magical advisor to support the forbidden was enough to make any court official’s eyes widen.
“So don’t worry too much. Even though Prince Valerian made a mistake under the influence of hypnosis, it can still be remedied.”
“W-what… did you say…?”
“I will use my transformation magic to preserve the Duke’s body. Meanwhile, you must prepare to cast the five-star necromancy spell: ‘Resurrection.’”
If he sacrificed the Duke’s body, Valerian’s rank as a necromancer would increase considerably.
Of course, he wouldn’t become as powerful as the Duke, but he could reach a level equivalent to a four-star mage. If he pushed further and sacrificed other mages, he might even be able to revive the Duke.
The five-star necromancy spell ‘Resurrection’ is a magic that can revive a recently deceased human by sacrificing many corpses.
However, the higher the rank of the person to be revived, the more sacrifices are required. To undo the death of Grand Duke Duplain, an absurd number of high-level mage corpses would be needed.
First, his own rank had to be raised, and then the necessary bodies gathered for the Grand Duke’s resurrection. And not just any corpses, but those of high-level mages.
That would require a massive massacre. It wasn’t a thought a sane mind could entertain.
Valerian looked at Kohella with trembling eyes. In the old mage’s gaze shone a twisted academic zeal and dangerous curiosity. It was a chance to demonstrate a five-star spell within forbidden necromancy.
That boundless curiosity, having crossed the line into madness, proved that this mage was no longer in her right mind.
Even so, Valerian, already cornered to the limit, couldn’t reject the whisper.
‘Prince Valerian, please harden your heart.’
Suddenly, the smell of blood emanating from the corpse anchored him to reality.
Valerian shuddered completely, feeling nauseated. After dry heaving, he tried to rise, supporting himself on the desk with trembling hands.
The staff in his hand seemed to whisper something. He couldn’t understand the exact words, but he clearly felt its intention to devour him again. That uncontrollable power would remain unleashed.
In the midst of that torrent of madness, Valerian repeated endlessly in his mind:
‘I must gather up my mistakes.’
Even as his entire consciousness was swept away, that blind goal was etched into his instincts and would not fade.
In the murky current of necromantic power surrounding him, his reason dissolved. Seeing the vast necromantic energy radiating from the staff, Kohella’s eyes sparkled like stars.
In that chaos, Valerian murmured again and again:
“I must gather my mistakes.”
***
Bang!
The crimson magic that had gathered in the grand main hall suddenly aimed at Dereck. He quickly dove under the banquet table.
Whoosh!
Rolling across the floor and emerging on the other side, a grotesque arm made of flesh burst from the wall and grabbed Dereck’s head.
Just as it was about to crush it, Dereck sliced the wrist with a swift sword strike.
Slash!
As the severed arm rolled across the floor, more arms began climbing up the walls. It looked like the entire mansion had been consumed by necromantic power.
Dereck’s judgment was swift. He conjured a fireball and blew out the outer wall of the hall.
Bang! Crash!
Whoosh!
It was raining outside. When a part of the wall was destroyed and the stained glass shattered, the pouring rain swept into the grand hall.
Swoosh!
The meticulously prepared banquet and the guests’ luxurious attire were instantly soaked, but there was no time to worry about that.
Just then, Dereck stood up to face Valerian.
Valerian was already right in front of him.
Whack! Bang!
Valerian kicked Dereck hard. He was sent flying and crashed into the debris of the exterior wall.
Thud! Rumble!
A cloud of dust rose, but the howling wind and rain quickly cleared the view.
Dereck caught his breath, leaning against the collapsed remains of the wall. Rainwater drenched his body. Droplets streamed from his hair onto the floor.
He ran both hands over his face as if washing it, then swept back his bangs.
His now fully visible face looked even more defined.
‘Yeah…’
Dereck was already high-level, but due to his origins as a commoner and his position as an instructor, he had rarely displayed his full power. There hadn’t been many chances.
‘His level is quite high. He’s no opponent to take lightly.’
Against an enemy wielding power equivalent to four stars, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.
When a bolt of lightning lit the sky, Dereck fixed his gaze on Valerian.
That man, drenched in rain and staring at him, looked like a wolf about to pounce.
The moment Valerian furrowed his brow, Dereck vanished from sight.
Swish!
You had to react to sound, not sight. Valerian unsheathed his sword and swung left.
Dereck’s dagger, held in a reverse grip, was already headed for that spot.
Clang!
One hand held the staff, the other a sword. Valerian wore solid armor.
Dereck, on the other hand, wore light clothing and carried only a few blades. No one comes to a ball prepared for war.
Yet, there was something special about his attacks.
Whether by physical force or raw magic, Dereck’s power was hard to comprehend.
Crack, Thud!
Instead of pressing forward, Dereck rolled across the floor, picked up a stone, and hurled it at Valerian’s head.
Valerian dodged swiftly, tilting his head, but then a spoon and fork from the table flew at him. As he deflected them with magic, Dereck used the moment to close the distance.
