A Viper in the Nest
On the eve of our final battle against the Archduke of Demonic Magic, Lunia and I had shared a night together in a dilapidated cabin. During those quiet hours, she had told me many things.
They weren't merely fond reminiscences of her childhood; she had also spoken of grave, pivotal events.
"When the Archduke's army invaded, Benheim was utterly helpless," she had said.
She had explained in detail how the Benheim family was destroyed by the Archduke of Demonic Magic, recounting the tragedy step-by-step.
"There were traitors within the family. They deactivated the protective wards engraved across our territory, allowing the Archduke to march straight into the heart of our estate without shedding a single drop of blood. It all happened far too quickly for us to mount a defense."
According to Lunia, the insidious reach of the black mages had penetrated deep into the Benheim family long before the invasion.
Acting in concert with the Archduke's advance, the traitors had thrown open the estate gates and shattered the protective arrays engraved on the highest floor of the magic tower.
"If only Father had been there to lead us, we might have held off the Archduke's forces somehow. But the very moment the enemy breached our borders, Father was assassinated."
"Assassinated?" I had asked. "A great mage of his caliber was taken down so easily?"
"Yes. Because the killer wasn't some ordinary assassin. It was a close relative—someone to whom he had willingly turned his back."
"Who was it?"
At my question, Lunia's eyes had turned ice-cold.
"My uncle."
"Your uncle?"
"My uncle, Markel von Benheim. That man... was the traitor. The moment the Archduke launched his invasion, Markel plunged a dagger coated in deadly poison straight into my father's back. If not for that bastard, Benheim could have held out for at least another six months. And in that time, so much could have changed."
Lunia's eyes had burned with a fierce, vengeful light. She had bitten her lip so hard it nearly bled, laying bare her raw hatred for her uncle.
She had shared other crucial details as well—from the names of the family members who had colluded with the black mages to the identities of the dark mages who had covertly infiltrated their ranks.
Every single word she spoke had been etched indelibly into my memory.
I didn't know why she had chosen to share those secrets with me in such meticulous detail back then. But now, I realized it was directly tied to the regression I had undergone.
It was all for a moment just like this.
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Stern's bewildered voice shattered my train of thought.
I looked up.
Stern's face was contorted in sheer disbelief, as if he couldn't comprehend what he had just heard.
"Are you claiming that my brother, Markel, is a black mage?"
"Yes. He is in league with them."
"Nonsense! Markel is my brother, a pillar of the Benheim family. To accuse him of being a black mage is utterly preposterous. Raygan, you must understand the gravity of what you are saying."
Of course he wouldn't believe me right away.
To convince Stern, I needed to present undeniable proof.
Fortunately, I possessed a piece of uncomfortable truth that Stern would have no choice but to accept.
"Lord Patriarch, as you know, I met a mysterious mage of the Benheim family. That mage handed me the pendant and told me many things. That was how I knew your daughter would be attacked."
"...Don't tell me."
"Yes. The revelation that Markel is a black mage also came directly from the one who gave me the pendant."
Stern's expression stiffened.
After a tense silence, he slowly spoke.
"Is that the absolute truth?"
"Yes."
"If this turns out to be a lie... Raygan, you must be prepared to forfeit your life."
"I have spoken nothing but the truth."
Stern's monocle flashed. I hadn't noticed it during our first meeting, but now that I had a grasp of magic, I could see it clearly.
The monocle was an artifact—likely one designed to discern the truth of a speaker's words.
"It seems you speak the truth."
Sure enough, Stern let out a heavy sigh and continued.
"Raygan, can you present any proof to back this up?"
"Proof..."
"Even if you believe it to be true, an accusation without evidence cannot stand. I need proof."
I had no physical evidence to offer right this second. The only proof I had of Markel's treachery was a memory of a conversation with Lunia from a future that hadn't happened yet.
However, if Lunia's words were true, Uncle Markel was bound to have left some trace of his dark dealings in his private quarters.
"Yes. I can prove it."
"..."
Stern let out a long, weary sigh at my unwavering confidence. He turned his gaze toward the main estate where Markel had headed earlier, his brow furrowing deeply.
"Very well. I will give you a chance. But if my brother is proven innocent, you will pay for this slander with your life."
"As you wish."
I had already staked my life once before. Doing it a second time was hardly a challenge.
Stern led me toward the main estate.
The estate servants stared in utter shock at the sight of an outsider mage walking shoulder-to-shoulder with the patriarch, but Stern ignored their gapes and strode purposefully down the corridor.
"This is Markel's personal study," Stern said.
He led me to the innermost room at the end of the corridor connecting the main estate to the magic tower.
"He spends most of his days here. However, he has business at the magic tower today, so he won't return until sunset. Find the evidence of my brother's treachery in this room."
"...By myself?"
"Did you not claim you could prove it?"
Stern leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.
He was entirely serious.
This is a test.
I had to find proof of Markel's dark magic right here in his personal study.
I scanned the room. To any ordinary observer, it looked like a typical mage's study.
But black mages were notoriously cunning. The moment their identities were exposed, the Imperial Magic Association would dispatch an execution squad, so they went to extreme lengths to conceal their tracks.
It wouldn't be so sloppy that a mere teenager could easily uncover it.
Still...
Well, time to show what I can do.
Unlike a few days ago, I now possessed a brand-new mana core. And I had the talent to utilize that core to its absolute limit.
Most importantly, I had a lifetime of combat experience fighting black mages.
No matter what clever tricks they tried to pull, they couldn't escape my notice.
"First..."
I closed my eyes and focused on the room.
Amidst the tightly packed bookshelves, I could sense the lingering trace of Markel's presence—and a faint, subtle residue of mana.
"Whew..."
