The Chains of Ambition
The Rosenberg Main House was located in the south of the Bernd Empire. As soon as Lukart von Rosenberg stepped down from the carriage, he headed straight inside. A small glass vial in the inner pocket of his coat pressed heavily against his chest. He had come straight south after the official proceedings ended.
He opened the door to the study, and there sat the family head behind the desk. Ditmar von Rosenberg. Graying hair, black eyes. His robust frame filled the chair completely. He glanced once at the papers spread on the desk before lifting his gaze to Lukart.
"Well done."
"Yes, Father."
Lukart stepped forward and took the glass vial from his coat's inner pocket. He placed it carefully on the desk. Inside were two drops of liquid. Faint golden particles floated gently up and down within it.
Ditmar's eyes fixed on the vial.
"……Is this it?"
"Yes. Life Water infused with the divine beast's magic. I recovered the drops that fell to the floor right after the Domain Declaration using a fine breeze."
Ditmar picked up the vial and held it to the sunlight. A brief silence followed as he examined the flow of particles.
"You brought it back well."
Lukart bowed his head briefly. Ditmar glanced out the window for a moment. News from the Imperial Palace a few days ago. Duke Valdenfelts had safely returned leading the delegation and held a private audience with the emperor. It was only natural for the emperor's brother-in-law and friend to do so. The problem was that very fact—it was all too natural.
He held one pillar of the empire's military might, had imperial blood, and now even the child of prophecy. The tide tilting toward Valdenfelts wouldn't end in a single generation.
'……If this continues, our family will forever stand in their shadow.'
Ditmar set the vial back on the desk. He tapped the surface with his fingertips.
"Call the chief mage."
"Yes."
Lukart went straight to the door and instructed the attendant. Moments later, an elderly mage in white robes entered the study.
"You called for me, family head?"
"Look at this."
The mage approached the desk and peered into the glass vial.
"……This is."
"Life Water from the Elf Kingdom, infused with the divine beast's magic."
The mage's eyebrows furrowed deeply. He fell silent for a long time, his fingertips trembling faintly.
"……I've never seen a medium infused with this much magic. However, a single medium won't suffice for the ritual. To endure the divine beast's presence and maintain the summoning space, we need another artifact."
Ditmar rose from his seat and walked to the wall cabinet beside the desk. Deep inside lay an object wrapped in black cloth. He lifted it carefully with both hands and placed it on the desk, then unwrapped the cloth. Heavy metal chains emerged. Runes etched on their surface shimmered faintly. The aura emanating from them subtly repelled the family's magic.
The mage's shoulders stiffened.
"……Those restraint chains."
"We'll use this with the medium."
The mage stared at the chains for a long while before reaching out. His fingers halted just before touching the surface runes. They trembled faintly.
"Family head, these chains' runes and magic are far from ordinary."
The mage examined the runes closely.
"……This might work."
The mage turned to Ditmar.
"Where did you acquire such an item?"
"……Records say only that a former family head obtained it from the black market centuries ago. No known origin or creator."
"……From the black market, you say?"
The mage fell briefly silent, then looked back at the chains.
"……Origin aside, this should suffice."
Ditmar's gaze lingered on the chains.
"Its power?"
"Against a top-tier magical beast, it could summon and bind in one go, without a chance to resist. But the exact limits are unknown."
Ditmar rewrapped the chains in the cloth.
"What about something on the level of that divine beast?"
The mage was silent for a long time.
"……I don't know, family head. I've never encountered a divine beast myself. But if we combine the spatial shrine's holy water, the accumulated Life Water, and these chains, it's not entirely impossible."
"Not entirely impossible."
"Honestly, I can't speculate beyond that."
Ditmar withdrew his hand from the chains.
"What if it's mishandled?"
"……The caster fails to withstand the divine beast's magic. If the ritual falters, they become a vegetable—or in the worst case, lose their life."
The air in the study grew heavy. Lukart spoke from the side.
"Father."
"Speak."
"I'll participate in the ritual myself."
Ditmar looked at Lukart. The black eyes beneath his gray hair narrowed briefly, then relaxed.
"……Very well. It will be dangerous."
Ditmar placed a hand on Lukart's shoulder.
"With Valdenfelts now part of the imperial family, we must play this card or our house will forever trail behind. There is no other path."
"Yes."
"……Still, look after yourself to the end."
Lukart bowed his head briefly. When he raised it, his expression was resolute.
"……I will keep that in mind."
Ditmar removed his hand from the shoulder and turned to the mage.
"Begin preparing the magic circle. Take all the time needed—but no mistakes."
"As you command."
The mage bowed deeply and withdrew. The study door closed. On the desk sat the glass vial and the cloth-wrapped chains side by side.
A few days passed. The deep basement of the Rosenberg Main House was far cooler than outside. It was the innermost ritual chamber of the family. Torches on the walls flickered yellow.
In the center of the wide floor, an outer ring of runes was drawn in white powder. Three mages knelt, meticulously filling inner runes line by line. White powder fell from their fingertips, forming precise lines on the floor. One line at a time, without disruption.
The chief mage stood in the center, overseeing progress. A normal magic circle's outer runes could be done in half a day. But this was no ordinary circle. One misalignment meant starting over from scratch—and part of the drawer's magic could be sucked into the chains.
Thus, the amount one person could draw at a time was limited, requiring strict rotations.
