Chapter 162

Chapter 162
Chapter 162
## Chapter 162: Whose Disciple? (3)

That was the only period in Phee’s long existence during which his eyes reflected a spark of genuine life. He had spent years consumed by bitterness, researching the forbidden arts of corpse resurrection due to the betrayal of that man who broke his oath after Kalimford’s departure. Seeking eternal rest while trying to end his own life was the closest thing to a purpose he had found.

However, Kalimford’s revelation reduced all his efforts to nothing, leaving Phee in a state of absolute shock.

—How… how were you able to…?

—There are no words to redeem me. I…

—Do you have any idea what you are saying, you who rest so peacefully in the arms of death? Do you know how many decades I spent clinging to the promise you made to me?

Phee, with his jaw clenched, grabbed Kalimford by his clothes. The man, whose consciousness hung by a thread, was dragged off the experimentation table, leaving a trail of fresh blood. As he looked up, Phee’s eyes flashed with vengeful fury.

—You are supposed to be the great savior of humanity. The man who never broke his word, not even to an orphan on the street, the one who swore to live with integrity. How could you do this to me… precisely to me?

—I already mentioned it… I had no alternative. To gain your support, when you despise the world and see everyone as rivals… there was no other way! Without your intervention, the losses would have been catastrophic…

—Shut your mouth! I don’t care about your motives! Damn you… you disgusting traitor!

—Bang! Crack!

Kalimford’s body, recently brought back, was frail and cadaverous. Being little more than skin and bones, he could not resist when Phee began to beat him viciously while he coughed up blood on the floor. Phee drove his foot into his chest and, concentrating his magical energy, launched him away with a violent shockwave.

Kalimford crashed into the wall and collapsed. With his ribs shattered, pain tore through him as blood flowed from his lips. Even so, he struggled to get up and murmured:

—You have the right to be furious… Phee… *cough*… I am deeply sorry… it is the only thing I can offer you…

—And who gave you the right to speak?

—Release… your hatred upon me… it is only fair…

—Ha… of course, the heroic martyr continues to give lessons. Do you think I will stop?

A burst of power emanated from Phee’s palm. A blade with rose engravings sank into Kalimford’s shoulder, being pulled out and stabbed back in again and again with methodical cruelty. Phee’s dress and cheeks ended up splattered with crimson. Kalimford’s screams of agony echoed as he was trampled and crushed by the magical pressure. His body was crumbling by the moment under the brutality of the punishment.

—Ha… ha…

Finally, after discharging all his violence, Phee stopped to pant. The basement, turned into a slaughterhouse, only housed the broken body of the man who had been the greatest archmage in history. However, no matter how much he lacerated Kalimford’s flesh, the emptiness and rage inside Phee remained intact. The torture provided no relief; the bonds of life continued to weigh on his soul.

—Puff…

Kalimford, on the verge of total collapse, whispered with a thread of voice.

—What else do you want to say?

—I know it is pathetic… and selfish of me… but…

The emaciated archmage could barely articulate a word.

—Let me… keep living… save my life…

Phee looked at him with utter astonishment. After all that, did he dare to beg for mercy? The hero who had given himself up to stop Noir for the common good was now crawling, begging for his existence in that dark laboratory.

What was motivating him?

—Kill me if you wish… but first…

Tears of desperation furrowed Kalimford’s wounded face.

—I need to… see Sirine… even if just for a moment…

Phee fell into silence. He remembered the little girl who was left under Melberot’s care. That child whom the hero had to abandon to protect the world. Seeing Sirine in a future free from the shadow of Noir was the last longing of the one who had given everything. It was a request capable of stripping the most respected man of all dignity, turning him into a desolate being.

It was a father’s love. Humans, beings of fleeting existence, pour excessive affection into their offspring. Faced with the imminence of the end, their only concern is that which they leave behind. A feeling born from the brevity of life.

Something Phee would never know.

Kalimford’s pleas only confirmed the unbridgeable gap between the two. They belonged to different realities. The archmage embodied the human struggle for peace within a limited life. He could humble himself in that way because, in essence, he was a “human mage.” Phee, on the other hand, was trapped in immortality, unable to understand the end.

—Clang!

The weapon slipped from Phee’s hands and hit the floor. In that moment, he understood that his chains were eternal.

—Ha… ha…

Feeling a deep nausea, Phee gave Kalimford one last kick in the face.

—Thwack!

The blow knocked out a tooth and sent him rolling across the floor. Panting from the effort, Phee sentenced with an icy voice:

—Go.

—Puff…

—Disappear from my sight. If you or your precious Sirine cross my path again… I will destroy you. I will mutilate you and leave you to die in slow agony.

—Phee… *cough*…

Kalimford stood up with difficulty, spitting blood. With a swollen eye and trembling hands, he tried to wipe his face.

—Get lost. You disgust me.

Any attempt to use magic to heal only worsened his condition due to his extreme weakness. Without a trace of his former power, the archmage stumbled toward the exit.

