The Weight of Whispers, the Convergence of Shadows

I looked at the child, my heart swelling with a faint glimmer of anticipation. Could it be that he instinctively recognized me as a good person? Or perhaps he possesses an innate ability to discern who will or won’t cause him harm?

“Because I figured that if things turned sour, I could easily overpower you and make a run for it.”

“…Even though you literally watched me restore a high-tier magical barrier without chanting a single syllable?”

“Are mages supposed to be immortal or something? You take a blade to the chest, you die all the same.”

“You shouldn’t use such vulgar language.”

Though I scolded him with a stern visage, I was secretly nodding along in agreement. His logic was absolutely bulletproof. And if that target happened to be me, it was especially true.

‘Wait. Does that mean I was in an incredibly dangerous situation back then?’

It implied that if things had gone sideways, I might have ended up in a position where I wouldn’t even know where the kid had vanished to. A delayed wave of cold sweat broke out across my back.

“Not all mages are like that. As I mentioned before, I am exceptionally frail even by a mage’s standards, whereas some battle mages are incredibly proficient with a sword.”

“I know. But you aren’t one of them. I could tell the moment I rode on your back. Though I honestly didn’t expect you to be such a weakling that you’d collapse the exact second we stepped out of the building.”

“…Just finish your food.”

I slid the waffle plate, which had been resting in front of me, back toward the boy. Lucalis wore a deeply dissatisfied expression, but once I heavily emphasized that I was truly full, he finally accepted the plate.

Resting my chin in my hands, I stared intently at the child from across the table. As if to prove his imperial lineage, despite being a mere ten-year-old, his skeletal frame was robust and his features were sharply defined. When he fully matured, he would undoubtedly become a magnificent, powerful man—the very incarnation of a god of war.

“Why are you staring so intensely?”

“Because it makes me happy to see you eating so well.”

“Cut it out.”

“…….”

His attitude was certainly a bit prickly around the edges, but that was perfectly fine. Vanessa had been exactly the same way. As we continued to live together and our bond deepened, it would naturally improve with time.

“And why are your clothes so utterly ragged anyway? The fabric around the collar is completely stretched out!”

Why on earth was he suddenly throwing a tantrum again? And why was his face flushed? Was he still burning with a fever?

“Your fever doesn’t seem to have fully broken yet. Once you’re finished eating, go back to your room and—”

“Forget it! I’ll take care of myself. Don’t you dare come any closer!”

“…….”

It would… naturally improve, right?

Following the brutal assassination of Emperor Vanessa, a heavy, suffocating unease descended upon the Empire.

The common folk had held their breath from the very moment the war for the succession began to escalate. They didn’t care who sat upon the throne, nor did they possess any interest in imperial politics. They simply prayed for the blood-drenched storm to dissipate so their lives could finally stabilize. Yet, rendering their endless waiting entirely futile, such a day never arrived.

Instead, an even greater tempest violently battered the realm.

Princess Siina and Emperor Remina were both dead. Imperial Prince Lucalis was missing. Not a single direct descendant of the imperial bloodline remained within the palace walls. The nobles aligned with Remina’s faction were absolutely furious, screaming that those mad bastards didn’t know where to draw the line. Meanwhile, a captured knight from Siina’s faction merely offered a grim smile, leaving behind a single final remark before executing himself:

‘You were the ones who crossed the line first. Our master is dead, and our future is entirely shrouded in darkness, so what is left for us to fear? Let us all burn down to ash together.’

Only then did the aristocrats who had forcefully enthroned Emperor Remina snap out of their delusions.

‘F-Find him! Find Imperial Prince Lucalis immediately!’

The metaphorical fire had officially caught onto the backs of their feet.

While they dispatched forces in every conceivable direction to hunt for the missing prince, they simultaneously scrambled to drag forward a few individuals from the collateral branches of the family tree—yet every single one of them miserably failed the trial of the Grand Barrier. The absolute, non-negotiable prerequisite to be recognized as royalty was the ability to sustain the barrier. The barrier stones utterly refused to recognize them as imperial blood.

In the end, the sole remaining beacon of hope was Prince Lucalis.

As time flowed on without a single shred of news, the nobles holding the reins of power felt their bowels burning with pure anxiety. For the time being, high-ranking mages were continuously pouring their own mana into the array to somehow keep the Grand Barrier operational, but it was akin to pouring water into a shattered vase.

Unless the fractured shards were properly mended, it was an absolute mathematical certainty that the side supplying the water would collapse from sheer exhaustion first. To make matters worse, the elder nobles—who had previously maintained a strict neutrality or stepped back from the succession war entirely—began to harbor deep resentment and fury over the current catastrophe, carving out a dangerous new front of opposition within the Imperial Palace.

And through it all, Girdan Paheran maintained an absolute, chilling silence.

The old man appeared entirely without warning.

It was a deep, velvety night completely devoid of moonlight. He manifested within the absolute deepest recesses of the Paheran Marquis Estate, a fortress fiercely patrolled by heavily armed guards and elite knights.

Dressed in the attire of a mere servant, the old man carried a lit candelabra, yet his footsteps produced absolutely no sound and no shadow stretched from beneath his feet. Slipping into the Marquis’s private study undetected, he raised a white-gloved hand and rapped lightly against the wooden door.

“Enter.”

“Yes, your Grace.”

Girdan’s office was stark and desolate. The only furnishings present were a solid hardwood desk and a few towering bookshelves, making the already massive room appear entirely hollow.

Sweeping his gaze across the interior, the old man casually tossed the candelabra to the side. Instead of shattering against the floor as a physical object should have, the candelabra melted directly into the empty air, vanishing without a trace. Single-mindedly focused on his documents, Girdan didn’t even grant the old man a glance. Accustomed to this treatment, the old man clasped his hands behind his back and began to speak in a measured tone.

“I shall deliver my report first. It appears Juwon has secretly dispatched an order of knights. We briefly lost track of their movements, but it is highly probable that they have already breached the imperial border.”

“Is it the Blue Hat Knights?”

“Yes.”

Excluding the tribal nations of the beastkin, Juwon was the solitary kingdom that shared a direct land border with the Empire.

Given that distinct geographical proximity, it was inevitable that their histories would become intricately, messily intertwined. They would forge an alliance, only for one side to execute a brutal betrayal, sparking a war, followed by a fragile peace treaty… and whenever necessity demanded it, they would occasionally trade royal hostages.

The Blue Hats were the definitive royal knight order representing the Kingdom of Juwon. Though they possessed a formal, highly decorated title, they were universally referred to by that moniker due to the vibrant blue caps included in their dress uniform.

“And the location of the Prince?”

“We have virtually mapped out his trajectory. He was last confirmed to be in the custody of a s*ave trader operating out of Zaires, but we discovered a mage purchased him.”

“For you to deliver a report in such a manner implies you have successfully uncovered the destination of this mage as well, does it not?”

“Regarding that matter… we have hit a rather peculiar snag. As you have deduced, the destination has indeed been uncovered, but…”

“Ramsphils.”

While the general populace praised Girdan using a vast array of grand titles, his sworn enemies utilized only a single moniker to describe the Marquis.

The Water Buffalo.

He was massive, dark, and possessed a terrifyingly headstrong momentum; he never allowed an enemy who dared to block his path to draw another breath.

Ramsphils found himself relating to that title all over again. A suffocating pressure, akin to standing directly before a colossal wild buffalo, bore down heavily upon his shoulders.

That aura wasn’t a product of sheer physical strength. It was the weight of experience—the sheer gravity born from the blood-drenched path the man had walked throughout his life.

“Do not drag out your words in my presence.”

“My apologies.”

The old man—or more accurately, Ramsphils, who was currently wearing the flesh of an old man—swiftly corrected his tone.

“The trajectory of the two targets leads directly into the Monster Forest.”

The elegant strokes of the quill pen abruptly ceased. Setting the pen down, Girdan sank into deep calculation. Tap, tap. His fingertips beat a rhythmic, mechanical cadence against the mahogany desk.

“Understood. You may dismiss yourself.”

“Yes. I shall take my leave.”

Ramsphils flicked his wrist. The vanished candelabra materialized back into reality, settled securely within his grasp. Turning his body to exit the study, the Marquis’s voice suddenly echoed from behind his back, halting him in his tracks.

“Is there still no progress regarding the first request?”

Girdan’s first request.

It was to uncover the current whereabouts of a legendary mage—the ancient master of the late Emperor Vanessa, and a figure widely regarded as the most brilliant sorcerer in the entire history of the Empire. Without turning around, Ramsphils delivered his reply:

“My deepest apologies. The event took place far too long ago, and given that the mage vanished after weaving an incredibly high-tier obfuscation spell over his traces, tracking his footprint is proving to be an monumental challenge.”

“If a man of your caliber claims it to be so, then it must be true. Very well.”

The moment he stepped outside the study, Ramsphils instantly shed his persona and reverted back into the elusive ‘Phantom of the Shadows.’ Slumping deeply into an armchair within his own domain, he crossed his legs and propped them up onto his desk. Marquis Girdan was undeniably a magnificent business partner, but it was an undeniable fact that the man was deeply unsettling to deal with. Every single meeting left him entirely drained of energy.

“Phew.”

Peeling away the old man’s skin, he pulled his stark white mask back into place at an angle.

“Ah, as I thought, this truly is the most comfortable.”

He finally felt as though he could breathe properly. Feeling immensely more relaxed, Ramsphils rhythmically tapped his toes as he sank into contemplation.

Girdan would almost certainly dispatch the knights under the direct command of the Emperor.

Clad in crimson satin cloaks embroidered with intricate gold trim, they were the undisputed, apex military powerhouse of the Empire. The Red Capes.

