Chapter 250
Chapter 250
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 250
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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“…….”
The center of the event hall, an Italian restaurant.
Even past midnight, people were gathered here and there, eating and chatting away.
Or at least, they had been five minutes ago.
Until five minutes prior, the crowds here had been buzzing about how Pleroma Ascanien had ended up here, how skilled he must be for the imperial family to have recruited him, and whether he’d truly ever drunk blood.
That was nothing much. In one-on-one conversations, endlessly vile topics no one would dare utter to someone’s face flew back and forth.
But now, it was all over.
The air had frozen as if it had always been that way, and no one dared open their mouth.
Only Ascanien’s voice echoed from the screens and newspapers.
[Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you….]
His eyes met mine through the camera lens.
[Bless those who curse you.]
He lightly touched two fingers to his lips. As he kissed them, his gaze stayed fixed on the audience, unblinking, which made the whole thing feel profoundly unsettling. Hardly the look of someone loving their enemies.
Soon, he bowed his head to gaze at the player on the ground. His hand pressed firmly into the center of the player’s forehead.
[Pray for those who mistreat you.]
[…!]
Beeeep—!
[The match is over.]
[The finalist is Lucas Ascanien of the German Empire.]
“…….”
The restaurant was silent.
For some reason, it felt like we’d just been slighted.
But more shocking than that was the vivid crimson world they’d witnessed. There was no such thing as pink mana in this world. The only way to get that color was through artificial dyeing.
Normally, humans had mana colors matching their natural iris shades. That’s why Pleroma Ascanien’s magic, with its unconventional hue, could captivate with a single shot.
And that color spanned every spectrum of red imaginable, writhing like true flame, making you want to grasp it in your hand at least once. But that much was already known. The Ascanien family’s magic had long been regarded as the most ideal anyone could dream of.
Today, though, it hadn’t stopped there. Ascanien had dyed the vast arena entirely red, shattered the magic raining down on him, and defeated a mage with a far more illustrious career.
[…Woooah!]
[What was that? What did we just see?]
[Is that really fire…?]
[Whoa….]
The belated cheers from the streets outside shattered the hush inside.
The magic he’d shown today didn’t so much inspire awe as unease, true to the Ascanien trait—though they themselves refused to believe it stirred fear. Someone cleared their throat, deliberately ignoring the fact, and spoke up.
“Impressive.”
Another let out a held breath, clinking their fork against their plate.
A beer-soaked patron turned to those around him.
“…I just tuned in. Is it over?”
“You mean that player? He’s got the semis next, then the finals after.”
“Oh, good.”
Someone side-eyed them.
“…….”
Two mages had been listening to the restaurant chatter.
They wore oversized robes flipped inside out to conceal their imperial uniforms.
One, wiping a constant nosebleed, grinned at the face across from him.
“Acted like he was gonna send someone packing the whole time~?”
“…….”
At Narke’s words, Leo wiped the smile from his face and cleared his throat.
That was back when people were gossiping about whether Lucas had ever drunk his brother’s or father’s blood, or if the imperial family paid in blood—whether they’d really do it, if you asked sincerely.
That sour mood had evaporated now.
No one who’d seen his performance would dare speak carelessly of him again. It was the result of Leo’s own guidance. No—credit belonged to Lucas for following lessons diligently, to his talent, his tenacity, his intellect. Still, it was only natural to feel joy at a friend’s success, one he’d helped foster.
Narke speared an olive with his fork and glanced around.
“Good. This place has settled down a bit… and Lucas seems to be genuinely enjoying himself.”
“Not in that 1/3-crazed state?”
“Spot on~ Just up to that 1/3 mark.”
Narke snapped his fingers as he spoke.
Leo looked around. He wanted to grab anyone and debate Lucas’s magic for 100 or 200 minutes straight, but now wasn’t the time. Blue crosses still glowed on people’s palms, undimmed.
“So, what do you think about the book cipher, Narke? It shouldn’t take this long. I’m starting to think the plan changed.”
“No, they’re probably agonizing over whether to send it now. Might even be leaning toward holding off.”
Narke clutched his forehead.
Seconds later, blood dripped from his nose. Leo narrowed his eyes.
“I didn’t ask you to use your ability for this.”
“Haha~”
“…Enough, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you anything. Stop talking now.”
Narke nodded and closed his eyes. When he opened them, bloodshot veins crisscrossed the whites, making them look outright red.
“Stop using the ability.”
