Chapter 78
“A mentor?”
Christian nodded.
“I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll personally guide Alos to cover his weaknesses and help him truly fulfill his role as a Mage.”
“What the hell…?! You haven’t even been practicing Magecraft for six months…?! Gah?!”
Alos shouted in frustration, only to be struck on the back of the head by Kayson’s fist, groaning in pain.
“So when you say you’ll make him fit to be a Mage, you mean it?”
“Of course. Don’t let my appearance fool you—I’m a genius. Managing people, or rather, teaching them, is something I excel at.”
He wasn’t just boasting.
Christian was naturally gifted at everything, especially teaching. Those who had been under his tutelage in the past had all grown at an astonishing pace.
‘Though, admittedly, it was hellishly tough for them.’
Kayson nodded.
“Understood. I’ll trust you, Master Christian. Alos, from now on, consider Christian your mentor.”
“B-but…!!”
“Get on with it!”
Tears welled up in Alos’s eyes as he bowed his head to Christian.
“Alright, I’ll accept you as my mentor from now on.”
“Good. Don’t overthink it, little brother. I just want to help you succeed.”
“I-I’m not your little brother…! I’m older than you… no, Master!”
Bam!
Alos got smacked again by his older brother.
“He’s spoiled and unruly. Please understand.”
“That’s fine. I’ll make sure to fix his bad habits, so don’t worry.”
“Then I’ll trust you. Please take good care of him.”
After Kayson left, Alos shot Christian a glare mixed with defiance.
He didn’t look like someone who’d follow orders quietly.
“You understand, right? From now on, you have to listen to me.”
“…What exactly are you planning to make me do?”
“Nothing much.”
Christian shrugged and said, “How about starting with cleaning?”
“…What?”
“It’s only natural for a disciple to clean their master’s house.”
Christian gestured toward his place, which looked more like a storage shed.
Though ghosts helped with the cleaning, their supernatural methods lacked attention to detail.
“Scrub everything down.”
“……”
“But use your magic energy.”
And so, Christian finally gained a disciple—and a human servant.
“You’re crazy! No way I’m doing that!!”
Alos resisted at first, but after a sincere conversation with Christian, he reluctantly agreed.
“Don’t hate it too much. I have my reasons for asking you to do this.”
The Tiramyn family was known for Magecraft, especially manipulating magic energy.
Honestly, Alos’s Magecraft skills weren’t bad for his age.
But his fundamental control over magic energy was weak.
Cleaning was a complex task.
Using magic energy for such intricate actions would help him build a solid foundation.
‘Believe it or not, I was once called a true master.’
Christian had an instinctive ability to see through any problem.
This applied to others’ progress as well—he could intuitively identify what was holding them back and how to overcome it.
That’s why those he taught always achieved rapid results.
‘Even the hero’s party improved dramatically after meeting me.’
Of course, their achievements couldn’t compare to Christian’s.
But his uncanny intuition didn’t discriminate by level of accomplishment.
Even in realms he hadn’t reached himself, he instinctively grasped the issues.
Christian casually offered advice, and whenever it came at the right moment, it sparked sudden realizations.
What would have taken endless frustration and trial alone became like climbing a ladder with his guidance.
Christian’s help wasn’t limited to Alos.
It was a letter from Tern.
They often exchanged letters.
Brotherly affection?
Not at all.
Christian hoped Tern would grow quickly and become his reliable ally.
So he sent letters mixing scolding with advice.
Thanks to Christian’s “affection,” Tern was making rapid progress.
‘Already on the verge of reaching 3-star Gray Curse Magic? Faster than expected. Well, Tern did reach a high level in curse magic in his past life. Maybe he’s a “natural” specialized in curses?’
Sometimes, there are people who are terrible at everything else but excel insanely in one specific field.
It’s not quite talent—it’s closer to a blessing.
After answering Tern’s questions, Christian added a note:
By the way, the “King Emperor Majesty” title was something Christian insisted on; otherwise, he wouldn’t teach, so Tern wrote it begrudgingly.
Time passed in a blur.
Busy, but without tension—relaxed.
Just as drowsiness was about to set in, a crack like shattering glass echoed.
“Are you Christian?”
Christian was on his way to the mansion, summoned by the Marchioness Fresia.
Enjoying the bright sunlight, he walked with a good mood.
Then, an unexpected voice reached his ears.
‘…That voice?’
A chill ran down Christian’s spine.
It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it.
No, it was a voice he could never forget.
