After dealing with the golems,

“Were you hiding your power all this time?” 

Evan, who had returned to the area where the carriage was and was preparing for camp, couldn’t suppress his curiosity any longer and asked.

“No, not at all.” 

“… Then, was that really 2nd Rank magic?” 

“Yes.”

Evan wore a look of disbelief at Alon’s response.

“I see.”

However, having realized that no matter how much he asked, he wouldn’t get more answers from Alon, Evan sighed and nodded, signaling he understood. He then continued his preparations for the camp.

Watching Evan, Alon kept his outward expression neutral, though he felt somewhat wronged.

After all, Alon himself had no idea why the magic he had just performed turned out the way it did.

‘I knew that using Constraints would make me stronger to some extent, but…’

The combat in Psychedelia, the game Alon had played, was turn-based, not real-time. In the game, the hand signs and incantations were used to enhance magic damage by consuming turns.

Depending on the magic being used, the appropriate hand signs would strengthen the spell itself. By selecting the correct incantations from hundreds of options within a limited time, the attributes of the spell could be enhanced.

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For example, in the magic he used this time, known as “Chain Lightning” in Psychedelia, he used four specific incantations:

Refraction, Rebound, Blue Light, and Linear Diffraction.

By using these four incantations and hand signs, he enhanced the spell Chain Lightning. Additionally, he placed a constraint on himself to always use hand signs and incantations when casting magic, thus further strengthening the spell.

In other words, Alon had expected the magic to be more than twice as powerful as usual.

‘But it wasn’t supposed to be this strong.’

In Psychedelia, using a hand sign or incantation consumed one turn each.

So, the spell Alon had used this time would have been prepared over the course of five turns in game terms.

‘Even considering that, is it really enough to overkill the golems…?’

As Alon pondered this, he shrugged his shoulders.

In truth, regardless of the specifics, the outcome had gone well according to his plans, and having the magic be more powerful than expected was a good thing.

In fact, beyond simply being pleased, Alon’s mind was now filled with curiosity.

‘I wish I could experiment a bit if I could.’

The hand signs and incantations Alon used this time were ones commonly employed in Psychedelia when raising the protagonist as a “glass cannon” mage, intended for easily handling large-scale enemy encounters with powerful lightning magic.

This meant that Alon had at least ten more incantations and hand signs still intact in his memory that he hadn’t used today.

Moreover, the reason Alon’s curiosity was particularly piqued was due to the noticeable changes in the magic each time he uttered an incantation.

‘In the game, the incantations merely increased damage by 10% whenever the correct type of incantation was chosen, but here, it’s different.’

Perhaps an ordinary magician wouldn’t have noticed.

But Alon, who had personally performed the magic and possessed a unique talent for mana control, had observed the magic’s attributes changing each time an incantation was added.

It wasn’t just the power increasing; the very nature of the mana itself altered with each incantation.

Therefore,

‘I should conduct some experiments once my mana recovers.’

Alon closed his eyes inside the carriage, feeling good, even if his expression remained neutral.

And at that moment, a girl appeared at the place where Alon had used magic, where only the piles of stones remained that could no longer become golems.

A girl with eyes gleaming in a deep green.

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No, the one who might have been called Rine of Greed in the future silently passed by the stone heaps that had once been golems and looked at the door Alon had entered earlier.

The door was cracked and worn, but the carvings on its frame emphasized that it was man-made, not a natural formation.

However, Rine knew that the carvings on this door’s frame weren’t meaningless.

Born with a great mission and the innate ability to access the “Ancient Library” at any time, she could understand what was inscribed on the frame.

‘From the forgotten age of foreign gods, the script of the Alaneph Empire.’

Recognizing this, Rine read the words carved into the frame.

[From Palaon, to the friend left alone.]

“…Ha.”

Rine involuntarily let out a hollow laugh as she read the inscription.

She knew that there was only one person who used the name “Palaon” in ancient texts.

The great Palaon.

The one who had repelled the invasions of the “Black Ones” multiple times during the age of foreign gods, and who had defeated the “Alacoulakka,” a being that could make subjects offer their hearts just by looking at it.

The noble, revered, great, and glorious Emperor.

Knowing that Palaon, as written in ancient language, referred to this one person, she couldn’t help but chuckle.

Simultaneously,

-It was made by a fellow named Palaon.

Rine recalled Alon’s voice.

As she gazed at the outer frame of the wall with a blank, somewhat melancholic expression, the image of the great moon silently watching over the frame surfaced in her mind, and a hypothesis began to cloud her thoughts.

Negation and affirmation clashed in her mind, and the scales tipped towards denial.

However, what next came to mind was the magic Alon had demonstrated after emerging from the labyrinth.

His magic hadn’t seemed particularly exceptional.

But the incantations he muttered were different.

The incantations the great moon whispered were things that didn’t even exist in the ancient library.

Recalling this, the scales that had been tipping now came to rest evenly balanced.