“A~ Got it. No need to repeat. You’re sweet to me too, Leo.”
“Sweet? Who wouldn’t say something seeing your eyes like that?”
Instead of replying, Narke made another sound.
“You used to be so curt at first. Remember? The month I transferred, we went to the park outside for finals prep. When you saw me suddenly buddying up with Lucas, you gave me this… suspicious glare. Scared me half to death~”
“You’d have suspected me too.”
“Fair. Just, hearing you say it like this brings back memories.”
“…….”
That didn’t mean they were fully close yet. If Lucas didn’t mesh with Narke, Leo wouldn’t bother sticking around him. Even in a group of four, the two rarely talked directly.
For someone as sensitive as Leo, Narke—with all his enigmas—wasn’t exactly comfortable company.
But he was a friend anyway.
A classmate, and at least reliable for team activities, for the safety of imperial subjects. Leo still harbored doubts about him where Lucas was concerned, but looking back, Narke had only ever helped.
Even now, he was bleeding from overusing foresight and insight for the subjects’ sake.
So Leo couldn’t just watch him suffer. Not right now, at least.
“No healing spell for me?”
Narke pointed at his face.
Of course, “couldn’t just watch” didn’t mean he’d indulge such a request. Leo gaped at him in disbelief.
“…….”
“Haha~ Awkward.”
“Want to help, but sorry—it only works on Lucas.”
“Bummer.”
Leo discreetly opened his clutch away from prying eyes, pulled out an elixir, then fished an pill pack from his jacket lining.
He split a capsule, dumped the powder into the elixir, and handed it over.
“Drink.”
“Aren’t capsules meant to be swallowed whole?”
“Depends on the situation. You need it fast-acting this time, so open it up.”
“O, thanks~”
Narke grinned and downed the elixir.
As Leo waved to signal packing up, Narke shook his head.
“Let’s stay a bit longer. Safer that way.”
“…….”
“We came to gauge reactions inside and out anyway. And to see if the book cipher pops up anywhere.”
Right.
No harm in sticking around to observe both.
The government wasn’t calling them in, and with Lucas already competing sans answers, there was nothing they could do anyway.
Leo sat back down. Narke cast a soundproofing spell and spoke.
“Italy vs. Qing next. Italy wins.”
Leo stared at him again, speechless.
“…Patriotism…?”
“Nah. Tell Lucas this, Leo.”
Narke leaned in, lowering his voice.
“Whatever he’s thinking, end it quick. Or better, forfeit.”
Why say this out of nowhere?
Leo murmured softly.
“Is that guy stronger than you?”
“Pfft, comparing to me~? I’m weaker than you or Elias.”
Narke waved it off with a laugh. Leo replied coolly, expression unchanging.
“No, you’re not.”
“…….”
Narke tilted his head.
“What’s not?”
“You being weaker than me or Elias. You’re not.”
“Forgot? I always placed right after you two in every exam….”
“Who knows the real truth.”
Narke just smiled silently at Leo’s words before changing tack.
“That Italian player’s about to use divine power now.”
“Didn’t in the quarters.”
“He will now.”
Why would someone who hadn’t used divine power yet suddenly pull it out in the semis?
Lucas or Narke might wield it like water, but divine power was generally harder to handle than mana, so rarely overused.
Even if the Italian could use it, skipping it earlier made sense—relying on their easiest mana for the match.
Hard to swallow, but if Narke said so with such certainty, Leo could trust that much.
Leo shook his head.
“Lucas uses divine power too, so he’s fine. Won’t use it here, though.”
“Sure, he’s got resistance to it. My mental manipulation didn’t land right away, so yeah. And right now… he didn’t prep a tournament-specific elixir, but Lucas took one preemptively for that exact thing. Divine attacks won’t pierce.”
Probably.
Since returning from the future, Lucas had asked Leo for drugs building resistance to mental magic, dosing hourly.
Not tournament-specific, clearly. No one had foreseen that far.
Leo mulled it over, then asked Narke.
“You know everything, huh. So what’s the problem?”
“…….”
“Lucas isn’t the forfeiting type, Narke. You don’t know him that well, do you?”
Acting like he knew it all.
Leo swallowed the rest.
Narke didn’t argue—likely agreeing—and gazed out the window instead.
“Let him choose, then. …I just hope he doesn’t tangle with that player.”
“…….”
Leo tapped his artifact to message Lucas. After relaying Narke’s request briefly and cutting off, the crowd around them jumped up, shouting.
“Whoa!”
