Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: What Happened at the Ball (5)
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"...I won't let him get away with this."
"B-Big Brother."
"That bastard... I won't let him get away with it."
Alf muttered through gritted teeth, eyes bloodshot as he tore at his hair.
He'd never even been struck by his own father, the Simon Count. Not that his father paid him much attention anyway, but that was beside the point.
He had never been bested by anyone. That unyielding confidence was the foundation of Alf's very being.
And Jamie Welton had shattered it all.
He couldn't stand it.
Today's humiliation hadn't been witnessed by others, thankfully, but that did nothing to mend his crushed pride.
'I need stronger magic. Something powerful enough to make him beg for his life.'
His own spells wouldn't cut it.
He'd learned after the fact that Jamie Welton, at that age, had reached the absurd height of 4th class.
'Damn it. If I'd known, I never would've approached him like that... But a mage from the Welton family? What the hell?'
It made no sense. Weren't the Weltons a house of knights?
The family head, Count Welton, was one of only five Sword Masters in the kingdom, and the previous head had been one too.
Not every head was a Sword Master, but the Weltons were a lineage that had made their name with the sword.
Yet a mage had been born from that house. Not just any mage, but a genius among geniuses who had reached 4th class at the age of seven.
'A genius.'
Alf had grown up hailed as a genius himself.
He had awakened his mana at eight, entered 1st class, reached 2nd class at nine, and now, approaching thirteen, he had just stepped into 3rd class.
Considering that most mages didn't hit 3rd class until adulthood, he was undoubtedly gifted.
But Jamie was 4th class at seven.
The son of a knightly house, practicing magic—no, reaching 4th class at that age. Alf's mind couldn't comprehend it, let alone accept it.
'I can't forgive him.'
His two hands clenched in his blood-red hair, trembling violently.
The greatest mage family in the Kingdom of Seldam should be the Simons.
He couldn't tolerate some sword family with no magical heritage stealing even that spotlight.
'Right. I can't tolerate it.'
That talent had to be broken.
Crushed so thoroughly he could never cast another spell.
He had been careless earlier. Even without carelessness, magic alone wouldn't overpower him, but with proper preparation, subduing one little kid wouldn't be hard.
'To Father's warehouse.'
The warehouse of Simon Count, the great mage known publicly as 7th class but who had reached 8th class, was filled with powerful magic artifacts.
4th class. Unthinkable for his age, but in the grand scheme, a 4th class mage was nothing special.
Alf's lips twisted upward in a sneer.
The two boys following him swallowed hard at the sight.
"B-Big Brother?"
"Y-You're okay, right?"
"Yeah. I'm just fine."
Fine? More than fine.
With nothing left but revenge, what was there to be unhappy about?
That was when it happened.
"Big Brother."
A familiar voice called from nearby.
The two boys flinched hard upon seeing the owner of that voice.
Alf shot him a sharp glare.
"What are you doing here?"
"How could I stand by when my brother's been hurt?"
Lennon Simon, the Simon Count's second son and Alf's only brother, approached with a smile.
He then pulled a red orb cradled in a golden bird sculpture from his pocket and handed it over.
"This should be enough."
"...Where did you get this?"
"Show that Welton punk what happens when he messes with us."
Alf wondered how his brother had obtained it, but once it was in his hands, he didn't care anymore.
"Haha... Hahaha!"
Alf burst into laughter as he stared at the red orb in the golden bird.
The bird's eyes began to glow red.
Late into the night.
A single carriage rolled into the lord's castle of Rigen.
The guards confirmed the occupant and let it pass without delay.
Simon Count stood at the mansion entrance, arms crossed, watching the carriage come to a halt.
As the door opened, the count's lips curved slightly upward.
For a man whose face was perpetually cold, showing emotion was a rare sight.
He held immense interest in the carriage's passenger.
How could he not?
"It's been a while, Count Welton."
"Well, now. For you to come out and greet me personally. Tomorrow the sun will rise in the west."
The man who stepped down was none other than Count Welton.
He was one of the few Simon Count welcomed with genuine pleasure.
