Chapter 10

Chapter 10
Once the golems had been handled,

“Have you been concealing your true strength until now?”

Evan, who had come back to the carriage site and was arranging their campsite, could no longer hold back his curiosity and posed the question.

“No, I haven’t.”

“…So, was that truly magic of the 2nd Rank?”

“It was.”

Evan’s face showed clear doubt at Alon’s reply.

“I understand.”

Realizing, however, that pressing further would yield no more answers from Alon, Evan let out a breath and gave a nod to show his acceptance. He then went back to his camp preparations.

Observing Evan, Alon kept his expression steady, though inwardly he felt a little misunderstood.

The truth was, Alon himself did not understand the reason behind the unusual performance of the magic he had just cast.

‘I was aware that employing Constraints would boost my power to a degree, but…’

The combat system in Psychedelia, the game Alon used to play, was turn-based, not happening in real time. There, the hand gestures and spoken words served to amplify magical force by using up turns.

Selecting the right gestures for a specific spell would fortify the magic itself. Choosing the correct verbal components from hundreds of possibilities within a set timeframe allowed the spell’s properties to be augmented.

For instance, with the spell he used this time, named “Chain Lightning” in Psychedelia, he employed four particular incantations:

Refraction, Rebound, Blue Light, and Linear Diffraction.

Using these four incantations together with the hand gestures, he enhanced the Chain Lightning spell. He also imposed a constraint upon himself to unfailingly use gestures and incantations when casting, thereby strengthening the magic further.

In short, Alon had anticipated the spell being more than twice as potent as normal.

‘But it was never meant to be this powerful.’

In Psychedelia, each hand sign or incantation used consumed one turn.

Therefore, the spell Alon cast this time would have taken five turns to prepare in the game’s terms.

‘Even accounting for that, is it truly sufficient to obliterate the golems so completely…?’

As Alon reflected on this, he gave a slight shrug.

In reality, the specifics mattered less than the result, which had gone smoothly according to his design, and having the magic exceed expectations was a positive outcome.

In fact, more than just being satisfied, Alon’s mind was now buzzing with inquisitiveness.

‘I would like to run a few tests, if possible.’

The gestures and incantations Alon used this time were standard in Psychedelia for building the main character as a fragile but high-damage mage, designed to efficiently manage large groups of enemies with potent lightning spells.

This meant Alon still had at least ten more incantations and hand signs memorized that he hadn’t employed today.

Furthermore, what particularly sparked Alon’s curiosity were the distinct alterations in the magic each time he spoke an incantation.

‘In the game, incantations simply raised damage by 10% when the right type was chosen, but here, it’s not the same.’

An average mage might not have detected it.

But Alon, who had personally cast the spell and possessed an innate gift for mana manipulation, had seen the magic’s properties shift with every added incantation.

It wasn’t merely a power increase; the fundamental nature of the mana transformed with each spoken word.

Consequently,

‘I need to perform some experiments after my mana is restored.’

Alon closed his eyes inside the carriage, feeling pleased, even if his face showed no emotion.

At that very moment, a girl arrived at the location where Alon had cast his spell, where now only heaps of stone that could no longer form golems remained.

A girl whose eyes shimmered with a profound green light.

No, the one who might one day be known as Rine of Greed moved silently past the piles that were once golems and looked toward the door Alon had previously entered.

The door was fractured and aged, but the engravings on its frame highlighted that it was crafted, not a natural occurrence.

Rine, however, knew that the carvings on this door’s frame held meaning.

Born with a significant destiny and the innate skill to reach the “Ancient Library” whenever she wished, she could decipher what was written on the frame.

‘From the lost era of the outer deities, the writing of the Alaneph Empire.’

Identifying this, Rine read the words etched into the frame.

[From Palaon, to the friend who remained alone.]

“…Hah.”

Rine couldn’t stop a bleak laugh from escaping as she read the inscription.

She knew that in ancient texts, only one individual was referred to by the name “Palaon.”

The great Palaon.

The one who had repeatedly driven back the invasions of the “Black Ones” during the age of outer gods, and who had vanquished the “Alacoulakka,” a entity capable of compelling subjects to offer their hearts merely by being seen.

The noble, honored, great, and radiant Emperor.

Knowing that Palaon, in the ancient tongue, pointed to this single figure, she couldn’t help but laugh softly.

At the same time,

-It was created by someone called Palaon.

Rine remembered Alon’s voice.

Staring at the wall’s outer frame with a vacant, somewhat sorrowful look, the image of the great moon silently overseeing the frame arose in her thoughts, and a theory started to form in her mind.

Denial and confirmation warred within her, and the balance leaned toward rejection.

Yet, what came to mind next was the magic Alon had displayed after leaving the labyrinth.

His magic hadn’t appeared especially remarkable.

But the incantations he had murmured were different.

The incantations the great moon had whispered were things not even found in the ancient library.

Remembering this, the scales that had been tilting now settled into an even balance.