He was within striking range.
Valerian attempted to cast the two-star necromancy spell “Soul Absorption,” but Dereck’s figure vanished like smoke. It was an illusion. Valerian’s spell, with no target, slashed only air.
Whoosh!
Valerian turned his head to locate him, but Dereck was already behind, tearing off a tablecloth.
Food spilled, dishes shattered. The wall collapsed, and the wind and rain howled.
When Dereck threw the cloth, it opened in the wind, obscuring Valerian’s view.
As Valerian sliced it away, a magic arrow struck his armor from a blind spot.
Bang!
“Ugh…!”
He lost his balance and staggered back. Dereck didn’t miss the chance. He lowered his stance and slid under the flapping cloth, gathering mana.
Was it illusion or reality?
When Valerian tried to confirm, he found his feet stuck to the floor.
It was the two-star combat spell “Shadow Bind.” Dereck already mastered multiple two-star spells simultaneously.
Flash!
Realizing he was bound, Valerian knew it wasn’t an illusion. He raised his gauntleted arm to block the attack.
When Dereck’s blade struck the armor, it vanished again like smoke.
‘Even the bind was a distraction…?’
Valerian’s eyes widened in surprise, still on guard. Dereck was already behind him.
Whoosh!
Dereck was a master of duels. The psychological warfare he practiced as a vagabond was more effective than that of any noble trained in formal combat.
When Valerian turned to locate him, Dereck already had him by the nape. A brutal electric shock surged through his body from Dereck’s hand.
Crackle!
A blow like that could knock someone unconscious instantly. Valerian’s vision flickered as if the whole world blinked.
Clang!
Just before collapsing, he recovered consciousness through sheer willpower and slashed at Dereck.
But Dereck had already stepped back.
Slash!
Swoosh!
The distance opened once more.
Valerian panted, and Dereck, covered in cuts, faced him again. Both were soaked by the rain still pouring through the shattered wall.
“Huff… Huff…”
After absorbing all the necromantic power, Valerian could wield high-level magic.
He thought he could easily crush Dereck, who was barely halfway through the second star, maybe brushing three.
But that was a miscalculation. In pure magical duels, the stronger power usually wins.
But Dereck’s strength wasn’t limited to magic. Before being a man with magical talent, he was a mercenary.
Years of combat had taught him to use magic not as an ornament, but as a combat tool. Combined with the unpredictable style of the Wild Academy, his moves were impossible to predict.
And he hadn’t even used three-star magic yet.
‘…’
He was facing a superior mage with still-maturing potential. Valerian couldn’t believe it.
This was the era of nobles. Those with magical talent belonged to high society, speaking of dignity and formality.
It was unthinkable for someone from the bottom to rise by sheer will and talent.
That was the norm. But the world is vast, and time is long.
Over the years, sometimes, people like him are born.
Swoosh!
Under the torrential rain, Dereck’s red eyes glowed ominously. Valerian sensed it instinctively.
If he let his guard down, he’d die in a single blow.
Valerian briefly closed his eyes, then opened them, gripping his sword’s hilt tightly.
***
Beyond the rain, the outer wall of Duplain Mansion had collapsed.
Diella, who had been silently staring out the carriage window, opened her eyes wide. The coachman and servant with her were equally stunned.
The mansion, which should have been bustling with the sounds of a grand ball, was eerily quiet, with only corpse-like monsters roaming near the garden.
The coachman shouted something and tried to turn the horses around. They neighed and reared, spinning, while the maid began to tremble and sweat profusely.
In the chaos, Diella’s gaze remained fixed on the half-destroyed Duplain Mansion.
It felt as if all the sounds in the world had vanished, leaving only a hollow sensation echoing in her ears.
Finally, Diella snapped out of it and shouted at the coachman to head straight for the mansion.
The coachman, hearing the command, looked terrified.
***
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A noise like something pounding echoed.
“Ugh, ugh…”
Aiselin awoke in a room deep within the guest quarters. It was the safest place amid the chaos.
She had been knocked unconscious by a sudden attack from the head maid. Despite the confusion, Aiselin managed to sit up with difficulty.
She quickly realized something was terribly wrong in the mansion. The ball should be in full swing, but there was no sign of anyone.
“W-what…? Why am I… here…? My body seems… fine…”
Bang!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Before Aiselin could gather her thoughts, the door began shaking from forceful pounding.
Startled, Aiselin swallowed hard and looked for a place to hide in the room. But the small waiting room offered little space.
As she tried to rise to do something, a surge of magic flared, and the doorknob broke as the door burst open.
Boom, bang!
“Eek!”
Aiselin immediately gathered her magic, ready to confront whoever had broken in.
However, the person who entered was a familiar girl.
“Ah… L-Lady Ellen?”
A girl with loose red hair.
Ellen of House Belmierd scanned the room, entered quickly, and shut the door again.
“I finally found a survivor.”
Even in such chaos, her calm demeanor was extraordinary.
