Chapter 9
Chapter 9: Like a Deep Lake
The life of Thesalos Wolcher had come to an end. The remaining nobles had already fled the scene, the wheels of their carriages clattering away in sheer panic.
Only Ruri and Ferda were left standing inside the headquarters of the association.
“That truly was an extraordinary performance.”
Ruri gazed at Ferda, offering a subtle, sarcastic round of applause.
“You certainly established absolute dominance today. Truly remarkable. Your grasp of political maneuvering has surpassed mastery—it is practically an art form.”
With a smirking grin, she raised both of her thumbs high into the air.
Ferda was currently enduring a splitting headache, a persistent aftermath of expending so much mana. Rubbing his temples gently, he answered, “It was simply an accidental outcome.”
“An unintended result or not, the fact remains. So, what is your next course of action?”
“Regarding what?”
Ruri knit her eyebrows together, as if the matter should have been entirely obvious. “You have just slain a high-ranking lord. Even under the authority and protection of the Archduchess of Valdrova, an incident of this magnitude will ignite an immense uproar.”
“Will it?” Ferda thought back to how the onlookers had reacted. “Everyone seemed quiet and obedient at the time. Is there truly an issue?”
“Who would be insane enough to voice an objection while a man is executing a deadly sword dance before their very eyes?”
“Mmm… I suppose you have a point.”
Because the entire matter had been concluded with such efficiency, Ferda had barely registered that he had executed a capital crime. Only after her reminder did he reflect that he should probably expect some form of looming crisis.
Observing his nonchalant demeanor, Ruri let out a quiet sigh. “To make matters worse, that lord was considered one of the few wholly devoted to Valdrova. This will not merely be an inconvenience; it will be an absolute catastrophe.”
“Was he entirely upright and uncorrupted?”
“He was moderately upright and moderately corrupt—an average, unremarkable noble. In the Far East, that precise brand of mediocrity represents the pinnacle of loyal subjects.”
“Since I ended the life of such a ‘loyal subject’ with my own hands, will this disrupt the upcoming engagement?”
“Without a doubt.”
I see.
There was an unmistakable reason Ruri’s eyes gleamed with subtle excitement. She was eager for the prospective marriage to crumble.
Contrary to her wishes, Ferda scratched at his cheek and said, “The engagement will go forward without a hitch. If I present undeniable proof of why his death was necessary, will that not settle the matter?”
“Presumably… but where does such confidence come from?”
As far as Ruri was aware, Ferda and Thesalos Wolcher had crossed paths for the first time today. Yet, he spoke as though he comprehended the man’s inner nature far better than Ruri or the regional nobility who had shared borders with him for years.
How do I know?
Because it is already within my memory.
If Ferda’s recollections of his past life were accurate, that very noble was likely committing an abhorrent transgression at this very moment.
“Let us make our way toward the Wolcher territory.”
“Do you intend to unearth some hidden scandals?”
“Have no fear. There is a mountain of incriminating evidence waiting for us. When it is laid bare, everyone will see the truth.”
“Very well. However, before we depart…”
Ruri pointed her index finger toward the remains of Thesalos. A razor-thin distortion rippled through the air, severing the dead lord’s neck with absolute precision. She proceeded to bundle the head in a piece of fabric.
“Why are you gathering that?”
“It will serve a purpose. Regardless of the underlying motive behind the slaying, he perished because of his ‘misdeeds.'”
Ferda gave an understanding nod. “Ah, so you intend to display it upon a spike? Just like they handle corrupt aristocracy?”
“Is that not entirely obvious?”
“I believed you described him as a devoted follower?”
“If your wish is to abandon the engagement this very second, go right ahead. I would gladly assist you.”
Ferda remained silent. Behind her biting remarks, Ruri was fundamentally offering her cooperation.
The Wolcher territory.
It sat at the absolute vanguard of the Far East, sharing an immediate perimeter with the defensive border armies. At the exact same time, it remained the closest domain to Valdrova Castle.
“They say the area directly beneath the lantern is the darkest,” Ferda murmured to himself.
In his previous timeline, he had encountered Thesalos Wolcher out within the Southern Desert. He had never realized the nobleman had initially been stationed right here on the Far East frontline.