‘Even though I knew that anyone the Red Moon would follow must be no ordinary person…’

Her thoughts finally reached the identity of the one leading the Blue Moon, and the scale within her mind finally tipped to the truth.

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That the Great Moon, Palaon’s close friend, was someone worthy of both respect and reverence.

Realizing this, she felt a chill run down her spine as she looked toward where Alon was.

As the distinct light of respect began to shine in her eyes, which had until now moved only by the command of the Red Moon,

“You’ve returned.”

Rine turned her gaze slightly at the sense of an approaching presence, and there stood Deus, who had appeared without notice, nodding his head as his eyes gleamed.

“Yes.”

“Did you gather any information?”

Rine recalled how, a week ago, Deus had stopped monitoring Alon and instead followed the black-clad figure as it retreated, and asked him.

He shook his head.

“No. I wasn’t able to get any information.”

“Why not?”

Deus began to explain what had happened when he chased after the black-clad figure, responding to Rine’s questioning tone.

And then—

“Are you saying that the black-clad figure died while you were pursuing them…?”

“Yes. In empty air, their neck twisted around twice, and they died instantly. I didn’t sense anything at all.”

Rine fell silent for a moment at Deus’s words.

“I think… we should report this.”

“I agree.”

After muttering these words, they exchanged a few more lines before disappearing from the spot.

Finally, the only thing that remained there was the lonely moonlight.

***

Two months had passed since Alon obtained the Constraint from the Whispering Labyrinth.

Currently, Altia was experiencing a period of great turmoil.

There were three reasons for this. The first was the sudden death of Kig, the second son of the Duke’s family, and Faylinne, the second daughter.

The second reason was that Duke Altia, who had been suffering from illness and was predicted to have little time left, had finally passed away.

The third reason was that Timalian, the eldest son of the Duke’s family, was found dead a day after the Duke’s death, alongside his elder sister, Malyan.

And they had both stabbed each other to death.

Due to this chain of events, all the children who could inherit the Duke’s title vanished overnight. As a result, Roria became the sole heir to the Duke’s family.

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Just like Count Palatio had done not long ago.

Roria, who never thought she would ever sit in the Duke’s study, now found herself quietly swallowing a breath there in just two short months.

Rumors about Roria had already begun to spread within the Duke’s family.

However, amusingly, despite the quiet circulation of these rumors, she hadn’t suffered any harm.

She had a clear alibi.

When the second son and daughter died, she had just returned from a ball.

And the eldest son and daughter had killed each other.

Moreover, she hadn’t had any recent meetings with them, and most importantly, the reason she could avoid all suspicion was that—

During her absence at the ball, her organization had been completely destroyed.

That’s right.

By the time she returned from the ball, she had lost all her power due to her damned family.

Because of this, Roria was not being questioned in any of the procedural investigations, even though rumors were quietly spreading.

The work had been executed so cleanly and perfectly.

‘Good things will happen.’

Roria recalled those words once again.

Those words, uttered so nonchalantly, had led to events that were anything but indifferent.

She was already certain that everything that had happened was due to him.

If anyone claimed these events were mere coincidences, they’d have to be considered lacking in intelligence due to how contrived everything seemed.

‘What does he want?’

Roria recalled her conversation with Alon.

Although he had outwardly rejected her request, he had handled everything more decisively than anyone else could have, and even a month after all the heirs of the Duke’s family were dead, he had made no contact.

Not even after she had absorbed her decapitated organizations with minimal losses.

‘Pure goodwill?’

Roria smiled at the fleeting thought.

It was absurd, even for her, to entertain such nonsense.

After much contemplation, Roria reached one conclusion.

Alon had some sort of plan.

Of course, Roria didn’t know what that plan was.

But she had a vague understanding of one thing.

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‘That plan requires the Altia Dukedom.’

Someone capable of killing the members of the Duke’s family without leaving a trace and so naturally wanted something he didn’t have.

Roria believed that what he wanted was most likely the renown of the Altia Dukedom.

‘And what he could do with that renown…’

Roria closed her mouth tightly.

It was only then that she realized just how absurd a pact she had made with the devil.

Realizing this, Roria let out a hollow laugh but clenched her fist tightly.

She knew that once a pact was made, there was no turning back. She understood too well what would happen if she broke the pact, having witnessed the fate of her four predecessors.

Therefore, she didn’t even consider betrayal. Instead, she decided to focus on the task at hand.

‘I should at least send a thank you.’

For the first time, a smile appeared on her usually expressionless face, a smile even she was unaware of.

A week later, a bottle of wine and a card arrived at the Count’s study for Alon.

The wine was from Cernance, an imperial territory, produced only three bottles a year, and each bottle was worth thousands of gold.

Along with it came a card inscribed with words of respect.

“???”

Alon, looking at the card that came with it, wore a puzzled expression.

And two months after that,

“So, you’re saying Roria, the third of the Altia family, has become the Duke of Altia?”

“Yes.”

“Altia Roria?”

“That’s correct…”

“???”

“Is there a problem, Young Master?”

Alon began to realize that something was amiss.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep