Chapter 3

“It’s fine.”

Dale said. Feeling the ring of mana firmly anchored around his heart.

“…What did you just say?”

“I can sense the shape of the mana ring engraved around your heart.”

Sepia blinked, momentarily doubting her own ears. But Dale continued as if it were no big deal, acting as if it were someone else’s business.

“Could this be the completed form of the ‘circle’?”

“Could you try releasing magic power along that circle?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dale nodded at Sepia’s words.

Before long, the mana circulating through Dale’s circle transformed into a distinct form of magical power, surging through his veins.

An intangible aura, glowing with a faint blue light.

And──.

“……!”

Thud!

It did not stop as a condensed mass of magic power, but began to take the form of ice crystals bearing a pale, sharp edge.

The magic released from Dale’s fingertips crystallized, slicing through the air with a bone-chilling cold.

The most fundamental of fundamental water-attribute magic: Ice Bolt.

Seeing that, Sepia perked up her ears in surprise.

Dale, too, couldn’t hide his bewilderment at the magic that had just unfolded from his own hands.

Dale’s original intention had been merely to test releasing magic power while lightly infusing it with cold elemental energy. However, the magic power released from his fingertips broke free from his control, absorbed the surrounding cold air, and executed a perfect ‘Ice Bolt’.

‘What on earth is this…!’

Of course, Sepia was an elf. As a race favored by mana, witnessing individuals possessing talents beyond common sense was certainly not the first time in her long life.

It is understandable that a young mage who cannot fully control their abilities might unconsciously be influenced by their surroundings and cast a spell.

This is especially true for someone with overflowing talent like the son of the Black Mage.

Yet what truly shocked Sepia was something else entirely. It was the ‘form of precision’ displayed by Dale’s Ice Bolt.

“…Additional formulas projected to maximize lethality.”

Three modifiers: rotation, acceleration, and density.

It’s not surprising that a mage unconsciously projects their ‘personality’ onto their spells.

It is not uncommon to deliberately add formulas to improve the characteristics of magic according to one’s purpose.

The problem was that the personality projected onto the magic by a mere 8-year-old child perfectly embodied the golden ratio of ‘military magic’ that prioritized lethality. Moreover, it possessed a level of sophistication and completeness that would be perfectly suitable for immediate use right in the middle of a battlefield… no, even surpassed that.

Perfect lethal magic.

A chill ran down his spine without him even realizing it.

“Teacher?”

Dale cautiously opened his mouth to the flustered Sepia. He watched her like a child scared out of his wits.

“…No, it’s nothing.”

But Sepia soon shakes her head and smiles.

“Now I finally understand why His Blackness expressed such regret.”

Sepia opened her mouth with a bitter smile.

“What wizard wouldn’t covet such a brilliantly shining gem as a disciple?”

“Master…”

Just as Dale hesitated again, about to speak.

“So you were all here.”

A familiar voice echoed from behind the two.

“Dale, are you studying diligently under your teacher?”

“Mother!”

Her mother, Elena, watched him with a pleased expression.

“Elder Sepia of the Blue Mage Tower, I humbly greet His Excellency the Black Mage.”

And there stood Dale’s father, the Duke of Saxony.

Immediately after the duke and duchess returned, however, the Black Duke did not proceed directly back to the hall of the ducal castle. Sepia had requested a private audience with him above all else.

“Your Highness, would you grant me a moment of your time?”

The Duke of Saxony’s office, located on the top floor of the ducal castle.

“Lady Sepia Hyunyo.”

“I am indebted to Your Grace in no small measure.”

Sepia bowed her head in customary respect before speaking directly.

“This is a story about Lord Dale.”

“What do you mean?”

The Black Knight narrowed his eyes.

“…After teaching him how to wield mana, it took only a few minutes before he succeeded in engraving his first circle.”

A faint flicker of disturbance crossed the Black Mage’s expression.

As the one who reigned at the pinnacle of the Black Magic Tower and one of the continent’s five greatest mages, Sepia couldn’t possibly misunderstand the meaning of what had been said.

“And right then and there, I succeeded in casting an Ice Bolt.”

Sepia continued.

An ice bolt imbued with ‘military-grade precision’ that wouldn’t look out of place on the front lines.

Rotation · Acceleration · Densification.

An additional formula said to be the most efficient for enhancing the lethality of projectile magic.

“And it was the perfect golden ratio. Exactly matching the Empire’s military combat magic doctrine.”

The moment he heard those words, a flicker of his father’s agitation passed across the Black Knight’s face once more.

“Those words…”

“I cannot teach you any further, young master.”

After a silence, Sepia spoke. Non-killing is the most important doctrine pursued by the Blue Magic Tower. That’s why you’re reluctant to teach a child with the ‘talent for slaughter,’ isn’t it?

The Black Mage, who had surmised as much, spoke up.

“Does that mean you cannot teach a talent that contradicts the Blue Tower’s doctrine?”

“It is true that Lord Dale’s talent is both frightening and, as a magician myself, something I covet.”

Sepia shook her head at the Black Mage’s words.

“That is precisely why I also feel the desire to guide Young Master Dale correctly with my own hands.”

“Then surely there’s no reason to refuse teaching Dale.”

“That is my desire. However.”

Sepia shook her head at the Black Knight’s counterquestion.

Recalling the conversation she had shared with her disciple for the first time this morning.