—Thank you…

It was a strange farewell for someone who had just been massacred, but Kalimford withdrew, leaning on the stone walls. When the echo of his footsteps faded, Phee fell to his knees in the pool of blood.

—Ugh… *hiccup*… *sobs*…

He bit his lips, trying to contain the trembling in his chest. What was the point of his existence? He had run for centuries chasing an illusion of finality, and everything remained the same. He was condemned to be a perpetual wanderer in the shadows, surrounded by death, drifting in the infinite void of his reincarnated soul.

He felt like a castaway in an ocean without shores, like a solitary figure in a never-ending snowy steppe. His life was the definition of futility. The only escape he thought he had vanished.

As he stood up awkwardly… Clink!

An object fell from the table and rolled across the bloodstained floor. It was the seal that Baron Ravenclaw gave him when he left his lands. The Ravenclaw family emblem shone in the light, catching Phee’s lavender gaze.

His eyes widened. He lunged at the object, picking it up with both hands.

—Right… of course…

His pupils dilated with a sickening fixation, focusing his entire mind on a single individual.

—Derek… it’s Derek…

The void asks to be filled, and from that lack, a new obsession bloomed. In the midst of his misery, he found a new north. If Kalimford was not the one, he would seek someone superior. A man who aspires to the 7 stars, with a talent that surpassed any previous mage. Someone versed in combat, chaos, and detection; a vessel of unlimited capacity. Although he was weaker now, Phee saw in him an unreachable potential.

—Yes… my student… the only one I have taught… he will give me peace… he will be the one to allow me to rest… my disciple…

A sinister crimson glow settled in his gaze. It was an expression that would strike terror into anyone.

—Of all those I have met in my cycles of eternity, no one shines like my student…

Despite the blood covering his face, Phee smiled as he hugged the seal. Upon remembering the leader of House Ravenclaw, he paused for a moment. He recalled the excitement of Derek upon learning that his master would come.

—My student… no one will be able to take him from me… he is mine…

In the dimness of the laboratory, the red gleam of the 6-star necromancer’s eyes flickered with a disturbing intensity.

*

—Are you feeling alright, sir?

—It’s nothing… just a sudden chill. The weather is turning freezing.

Katia observed the square before nodding. After dismissing the unease, they returned their focus to the academy construction in Duplein. The project was massive; inspecting it required a considerable effort.

—It’s incredible to make so much progress in such a short time. The rumors about the ruin of Duplein are obsolete. With the right partners, any house can be reborn.

—…The advisors are not the ones running this.

—Oh, are they not?

—Well… Lady Aiselin has taken absolute command.

Lately, Aiselin threw herself into solving any logistical problem with overflowing energy. To be honest, Derek’s contribution was limited to sporadic visits. Every time he tried to get involved, she intervened immediately: “Derek! You have enough stress! Leave these trifles to me!”

She seemed anxious not to let anyone else shoulder the work. Derek feared she would exhaust herself, but…

—Lady Aiselin is truly exceptional: intelligent and capable in multiple areas.

Katia agreed with a smile. Many nobles prioritized empty elegance, but knowing that Aiselin got her hands dirty with the complicated details increased her admiration.

—Even in the circle of Evelstain, they say her presence is pure grace… I worry that my appearance is not up to par before such a lady. Should I have dressed better…?

—Do not worry, sir. She is not one to judge by appearances.

—Even so, one should not present oneself carelessly before the treasures of the Rosea Hall. If there is time, I should at least tidy myself up a bit…

—CRASH! BOOM!

A thunderous noise shook the construction. Derek, Katia, and Freya ran toward the source of the impact.

Among the suspended dust, fragments of rock were visible, scattered. The workers at the site did not seem alarmed, assuming it was part of the foundation excavation. The roar suggested a large-sized rock.

Derek sighed in relief upon hearing a familiar voice:

—Do you see? I told you! Robin! Attacking the base with a pickaxe while using protection magic is the key! It is what I learned from Lord Raven’s texts.

—Incredible! Lady Aiselin… you are a genius! In my years as a builder, I never saw anything like it. Magic really changes the rules of the game.

—Bring another pickaxe, we are going to finish this sector now!

—…

Shaking the dust off her clothes, the young lady exchanged technical instructions with the workers. Her smile was radiant while she held a heavy pickaxe, creating a bizarre image as it contrasted with her fine lace dress. Her eyes sparkled upon noticing Derek.

—Oh! Derek! You arrived! As you can see, the progress in the auditorium is…

Her joy froze upon noticing his companions. At first, she didn’t give them importance, but upon looking closely, she recognized the figures Derek had described to her.

—Damn!

The tool slipped from her hands, which felt like ice.

—Oh, for heaven’s sake…

Although she was pale with the embarrassment of being seen in such a state, her etiquette instincts made her try to regain her composure quickly, although the pickaxe at her feet made any attempt at dignity seem in vain.