One mage's hand trembled briefly.
"Ngh."
A line of powder veered off. He drew a short breath and pulled back. The adjacent mage approached and gently erased the error.
"Catch your breath and start over."
"Yes. My apologies."
The chief mage waited a moment, then watched again. The mage steadied his breathing, gripped the powder, and resumed. The basement air hung heavy.
In the center sat the cloth-wrapped chains, with the glass vial beside it. Faint golden particles rose and fell calmly within. A subtle shimmer of runes leaked from beneath the cloth. Nearby mages stiffened their shoulders one by one before returning to their positions.
Lukart stood at the basement entrance, observing. The mages drew a line, caught their breath, drew again, breathed—and so on. It took a full day to complete the outer ring.
The inner runes demanded even greater precision and would take longer. Lukart kept his mouth shut. No one urged haste.
Deep into the night, Lukart remained alone in one corner of the basement. The mages had all gone upstairs to rest. Only the central magic circle, the cloth-wrapped chains, and the vial beside it remained under the torchlight.
Lukart took a step toward the chains. He stared at the cloth for a long moment before reaching out. His fingers halted just before touching. He sent a thin breeze from his fingertips to brush the cloth lightly.
The instant the wind touched, his fingers trembled. He felt his magic being pulled toward the chains—briefly caught, then released. Even that fleeting contact confirmed it.
'……Such power.'
The mage's warning echoed in his mind. Lukart withdrew his hand. He wasn't without fear. But there was no other path.
He glanced at the chains once more. A faint rune shimmer leaked through the cloth. He left the basement and ascended.
Around the same time, Prostia's Cave was unusually lively. Prostia extended her hand, and a piece of dried fruit floated onto it. Cold energy flowed from her fingertips, freezing it instantly. It crumbled with a crunch into fine powder. Dark red powder piled neatly on her palm.
'Whoa, that's cool.'
Nox watched from the side, holding an empty bowl. Prostia was grinding the dried fruits Valter had provided and the ice fruits growing in the cave into powder. He'd asked her to, but she was surprisingly focused.
"Grinds nicely."
[……What do you intend to make?]
"Bingsu."
[Bingsu.]
"Something from my past life. Shaved ice topped with sweet stuff. Cool and delicious."
Prostia's eyes blinked once. The interval was slightly shorter than usual.
[……I'll try it.]
She picked two ice fruits from an ice pillar the same way, grinding them into pale blue powder that piled beside the dried fruit powder. She transferred both powders to the empty bowl.
Then, she scraped the surface of an ice pillar with magic from her fingertip. Smooth ice crystals shaved off thinly. Crushing the pillar finely spread a layer of pure white ice powder at the bowl's base.
'……The base.'
She added a handful of dried fruit powder and a handful of ice fruit powder on top. The dark red and blue powders added color to the white ice.
'Perfect.'
He divided the bowl into two and offered one to Prostia.
"Try it."
Prostia took the bowl. She scooped a spoonful, put it in her mouth, and chewed slowly. Slower than usual.
[……Sweet.]
"Tasty, right?"
[……Cold and sweet.]
"Told you. This is bingsu."
He took a spoonful. The ice melted smoothly on his tongue, spreading the dried fruit's tartness and the ice fruit's clean sweetness together. Far deeper and cooler than in his past life.
'……Wow, it actually worked.'
They sat side by side, scooping spoonfuls. Light filtering between ice pillars reflected on the bowls, subtly shifting the powders' hues. Prostia's hand moved steadily.
'Gonna have to make more.'
As he scooped another spoonful, something brushed past the top of his head.
'……Huh?'
He set down the spoon and spread his magic thinly around, but nothing registered.
'……Just my imagination?'
Prostia looked at him.
[What is it?]
"Nah, felt something brush by. Must be nothing."
Prostia glanced at him, then back to her bowl. But it nagged at him. He couldn't pinpoint why, but an itchy sensation lingered above his head.
'……Whatever.'
Deep night settled in the basement. The white powder on the floor nearly completed the outer rune ring. Inner runes grew more intricate, the mages' breaths deeper.
Then, one mage, gripping the powder, brought his hand slightly closer to the chains—unwittingly stepping inward to see the rune flow better.
"……Huh?"
He swallowed sharply. Powder streamed from his fingertips in a line. Simultaneously, a thread of his magic was thinly pulled toward the chains. The outer circle was a safe distance, but his foot had crossed into it.
"Urk."
His shoulders reeled back. The other two mages yanked him out simultaneously. Their breaths grew ragged too.
The chief mage stepped forward.
"I told you to maintain distance."
"……S-sorry."
The rescued mage's fingertips were blackened. An adjacent mage grabbed his hand and checked quickly.
"Part of his magic was sucked in. He'll need days of rest."
"Take him upstairs."
He was supported out of the basement. The chief mage eyed the chains again. The rune shimmer through the cloth seemed denser. The medium's magic particles were subtly drawn toward the chains. Even just placed nearby, they seemed to recognize each other.
"This reaction from that distance……."
The chief mage muttered lowly.
"Once the ritual begins, we'll continuously infuse magic from outside to share the young master's burden. If even one thread breaks……."
He trailed off. The remaining mages steadied their breaths and gripped the powder anew. The final line of the outer ring was drawn. The basement air grew heavier still.