Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Crimson Aptitude
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***
“No matter what happens, it doesn’t concern me.”
Arthur left the study and headed straight for Aild’s room.
He stood before the door and kicked it without mercy.
Bang!
Aild jumped in surprise at Arthur’s sudden intrusion.
“What is it?”
“What are you doing holed up in here?”
“Can’t you see? I’m in the middle of magic research.”
Aild glared at him, eyes bulging.
Arthur ignored the reaction and glanced around.
The room was filled with all sorts of experiment tools and books. White smoke billowed from a glass vial on the long table.
“Did Wesley say something before he left?”
“So?”
“You must’ve heard from Andrew just now too?”
“And what are you trying to say?”
Aild shouted.
Arthur muttered as if to himself.
“I was planning to leave well enough alone...”
He flipped the table over.
Crash! Clang!
“No!”
Aild clutched his head, his face blank with despair.
Next, Arthur hurled the bookshelf to the floor.
Boom!
Books poured out in a cascade.
In an instant, the lab was a wreck, and Aild collapsed on the spot.
“You bastard...”
Arthur approached and loomed over him with contemptuous eyes.
“If Julius blood runs in your veins, show some interest in family matters at least.”
“Do you know how much effort I put into this...”
“You’re the type who doesn’t listen to words.”
Arthur kicked him in the stomach.
“Guh!”
Aild toppled forward.
“Whether the countess is humiliated by those bastards or not, magic comes first for you?”
“Ugh...”
“That’s enough for today.”
As Arthur turned to leave,
Aild lifted his head with effort.
“W-what... happened to Mom?”
His face darkened with worry now.
Arthur looked at him pitifully.
“Go check for yourself.”
After wreaking havoc, Arthur returned to his room and flopped onto the bed.
“Haa...”
Strength drained from his body, and muscle aches flared everywhere.
He’d overworked muscles he hadn’t used in ages.
It was utterly bleak.
And the future was the real problem.
He hadn’t planned to get involved at all.
Yet when Sibar insulted Medlin, rage had boiled in his chest.
When Sibar raised his hand, his body had moved on its own.
That led to an irreversible situation, but looking back,
If he hadn’t stepped in, Medlin likely would’ve forgiven Sibar and sent him off.
But killing Sibar’s guard knight had given Yarve Count grounds for war.
Either way, the situation hadn’t changed.
“Fed up with this.”
He’d thought he could live peacefully here, but now he was headed back to the battlefield.
Worst of all, he’d lit the spark for war himself. Anger surged.
Fate seemed inescapable from war.
‘Haa, how much blood will stain me here...’
He could already smell it—not blood, but the ‘scent of death’.
As Arthur wallowed in lament,
Knock knock.
The door opened, and Skevin entered, bowing politely.
“I’d like a moment to speak.”
The man who valued justice and honor above all saw Arthur as the family’s disgrace.
Rumors said he’d changed, but Skevin hadn’t believed them. Arthur’s display in the study had shocked him deeply.
So he’d come to confirm for himself.
Coincidence, or real change?
But Arthur, reading Skevin’s thoughts, had no intention of playing along.
“I want to rest.”
“Understood.”
As Skevin turned to leave without argument, something occurred to Arthur.
“Wait.”
“Yes.”
“How do I start learning mana?”
“...!”
Skevin’s eyes widened.
The one who’d trembled at training left him stunned.
Arthur’s actions in the study had surprised him, but this was even more so.
Skevin calmed his chest and asked.
“Are you serious?”
Arthur met his eyes coldly.
“Dead serious. Answer?”
“...!”
It was that same gaze from the study.
Like a knight who’d roamed countless battlefields, dancing on death’s edge.
‘What in the world happened?’
Seeing Skevin stare blankly in thought, Arthur added,
“Is this something to mull over?”
“To be honest, you’re so different from the youngest young master I knew. It’s confusing.”
“You’re disappointing me again. The family’s in danger, and you’re lost in such thoughts.”
“...!”
Skevin’s gaze wavered.
Arthur’s words sent shivers through him.
Since the count’s death, everyone relied on him without sharp advice.
Who’d have imagined such counsel from the family wastrel?
Suddenly, his grandfather’s image overlapped with Arthur.
Back when the Julius Count Family was the empire’s spear, leading the invincible Phoenix Knight Order: Espanya Maximus.
One of the empire’s seven sword masters, he’d been the family’s guardian deity.
Skevin had taken his place leading the order but remained no sword master—just an empty title.
Yet all revered him as the family’s sword, Grada’s guardian.
But Arthur...
Skevin dropped to one knee, hand over his left chest.
“Skevin Maximus offers deep apologies for my rudeness, Young Master. Forgive me.”
“I’m telling you the same: don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Yes.”
“How do I start learning mana?”
Skevin bowed deeply.
