“Marquis?”
“Yes?”
“Well, your expression doesn’t look very good.”
“Mine?”
“Ah—usually your face doesn’t show much, but I can still tell a little.”
While Alon was deep in thought, Evan spoke up.
Alon paused for a mont before answering.
“It’s nothing.”
“...............Is that so? Strange.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Well, I just got chills for so reason.............”
“......Why am I being treated like this...............?”
Penia imdiately started bickering without missing a beat.
Evan naturally replied, and the two began their usual squabble.
Alon quietly watched them, lost in thought.
‘What on earth was that about?’
In the end, Alon never got an answer from the predecessor—or rather, from it—as to how it knew such things.
[You’ll find out naturally. If you can truly reach the “Heavenly Law Creation” and beco a god, that is.]
That was the only answer he got.
He considered asking her another question, but soon gave up.
The reason was simple.
There was no way to make her tightly sealed lips open.
And more than that, there wasn’t much ti left.
‘Then how the hell did I beco a Divine Blood in the first place?’
Instead, Alon asked her sothing else—how he himself had beco a Divine Blood.
She simply shrugged.
[I told you, didn’t I? No life born in this world can ever beco a Divine Blood. This world was created solely for the incubation of gods.]
[No matter how much faith or devotion one gains, they rely live longer or beco half-ford imitations of the Divine Blood. But you’re different, aren’t you?]
[Of course, that alone isn’t enough to beco a god. To beco Divine Blood, one needs faith and belief. But by coincidence... you had everything.]
As if everything had been prepared in advance.
Her voice echoed in his mory.
[You had faith. You had followers who would blossom that faith into worship. And through your battle with One Who Bears It, you imprinted yourself as a ‘god’ upon the humans of this world—so smoothly it was almost perfect.]
Then, with a faint smile, she added,
[That’s why you were able to beco a Divine Blood.]
That was her answer.
And Alon quietly listened to what ca next—about the Creation.
[Let tell you this first. It’ll take ti for you to reach Creation.]
‘Ti?’
[There are four stages of transcendence.]
[The first is to witness all phenona.]
[The second is to harmonize within them.]
[The third is to engrave reason itself.]
[The fourth is to beco providence incarnate.]
[And the stage you must reach is the second one—Harmony.]
‘Then… will I be able to reach Creation?’
[You’ll be able to imitate it, at least.]
She answered with a radiant smile.
‘How do I train for that?’
[Don’t worry. Even if I don’t tell you, you’ll co to know it naturally. But honestly, that’s not what matters most right now.]
‘Didn’t you say that was the most important thing?’
[Yes. But you need to survive until you reach the second stage, don’t you?]
‘.......’
[Rember this. Raising your rank is important—but above all else, you must master your magic.]
‘Mastery............... huh.’
[Yes, mastery. You need to fill in what you currently lack. Only then can you fight them. So I’ll say it again—rember, you do have potential, but—]
‘Until that potential blossoms, I’ll be dangerously fragile......... huh.’
Alon sighed, recalling her final words.
His mind was tangled with everything he had heard.
What it had told him contained truths too great to ignore.
But more than anything, after hearing those words, one na kept coming to mind—
Eliban.
Alon recalled Eliban’s actions.
In the past, he might not have understood.
But now, with all the pieces in his hands, the picture was becoming clear.
The actions of Eliban, who had prepared everything.
‘Just what were you…?’
Alon pondered deeply.
Yet no matter how much he thought, no answer ca.
He couldn’t understand why Eliban had acted as though everything had been prearranged.
And so, his thoughts grew heavier.
For a long, long ti.
***
Weeks later.
Alon returned to the Palatio Marquisate to rest.
……Though to call it rest might be an exaggeration.
There were still matters like the royal proclamation, Siyan’s eting request, Divine Land’s affairs, and estate managent.
But exhaustion forced him to take a break first.
Of course, that didn’t an he was idle.
After all, he had been clearly warned by it, and Alon wasn’t dull enough to ignore that.
Thus—
“Hmm… still no real progress.”
“Seems that way.”
Alon was conducting magic research with Penia.
More precisely, refining his spells as it had advised.
“But Marquis, honestly… isn’t this kind of impossible?”
“......Is it?”
“Yes. You basically amplify your spells’ power to the extre using ‘phrases’ and ‘incantations,’ right?”
When Alon silently nodded, Penia continued.
“But trying to cast spells of that sa power level with almost no incantation at all… doesn’t that sound kind of absurd?”
Though polite, her tone practically said, ‘Isn’t that way too unreasonable?’
Alon scratched his head.
She wasn’t wrong.
Still, his reason for pushing on was clear.
In his view, if he wanted to improve his magic, this was the only path.
Alon’s magic was powerful—perhaps unmatched among current mages.
Yet that imnse power ca with a price: phrases and incantations.
And that price was a major weakness.
Until now, he had managed to minimize it with the help of his allies and by studying the techniques of the Outer Gods and Sins he had fought before.