“It’s starting!”
The magic screen in the restaurant corner, dark since the last match, flickered back to life with static.
Next up: the following semifinal. The last one before finals.
The heat now far surpassed the quarters.
Leo peered outside. Street wanderers had crowded before screens like a show was starting, while others fixated on the front page of the Imperial News.
Perfect setup for terrorists. Though with their plan already succeeded, they’d have no reason to strike here again.
[3, 2, 1.]
[Begin.]
Leo eyed his untouched spaghetti amid the starting fanfare, like background noise. They’d come to scout, not eat, so it didn’t matter.
Kwaang—!
Shockwaves boomed from the screen and through the shop.
Qigong setup time—why a blast already? Leo looked up.
“…!”
The Qing mage stood in absurd-faced defense.
The Italian had attacked outright. A whistle blew for foul play.
The Italian stood expressionless until the restart signal, then chanted.
[—If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it shall be done for you.]
[此三者 不可致詰 故混而爲一—.]
The opponent chanted back, face grim.
At least Leo caught the Italian—Qing imperial mages recited the Tao Te Ching, but without the language, both chants’ meanings eluded him.
Instead, the Qing mage’s golden mana coiled dragon-like, vast and roaring with its whoosh as it lunged.
Kwaaaaang—
Fierce winds shook the camera. The Italian bought time with a simple barrier, swapped wand for staff, and chanted again.
[—If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it shall be done for you.]
Amplification formula.
Familiar spell. But nothing happened. Puzzled murmurs rose around.
“Huh?”
“Why no reaction?”
Kwoong—kreeeak—
Bang! Kwaang—
The Italian barely parried the Qing assaults with standard spells of equal output.
[天下之至柔 馳騁天下之至堅.]
The Qing attacks were sharp yet yielding. The Italian retreated nonstop, dodging mana slipping through his barriers expressionlessly. Then, aiming his wand calmly:
[—Whoever listens to you listens to me.]
The Qing mage raised a brow.
The Italian kept brushing his face. Opponent mana had surely permeated the air, assaulting his skin. Probably felt it burning his lungs with every breath.
[—Whoever rejects you rejects me; and whoever rejects me rejects him who sent me.]
The Qing mage stared at his wand in shock. No matter how he thrust his arm, no mana emerged.
Narke bit his lip watching.
‘That….’
The chant Narke had used in the third exam to halt Auguste’s unique ability.
Mana and divine magic shared formulas, but some were divine-only. This was one. Narke hadn’t even known it before using it.
Kwaang—!
[Kuhuk…!]
The Qing mage crumpled, crushed by Italian mana—defense failed unnoticed. His stunned eyes filled the screen.
The Italian approached and stomped unhesitatingly on the Qing mage’s heart.
Kwang!
[Aaak!]
“…!”
“What the hell?!”
“Is, is this allowed?!”
Gasps echoed through the restaurant—not just Leo.
[10.]
Not even three minutes in, and countdown already. In quarters against Britain, it’d taken six.
Was this opponent pathetically weak?
No.
Both Ottoman and Qing quarters foes were imperial-caliber, facing stricter standards than here—vast populations meant fiercer competition. Yet neutralized by one chant?
Fine, set that aside.
Why had the Italian held back such high-difficulty magic? Why skip divine power when so adept?
To avoid violating spectacle principles by winning too easily? Deceptive, but possible. So why blitz it in three minutes now?
‘…No way….’
The Italian pressed his staff’s tip to the Qing mage’s forehead, heel grinding down.
The Qing seemed more shocked by his own mana failing than the trampling.
[8.]
[—The seventy-two returned rejoicing and said: Lord, even the demons submit to us through your name. Jesus said: I watched Satan fall from heaven like lightning….]
[4.]
[—See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy.]
The Italian looked up expectantly, as if awaiting something else.
He ignored the Qing clawing at his foot, ribs cracking, agonized screams—his focus lay elsewhere, palpable through the screen.
His dry voice carried.
[—Nothing will harm you.]
[1.]
Beeeep—
“Narke.”
Leo tore his eyes from the screen to his friend.
Narke met his gaze, face sour. Likely from the unsportsmanlike Italian. Leo felt the same.
That one would face Lucas next. Lucas was already split between terror threats and tournament.
Even as mere entertainment, Leo couldn’t ignore it—but in this situation, especially not.
“How much do you know about that guy?”
[The match is over.]
[The finalist is Gabriele Farnese of the Italian Federation.]