Episode 67
After finishing his conversation with Duke Huam, Chris stepped outside and found Marisa waiting there.
“What did Father say?”
“That I should marry you.”
“…What?”
“Don’t worry. I refused him outright. He won’t bring it up again.”
“…”
Marisa’s face flushed bright red, then quickly cooled back down to icy calm.
“…Come with me. I’ll take you back to your quarters.”
Without another word, she spun on her heel and strode ahead.
Chris watched her retreating figure silently.
‘Stopping the catastrophe at the Poisonous Maga wasn’t part of the plan. I only aimed to minimize the damage.’
With his current strength, it was impossible.
He had maybe a year or two left, but even with that, it was a stretch.
He sighed.
‘Still, there’s time. I need to think of a way. Above all, I have to get stronger. Stronger than I’ve ever been—by far.’
Only by becoming stronger could he pull off anything.
‘First, I need to return to the Dark Maga.’
Another important event awaited.
The protagonist was Chris.
It was the inauguration ceremony for the Duke.
At last, the moment to become Duke had arrived.
Caw, caw.
At the southern border of the Southern Mage Kingdom, where the Dark Maga resided.
The border with the Gold Cross.
Crows cried out ominously.
Beneath them lay countless corpses.
From their gear, they looked like elite mercenaries, but all were brutally slain.
Not just defeated in battle—they had been tortured horribly before death.
“Pathetic. No more interesting ones around?”
“Why don’t we just go straight into the Union’s territory next time?”
Masked figures lounged among the bodies, speaking with bored expressions.
Their masks shaped like sinister blood-red shadows.
At the far end of the group, a man gazed toward the northern horizon.
“What are you doing, crazy young master?”
“Ah.”
The man had his mask tilted halfway off, revealing a strikingly beautiful face.
Long silver hair flowed like moonlight itself.
His delicate features were almost feminine—if not for the prominent Adam’s apple, he wouldn’t look male at all.
His slender frame gave off a fragile, almost maternal vibe—but that was just appearance.
Blood stained his entire body, a stark contrast to his gentle looks, revealing a terrifying nature beneath.
“Oh, I heard an interesting rumor.”
“A rumor?”
“Yes. They say an intriguing younger sibling has appeared.”
“Younger sibling?”
His companion tilted his head at the words.
“Ah, young master, you’re from a noble family, right? The Dark Maga?”
“Not ‘was.’ I’m still part of the family. Haven’t been kicked out yet.”
“Still not kicked out? Those Dark Maga fools must be crazy to keep someone as insanely mad as you.”
The masked men chuckled.
Though all were madmen, the silver-haired man was by far the most unhinged.
He smiled back, amused.
“Amusing, huh?”
“…Huh?”
“Do you find me amusing?”
The laughter from the masked man abruptly stopped.
“Ah, no, I didn’t mean that…”
“It’s fine. We’re comrades, after all. Jokes are allowed. But…”
Snap!
The masked man’s neck was snapped.
Without even trying to dodge the blood spraying like a fountain, the silver-haired man grinned.
“Looks like we’re no longer comrades.”
An awkward silence fell.
Though he killed on a whim, no one objected.
That was the nature of their group.
A gathering of the lowest scum.
No, calling them human was wrong.
They were demons beneath humanity.
“This isn’t fun either.”
The silver-haired man muttered softly.
“I think I’ll head back soon.”
“Going back to the family?”
“Yeah, I’ve been away too long. Time to show my face. And see this new sibling they say appeared. Name was… Kring… or something.”
He scratched his head and smiled brightly.
“Names don’t really matter.”
If he wasn’t interested, he didn’t care.
If he was interested… he killed.
Names were meaningless to him.
“That sibling better be interesting. I’ll give them plenty of ‘attention.’”
With that, the man—the mad first son of the Dark Maga, Sherard—vanished in an instant.
The blood-red shadow mask he left behind rolled on the ground.
Chris’s inauguration as Duke was officially announced.
In the long history of the Dark Maga, it was the first time a collateral branch had become Duke.
The Dark Maga was in an uproar.
“That reckless Christian young master is now Duke?”
“Can’t even call him reckless anymore.”
“Yeah, look at the achievements he made during the recent incident.”
“He completely saw through the Poisonous Maga’s scheme and even fought—and defeated—a five-star mage.”
“Unbelievable.”
The scene was a banquet celebrating Chris’s inauguration.
Gasps of shock echoed everywhere.
Many marveled at Chris’s accomplishments during the incident.
If not for him, the expedition team would have been wiped out.
But not everyone was convinced.
Only a fraction acknowledged Chris.
Most of the Dark Maga sneered at him.
“Only a bunch of under three-star mages took part in that childish operation.”