‘Even though I understood that anyone the Red Moon would accompany must be extraordinary…’

Her thoughts finally arrived at the identity of the one leading the Blue Moon, and the scale in her mind tipped decisively toward the truth.

That the Great Moon, the close companion of Palaon, was a figure deserving of both esteem and veneration.

Realizing this, a cold shiver traveled down her spine as she glanced in the direction where Alon was.

As a clear light of reverence began to glow in her eyes, which until now had moved only by the Red Moon’s command,

“You’re back.”

Rine shifted her gaze slightly at the feeling of an approaching presence, and there stood Deus, who had appeared without a sound, nodding as his eyes glinted.

“Yes.”

“Did you learn anything?”

Rine, recalling how Deus had ceased observing Alon a week ago and instead pursued the retreating figure in black, inquired.

He shook his head.

“No. I couldn’t gather any intelligence.”

“Why is that?”

Deus started to explain the events that transpired when he chased the black-clad figure, answering Rine’s questioning tone.

And then—

“You mean the black-clad figure died while you were following them…?”

“Yes. In mid-air, their neck twisted around twice, and they died immediately. I didn’t detect anything at all.”

Rine was silent for a moment after hearing Deus’s words.

“I believe… we should file a report.”

“I agree.”

After murmuring these words, they exchanged a few more sentences before vanishing from the spot.

Finally, the only thing left there was the solitary light of the moon.

***

Two months had gone by since Alon acquired the Constraint from the Whispering Labyrinth.

At present, Altia was undergoing a time of significant upheaval.

There were three causes for this. The first was the unexpected deaths of Kig, the Duke’s second son, and Faylinne, the second daughter.

The second cause was that Duke Altia, who had been ailing and was expected to have little time remaining, had finally died.

The third cause was that Timalian, the Duke’s eldest son, was discovered dead a day after the Duke’s passing, alongside his older sister, Malyan.

And they had fatally stabbed each other.

Because of this series of events, all the children eligible to inherit the Ducal title disappeared in a single night. As a result, Roria became the only remaining heir to the Duke’s family.

Just as Count Palatio had done not long before.

Roria, who never imagined she would ever sit in the Duke’s study, found herself there in just two short months, quietly drawing a breath.

Whispers about Roria had already started to move through the Duke’s household.

Amusingly, however, despite the quiet spread of these rumors, she had not come to any harm.

She possessed a solid alibi.

When the second son and daughter died, she had just come back from a ball.

And the eldest son and daughter had killed one another.

Moreover, she had not met with them recently, and most crucially, the reason she evaded all suspicion was that—

During her time away at the ball, her entire organization had been utterly dismantled.

That’s right.

By the time she returned from the ball, she had been stripped of all her influence by her cursed family.

Because of this, Roria was not being formally questioned in any of the procedural inquiries, even as rumors circulated quietly.

The work had been executed with such precision and perfection.

‘Good things will happen.’

Roria remembered those words once more.

Those words, spoken so casually, had resulted in events that were far from casual.

She was already sure that everything that occurred was because of him.

If anyone tried to claim these events were just coincidence, they would have to be thought foolish given how perfectly everything aligned.

‘What is it he wants?’

Roria thought back to her discussion with Alon.

Although he had outwardly refused her proposal, he had resolved everything more thoroughly than anyone else could have, and even a month after all the Duke’s family heirs were dead, he had not made contact.

Not even after she had absorbed her decimated organizations with very little loss.

‘Pure goodwill?’

Rione smiled at the passing thought.

It was ridiculous, even to her, to consider such a notion.

After much thought, Roria arrived at one conclusion.

Alon had some kind of design.

Of course, Roria did not know what that design was.

But she had an indistinct comprehension of one thing.

‘That design requires the Altia Dukedom.’

Someone who could eliminate members of the Duke’s family without leaving evidence and so naturally desired something he lacked.

Roria believed that what he wanted was most likely the prestige and influence of the Altia Dukedom.

‘And what he could achieve with that prestige…’

Roria closed her mouth firmly.

It was only then that she understood the truly monstrous nature of the pact she had made with the devil.

Understanding this, Roria let out a bleak laugh but tightened her fist resolutely.

She knew that once a pact was made, it could not be undone. She understood all too well the consequences of breaking the pact, having seen the fate of her four predecessors.

Therefore, she did not even entertain the idea of betrayal. Instead, she chose to concentrate on the matters before her.

‘I should at least send a token of thanks.’

For the first time, a smile appeared on her typically impassive face, a smile she herself did not notice.

A week later, a bottle of wine and a card arrived at the Count’s study for Alon.

The wine was from Cernance, an imperial region, with only three bottles produced each year, each one valued at thousands of gold.

Accompanying it was a card bearing respectful words.

“???”

Alon, looking at the card that arrived with it, wore a confused expression.

And two months after that,

“So, you’re telling me Roria, the third child of the Altia family, has become the Duke of Altia?”

“Yes.”

“Altia Roria?”

“That is correct…”

“???”

“Is something wrong, Young Master?”

Alon started to understand that something was not as it should be.