But from here on, that wouldn’t be possible.
Because the Divine Bloods he would face next… didn’t appear in the ga at all.
“Phew—”
Alon let out a quiet sigh.
Using magic that becos strong because of its risks, yet wanting to use it powerfully without any penalty—even to Alon himself, it sounded like the stubbornness of a child.
However, the problem was this: even if it was childish, he still had to find a way to make it possible.
As he scratched his head, seriously troubled, Penia—who had been quietly watching him—carefully spoke.
“...Um, Marquis.”
“Yes?”
“If you really can’t give up, I do have a thod... Would you like to hear it?”
“There’s a thod?”
“Yes. Ah, of course it’s not guaranteed. It’s more like... sothing that broadens your creativity, you know?”
“What do you an?”
Seeing his interest, Penia hesitated for a mont, then slowly continued.
A mont later—
“So you’re saying there’s a potion called the Regressive Elixir, and if you drink it, you temporarily return to a child’s state?”
“Technically only your mind regresses.”
“How many years back?”
“Sowhere around 10 to 13 years from now?”
“Hm.”
Alon thought about it.
Or rather—he tilted his head in disbelief and asked,
“Does that really help?”
“I think it will.”
“...Really?”
“Yes.”
“But if my mind goes back ten years, wouldn’t I lose all my knowledge of magic? How would that help?”
When Alon asked this with a puzzled look, Penia answered as if to reassure him.
“You can leave an imprint.”
“An imprint?”
“Yes. You imprint it into your unconscious. Even if your ten-year-younger self can’t consciously understand it, you’ll retain the seeds—clues to magic concepts that your current self can’t even imagine. Simply put, you erase everything except your mories of magic.”
“...That’s possible?”
“Yes. Well—there’ll be so confusion for a day or two.”
Penia let out an “Ah!” and quickly added,
“For the record, I’m not just making this up.”
“......You’re not?”
“Of course not...! The Red Tower Master and the Green Tower Master both used this thod to reach the 8th Rank, you know?”
“...With this thod?”
“Yes!”
Penia nodded with firm conviction.
Alon fell silent.
Honestly, a mont ago he thought Penia was pitching yet another strange potion.
But if there were precedents like the Red and Green Tower Masters, it was a different story.
“There’s no danger, right?”
“Not in any case I know of. And if sothing goes wrong, we can reverse the effect. The duration is only about two weeks anyway.”
“Two weeks…”
That much seed better than doing nothing, so Alon nodded.
“When will it be ready?”
“I actually have one bottle already prepared to use soday. Once you learn how to imprint the knowledge, you can drink it right away.”
“...Let’s try it.”
He accepted Penia’s proposal.
***
About a month later.
Yutia Bloodia was walking inside the Palatio Marquisate estate.
There was a pleasant smile on her face.
Ordinarily, she should have been in Rosario, not here.
But the reason she was here now—
—was because tomorrow was the Marquis of Palatio’s birthday.
It would have been best to appear on the day itself to offer birthday congratulations, but Yutia chose to arrive a day early.
It was because of the people who would gather for Alon’s birthday.
Rather than celebrating among a crowd, Yutia wanted to congratulate him alone.
The aning behind celebrating alone was completely different from celebrating together.
At least, for Yutia it was all the more so.
In addition, just before disappearing, Rine had once again broken Yutia’s brooch. And for two whole months, she had been unable to observe—no, protect—Alon. That too was a reason she had co early, silently, without informing even Alon.
And so, Yutia secretly entered the Marquisate and opened the door to the office where Alon should have been.
And inside—
—as she expected, Alon and Penia were there.
“Ah—!”
Penia gasped the mont she saw Yutia.
At that response, Yutia was about to frown for an instant—
—but quickly replaced it with a smile, as she rembered Alon was watching.
“My, it has been a while.”
“Ah, um—”
Penia’s pupils trembled visibly.
Yutia found the reaction strange, but soon looked away.
After all, Penia was not the one she cared about.
Yutia smiled and turned to Alon.
He t her gaze with a completely expressionless face.
“Hello, Marquis.”
Approaching him naturally, she greeted him lightly.
And Alon responded—
—or rather, he did not respond at all.
“...Who are you?”
“......What?”
Yutia forgot to smile. She stared at him.
Penia let out another gasp, and silence fell over the office.
But only for a mont.
“You’re... being mischievous, Marquis. That kind of joke isn’t funny, you know?”
Yutia smiled, but her expression quivered with unease.
As if begging him to stop joking.
But instead of answering, Alon stood up from his seat.
“...?”
He walked behind Penia, who was seated.
And Yutia saw it—
Alon’s hands tightly gripping the back of Penia’s chair.
And in that mont, as she realized what that ant—
“Who... are you, really?”
Alon repeated, his voice serious.
“...Huh?”
Yutia’s heart shattered.
With a sharp, cracking sound—
Kwa-jik.
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