Chapter 210
Count Berkel’s sword flashed sharply.
He had unleashed his Will Technique.
The “Twilight Sword.”
A famous Will Technique of Count Berkel, combining destructive dark magic with dark energy manipulation.
Most dark mages knew of it.
But its power was nothing like anyone expected.
Goooooo—
A wave of twilight engulfed the pack of wolves.
The wolves bared their teeth, sensing unease, and tried to resist—but the twilight left not a single scratch.
Then, with a flash—
The twilight blinked out, and something astonishing happened.
The entire wolf pack trapped inside vanished in an instant, as if erased by an eraser.
“Ugh!!”
The backlash forced Viscount Marek to cough up blood.
“How…?”
Everyone’s faces twisted in shock.
Marek’s “Howling Wolf” was a Will Technique that should never have been so easily broken.
Yet here it was, crushed as effortlessly as if pressing a bug with a finger.
“The Twilight Sword never had this kind of power before!”
It wasn’t just that the output of the Will Technique had increased.
Previously, Berkel’s Twilight was like a runaway bomb—its destructive force scattered and weakened.
But now, it was different.
He had complete mastery over the twilight, focusing its power to unleash far greater destruction.
“Grrr… I won’t lose!!”
Viscount Marek fought back with all his might, refusing to give up.
But it was useless.
Every Will Technique he launched was shattered by Count Berkel’s with ease, and soon he was forced to his knees.
“Th-this can’t be.”
Marek muttered blankly, staring at the sword pointed at his throat.
Everyone was stunned.
“Berkel was stronger before, yes, but never this overwhelmingly so.”
“Before, their duels were always close, with victories going back and forth.”
Only a select few—those among the six-star mages who had reached a high, mid-level mastery—understood why.
“He’s redefined his microcosm! That’s why his Will Technique is so powerful now!”
“Impossible… How?!”
It was a revelation of immense significance.
It meant Count Berkel was on the verge of reaching seven stars. Barring any major upheaval, he would ascend to seven stars soon.
“Is this all thanks to Archduke Christian’s teachings?”
“No way. I can’t believe it.”
The mages loyal to Marquis Langham stubbornly denied it.
But one sentence from Count Berkel shattered their denial.
“How?”
Viscount Marek, still reeling, asked.
“It’s all thanks to the Archduke’s guidance.”
“!!”
Berkel said bluntly,
“The Archduke is truly a remarkable… no, an extraordinary man.”
As the room fell into stunned silence, swallowing hard, a voice cut through.
“What’s the big deal? I don’t see why you’re all so amazed.”
“!!”
It was Christian.
His voice carried a teasing edge.
“I merely helped him find the clothes that fit him best.”
“…”
Everyone looked baffled.
He had just redefined the microcosm, yet he compared it to simply changing clothes.
But Christian continued, as if it were no big deal.
This time, he addressed Marquis Langham beside him.
“Isn’t it easy for Your Grace to provide such guidance as well?”
“…”
“Oh, or perhaps Your Grace can’t do it? My apologies. I hold you in such high regard that I assumed this would be simple for you. I was thoughtless.”
Langham said nothing.
But his tightly pressed lips betrayed his anger.
“Even if you pretend to hold it in, I can see you’re furious.”
Christian smirked and moved on with the ranking battles.
“Next challenger, please step onto the stage.”
This time it was Viscount Macfield.
Langham’s most trusted subordinate.
Macfield tried to lighten the mood with a strong voice.
“I choose Count Kazar!”
Then, unexpectedly, he added,
“I too have received special teachings from Marquis Langham. Having achieved great progress, I dedicate this victory to him!”
Had Christian’s slight to his master stung him?
Macfield showed excessive loyalty, loudly praising Marquis Langham.
Christian raised an eyebrow and said to Langham,
“Your Grace seems to have given quite the remarkable lesson. I look forward to seeing what it was.”
Langham frowned and replied curtly,
“Quiet. Your father won’t make it down in one piece.”
His voice brimmed with confidence.
Clearly, Macfield had achieved something.
Macfield, brimming with confidence, called out again.
“Count Kazar, step forward!”
As Count Kazar appeared, Macfield’s lips curled into a smirk.
“Prepare yourself. Thanks to Marquis Langham’s help, I have finally succeeded in establishing the foundation of my microcosm…”
But as Macfield spoke excitedly, his voice gradually faltered.
Something felt off.
“Why do I feel this strange?”
Kazar wasn’t raising his magic energy.
Yet why—
There was a powerful sense of pressure.
“Pressure? Why?”
Macfield’s face twisted in confusion.
Pressure was what the weak felt before the strong.
Facing Count Kazar, he felt like a weak prey before a beast.
“This makes no sense.”
Macfield gritted his teeth.
He was no longer the man he used to be.
Hadn’t he just established the foundation of his microcosm?