I exhaled slowly, then took a deep, deliberate breath. I circulated the air through my lungs, channeling it to every corner of my body while drawing mana into my core. Simply by absorbing the ambient mana in the air, I could perceive the true nature of the energy drifting through the room.
This was Mana Resonance.
It was one of my greatest specialties.
As I thought... there's a foul stench here.
Sure enough, a faint, discordant energy was woven into the ambient mana of the study.
It was the sickening, repulsive scent unique to black magic—so meticulously concealed that an ordinary mage would never have noticed it.
Dark mages smelled bad enough, but black mages were on a whole different level of putridity.
Having slain hundreds of black mages in my past life, the scent was unmistakable to me.
Tap.
Following the trail of the foul odor, I placed my hand on a specific book on the shelf.
Amidst the thick layers of dust covering the surrounding volumes, this was the only book that was pristine.
"Bingo."
Click.
As I pulled the book forward, a hidden compartment slid open behind the bookshelf.
Tucked inside was a small wooden chest. The seal binding it shut was woven from unmistakable black magic.
"..."
Watching from the doorway, Stern's expression turned to stone.
Honestly, this discovery alone was more than enough to warrant a full interrogation.
But since we had come this far, I decided to expose the contents of the chest as well.
"Lord Patriarch, may I borrow some of your blood?"
"What do you mean?"
"You share the same bloodline as your brother. This seal appears to be blood-locked."
Stern grimaced, clearly disturbed by the implication, but...
"...Very well."
He drew a ceremonial dagger from his coat and sliced open his palm. As the dark red droplets fell onto the seal, the black magic reacted to the bloodline, pulsing with a sinister, crimson glow.
So he really was a blood mage.
Just like orthodox magic, black magic had many branches. Among them were those who manipulated blood.
They were known as blood mages, and it seemed Lunia's uncle, Markel, was indeed one of them.
Click.
The dark seal dissolved, and the latch clicked open.
Inside lay a thick stack of letters.
There was no need to guess who they were addressed to.
I picked up the topmost letter and scanned the contents.
The Day of the Moon's Eclipse. The cemetery. The daughter of Benheim.
Three short, chilling phrases.
Having seen that, there was no room left for doubt.
Stern, who had been reading over my shoulder, let out a shuddering breath. His face was twisted in a mask of fury and betrayal unlike anything I had ever seen on him.
After a long, heavy silence, Stern finally spoke, his voice tight.
"...Raygan. Let us go."
"Where to, Lord Patriarch?"
"To Markel."
Stern turned, his eyes burning with a cold, murderous light.
"I must have a word with my brother."
Markel von Benheim was attending to his duties in the magic tower when he received an unexpected report.
"My brother is here?"
Stern rarely visited the magic tower in person, even when he had important business. He would usually send a servant or the chief administrator.
Though puzzled, Markel could not ignore a direct summons from the patriarch.
He went down to the first floor of the tower to greet Stern, thinking nothing of it.
"Brother, what brings you here so suddenly—hm?"
Markel's brow furrowed as he noticed the gray-haired boy standing right beside the patriarch.
It was Raygan.
"Brother, why have you brought this lowborn here? You know as well as I do that by family law, outsider mages are strictly forbidden from setting foot inside the sacred Benheim Magic Tower."
"The sacred Benheim Magic Tower... How utterly laughable," Stern sneered.
Stern's cold, mocking tone sent a sudden shiver of unease down Markel's spine.
Thud.
A small wooden chest clattered to the floor, landing right at Markel's feet.
"...Th-this is..."
It was his ebony lockbox.
The very box that was supposed to be buried deep within his private study. Why was it here?
As Markel froze in sheer panic, Stern pressed on.
"Hardly the words of someone who smuggled black magic into our sacred tower, wouldn't you say?"
"..."
"I will give you one chance to explain yourself. How long have you been practicing blood magic, and when did you first collude with them? Your answers will determine how mercifully I deal with you."
"...B-brother..."
Cold sweat drenched Markel's back.
How on earth did he find it?
He had left no room for error. He had erased every trace, masked every scent. Of course, a 7th-Circle Archmage like Stern could easily detect it if he looked, but there was absolutely no reason for Stern to have ransacked his private study in the first place.
So why was his lockbox sitting right here?
No, now is not the time to wonder.
He had to save his own skin, by any means necessary.
If I fight... can I win?
Absolutely not.
Even with the rapid power he had gained from blood magic, against a 7th-Circle Archmage, he was nothing more than a moth in a hurricane.
Should I beg for brotherly mercy?
He clung to a desperate sliver of hope, but Stern's next words shattered it completely.
"Markel, I have read the letters you exchanged with the black mages. You were the mastermind behind the attack on Lunia."
"..."
"What did you intend to do with my daughter? Who is pulling your strings? Tell me everything you know, down to the last detail."
Stern knew he had targeted his precious daughter.
Begging for mercy was completely useless now.
He had to escape.
Markel took a cautious step backward, but someone was already blocking his path to the exit.
"You...!"
"The Lord Patriarch isn't finished speaking yet," Raygan said with a smirk.
The gray-haired boy stood casually in the doorway, blocking the exit with an insolent grin.
The outsider mage, Raygan.
Now that he thought about it, the failure of the kidnapping plot on the Day of the Moon's Eclipse, and the sudden suspicion Stern harbored against him—all of it traced back to this single boy.
"...It was you."
Grit.
Markel ground his teeth in pure rage.
Finally, the pieces fell into place.
This boy was the root of all his misfortunes.
"Because of you!"
Markel clenched his fists so hard that droplets of blood began to seep from his palms.
Flash!
The falling droplets of blood instantly coalesced into a long, razor-sharp spear of crimson, hurtling straight toward Raygan's chest.