“Defeated a five-star mage? The Poisonous Maga must have been stupidly careless. Becoming Duke is too easy.”
They belittled Chris’s achievements.
And that wasn’t all.
“Becoming Duke without any real foundation is pointless.”
“Maybe if you were from the main branch, like Duke Shufen, but what can a count from the youngest collateral branch, Kazaar, do?”
“Does he even realize he’s walked into the lion’s den? Overreaching won’t end well.”
The senior members of the Dark Maga clicked their tongues.
Becoming Duke wasn’t just a rise in status.
It meant stepping into a deadly battlefield.
Now, Chris had become the enemy of all the Dukes.
Or rather, including their factions, the entire Dark Maga was against him.
Despite being the center of attention, Chris stood alone in the middle of the banquet hall, quietly sipping his drink.
No one dared approach him.
They feared being labeled part of Chris’s faction by the other Dukes.
‘Tsk, poor guy. He’s only got a thorny path ahead until death.’
‘He’d be wise to give up now and return to the Kazaar family.’
Did he sense his fate?
Chris’s expression was grim.
As he drank, it was as if he were swallowing poison.
His thoughts were:
‘Damn it, I hate ginger.’
He had asked the servant for alcohol, but they had brought ginger ale without fail.
‘Why am I the guest of honor and still stuck with ginger ale? These damn stubborn mages.’
He’d noticed before—though they were ruthless mages, they were oddly more honest and rigid than the Union folks.
‘Hmm.’
Chris scanned the banquet hall.
‘Just as I expected. Perfect.’
He smirked.
A surprising thought.
Everyone was ignoring him, yet he was pleased?
‘I hope the banquet goes exactly as I’ve planned.’
Here’s a question.
Chris’s goal wasn’t to be Duke—it was to take control of the Dark Maga.
What was important for that?
First, his own power.
Second, the faction that followed him.
‘No matter how strong I am, I can’t rule over everyone alone.’
That’s why Dukes were officially allowed to build their own factions.
Leadership was an essential quality for a family head.
The problem was, as a collateral branch member, Chris was bound to be weaker than the Dukes from the main branch.
Unlike the main branch, who naturally attracted crowds, Chris had to build his faction his own way.
‘But I have someone who can help me.’
Another unexpected thought.
‘I hope that guy moves as I expect.’
Chris glanced like a fisherman casting bait.
In the distance stood a young man looking at him with a haughty gaze.
The Third Duke, Maysak.
The youngest son of Duke Langham, and currently the most “noble blood” Duke in the Dark Maga.
Langham had four children:
First Duke Sherard.
Second Duke Eshd.
First Duchess Yulian.
And Third Duke Maysak.
Among them, Maysak was special.
Even more so than Eshd, who was considered the heir.
Because of his maternal bloodline.
The first three were born to Langham’s late first wife.
Maysak’s mother was different.
Silver Snowflower Fresia.
Currently the mistress of the Dark Maga.
More importantly, she was the daughter of the head of the Destruction Maga.
The head of the Destruction Maga was an absolute mage, rivaling even the Nordians.
The Destruction Maga’s power ranked among the top five of the twelve great mage families.
With such a formidable mother, no one dared treat Third Duke Maysak lightly.
‘Hence his extremely arrogant personality. He can’t stand anyone who annoys him and must crush them.’
Maysak would definitely make a move.
At that moment, Chris planned to turn Misaak’s scheme against him, flipping the situation to his own advantage.
‘Still playing it cool, huh.’
Did Misaak think someone as insignificant as Christian wasn’t even worth his attention?
He just sat there, drinking, shooting him a look full of contempt.
‘Maybe it’s time to provoke him a little. That’ll make things go exactly how I want.’
Chris pondered how to catch the third prince Misaak’s attention—more precisely, how to get under his skin.
Unexpectedly, help came from an unlikely source.
“Want a drink?”
“!!”
It was Jupien.
Was she here to congratulate him on becoming a prince?
She appeared with a pout on her face.
“I’m not exactly fond of you, but I felt sorry seeing you sitting here all alone.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“…No respect in your tone?”
“We’re both princes and princesses now. Why would I have to be all formal with you?”
Chris said shamelessly.
Jupien frowned but held out her glass.
“Just have a drink.”
“Alright.”
But when she saw the drink in Christian’s hand, she sneered.
“Ginger ale… Oh right, you’re still underage.”
Chris felt a sting of defeat.
For reference, Jupien was eighteen—just barely an adult by the Magical Empire’s standards.
“You’re such a baby. From now on, call me ‘big sister.’”
“…….”
By age, she had a point.
But calling someone who looked and acted like a child ‘big sister’ was a whole other matter.