Upon reaching the inner stronghold of the Wolcher estate, an elderly butler came hurrying forward to receive them. Displaying the polished discipline expected of his rank, he greeted them with measured poise.
“It is a great honor to host such esteemed guests within our humble residence. Regrettably, the master is presently away attending to official affairs, so—”
“Ah, you need not worry about that. Your master is dead.”
“…I beg your pardon?” The aged steward froze, his expression completely blank with utter shock.
“I stated that your master has perished. We are stepping inside. Do you happen to know where Thesalos Wolcher keeps his private research laboratory?”
“That… Wait, before that, what do you mean by stating the master has been slain…?”
“Do not mind it. It is hardly an honorable pastime, so he undoubtedly kept it hidden away. I will locate it on my own.”
Cutting the one-sided exchange short, Ferda strode past the butler and walked right into the estate. The steward could only stare after him, completely paralyzed in confusion.
Following close behind, Ruri tossed the bundled fabric toward the butler and gestured toward the open sky. “Secure this in a high place where it can be seen clearly from the main gateway.”
“What? What in the world is this…?”
Ruri paid him no mind either, quickly trailing after Ferda. A few moments later, a bloodcurdling shriek from the aged butler resonated through the grand hallways.
Thesalos Wolcher.
His lineage belonged to a bloodline of sorcerers who had been banished to the barren outer rim due to political fallout. Much like the Ferda of the previous life, the household was thoroughly consumed by bitter resentment and deep-seated inadequacy.
Misery sought its own company; Thesalos had been the very first comrade Ferda had ever taken in his past life.
Thesalos Wolcher harbored a burning hatred for the Empire.
He was a wielder of the Red Circle, and on that account, the orthodox magical order had ostracized him as a pariah, casting him out to the desolate fringes. Thesalos had dedicated himself to forging a brand of sorcery designed solely to butcher every aristocrat responsible for exiling him to the Far East.
And what was the ultimate outcome of his efforts?
In a manner of speaking, he did attain success.
Naturally, that success extended only as far as the theoretical research.
I never actually witnessed that sorcery cast in battle.
Before Thesalos could ever unleash it—before he could ever carve his vengeance—he had perished at Ferda’s own hands.
Just as he did today, without ever comprehending the reason why.
Come to think of it, why did I strike him down back then?
Ferda could not entirely recall. It was hardly surprising. In those dark days, Ferda had actively manufactured reasons for malice, acting upon every violent impulse. To attain the 6th Circle faster than any living soul, he had been willing to commit any atrocity, ultimately degenerating into a monstrosity capable of executing his own benefactor.
Well, it carries no weight now.
Not a trace of hesitation lingered in Ferda’s heart. This was not born of some grand illusion that he was a champion of righteous justice. The sole factor that mattered was that the present Thesalos was undeniably someone who would bring grief to his bride-to-be.
In any case, it must be hidden somewhere in this room…
Ferda meticulously searched Thesalos’s personal quarters. The man had always claimed to devote every waking moment to his secret studies. Even while maintaining the guise of an obedient vassal, his foul machinations had to be concealed nearby.
As his gaze swept across the floor, Ferda’s eyes locked onto a discrepancy.
“Found it.”
It was situated directly beneath the bed frame. The stone slabs under the furniture were slightly misaligned, and a subtle draft of unfamiliar air was seeping through the tiny seams.
“He constructed a hidden compartment under the bed.”
“Do you intend to force it open?”
“I must. Allow me to look for the release mechanism. Give me a moment—”
CRASH!
Before Ferda could finish his thought, the sound of fracturing timber detonated throughout the chamber. He spun around to find the bed snapped cleanly in half, the concealed stone hatch below thoroughly shattered.
Ruri casually brushed the dust from her small, delicate knuckles. “Why waste effort searching for a switch?”
It was an excessively crude approach, yet there was no denying its sheer practicality.
Ferda and Ruri made their descent down the stone steps leading deep underground. As the surroundings grew dim, a faint, iron-tinged stench of rot drifted toward them.
“The scent of beast blood.”
“You can identify that so easily? You have the sensory tracking of a hound.”
“Do not insult me by drawing comparisons to such lowly beasts.”
“My apologies. However, I find your steadfast loyalty quite—”
“…Are you looking to pick a fight with me?”
Ruri shot him a sharp glare, yet Ferda did not even flinch. As they cleared the bottom step, they crossed into a hidden underground chamber.
“This is…”
Ferda’s brow furrowed almost immediately. The workshop of a sorcerer is typically disorderly, overflowing with odd contraptions and cluttered specimens—that much was standard. On occasion, one might even anticipate entering a room soaked in blood.
However, the hidden laboratory of Thesalos Wolcher was perverse and depraved beyond all acceptable reason. An ordinary person with a weak constitution would have lost their stomach on the spot, though neither Ferda nor Ruri was particularly unsettled.
Even so, getting used to this stench is unpleasant.
Ferda placed his finger across the bridge of his nose, waiting for his senses to grow accustomed to the foul air. Ruri cast her eyes upon one of the dissection slabs, her expression hardening.
“So this is the reality hiding right under our noses.”
The mutilated remains of an imperial soldier and a beast lay stretched side by side atop the long metal slab. Their torsos had been brutally carved open, their violet and crimson organs haphazardly bound together with coarse thread.
“To think the noble heralded as the most faithful subject was in truth a Demon Follower.”
A Demon Follower.
Entities born out of the catastrophic Dragon-Demon War a century and a half ago, triggered by the madness and descent of the Evil Dragon Godwin. Demon Followers were occultists who tracked the residual traces of those fiends in an effort to claim their profane might.
“Did you not foresee this?”
“I am well aware that spellcasters tend to possess dark dispositions. A gloomy nature frequently accompanies immense talent, so I overlook it to an extent. However…”
A profound disgust and a sense of betrayal flared within her silver eyes. “I never imagined he indulged in such a grotesque hobby as stitching human and beast innards into a single mass.”
Yet, as the old adage goes, the sting of betrayal is only as deep as the faith initially given.
“Humans are simply built that way, it seems.”
Being a Dragon Spawn, Ruri maintained little genuine trust in the human race. Consequently, she could wipe them from existence in the blink of an eye, ending their lives without remorse. What held true importance now was deciphering what the man sought to achieve through such vile experiments.
Ruri discovered several manuscripts strewn across a writing table. Her eyes skimmed across the ink with incredible speed, culminating in a cold, mocking scoff. “The man was utterly deranged.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He was experimenting with ways to artificially boost mana capacity by utilizing biological monster factors extracted from beasts.”
“Is that so?”
“Care to see for yourself?”
Ferda accepted the opening page of the notes she extended. He scanned the introductory outline. Only at that moment did the full picture return to his consciousness.
Indeed. He was attempting to construct Undead imbued with the physical properties of monsters.
Within the realm of forbidden arts, the Necromancer discipline typically fractured into two extremes: fashioning a single, overwhelmingly powerful terror, or summoning an endless legion of frail corpses. Because they relied purely on overwhelming swarm tactics or an isolated juggernaut, Necromancers were historically the most predictable mages to suppress and destroy.
Thesalos had been attempting to combine both advantages: the unnatural durability of a beast and the sheer infinite horde of the Undead.
Had it been brought to fruition, it would have served as the ultimate dark art capable of mass-manufacturing legions of unstoppable shock troops for the Empire.
Though that aspect never held any interest for me.
Ferda’s past fascination with this craft had been anchored entirely in the Mana Cultivation Method devised to facilitate it.
Monsters generate an endless supply of internal mana.
However, it is crude, volatile energy that cannot be applied to standard spellcraft.
Beasts were creatures that developed immense ferocity by using staggering quantities of that wild mana as raw sustenance.
Yet, if one could successfully replicate that perpetual generation and refine it into pristine mana…
Even an individual entirely devoid of magical talent could ascend to the 4th Circle—the distinguished rank of a true Mage—the instant they grasped the method. Utilizing the foundation of this very research, the past Ferda had not merely reached the 6th Circle; he had transcended the threshold of an Archmage to ultimately achieve the 8th Circle.
Ferda looked down at the parchment summary once more.
If I choose to pursue this research…
It would provide all the necessary foundations to break through to the 8th Circle far more rapidly than in his previous life, turning the advancement of the Circles into an effortless task.
There is no question.
It was entirely achievable. Perhaps at several times the speed of his previous life.
As he stared intently at the written words, Ruri fixed her sharp gaze on Ferda.
