Chapter 54

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Translator: Ace

Chapter: 54

Chapter Title: The Black Magic Purge

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They say you never know what the world has in store a single step ahead.

Ian was witnessing that irrefutable truth with his own eyes—one no one throughout history could deny.

"Black magic? Have I lost my mind enough to crave such an evil power?!"

"And yet you spew more lies. Everything's already been exposed, and you still shamelessly wag that wicked tongue of yours?"

"N-no, it wasn't me! This is a grave injustice!"

"Whether you're innocent or not, we'll find out soon enough. Interrogators, check them immediately."

"Yes, sir!"

Just yesterday, these people had been sleeping soundly with legs stretched out straight.

Now they were branded as traitors to the realm, on the verge of vanishing like morning dew under the executioner's blade.

"Arrrgh!"

"Ah, it hurts!"

"P-please, spare... guh!"

The sinners' faces twisted in agony were truly pitiful.

A good number of the crowd watching this public interrogation wore grim expressions as proof.

Even Ian thought they looked wretched.

Of course, far more were hurling stones and curses without mercy.

What would ordinary folk know? Labeled black mages, they just vented their rage.

Not that the stone-throwers were wrong—black magic users deserved it.

These sinners undergoing public interrogation in the capital's central plaza were all deeply entangled in forbidden arts, unable to wield their powers anymore.

"The Empire's rotten to the core. Who'd have thought so many black mages lurked in the capital? Don't you agree, Sir Ian?"

It was Bren, Deputy Director of the Magic Management Division. Ian shuddered at the uncharacteristic honorific.

"Ah, quit calling me that. Gives me the chills."

"What should I call you then, Sir Ian? Your Excellency Court Mage Ian?"

"Ugh, whatever. Do what you want."

Bren chuckled, and Ian sighed deeply. He still couldn't get used to Bren's formal speech, no matter how often he heard it.

'Who'd have thought I'd ever hear deference from that guy?'

Court Mage to the Empire was the pinnacle for any mage—higher even than Deputy Director of the Magic Management Division. Being shown respect made sense.

The problem was not adjusting to it.

'Well, still feels pretty good.'

Hearing his former direct subordinate address him formally after nearly five years? Indescribable bliss.

One thing was certain: it was great.

"Did you expect this, Sir Ian? I had no clue."

"Me neither."

'Of course I knew. I set it all up.'

"His Majesty is incredible, isn't he? Unearthing this many black mages must've taken tremendous effort."

"Probably."

'Couldn't agree more.'

Mobilizing so many forces in just one day?

Impossible.

Such swift action required prior coordination.

The Emperor had been plotting this for ages.

"How long do you think ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he'd been preparing?"

"Hmm, at least three or four months?"

A sudden thought struck him.

Maybe the Emperor had long secured a list of nobles tainted by black magic.

If so, he could've struck anytime.

But instead, he'd tasked Ian—perhaps to confirm his own convictions?

'Or just to test me.'

Whatever. The blade had left Ian's hand; now he could sit back and watch the flames.

"The magic interrogators are terrifying. They say they can hush a crying child just by showing up... Sir Ian?"

"Yes?"

"Why the long face?"

"What's wrong with my face?"

"Doesn't look pleased. Too brutal, this public trial?"

"Nah, not that. Just regretting a missed opportunity."

"Opportunity?"

"Something like that."

Ian turned back to the plaza, smacking his lips with evident regret.

'Damn, what a waste. Extracting souls from all those would yield how many soul stones? And the EXP boost...'

Four days passed. The capital's chaos showed no signs of abating. Countless nobles tainted by black magic? Calming down would be the real surprise.

Commoners and officials alike were on edge.

Working normally amid this bloody purge and madness? Unsettling, to say the least.

Officials treaded thin ice, hearts pounding through the day.

Not all, though.

One young slacker lounged carefree, ignoring the tension.

'Ahh, this tea hits the spot.'

Ian sipped endlessly from his new office chair. The well-brewed hot black tea was divine—the best he'd ever tasted.

'Perks of the imperial family, huh?'

A Court Mage's perks included sharing the royals' exclusive luxuries.

This premium tea, available only in the palace and beyond even wealthy nobles' reach, was now his to guzzle like swill.

'Gonna pocket some leaves on the way out. Who'd complain?'

Ian glanced at the mana clock on the wall. Hands neared 4 p.m.

'Loaf for another hour forty, then dip twenty early.'

He drained the tea, crossed his arms, and reclined almost flat. Paradise.

No one to notice his slouch during hours in the Crown Prince's Palace top floor. At worst, Astheon or a fellow Court Mage.

'I was an idiot. A cushier gig than Magic Investigator existed, and I thought that was peak?'

They say seeing depends on knowing.

Spot on.

Past Ian's ignorance blinded him to better paths.

'No helping it. A mid-level drudge like me couldn't know.'

One blind to infrastructure can't crave it. Experience reveals the void.

Ian had been a frog in a well, unaware until now.

If returned to the Division, his mindset might shift. He'd strive for Court Mage?

No pawn-pushing, diligent work.

"Thought you'd vanished. Here you are."

