Chapter 41
One after another, other noble daughters and sons passed in front of Chris.
A beautiful woman with a crystal-clear, pristine expression.
A girl with a cold, distant aura.
A boy with a rough, rugged look.
They appeared to be the First Noble Daughter, Second Noble Daughter, and Third Noble Son, respectively. Yet none of them showed the slightest interest in Chris.
Not even a glance.
It wasn’t outright dismissal.
They simply didn’t care.
Chris was on a completely different level from them.
He was far too lowly to attract their attention.
After the four noble heirs took their seats of honor, the banquet resumed.
The attention that had been focused on Chris vanished as if washed away.
Everyone busied themselves trying to say a word or two to the noble heirs.
‘Time to make my exit.’
Since the whole point was to confirm who the noble heirs were, there was no reason to linger.
‘Too bad I didn’t get to see the First Noble Son.’
Surprisingly, the most notorious trash in the Dark Mage faction wasn’t Chris.
It was the First Noble Son, Sherard.
Known as the Madman.
Yet, strangely, Chris found himself oddly concerned about the First Noble Son.
‘There are a lot of people to keep an eye on. Eshid, the First Noble Daughter Yurian…’
Chris glanced at the First Noble Daughter.
Yurian was surrounded by a crowd.
True to the bloodline of the Dark Mage faction, her black hair was wild and fierce.
But unlike the others, she gave off a gentle vibe.
Her smile toward the people was warm.
Clear and comforting.
Yet, that only made Chris more wary.
What kind of claws were hidden behind that smile?
Chris smirked.
‘One by one, I’ll deal with them slowly.’
Eshid, the hidden First Noble Son, Yurian—the First Noble Daughter.
In the end, they would all kneel before him.
Just as he was about to leave, an unexpected shout rang out.
“Greetings. I am Prue, the summoner serving Lord Loin. In preparation for the Holy Black Ceremony Eve, I have a request! I would like to verify the eligibility of participants before the ceremony begins!”
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
“What’s this about?”
At Eshid’s question, the summoner bowed his head.
“Regrettably, I’ve heard that someone unqualified plans to attend the Holy Black Ceremony. If an unqualified person participates, serious injury or trouble could occur. By verifying eligibility now, during the eve, we can prevent such disasters.”
All eyes turned to Chris.
Because among those attending, only Christian could be considered unqualified.
‘Figures.’
Christian crossed his arms and chuckled.
There was no way this was the summoner acting alone.
The true mastermind was obvious.
‘Loin.’
The young lord who would be Chris’s first victim.
He glared at Christian with a triumphant look.
‘I was going to leave quietly.’
Chris downed the last of his ginger ale.
Since things had come to this, a simple greeting wouldn’t hurt.
“This is merely a suggestion to ensure the safety of those unqualified who might attend the ceremony…”
“Enough noise.”
“…Pardon?”
“You want to fight, right? Stop babbling and show me what you’ve got.”
Chris flicked his finger.
“I’ll play along.”
The summoner’s face flushed red.
“Face the spirit I’ve summoned.”
A summoner.
A mage who calls forth and commands dark entities.
A murky aura seeped from the summoner’s hands, and a sinister spirit appeared.
A Specter, a second-rank demon.
“At your level, Lord Christian, this might be a bit tough. But if you want to attend the Holy Black Ceremony, you should at least be able to handle this… Gah?!”
The summoner didn’t finish his sentence.
Suddenly, the spirit turned and attacked its summoner.
“Why? Gah! You bastard! Someone, help me!”
Everyone at the banquet stared in shock.
‘Why?’
Those among the mages with higher skill quickly assessed the situation.
‘Has he lost control?’
‘No, it’s not that. This is different.’
When a summoner loses control, the summoned spirit goes berserk, attacking indiscriminately.
But this spirit was targeting only the summoner who had called it forth.
‘Could it be?’
‘Not a loss of control, but…’
A mocking voice echoed.
“Well, well, I don’t know who’s worrying about whom.”
At Chris’s finger snap, the spirit that had knocked out the summoner floated up and approached Chris.
Then it knelt.
As if worshipping its true master.
“To be so careless as to have your own summoned spirit taken from you.”
The crowd gasped.
“Impossible!”
“How can someone seize control of a spirit summoned by another?”
Interfering with another summoner’s spirit was an incredibly difficult feat.
Summoners and spirits were bound by a dark magical ‘contract.’
To break that contract, one had to be far more accomplished than the other.
Even then, the best you could do was dismiss the spirit.
Taking control of it outright was nearly impossible.
Yet Chris had done it with a mere flick of his finger.
‘If you’re going to be so confident, at least have the skill to back it up. What kind of sloppy contract is this? You’ll be the fool who gets scammed by your own spirit later.’
In other words, Chris had exploited a loophole in the contract between the summoner and the spirit.
Though he mocked it, it was truly an incredible feat.