A high-pitched tone for a man.
Playful, yet laced with madness—a unique voice.
‘No way. That voice can’t suddenly be here.’
Traumatic memories surged, heart pounding.
Christian slowly turned his head, hoping it was a mistake.
But—
“Nice to meet you. I’m your eldest brother, Sherard.”
The moment he saw the face of a beautiful young man perched in a tree like glass, Christian’s vision darkened.
The worst madman in human history.
The hero party’s nemesis.
A horrific nightmare from the Age of Ruin, the tenth Demon King, the “Bloodshadow Warlord” smiled brightly at him.
The Bloodshadow Warlord.
A group of lunatics.
Originally, they had ambitions to change the world, but now they were just a psychotic killing squad.
A criminal organization hunted by the Magic Empire.
Fortunately, they were still just a gang of crazed criminals.
But with the start of the Age of Ruin, the Bloodshadow Warlord grew powerful enough to shake the balance between the two powers.
All because of their leader.
A madman among madmen.
A bloodthirsty maniac who delighted only in murder.
He carried out terror and killings indiscriminately, regardless of the Magic Empire or the Alliance.
Countless human scum flocked to him in the chaos, and wherever the Bloodshadow Warlord passed, the world turned into hell.
One small mercy: he didn’t kill just anyone.
He targeted the strong.
He was a madman who found pleasure in killing, especially craving the thrill of slaying powerful foes.
His obsession was the hero, Evan.
Because of him, the hero party faced countless life-or-death crises.
The one who killed the Dark Talker, Christian’s close ally, was also the Bloodshadow Warlord.
‘Why is he here?’
The Warlord’s identity had never been fully revealed.
He always wore a blood-red mask symbolizing the Bloodshadow Warlord.
Only at his final moment, when the hero’s sword struck him down and shattered the mask, did Christian catch a glimpse of his face.
A face so beautiful it was unimaginable for someone who had committed such atrocities.
Now, that very same face smiled slyly at him.
‘He was from the Dark Magic faction.’
Thump, thump.
Christian’s heart raced wildly.
Heat gathered in his head, turning his face pale.
Was it anger? A thirst for blood? Or an unfathomable emptiness? His mind was overwhelmed.
“Hmm? Why so frozen? Aren’t we meeting for the first time today?”
Sherard, the Bloodshadow Warlord—no, the First Master—leapt down from the tree and cocked his head right in front of Christian.
“Or do you have something to say to me?”
“!!”
In that instant, Christian’s reason snapped.
‘I have to kill him. No matter what.’
He remembered the people who had died because of him.
The horrific scenes of hellish carnage and their screams.
And the Dark Talker’s final smile as he died.
There was no room for hesitation.
A murderous urge took over his mind, demanding he strike the Warlord down immediately.
Teeth clenched, he began to summon his magic energy.
“Hmm, you.”
Sherard’s and Christian’s eyes met.
His narrow, blood-red eyes fixed on Christian.
“!!”
Christian felt as if doused in ice water.
His hand wouldn’t move forward.
It was as if his soul had frozen.
The reason was simple.
‘He’s strong. Far beyond what I am now.’
If a fight broke out, it would be over in an instant.
Christian would die.
The gap between them was that vast.
“I came to see if you had a new little brother, but you seem to hate the idea. Still, showing hostility right off the bat like this…”
Sherard gave a sly smile.
“I’m the one who has to kill you, little brother. I’d prefer to keep things quiet within the family, you know.”
“…”
Chris clenched his teeth tightly.
His breath grew ragged.
Even if it meant his own death, a fierce urge to strike and sever Sherard’s throat surged up inside him.
“No. I have to hold back. Now is not the time.”
There was still plenty of time.
Just discovering the true nature of the Bloodshadow Order was a huge gain in itself.
He just needed to get stronger, and kill that bastard before he left the Dark Mage faction.
“Hmm. By the way,” Sherard said lazily, “there’s been so much noise about you, I was excited to see how impressive you’d be. But honestly, you’re kind of a letdown. Below my expectations.”
“!!”
Expectations.
A murderous urge.
Chris’s blood ran cold as memories of what Sherard had said in the past flashed through his mind.
—Chris, was it? What a shame. If you had properly mastered swordsmanship or magic, the one I’d desire most wouldn’t be Evan, it would be you. I would have enjoyed watching you slowly die, limb by limb.
No more useless thoughts.
Chris forced himself to calm down and lifted the corner of his mouth into a faint, controlled smile.