Ian straightened at the sudden voice.

A visitor: middle-aged Court Mage Hermann, sporting a scruffy beard.

"Ah, Sir Hermann."

"Hoo, searched everywhere. Didn't expect you here."

"What's up?"

"What's up? You know why. Lounging instead of working? Trouble, even for His Highness. He despises incompetence."

Ah, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thought he was slacking.

Not quite.

"That's fine. Finished today's tasks."

"Already? B-but..."

"Yes."

Hermann looked baffled.

"Ian, you know what today's job is, right?"

"Sure. Inspecting the grand magic barrier at Lion Palace."

"Right. And you skipped it?"

"I said I finished."

Hermann went slack-jawed.

"Impossible. That intricate high-level work, done?"

"Yep. Wasn't hard."

Hermann's eyes narrowed in disbelief.

The grand barrier enveloping Lion Palace was formidable even for him after a decade in the palace—complex, dense design prone to collapse if mishandled.

Only elite Court Mages could manage; its failure risked palace defenses.

And Ian claimed to finish before sunset? Even Hermann couldn't guarantee that.

"Oh, and repairs too. Reinforced the worn parts completely. That covers it, right?"

"R-repairs? All that?"

"Yes."

"Unbelievable."

"Check it yourself."

Hermann did.

True.

Seeing Ian's knowing smile, Hermann was speechless.

'No wonder His Highness favors him.'

Curious why the picky Crown Prince doted on a commoner novice.

This skill explained it.

'Still, solo? Dragon-level mana control required.'

"Looks like I cleared a week's worth. Can I relax now?"

"Uh, y-yeah. Rest."

"Tea? Tastes great."

"No thanks. Ahem. Sorry."

Hermann fled; Ian tilted his head at the retreating figure.

'What's his deal? Needs the john?'

Ian clocked out five minutes after Hermann left.

Astheon had ordered him home.

-You finished today's work, right?

-Yes. How'd you know?

-Other Court Mages said. Lion Palace repairs are flawless. They're swarming, raving. Defense up 1.5x or something. Your doing?

-Yeah.

-Good job. Go home.

-Huh?

-Home. Now.

-Already? It's 4 p.m.

-'Already'? Work's done.

-Yes.

-No need to stay.

-True, but I'm your dedicated magic guard. I must protect you...

-Fine. My knights are strong. I won't die easy. Go rest.

-Understood.

-Remember: work smart, not hard. Nail what I assign when I need it, and I'll grant anything. Got it?

-Yes.

-Scram. Rest fiercely.

He obeyed the Crown Prince's send-home order post-purge.

Navigating the eerily subdued capital streets, he arrived home at 4:30 p.m.

Two hours early; Ian shivered in thrill.

'This is clocking out!'

"M-Master, already?!"

"Yeah. Expect this from now on. Why're you sweating?"

"P-pardon?"

"You're drenched."

"N-no! J-just overdid research. Haha."

Kez panted, cold sweat pouring—like he'd run a marathon.

Ian eyed him suspiciously, then tsked.

"Told you to take it easy."

"Huh?"

"Overwork's bad. Wipe that sweat."

"G-gasp! A gift for lowly me?! Th-thank you!"

"Gift my ass. It's a towel. Anyway, clean up. Rest today. Healthy assistant helps me best, right?"

"Sob! Such words! Th-thank you!"

Ian missed the loyalty alert; he'd disabled Kez's notifications.

"Master, soon I'll bring joyous news. Keruk."

"Joyous news? Homunculus success?"

"Y-yes, and more."

Ian smirked.

Kez's eyes sparkled oddly.

"Ex-expect it. Your lowly servant prepares a humble gift. Keruk."

"Thanks."

Ian patted Kez's bowing shoulder and headed to the lab.

Today might be the day he'd awaited.

'Time to hit Alchemy Level 13.'

He'd planned to pace it.

Savor like a delicacy.

But temptation overwhelmed.

EXP so close—why hold back?

221 proficiency left.

Seems low.

High level means slow gains; might not max today.

'Need high-EXP research.'

Nothing left—big ones done, minors yield tens.

Crafting grind? Fractions.

'Not appealing.'

One option remained.

'Self-Synthesis.'

Ian stared at the status entry, conflicted.

'Should I?'

Hesitant, truly.

Using oneself as guinea pig? Terrifying.

Ian had spares lives.

Untested, though.

The issue.

Would the Devil clan's innate skill activate?

'But massive EXP.'

Die from side effects, respawn? Worth it.

Failed high-stakes give juicy EXP too.

'Screw it, let's go.'

Self-Enhancement unlocked with Self-Synthesis.

Untouched till now.

Like homunculus crafting—no template, fully customizable.

One Dragon Heart Fragment.

Plenty World Tree Leaves.

Felt like boosting success odds.

Stability boost too.

"Phew, please succeed."

Ian rarely tensed, but now he did.

Like bungee jumping's edge?

"Screw it—fail, die, respawn!"

On the lab bed, Ian's body jolted violently. Dizziness and pain surged as massive mana ravaged him.

Enhancement began.

Unprecedented mana reshaped Ian from within.