Only Chris could read the flow of magic to understand how the contract was structured and find its weak points.
Amid the stunned gazes, Chris shrugged nonchalantly and fixed his eyes on the real instigator behind this incident—Lord Loin.
“That stunt just now… was that your doing, Lord Loin? Not very fitting for the rightful heir of the Dark Mage faction.”
“!!”
“Why not challenge me to a duel directly?”
Loin’s face flushed red.
“You fool. This has nothing to do with me.”
“Really?”
Chris sneered exaggeratedly.
As if saying, ‘Nice try, but no one’s buying that.’
“Well, it’s a lie no fool would believe, but fine. I’ll humor you.”
Loin’s face burned with rage.
He growled fiercely.
“Prepare yourself for tomorrow’s Holy Black Ceremony.”
“What a coincidence. I was about to say the same. You’d better be ready too, young lord.”
“…!!”
Chris spoke quietly.
“I’m starting to get a little angry myself.”
Originally, Chris had planned to crush Loin during the ceremony.
Now, his resolve had hardened.
He would not just crush him—he would utterly break him.
Tomorrow, Loin would be forced to deeply repent his arrogance and mistakes.
The day of the Holy Black Ceremony dawned.
Chris headed toward the mansion’s main building.
Inside, those participating in the ceremony were already gathered, waiting.
Some familiar faces were among them.
“Little brother?”
“Who are you calling little brother?! I’m two years older than you!”
Alos snapped angrily.
Chris shrugged.
“Why are you here? I told you to postpone.”
“Preposterous. How could the Holy Black Ceremony be postponed?”
Alos frowned but inwardly regretted it.
‘Damn, maybe I should have postponed it. How am I supposed to compete with that guy? No chance.’
But it was too late.
He sighed and cautiously asked.
“You okay?”
“About what?”
“You got into a fight with Lord Loin yesterday. He won’t let you off easily…”
“Alos.”
Chris smiled slyly.
“I think you’re worrying about the wrong person.”
“!!”
A chill ran down Alos’s spine.
Only now did he realize something was different about Chris.
He looked stronger than before.
At first, Alos thought it was just his imagination.
But no.
There was a subtle change in the aura Chris gave off.
‘No way. Less than a month, and he’s gotten even stronger?’
At that moment, footsteps echoed from the main building’s staircase.
It was Loin.
“…”
From above, Loin looked down at Chris with eyes full of arrogant disdain, as if gazing upon a lowly creature.
Chris met that gaze calmly.
No need for pointless words.
Once the ceremony began, they would start a more ‘honest conversation’ than any words could convey—with their fists.
“Is everyone here? I am Sebatchan, the deputy steward in charge of the main building.”
He was a halfling, barely half the size of a normal adult.
But he wore a peculiar pointed hat, like a wizard from a storybook.
“I will guide you to the sacred site where the Holy Black Ceremony will take place. Please follow me.”
There were eight participants in total.
One direct heir—Loin.
Two from the three collateral noble houses of Kazar, Tiramyn, and Shupen—the collateral branches—Chris and Alos.
The rest were scattered among other collateral relatives.
The steward pulled out a tiny, toy-like staff and touched it to the floor.
Then something astonishing happened.
A path downward appeared on the otherwise ordinary floor!
An illusion.
“I’ll go first. Please follow me.”
The halfling descended into the underground passage.
Chris peeked down and saw it wasn’t an ordinary basement.
An endless path stretched out in a vast, empty space.
‘An illusionary space? Not created by the halfling steward’s skill, but a pre-installed illusion within the mansion’s basement.’
Chris realized the nature of the stairs.
This wouldn’t be an easy path.
The real first trial awaited.
If you fall behind, you’ll lose the chance to attend the Sacred Black Ceremony.
Whether they realized the same thing or not, the others’ faces hardened.
The first to step forward was Roin.
He strode confidently, as if it were obvious that, as the legitimate heir, he should go first ahead of the collateral branches.
As he brushed past Chris, he muttered quietly, “Don’t you dare fall behind. I’ll make you taste hell at the Sacred Black Ceremony.”
With that, he disappeared up the stairs.
One by one, the others took a deep breath and followed him inside.
The first trial had begun.
Chris trailed behind the halfling steward, thinking, This isn’t so bad.
It was a simple test.
All he had to do was follow the steward’s lead.
The only difference from a normal run was that the path was a complete mess—steep and treacherous.
It demanded the stamina of someone climbing a rugged mountain.
And the steward’s pace was absurdly fast, like a galloping horse.
Oh, and one more thing.
The path behind them was collapsing at a rapid rate.
In other words, if you didn’t keep up an incredible speed, you’d be left behind.
“Huff, gasp.”
“How much longer?”
Two of the weaker collateral relatives were panting heavily.
Their pace slowed until the crumbling path caught up with them, and they fell behind.