─ But because there is another magic I wish to learn…….

“It is unthinkable for a magician’s path in magic to be decided by the pressure of those around them.”

You cannot force someone to learn magic they do not desire simply because it aligns with their parents’ wishes. That is akin to forcing them to inherit a spirit they do not wish to possess.

“I trust His Excellency is well aware of how dreadful the consequences of such actions would be.”

Sepia understood the weight of the words she spoke.

“──I respect His Highness the Duke’s vow to Lady Elena.”

The Duke of Saxony remained silent.

“That said, a parent’s promise does not grant them the right to determine their child’s future.”

Ideologies imposed by others. Sepia never underestimated the danger inherent in such actions. Even if it was a path wrapped in good intentions, there were no exceptions.

“This is especially true for someone with such immense talent as Your Highness.”

Talent beyond common sense.

The line between genius and monster is paper-thin. And Sepia had seen such a ‘monster’ before.

A monster of slaughter.

For a fleeting moment, the shadow of that monster even seemed to overlap with Dale’s appearance.

“……”

Blackball maintained a heavy silence. He knew better than anyone what the wise elf’s words meant.

While Sepia was having a private conversation with the Black Knight.

Dale was celebrating his eighth birthday with his mother Elena in the grand hall of the ducal castle. Yet despite the joyous occasion where everyone offered congratulations, Dale’s heart felt anything but at ease.

‘I was immature.’

Instead, Dale could only swallow his regret, blaming his own inexperience.

The Ice Bolt he had unleashed before Sepia far exceeded the power Dale had originally intended by several times over. The magic he had tried to deploy with reduced power had spiraled out of control.

On top of that, his instincts—honed over a lifetime as the empire’s hunting dog—unconsciously projected combat-enhanced modifications as well.

‘I never imagined the magic I unleashed immediately after engraving my first circle would possess such power.’

He had vastly underestimated his own vessel. The fact that Dale was blood kin to the Black Tower Mage.

‘The talent dwelling within this body far surpasses my wildest imaginings.’

And Sepia was a wizard tower elder. Seeing through Dale’s spell, unleashed without restraint, would be child’s play for him. Dale could vividly recall Sepia, unable to hide his astonishment at the magic he had witnessed.

It was at that very moment.

“Happy birthday, young master Dale!”

The hearty laughter of a man echoed through the air. He was a giant, over two meters tall, with a bear-like build.

Despite the birthday celebration in full swing, a knight clad head-to-toe in seamless black armor.

“Uncle Helmut!”

Only then did Dale’s face finally show an expression befitting an eight-year-old.

Sir Helmut Blackbear. Commander of the Night Raven Knights, the direct vassals of the Duke of Saxony.

Sir Helmut was a swordsman without equal throughout the Duchy of Saxony and the northern reaches of the Empire.

The strongest knight in the north and one of the Seven Swords of the Continent. Simultaneously, a vassal knight renowned for his loyalty to House Saxon.

Before long, Lord Helmut and his knights were fully armed and ready for departure.

“Are you heading to conquer the dungeon that appeared in the Demon King’s domain?”

As expected, Elena, who was beside Dale, asked in a lowered voice.

In this world, monster invasions or dungeon appearances were always major events for a domain. For the Duchy of Saxony, the situation was doubly severe.

To make matters worse, after the hero defeated the Demon King, an imperial decree was issued granting him the entire Demon King’s domain as a fief, ordering it to be reclaimed as imperial land.

It was called a fiefdom, but it was essentially a dumping ground.

The Demon King’s death didn’t mean the entire Demon King’s Domain fell into human hands. Unconquered dungeons still teemed within it, swarming with all manner of monsters and high-ranking demonic beings. And even without venturing into the Demon King’s Domain, the monsters flooding the duchy’s lands had long been a persistent headache for the Duchy of Yeongji.

“Please forgive my disloyalty for failing to protect the young master on his birthday!”

“Take care of yourself, Uncle Helmut!”

“Ha ha, Master! Surely you’re not worried about this Helmut!”

Lord Helmut laughed heartily upon seeing Dale’s concern for him.

Just then.

“Your Highness, the Duke has arrived!”

No sooner had their conversation ended than one of the attendants raised his voice. The commotion that had been swirling around the assembly hall instantly ceased.

Silence descended, and beyond the corridor lined with crimson carpet, the Black Duke appeared.

Accompanied by Sepia, the Elder of the Blue Tower; the steward and attendants of House Saxon; and several Elders of the Black Magic Tower who served the Black Duke.

“We humbly greet Your Highness the Duke!”

Sir Helmut and his knights knelt in unison. Clank! The riveted plates of their armor clattered together.

The Duke of Saxony strode straight across the great hall toward where Dale and Elena stood.

Toward the duke’s throne, towering at the far end of the hall.

“Dale. Congratulations on turning eight.”

“Yes, Father.”

The brief ceremony concluded, and the musicians’ songs filled the hall once more. Elena smiled warmly as she watched the father and son.

“And Elena, I am always grateful for so many things.”

“Dale, go tell Father what you’d like to have.”

Almost immediately, Elena hurriedly changed the subject toward Dale, as if trying to hide her embarrassment.

‘Things I want.’

There were many things. The heads of those who had driven him to this state. The Emperor’s neck. Yet Dale felt no urgency about any of it.

So, he simply stated what he genuinely desired at that moment.

“I want a sister.”