The two exchanged warm glances before sharing a brief embrace.
"How have you been?"
"What reason would I have to complain? Come on in."
They headed to Simon Count's study.
"Did the ball go off without a hitch today?"
"Same as always."
The ball was an annual event for unity among the eastern nobility. Nothing special, nothing disastrous.
Count Welton understood and didn't press further.
"By the way, I saw your son."
"How did he seem?"
At the mention of his son, Count Welton's expression softened noticeably.
"Who would've thought you'd be such a doting father."
"Haha."
"Not denying it, I see."
"They're the reason I live."
The count smiled tenderly.
"Must be nice, having that kind of affection."
"Still the same, then?"
"The Simon bloodline is always like that. Anyway, enough of that. It's a waste of time."
Dismissing family matters as a waste of time spoke volumes about how little family meant to Simon Count.
"Your son was truly astonishing. Beyond astonishing—utterly shocking."
His face betrayed no emotion, but the first moment he laid eyes on Jamie, a storm had raged in his mind.
"In all I've seen—or perhaps in all history—no one's been born with such talent."
"Marquis Linmel said much the same."
"Hm? Has the marquis seen Jamie himself?"
Simon Count knew Marquis Linmel well.
He was one of only two official 8th class mages in the Kingdom of Seldam.
"He's known of Jamie's talent for some time. Though I didn't realize just how extraordinary it was. That's why I asked the marquis for a favor. If he walks the path of the sword, I'd be grateful, but with such magical aptitude, becoming a mage would benefit him—and the world."
"You're remarkable, as always."
"Well—he refused."
"Can't blame him."
Simon Count nodded in agreement.
Count Welton chuckled wryly at the similar reaction. Great mages all thought alike, it seemed.
"Jamie is a once-in-a-millennium genius. He'll bloom on his own and reach unimaginable heights, challenging even the mythical 9th class."
9th class. The supreme realm deemed unattainable by humans.
Simon Count, whose pride reached the heavens, spoke those words.
Marquis Linmel had said the same.
Did Jamie truly possess such potential?
"I'm jealous of his superior talent, yet I want to see it for myself."
Simon Count expressed his feelings openly.
"Just how far does the power of an 8th class mage extend?"
"Count?"
"We're so fragile, us humans. We've built grand civilizations, but compared to the inhuman monsters, we're nothing. It's only Sword Masters like you that keep them in check."
"You're an 8th class grand mage yourself."
"You saw right through me, even without me saying it. Yes, I broke through to 8th class this time. But compared to inhuman magic, 8th class has its limits. Dragons, high elves, the Ran—human mages fall short in too many ways. It's different from Sword Masters."
8th class mages were called superhumans, but true superhumans referred to Sword Masters.
They wielded power that rivaled even the inhuman powerhouses.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say the human realm endured largely thanks to Sword Master forces.
"But if a 9th class mage were born..."
Just one class above 8th, yet every mage knew.
"Even the lords of magic, the dragons, wouldn't dare belittle it."
Because 9th class had been the exclusive domain of dragons.
"I fervently hope for it. For humans to become true masters of this world."
"That's hubris."
"Call it hubris if you must. You know better than anyone. About the forgotten history slumbering in this land!"
"..."
Count Welton fell silent.
He knew what forgotten history Simon Count meant. It was a secret known to only a handful across the continent.
Ten thousand years ago, some cataclysm had erased all prior history.
No one knew what that event was or what history had thrived before it.
The inhuman transcendents kept those secrets to themselves. That's why Simon Count insisted on human forces that could stand against even them.
A brief silence settled between them.
Simon Count spoke first.
"Go rest. You must be tired from the journey."
"You too, Count. See you tomorrow."
"Indeed."
The two counts rose.
They exchanged a few more words before retiring to their rooms.
"You're back?"
"I woke you. Go back to sleep."
"Mmm... Good night, then."
Sears was impossible to rouse once asleep, so she probably wouldn't even remember this brief awakening.
Count Welton gazed lovingly at his wife before changing and heading to Jamie's room.
Jamie was sleeping soundly, so he watched from afar without approaching.
