416 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

**Chapter 416: Never Enter the Barracks. Not You, Not Anyone. If You Slip Up Again, Even Our Family Name Can't Save You. So Stay Sharp.** Jerome recalled the face of his great-uncle who had just passed by, giving what he called an encouraging pat on the shoulder. ‘How did I end up like this?’ The mage, who at first glance seemed his age, prioritized family lineage over personal affairs. When hailed as the Empire’s prodigy, his great-uncle would slap his back, laughing, "Of course, that's my grandnephew! Ha-ha-ha." But now, he treated Jerome as the family's disgrace. ‘Is this also what they call the family's influence?’ He had stopped the Emperor from murdering his own child. And he had failed to prevent his mentor from being defeated by the enemy. Those two reasons collided, crafting the current situation. A guard of the emperor’s barracks. Though the battlefield didn’t unfold as he hoped, Jerome couldn’t imagine the imperial army losing. So how could he afford to make a mistake? All that evoked was a sense of pity for himself, stuck in the guise of a mere guard at such a pivotal time for his country. Had he truly made the wrong decision? ‘Baros, your highness...’ The one he swore allegiance to—where was he and what was he doing? Meanwhile, Jerome paid the price like this. Of course, he didn’t regret it. Even straying from chivalric duty, if he had turned a blind eye to a father intent on patricide, he wouldn’t have forgiven himself. Yet an unshakable sense of regret remained. ‘Wasn't there a way to satisfy both sides?’ Even knowing there wasn’t, he pondered it time and again. Jerome let out a long sigh, turning his gaze toward the battlefield. – Uwaaaaa! Boom. – Aagh! Crash! A cacophony of screams, shouts, and explosions dominated the battlefield. The emblem of the golden dragon had vanished, leaving only the emblem of flames. ‘MacLaine...’ Ironically, he had sworn his loyalty to Prince Baros under the MacLaine banner. Yet now, during the MacLaine campaign, seeing himself in such disarray evoked indescribable emotions. ‘Where did it all go wrong?’ That relentless question naturally led him back to memories from the royal palace several years ago. Throb. The wound on his already healed right eye felt like it was prickling. ‘Logan MacLaine.’ Even the thought made him grit his teeth involuntarily. Back then, he hadn’t been a superhuman, but Logan’s deadly blow had left an indelible mark. That scar, that defeat, stripped him of the title of the Empire’s prodigy. In its place emerged new laurels—Grandia's star, eventually surpassing MacLaine's sun to become the continent's undisputed greatest swordsman, now the king of a small nation. Where exactly did the gap begin? Or perhaps... ‘Was there always a great disparity from the start?’ In his arrogant youth, having mastered aura by thirty, he had merely seen the young force user, barely in his twenties, as a subject for instruction. Given the aura he also achieved by his mid-twenties, Jerome thought the gap insignificant. Yet now... ‘If only I hadn’t let my guard down... No, that’s wrong. I’m still making excuses, aren’t I, Jerome?’ He was complacent at first but not after he received a scar on his face. Despite that, he lost, and his right eye was taken. In contrast, what about that man? Recalling that past continued to churn his emotions. The pain of losing one eye was as vivid then as it was now. When closing his one remaining eye, the scene vividly replayed in his mind. The torrent-like barrage from Logan's sword. Relying on it, Jerome prided himself on learning the true usage of his trait, Absolute Sight. Upon realizing he was in check, Logan immediately obscured his vision and delivered a decisive strike... Thunk! ‘What in the?!’ Out of nowhere, a dull impact rocked his jaw, making him feel as though he was airborne. With an unexpected, surreal texture to his thoughts, Jerome's consciousness slowly drifted away. Even though Victoria caused it, she couldn’t help but gawk. ‘This easily? A superhuman?’ Her shock was enough to momentarily break her focus. ‘Get a grip!’ ‘Yes, yes!’ If not for her mentor's harsh command transmitted through magic, the entire operation would have crumbled. Barely regaining her composure, she spotted Jerome Decaide writhing with a shattered jaw. ‘Finish it off...’ ‘He’s not important. Hurry!’ Surveying her surroundings, she spied knights charging towards her golem and soldiers pointing her way. Though she couldn’t hear them, their expressions of astonishment were unmistakable. Time was of the essence. ‘Tsk!’ Though her golem could combat a superhuman, maintaining its presence or unleashing full power was impractical in this scenario. Victoria steeled her focus, syncing further with her golem. In mere seconds, she had dispatched the three knights racing toward her. ‘Don’t stall for time!’ ‘I know!’ Fortunately, all other superhumans were on the battlefield. Even if the Emperor had protection, they were no match for her golem. With newfound confidence, Victoria stepped into the barracks. At the heart of the expansive tent stood a middle-aged man clad in golden armor, staring blankly into space. Black hair, yellow skin. Upon confirming this, Victoria heightened her synchronization with the golem to its peak. The Emperor’s eyes widened as he turned toward her, while sounds gradually began to filter in around her. Among them, she heard the Emperor’s low, deep voice. But the message was a bit peculiar. A sneer. “How amusing.” Amusing? The Emperor said, with a chilling smile. An uneasy premonition made Victoria falter, almost against her will. ‘Quickly!’ The urgency of her mentor's voice snapped Victoria back into reality, just as the noise surrounding the barracks became more pronounced. With her golem under her control, she darted toward the Emperor with incredible speed. Forget the unease; it didn’t matter anymore. ‘If only I could kill the Emperor here…’ Responsive to her resolve, the golem surged forward with all its might. ‘This ends now!’ At the very moment the golem’s fist imbued with immense, dark brown magic was about to strike the Emperor, its movements stopped abruptly, defying her will. “A golem... and controlled from such a distance. The Golem School, truly impressive.” The Emperor’s words dripped with mockery despite the apparent compliment. With a mere gesture, he halted the golem. Only then did Victoria realize the source of her initial foreboding. The Emperor stood alone in the vast center of the barracks. It was around his feet—a massive magical circle spread like a spider's web, its immense magic only now detectable by her senses. Embedded throughout the grand spell circle were colossal magic stones and extraordinary, intensely glowing artifacts. It was all gradually being absorbed into the circle itself. ‘How much have they invested in just this one magic circle!?’ Distracted by syncing with the golem, her dulled magical intuition finally began to kick in. But above all, what shocked her was the individual orchestrating this magic. *Advertisements* ‘A grand mage?!’ Had the golem possessed eyes, they would have widened enormously. Information on the Emperor’s power was nonexistent. Yet no one had anticipated the Emperor being a superhuman. After all, the current Emperor, now beyond fifty, had visibly aged like any ordinary man. Most preceding emperors had also grown old and died naturally, leading to the widespread belief—and nearly uncontested truth—that the imperial family held no exceptional secrets of aura or magic. ‘This can’t be! The Emperor?!’ Even her mentor faltered, causing a disruption that blurred her perception of her surroundings. “That won’t do. Focus, please.” With a wave of clarity and expansion, her mind was forcibly re-aligned with the golem’s consciousness as the Emperor spoke. “Let’s see... Ah, not one but two of you, I see... No wonder.” An inexplicable, sticky magic tugged at their very souls. ‘Is such a thing even possible!?’ ‘How can this be?’ Both master and apprentice felt alarmed, realizing the Emperor laughed lightly as he continued: “To reach seventh-class magic, one must have a profound understanding of the soul. Do take note, fledglings. Ah, perhaps if you ever manage to escape my clutches.” Snap. With a mere snap of his fingers, the Emperor lifted the golem into the air. “Thanks to the souls and magic of two magicians willingly offering themselves, I’ve greatly expedited my timeline. Much appreciated.” What did he mean by that? In that bewildering moment, Victoria managed to glimpse the entirety of the massive magical circle within the barracks. While she couldn’t decipher it, her instincts recognized the terrifying nature of the spell. ‘An extraordinarily large-scale destruction magic. And he’s doing it single-handedly…!?’ ‘What?’ Speaking as though to himself, the Emperor asked with eerie calm: “Do you know why the golden dragon symbolizes the Empire?” A low hum began. ‘Ugh!?’ ‘This, this is!?’ Parts of the golem began breaking off, melding into the circle. The issue was, as the golem was destroyed, both Clayton and Victoria felt every bit of pain inflicted. “The ancient Gold Dragon was revered as the wisest of its kind, mastering all magic. And the greatest among the Gold Dragons was known as the Draconic Sovereign.” Though the Emperor’s demeanor remained impassive, Victoria and Clayton were growing increasingly frantic. ‘No!’ ‘Damn it!’ They could feel themselves, both mentally and magically entrenched in the spell. *Advertisements* Victoria finally understood what the Emperor had meant by thanking them for shortening his time frame. A sacrifice. This was a sacrificial ritual. Specifically, a ritual to cast devastating magic meant to obliterate Kyle fortress. Even the colossal magic stones and powerful artifacts arranged here were dissolving rapidly. “And the ancient archmage, Taron Aress himself, was once deemed the incarnation of dragons, mastering every magic known in an age when dragons had vanished. He even devised a way to pass down a portion of that power through generations.” The Emperor’s voice became irrelevant. Trapped by the Emperor’s magic, mind, and soul, they struggled vehemently to escape. Buzz. Their struggles didn’t cease the golem’s destruction, but slightly delayed it. “He also defeated those who sought to summon ‘great demons’ using humanity as their sacrifice, becoming a hero leading true liberation for mankind. Thus, the Aress royal family, inheritors of that lineage and power, stand as mankind’s rightful rulers. And so...” Crackle. Azure magic encased the golem, forcibly dismantling it. “Could you even fathom my fury at your insignificant rebellion! You imbeciles!” The Emperor yelled, his anger palpable, distorted by rage. The one who had invaded and opposed a justified defiance was himself incensed. But there was sincerity beneath that gnashing expression. “Now vanish. And in the agony of a shattered soul, atone for your sins.” Grnnnnd. ‘Aaah, d-damn it!’ ‘Riya! Focus!’ In excruciating agony as their souls were shredded, they screamed desperately. “Your cries shall signal the destruction of MacLaine. I will purge every trace of your race, especially those who spearheaded this disruption.” The Emperor proclaimed as the golem melted entirely into the spell circle. In that very moment, brilliant blue beams erupted skyward from the enchanted design filling the barracks, piercing through the roof and into the heavens.