He is human after all; greed is second nature to him.
Ruri stewed in her deep-seated disdain for humankind. His earlier claims of wishing to spare someone from sorrow were almost certainly empty platitudes. Ferda had likely executed Thesalos simply to confiscate this forbidden knowledge for his own ambition.
Every mortal lies.
Pathetic beings who live and die within their own webs of deception. Knowing their treacherous nature, there was no logical reason to feel disappointed.
And yet…
Why did this particular man seem different? Unlike the disgust she felt toward Thesalos, a strange tightness gripped her chest.
Do I secretly wish to place my faith in this human?
Ruri bit her inner lip. Feeling her pride as a Dragon Spawn bruised by such a weakness, she posed a direct question to shatter the thought.
“Well, what do you intend to do with it?”
“Regarding what?”
“This research. You could easily take over and finish it. Is that not the standard excuse of every spellcaster? That letting such knowledge go to waste would be a tragedy?”
It would be a waste, so I will see it through. It was an effortless justification requiring no elaborate defense. For any scholar walking the path of magical enlightenment, it was the obvious decision.
However, Ferda’s response bore no resemblance to that of any other sorcerer.
“No.”
Ferda extended his hand and passed the document back to Ruri. “Incinerate everything.”
“Every last bit…?”
For an instant, Ruri’s impassive composure completely shattered. This outcome was entirely outside her expectations. She had anticipated at least a flicker of internal conflict, yet Ferda’s command was razor-sharp and unhesitating.
“Did I not already state my intentions? I despise anything that brings grief to the Archduchess.”
“And you are willing to obliterate this breakthrough just for that? The mortal world would consider this an absolute fortune.”
“A great fortune it may be,” Ferda acknowledged with a calm nod. “However, if it ultimately yields nothing but sorrow for my future bride, what value does it truly hold?”
Ferda’s gaze was unlike anything she had seen. They were eyes that no power-seeking mage should ever possess. Those azure depths held a tranquil, boundless purity, as undisturbed as the surface of a deep lake.
“Why do you look at me like that?”
“I was merely wondering if you are genuinely comfortable with this choice.”
“I am.”
Faint blue embers sparked and danced upon Ruri’s fingertips. It was pure destructive fire manifested by condensing raw mana into flame. The moment she released it, the papers would crumble into ash in the span of a breath. Ruri’s eyes flicked toward the dancing blue fire and then shifted back up to Ferda.
“…Do not attempt to regret this later, understood?”
“I will not.”
In accordance with Ferda’s decree, Ruri unleashed the flames upon the entirety of the research. The underground facility, along with the grotesque corpses bound to the operating tables, was completely enveloped by radiant blue fire, collapsing into mounds of grey cinder.
It burns away easily.
Ferda observed the inferno in silence. Had he truly wished to, he could have perfected this forbidden sorcery with only a few months of concentrated effort. He had assisted Thesalos in developing it in the previous timeline, and more importantly, it was a system he had already thoroughly mastered once before.
Even so, the justification for abandoning it was absolute.
Every form of spellcraft inevitably mirrors the psyche and emotions of the one who created it.
As the ancient wisdom warns, one who handles pitch cannot avoid being stained—those dark inclinations and twisted emotions inevitably seep into the soul of the wielder, leading to spiritual ruin. That was the precise reason the forbidden arts were shunned, and why taboo magic was sealed away.
And this specific sorcery was born entirely of bitter wrath and malice.
Thesalos had loathed the Empire to his core. Were Ferda to embrace that magic again, he would inevitably be consumed by a hatred and fury that were not his own.
Therefore, it had to be cast aside.
He refused to become a thrall to petty desires. He would honor and protect the person he had chosen to be in this life.
The corrupt ambitions dissolved into nothingness as floating ash. A spirit as serene and untroubled as still waters brought a calm smile to Ferda’s lips.
“It truly… reduces to ash quite beautifully.”
Ruri quietly observed Ferda as those words left his mouth. In her mind, she finalized her evaluation of the man:
An utterly erratic lunatic.
And she made sure to attach a final thought to that assessment.
And a total masochist.
Ruri could not fathom what kind of bizarre creature this man truly was. As an unsettling bewilderment took root within her, her face twisted into a deep grimace.
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