A historic knight order that originated as the personal vanguard of the First Emperor, they recruited exceptionally talented children at a tender age. The recruits swore a blood oath and were raised through a grueling training regimen coupled with an education that bordered on absolute brainwashing.

Perhaps due to that rigid foundation, they still stubbornly adhered to an incredibly anachronistic set of principles.

“To think they refuse to move unless they receive a direct command from the Emperor themselves.”

If that wasn’t the literal definition of a useless ornament, he didn’t know what was. It was a treasure so brilliant it practically radiated a blinding sheen, yet absolutely no one could touch it. If anyone attempted to lay a finger on it, their hands would be severed and their feet sliced off in a heartbeat.

Still, if an all-out war were to erupt, they would surely mobilize, right?

Like hell they would. In their current state, even if the entire Empire was hacked to pieces, those fanatics wouldn’t lift a single finger. Ramsphils was filled with genuine awe. Wow, they really are a bunch of absolute lunatics…

There was only a single method for someone who didn’t possess imperial blood to indirectly utilize such a stubborn force: throw them a bone directly tied to the Emperor—or in this specific case, the sole heir.

*‘That old water buffalo. He played his cards beautifully.’

*

Those fanatics were completely listless and possessed absolutely zero interest in matters unrelated to the sovereign, but an apex military force of that magnitude posed a massive threat to one’s political authority simply by existing.

By sending those dangerous entities out of the capital, it became infinitely easier for Girdan to completely suppress and control the chaotic internal state of the palace.

‘And to top it off, the bait is absolutely ironclad.’

Following the demise of Emperor Remina, the Red Capes had been searching for any trace of the missing prince with bloodshot eyes. To throw a piece of genuine, verified information to a pack of hounds like that was masterclass strategy.

Ramsphils’s toes tapped with wicked amusement.

‘After all, in order to sustain the Grand Barrier, Girdan needs to secure the prince regardless.’

The absolute defense matrix, woven from the very soul of the legendary Grand Mage who had served as the closest companion and advisor to the First Emperor. An intangible colossus that had shielded the Empire across centuries. That miraculous magic was the sole reason the Vilpasion Empire was able to remain an empire.

Throughout its long history, whenever the Empire suffered a period of decline, neighboring kingdoms would eagerly seize the opportunity to launch massive invasions—only to find their forces completely halted not by a wall of steel or tens of thousands of soldiers, but by the impenetrable wall of the Grand Barrier.

No matter what high-tier spells they unleashed, or how savagely they hacked away at it with swords cloaked in dense aura, the Grand Barrier refused to crack. Ultimately, those armies were forced to turn back in utter futility without ever stepping foot across the border.

After that historical sequence repeated itself a few times, the Empire began redirecting the massive budget originally allocated for military upkeep into highly lucrative fields like commerce and trade, successfully restoring its immense wealth. In truth, from an information broker’s perspective, the current military capability of the Vilpasion Empire was utterly pathetic.

If the Grand Barrier were to suddenly evaporate into nothingness?

‘We all link hands and plummet straight into absolute ruin.’

Seizing ultimate power was only meaningful if the Empire itself remained intact.

Nodding to himself, Ramsphils’s train of thought suddenly veered into a completely different direction.

‘Come to think of it… that mysterious mage seemed to possess intimate knowledge regarding Prince Lucalis… Surely, the mage who purchased the prince couldn’t possibly be that legendary figure, right?’

Operating as an information broker, he had personally witnessed and survived all manner of logically impossible scenarios. It had reached a point where his personal motto had literally become: Nothing in this world is impossible. Operating under that philosophy, Ramsphils always kept even the most absurd possibilities wide open—yet, in this specific instance, he shook his head. Logically speaking, the probability was mathematically nonexistent.

For a legendary Grand Mage who had been missing for fifty years to suddenly materialize out of thin air, only to cross paths with the exact missing prince who had vanished into thin air?

“Ah, there’s absolutely no way.”

Right at that moment, the door swung open and a man wearing a white hound mask stepped into the room.

“Master. A fresh report has just arrived. The potential political fallout of this matter is projected to be astronomically high.”

“Oh? Let me take a look.”

Unfurling the specially treated parchment, Ramsphils scanned the text. He folded the paper closed. He blinked his eyes in a daze, then snapped the parchment open once more to verify the contents inside. Doing so didn’t magically alter the elegant ink script already dried upon the page.

“…Uh-oh.”

Falling into an absolute, stunned silence, Ramsphils slowly raised his gaze to stare at the ceiling.

Father, I am so sorry. Mighty Grand Mage, please forgive me.

‘So that’s how it is.’

It seems there truly is absolutely nothing impossible in this world. This foolish Ramsphils has successfully learned a valuable new lesson today.

He could practically hear the thunderous, vein-popping fury of his late father echoing right next to his ear, but it was undoubtedly a mere auditory hallucination. Ramsphils scratched the back of his head with a wry smile.

It felt as though he was going to need to purchase an exceptionally expensive bottle of liquor for the next anniversary of his father’s passing.