“Speak to Millerph. He’ll teach you the method suited to you.”
“Is there a reason I can’t learn just anything?”
“Training matched to your innate temperament yields the fastest, safest results.”
“I see.”
Arthur nodded.
Skevin bowed, awaiting his words.
“You’re burdensome.”
“It’s only natural as your retainer.”
“Then you have no time to linger?”
“Yes!”
Skevin rose swiftly, facing Arthur.
The shock and doubt on his face returned to calm composure.
But a faint spark of ‘expectation’ gleamed in his eyes.
***
“Huff, huff, huff.”
Arthur repeatedly climbed and descended the rampart stairs.
A week had passed since Sibar’s death.
Yarve Count would be suspicious by now.
He’d dispatch investigators or gather intel to assess the situation.
Skevin had said it’d take at least a month to learn of the incident here, another for imperial approval of war.
War loomed at least two months away.
He had things to do in that time.
Make this wretched body useful, if not as strong as before.
So aside from eating and sleeping, he devoted himself to stamina training.
Exhausting the final stair, Arthur collapsed flat.
Staring at the sky, he panted roughly.
“Huff, huff. Huff.”
Andrew, watching from the ramparts, looked sympathetic.
“Are you really okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sweating buckets, refusing water—I’m worried you’ll collapse.”
“I’m fine.”
Arthur hauled his gaunt, bony frame up to descend again.
Andrew spread his arms to block him.
“No. You need rest.”
“Move. Three more to go.”
“Huh!”
Andrew’s jaw dropped.
Arthur shoved past and continued.
As he descended to climb again, shouts from the training grounds halted him.
A week ago, Skevin had recruited knight trainees the next day.
Word of training under Grada’s guardian drew crowds.
Skevin selected two hundred by age and build, putting them through grueling drills.
Since then, the quiet castle bustled with trainees’ shouts and vigor.
“Good thing he’s not an idiot.”
As Arthur moved to climb,
A stealthy presence approached from behind.
Only one thing felt like this.
Assassination!
Arthur gripped the knife from his pocket for emergencies, spinning and slashing.
Swish—
It cut empty air.
Now from the nine o’clock direction.
He whipped the knife around.
Thud!
It sank into something, revealing a figure in midair.
A white-robed elderly man with white hair; the knife was blocked by his white staff.
“You’re...”
“Forgive the surprise, Young Master.”
It was Millerph, another guardian of the Julius Count Family.
“Was that magic too?”
“Yes, an illusion spell called ‘Illusion Dark’.”
“Hmm.”
Arthur’s face hardened.
Invisibility like an F-22A Raptor evading radar.
“Annoying trick.”
Millerph nodded.
“Most think so... but ironically, it seems useless against you, Young Master.”
“Any mage can use it?”
“Only sixth-class mages and above.”
“Sixth class...”
Millerph smiled faintly, guessing his concern.
“No need to worry. Across the Oscar Empire, fewer than five can wield sixth-circle magic.”
“Five, huh. Anyway, you were away—back now?”
“Yes. I greeted the countess, spoke with Sir Skevin, and came straight here. Spare a moment?”
“Busy.”
Arthur bounded up the stairs.
Seeing him sweat through exercise for the first time, Millerph smiled.
“To witness such a sight.”
One hour later.
Arthur lay sprawled, panting roughly. Andrew watched with pity.
Millerph approached silently, extending a hand.
Soft light gathered from his palm, quieting the ragged breaths.
Arthur sprang up, stunned as stamina flooded back.
“What did you do?”
“A recovery spell.”
“If there’s a way like this...”
Training with recovery magic could multiply effects in short time.
“You’ll have to help me.”
“Say the word.”
Millerph smiled kindly.
Arthur walked the ramparts, surveying.
As always, children played happily in the fields.
Peaceful, unchanging.
Millerph joined, gazing the same way.
“What’re you thinking?”
“I want to live like them.”
“Haven’t you enjoyed yourself freely until now?”
“Have I?”
Arthur gave a wry smile.
“Speak if you have something to say.”
“I heard from Sir Skevin. About Yarve Count, and your desire to learn mana.”
“Can’t fight them in this state.”
“You plan to fight alongside us?”
“Gotta earn my keep.”
“I see.”
Millerph smiled, offering his palm.
“I’ll check your temperament. Place your hand on mine.”
“Like this?”
Arthur laid his right hand atop.
Millerph chanted low runes. White light flowed from Arthur’s hand.
After a moment,
Golden light—symbol of the Julius Count Family—emerged.
“You share Wesley’s temperament, Young Master...”
Millerph trailed off.
The gold blazed, red slowly emerging. They swirled spiraling brilliantly.
The red devoured the gold, turning deep crimson like blood.
Millerph’s eyes bulged.
“This is!”