Chapter 175

Chapter 175
Chapter 175
## Chapter 175: Spiked Chair (4)

The moment his gaze regained clarity, Derek immediately understood that he was submerged in a dream. He was in the office of the Duplein mansion. Before him, the late Grand Duke Duplein worked with determination, sliding his quill over various documents. With his meticulously groomed beard, eyes brimming with intelligence, and a distinguished presence, he faithfully represented the splendor of the Duplein lineage. That was the first encounter Derek had with the man.

Grand Duke Duplein was the pioneer among the fifth-class mages Derek had met. Back then, Derek was just leaving the slums to try and fit into high society… The energy emanating from that fifth-grade mage was so overwhelming that engaging in a conversation was almost a utopia. Even in the present, Derek could precisely recall how that individual evaluated his prowess with a single glance, deciphered his intentions with masterful intuition, and scorned his rudimentary second-grade ability with a simple gesture of disdain.

That unreachable Class 5 rung was his goal. After years of constant sacrifice, Derek felt he was about to touch the same summits the Grand Duke once dominated. Despite being young, his magical capabilities were already grazing the level of a patriarch. He was missing a single step. If he managed to overcome that final limit, he would finally be able to participate in the vision they always possessed.

Suddenly, the landscape changed and Derek saw how the leader who once controlled the world vanished, transformed into a simple lifeless body. A victim of the sequelae of necromantic magic, the Grand Duke lay slumped in his seat with eyes devoid of shine; a melancholic end to his greatness. Behind his back floated those wandering spirits that usually congregate where elite mages dwell. The Duplein banquet hall was nothing more than rubble.

Behind the remains of the Grand Duke emerged a girl. Possessor of vibrant hair and lavender-toned eyes, this sixth-class necromancer hid her nature under the appearance of a beautiful aristocrat while she desecrated human remains and controlled specters: a seeker of forbidden knowledge. Humming a jovial tune, she crossed the destroyed hall, jumping before facing Derek to communicate something to him.

—”…”

Although the message was unintelligible, Phee showed a subtle smile and waved her hand, downplaying the matter. While Derek tried to sharpen his hearing, the woman approached with exaggerated courtesy and whispered near his ear:

—I will come for you soon, my dear disciple.
—Even if you try to reject me.

— Snap!

Derek opened his eyes abruptly, causing the maid in charge of changing his damp compress to let out a cry of shock.

—Eek…!

—…

Derek tried to sit up in silence, but a grimace of agony crossed his face. A sharp pain extended from his shoulder, although his capacity for resistance was out of the ordinary. Despite the suffering, he managed to sit up to analyze the room. It was a room filled with winter clothing. Capes of fine fur adorned every corner. There was a lit fireplace and an opulent bed with blankets of the highest quality.

The employee, who continued wringing the cloth in warm water, regained her composure and spoke:

—Baron Ravenclaw. You have finally awakened. You spent half a day without consciousness.

—Half a day?

—T-that is correct…

Upon checking the room, Derek noticed Sirine lying on the bed, breathing with difficulty against the mattress. He had a blurry memory of having heard her voice before fainting. Derek rubbed his face repeatedly and took a deep breath.

“I feel like I’m about to decipher it.”

Because of Sirine’s intervention, Kalimford did not manage to guide him as he should have. Usually, a practice combat would not reach such life-threatening extremes. Ironically, that allowed Derek to exchange spells with a sixth-grade mage who was using his full potential; in a way, he should be grateful to Sirine.

However, that moment of lucidity was cut short when his physique reached its limit. If only he had resisted a little more… If he had been able to deploy his magical energy one more time… he would have ascended in level. The helplessness sent shivers down his spine.

“One more time… just one more time!”

Derek returned from the unconsciousness caused by blood loss with that single fixed idea: for him, a serious injury was a tiny price to pay if it served to boost his magic. Before sensitivity left his hands, he longed for it fervently. An authentic confrontation against Kalimford.

While that uncontrollable desire grew within him… — Creak.

As if he had been summoned, Kalimford entered the room. The fragile-looking man examined the room with his weakened body until he stopped, noticing Derek’s attentive gaze.

—You have awakened. Sirine seems… to be sleeping…

—Yes. She has remained by my side this entire time.

—She has grown fonder of you than I anticipated. When you fell bleeding, her face turned completely pale.

Kalimford observed the maid who was finishing her task. After putting everything in order, she bowed and withdrew to inform Melberot. Kalimford approached and occupied the bedside chair, resting his cane against it.

—First of all, I offer you my apologies. My weak state made me lose my judgment as before, and I allowed my feelings to cloud my reason; I committed an unforgivable mistake.

—There is no need for you to apologize. Your immense power has provided me with great lessons.

Derek squeezed his bandaged shoulder firmly. Although the pain would have broken anyone else, he assimilated it by clenching his jaw.

—I wish we had fought at that level from the beginning.