His firstborn son, blessed with overwhelming talent.
The count felt an inexplicable unease. He should be thrilled, but the talent was too vast. It went beyond mere genius.
Even "genius" fell short.
'Jamie. Just grow up right. Your father will do his best too.'
He knew well what happened when geniuses strayed.
Count Welton sighed softly and returned to his room.
And Jamie quietly opened his eyes.
He had sensed his father's arrival some time ago, thanks to his presence.
But what was with that troubled aura?
Jamie shook his head and sat up. He couldn't read minds without peering directly, and he certainly wasn't about to use mind control on his father out of curiosity.
Not that his current level even allowed it.
"Black."
Kkieeek—
Black popped out of thin air.
Jamie threw off the covers and sat cross-legged.
"Can't sleep anyway. Guess I'll meditate through the night."
Chirp!
Black flapped its wings and perched above his head.
A body at its limit wouldn't grow overnight, but meditation smoothed mana flow control.
Hoping the ball would end without incident tomorrow, he sank into meditation.
The second day of the ball began.
Count Welton and Sears took the floor first for a dance.
Other couples soon joined them around the hall.
Jamie watched the main hall with a bored expression.
He just wanted it to end quickly so he could go home.
"Hey!"
A familiar voice called out.
This time, she hadn't hidden her presence, so he knew who it was immediately.
"All alone again today?"
It was Ash Valle.
Grinning ear to ear for some reason, she plopped down beside him.
Jamie glanced at her and turned away sharply.
"Leave me alone."
"I don't wanna."
"Not interested."
"Sis!"
Ash ignored him and waved someone over.
She had definitely said "sis." Come to think of it, she was the second daughter of Viscount Valle, so her sister must be the eldest.
One annoyance wasn't enough; now another was joining.
Wanting to be alone, Jamie stood up.
Ash, of course, grabbed his arm.
"Where do you think you're going? Our families are close—we should at least say hi."
"Pass."
"Come on over, Sis!"
Again, she did as she pleased, ignoring him.
"Ash, that's rude."
The voice that replied was a delicate, melodic soprano.
Jamie unwittingly turned toward it.
There stood a beauty half a head taller than Ash.
Her gentle features, slightly drooping eyes, upturned nose for her age, and thin yet long lips made her look like a finely crafted doll.
Jamie couldn't tear his eyes away.
Ash giggled at him.
"Heh, so you are a boy after all? Well, my sister's drop-dead gorgeous, huh?"
As if she'd expected it, Ash playfully slung an arm over Jamie's shoulder.
But Jamie showed no reaction.
Just as Ash wondered if he was really smitten with her sister—
"Jane."
He called Ash's sister by that name.
Jane.
The woman he had loved his entire life.
The woman sacrificed to the gods for his sake.
The root cause that turned Jamie—no, Diablo Volpir—into a monster by severing his capacity for "love."
She stood before him now, in her childhood form.
That was when it happened.
"Found you!"
The silver orb let out a clear chime.
Space rippled, and an illusion engulfed their spot.
"You'll be calling me Big Brother from now on!"
The "Phoenix Wrath" in Alf's hand spewed flames of fury.
Fire swallowed Jamie and Ash beside him.
"Ash!"
The moment her sister Rebecca cried out in horror—
"Don't interfere."
Phoenix's wrath vanished like a lie.
All illusions shattered, and every gaze in the ball turned their way.
Alf stared at Jamie in disbelief.
"N-No way..."
"Phoenix Wrath" was a 6th class flame spell crafted by Simon Count himself. Impossible for Jamie to block.
"Die."
The whisper escaped his lips.
His palm glowed blue.
Alf could only gape at it speechlessly.
Light erupted.
A terrifying surge to erase Alf's very existence—
"That's enough."
The light vanished.
Jamie looked at the thick, callused hand gripping his wrist.
Hard calluses pressed against his soft skin.
"Father."
"It's alright now."
Count Welton gently pulled his son into an embrace.
Ancient memories flooded his mind.
Jamie lost consciousness then. At the fading edge of awareness, Jane smiled.