He tried to regain his confidence and spoke.
“This time, I will be the victor…”
“Shut up.”
Kazar finally spoke.
“Macfield, you were the one leading the slander against my son, weren’t you?”
“!!”
“Prepare yourself. I won’t send you down gently.”
Kazar drew his sword, and Macfield instinctively took a step back.
The moment Kazar unsheathed his blade, Macfield felt not just pressure, but genuine fear.
He thought it was a trick of the mind, but no.
It was real fear.
“What… what is this? Why?”
Macfield clenched his fists tightly.
What was this ominous feeling?
It was as if he’d been bewitched.
Gritting his teeth, Macfield drew his own sword.
“You’re the one who should prepare yourself! I’ll make you regret that stiff attitude!”
“Enough.”
Kazar swung his sword down.
Flash!
But inexplicably, his blade sliced through empty air.
As if cutting the shadow of nothingness.
Macfield sneered.
“What’s he doing? They said he was possessed by a dark spirit, but is he crazy? That ominous feeling I had must have been a false alarm.”
He wasn’t the only one confused.
Everyone in the hall wore puzzled expressions.
Then—
Macfield’s eyes widened.
“Huh?”
Flash!
Blood splattered from his shoulder.
“!!”
Macfield was stunned, eyes wide.
Kazar swung his sword again through empty air.
Then—
Flash!
More blood sprayed from Macfield’s body.
Only then did everyone realize what was happening.
A massive shock rippled through the hall.
In the heavy silence, Christian’s teasing voice rang out.
“Sir Macfield, is the foundation of your microcosm all you’ve gained? Surely not? There must be more, right?”
“…”
“To boast so proudly over just the foundation of a microcosm? If it were me, I’d be too embarrassed to even mention it.”
His sharp sarcasm went unanswered.
Compared to the level Count Kazar had just displayed, Macfield’s foundation was pitifully small.
Seven stars—the power of a Dominant Class.
A miracle.
Count Kazar’s “Annihilation” had shattered the laws of the world.
A new seven-star mage had been born in the Dark Maga.
Viscount Macfield was carried away, bloodied and collapsed.
This was unlike the usually gentle Count Kazar’s hand.
There was a lot bottled up inside.
After all, Macfield had been Langham’s right hand, handling all the dirty work whenever Langham tried to scheme against Christian.
But no one paid attention to the fallen Macfield.
They were still reeling from the shock of what Count Kazar had just shown.
“Count Kazar has reached seven stars!”
“How?”
As if answering their questions, Kazar left the stage with a single remark.
“It’s all thanks to having such a remarkable son.”
“!!”
The same words Berkel had said earlier.
All eyes turned to Christian, seated in the place of honor.
His usual arrogant, insufferable expression seemed to say, “Of course.”
“Did he really lead them to enlightenment? No way!”
“Impossible!!”
Everyone wore expressions of disbelief.
It was just too unbelievable.
But as the ranking battles continued, disbelief turned to awe.
“Viscount Hanegal wins!!”
“Baron Auer wins!!”
“Viscount Milena wins!!”
All had been taught by Christian.
Each one defeated a rival from Marquis Langham’s faction.
And not just by a little—they won decisively.
What was even more astonishing was that every single one of them had leapt far beyond their original level.
It meant that Christian’s promise to guide them to enlightenment was true.
At that moment, a quiet voice rang out.
“Impressive.”
“!!”
It was Nordian.
“Each and every one of you has achieved remarkable progress. Truly outstanding. As the clan head, I am very pleased.”
Those who had been praised dropped to their knees before Nordian.
“No, it’s all thanks to Your Highness’s teachings!”
“That’s right. It was only through the guidance of Your Highness that we were able to achieve this.”
Nordian nodded approvingly at their responses, then turned his gaze to Christian.
“You have done a great service for the clan. I will personally commend you for this.”
It wasn’t just about giving lessons.
Christian had significantly elevated the clan’s overall strength.
His accomplishments rivaled those of Chris’s previous feats.
But then—
“Didn’t I say I would change the Dark Maga?”
“!!”
“This is only the beginning.”
At those words, the Maga swallowed hard.
It meant Christian’s teachings would continue.
Naturally.
After all, Christian was the Grand Duke of the Dark Maga.
‘Does this mean I might have a chance to learn from the Grand Duke?’
‘How can I receive his guidance?’
Many Maga began to entertain such thoughts.
A Maga’s entire life was devoted to becoming stronger.
Having just witnessed others grow so much right before their eyes, it was impossible not to be tempted.
Especially those who had been stuck at a plateau for a long time looked at Christian with desperate eyes.
Some seemed ready to drop to their knees before him on the spot.
‘Just as I expected.’
Christian shrugged.
‘But is this really the end?’
His gaze darkened.
‘I thought Yurian would cause some kind of stir during the ranking battle. Strange.’
It was a gut feeling.