—Do not say nonsense. If this had been a real combat and not a practice, the delay in healing could have left you with eternal sequelae.

—It is likely… that you are right. But, how does one progress quickly without risking everything?

Derek’s determined gaze clashed with Kalimford’s.

—These injuries will close soon. As soon as I regain mobility, let us return to training in that way. Real evolution demands that intensity. I am very close to assimilating the magic of confusion…

—That will not be possible.

—…Excuse me?

When Derek looked at him confusedly, Kalimford awkwardly averted his gaze while sweat beaded on his forehead. It was an attitude too hesitant for a legendary mage. Derek felt great strangeness. Kalimford, one of the most formidable sorcerers in history, was nervous and avoided looking at him? Who could cause him such fear?

…

After reflecting for an instant, a figure appeared in his mind. Whether it be a hero, a protector, or a great scholar of magic… parents usually have an insurmountable vulnerability.

—Sirine is very… resentful…

—She never raised her voice or was rude… But that icy gaze… it was like a dagger stabbing into my chest.

Kalimford looked even more haggard than Derek himself. Upon being asked about what happened during the Baron’s unconsciousness, Kalimford recounted in a trembling voice:

—I went to talk to Sirine after healing your wound… We crossed paths in the hallway…

—And then…

—Hmph.

— Clack.

Sirine simply clicked her tongue and walked past him.

—Damn it… After dedicating my life to magic, losing my composure in a moment like that… Such a grave failure… The renown of ‘Grand Mage’ lacks meaning. How can someone as pathetic as me be seen as a hero…?

—N-no, it is not that bad…

—It is. I have failed. Therefore, I find myself in need of begging for help.

Beg for help? Please, there is no need to go that far…

—This is the most crucial request of my existence.

Kalimford held Derek’s arm with desperation, showing a gaze loaded with pleading.

—When Sirine wakes up… could you intercede for me…? I beg you…

Even the supreme sorcerer who annihilated the Great Demon Noir was incapable of dealing with his own daughter. Who would believe that someone could dominate Kalimford with a single look? Sirine managed it. If Derek mentioned this, no one would give him any credit.

—I ask you… If Sirine continues to despise me… what is the point of my life…? If you speak well of me, perhaps she will grant me her forgiveness…

—Ah… Of course…

Derek could not refuse in the face of the archmage’s pitiful state.

*

—Did Sirine… click her tongue and walk away…?

—Yes… Melberot… Everything is over for me…

—Lightning, Kalimford. You are someone exasperating, but I never wished for you to go through this…

Upon returning to Melberot’s office, Kalimford seemed to have lost all vital spark. As an old acquaintance of Melberot, Sirine would not go to the extreme of insulting him or berating him openly, but warmth seemed like something distant. Kalimford scratched his sunken face with a blank expression.

—Melberot. My path ends here. This exhausted body has endured too much. When the trace of dark magic evaporates, I will do the same. Farewell, Melberot…

—One moment. Do not be hasty. Sirine’s mood is fickle. As the days pass, it is likely that she will treat you with affection again.

—Perhaps… but the possibility feels remote. If she persists in that gesture of disdain or in looking at me with coldness… what am I supposed to do?

Damn it. I never expected to see such desolation…

—Stay calm. There must be a way out.

Melberot’s sudden willingness to help betrayed a shared panic: both deeply feared Sirine’s rejection. Melberot stroked his chin, thinking.

—Luckily, Sirine still has affection for me. I will act as a bridge between you.

—R-really…?

—I have heard she is in Baron Ravenclaw’s infirmary. I will go there with the excuse of checking how the wounded man is doing.

— What an irony.

Shortly after, Melberot arrived with his assistants. When Derek was startled by the visit, Melberot signaled him to remain silent with a gesture. He observed Sirine, who was sleeping peacefully, leaning on Derek’s lap, before taking a seat beside him.

—Mr. Melberot? What should I…?

—We are not here to chat. Just answer what I ask you.

Derek understood that, despite his distant facade, Melberot deeply loved Sirine. Trapped between Kalimford’s emotional collapse and Melberot’s inquisitive gaze, Derek felt in a compromising situation. While Derek stiffened, Melberot questioned in a low voice:

—Do you have any complaints?

—How?… Absolutely not. I have been treated wonderfully.

—If there is anything that makes you uncomfortable, even the slightest thing, say it.

—…Nothing at all. The facilities for training magic are insurmountable here…

—Do you perhaps think I am joking?

The absolute seriousness on Melberot’s face gave Derek the key: after seeing how Kalimford was falling apart, Melberot feared running the same fate. Managing a young woman’s temperament turned out to be a more complex challenge than fighting a horde of magical entities. A single look of annoyance from Sirine was enough to nullify a sixth-grade mage. That thought made Sirine, in her deep sleep, seem like an angel of death.

—Tell me every detail… That is an order…

Sweat ran down Derek’s neck. Without a doubt, that was like sitting on a chair of spikes like no other.