Chapter 204
Yulian raised her teacup to her lips with a graceful motion.
“Why else? I just thought we sisters could have a chat for once.”
“Liar. You don’t even like me.”
“!!”
Yulian’s expression briefly stiffened.
Still doing push-ups—451, 452—Jupien muttered bluntly.
“I’m not stupid, you know. I’ve got a good head on my shoulders. I can tell there’s something rotten inside you.”
“That’s a little harsh. I don’t dislike you, you know.”
“So what do you really want? I don’t have the patience for fake niceties.”
Yulian let out a faint sigh.
“I called you because I came across something that could help you. Apparently, a magic sword was discovered at a small ruin south of the Gold Cross. It’s infused with a sword-illusion technique, so it could greatly empower you. I figured you should get it before someone else does.”
Still lying on the floor, Jupien tilted her doll-like head.
“And why would you tell me that?”
“Because I want to show you kindness… as your older sister?”
Yulian chuckled softly.
“I meant it when I said I don’t dislike you.”
“……”
“I was hoping this might help us get a little closer.”
Jupien frowned.
She stood and began pulling her coat back on.
“I don’t really have any interest in getting close to you.”
“……”
“And I don’t need the sword either. I plan to get stronger on my own. Anyway, I’m leaving.”
Jupien turned on her heel and vanished.
Left alone, Yulian let out a bitter smile.
“Jupien really does have sharp instincts.”
She could probably sense that Yulian harbored some kind of darkness, and was keeping her guard up.
“Still… just this once, you could’ve let me fool you.”
Yulian brought both hands to her face.
A voice heavy with sorrow leaked out.
“You know… I really don’t want to have to kill you too, Jupien.”
A chilling statement.
Soon, a dreadful storm of blood would sweep through the Dark Demonic House.
Many would die.
And the blood would stain everything—by Yulian’s own hands.
“It won’t be long now.”
Yulian moved to the window and gazed out over the estate of the Dark Demonic House.
No matter how many times she looked…
It always filled her with revulsion.
“The day I escape this hell isn’t far off.”
But one thing still bothered her.
“Christian is going to start training his vassals himself?”
If the Dark Demonic House's combat strength were to drastically increase in such a short period of time, it could become a serious variable.
But Yulian soon shook her head.
“That’s impossible.”
She knew full well how impressive Christian was. But even so, this was overreaching.
Above all, there was far too little time left.
There was less than a month until the Day of Fate.
“No matter how talented Christian is, how could he possibly perform a miracle in such a short window?”
But then—
“Ugh…”
Yulian suddenly coughed up blood.
It was pitch black—dead blood.
And that wasn’t all. From her pale white nape, a black sigil began to bloom.
It was the Devil’s Bloom.
Like a monster stretching out its shadow, the Devil’s Bloom extended its branches across her body, slowly creeping across her skin as if it were preparing to swallow her whole.
“Urgh…”
Yulian clenched her teeth tightly.
Pain distorted her face.
Her whole body trembled violently as she balled her fist—and barely, the Bloom subsided.
“Haa…”
She let out a weary sigh.
“Just a little longer. I just need to hold out a little more.”
Once her preparations were complete…
The Dark Demonic House would be visited by Despair incarnate.
And with its current strength, there was no way the House could withstand what was coming.
* * *
Meanwhile, at the training grounds of the Dark Demonic House—
Count Khazar came looking for Christian.
He had come to receive training.
“You’re here, Father?”
Christian greeted him casually, and Count Khazar’s expression twisted.
“You little brat… What exactly are you thinking?”
“What do you mean? I’m thinking of making our Dark Demonic House stronger. And with my genius-level guidance, that’s more than possible.”
“No, come on—do you even hear yourself?!”
Though he pretended to believe in Christian in front of the others earlier, Count Khazar couldn’t bring himself to truly trust his son’s wild plan.
But then—
“Let’s get started. We don’t have much time. I plan to raise your level to 7-star Middle-Rank within half a year.”
“!!”
“That’s about the minimum you’ll need to perform well in the Dark Rite six months from now.”
Count Khazar stood speechless.
He thought he’d become numb to his son’s madness by now, but this was on another level.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been stuck at 6-star Upper-Rank? It’s been nearly ten years.”
It wasn’t just Marquis Langham who had hit his limit.
Even Count Khazar had long since been trapped at a plateau.
Most magi were the same.
And this wasn't something unique to the Dark Demonic House.
It applied to everyone in the Magus Empire—even to those in the allied territories.
At some point, everyone eventually hit a wall. Growth would stop. No matter how many decades they struggled, they couldn’t break through it.
And now, Christian was claiming that he could help them surpass that wall with just a few words of guidance?
No wonder the people who heard him weren’t just baffled—they were outright offended.
“It’s possible because you’ve been working so hard all this time.”
“What?”
“I can’t fill an empty vessel for you. But Father, and the others as well—you’ve already filled your vessels to overflowing. You just haven’t found the right path to ascend past the wall.”
“……”
“If you’re given the right trigger, I believe you can ascend quickly to 7-star Middle-Rank.”
Count Khazar stood there, dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Christian extended his hand.
“What’s this?”
“A phantom stone. It will guide you to that path.”
He had prepared it ahead of time.
Christian shrugged his shoulders casually.
“Honestly, I’d teach you myself if I had the time… but I’m a bit too busy these days.”
“……”
“I crafted it with great care. If you follow what’s stored inside, you should be able to reach the threshold of 7-star Entry-Rank within a month. Two months for 7-star Lower-Rank. And within six months… 7-star Middle-Rank should be possible.”
“What nonsense…”
“Anyway, go ahead. Ah—just be sure to activate the phantom stone somewhere safe.”
Count Khazar shook his head and walked off.
“As if some trinket like this could actually help…”
He clicked his tongue.
Though he trusted his son deeply, this time… Christian seemed to be going overboard.
“Still, I might as well see what’s in it.”
He was about to activate the phantom stone on a whim—when he suddenly hesitated.
He recalled what Christian had said: Activate it in a safe place.
After making sure the surroundings were secure and he was fully prepared, Count Khazar activated the phantom stone.
A voice immediately rang out.
—Please disable your mental barrier.
“!!”
It was Christian’s voice.
“What…?”
Disabling one's mental barrier left them completely vulnerable to psychic techniques, including illusions and mental assaults.
But then—
—Father, please trust me.
Count Khazar, hearing the plea in his son’s voice… obeyed.
But then, another instruction followed:
—Please fully disable your subconscious defenses as well.
An extreme request.
If he were to disable the defense of his deep subconscious, even a minor shock could leave him mentally crippled.
He hesitated for a moment, but eventually did as he was told and activated the phantom stone.
“!!”
Count Khazar’s consciousness was suddenly pulled into an illusionary realm.
A vast, boundless world.
Endlessly wide—and yet, utterly empty. A white void of nothingness.
Then, a shocking voice echoed in the space.
—Father’s mind has now been trapped inside this void.
“!!”
Count Khazar’s eyes flew open.
He immediately attempted to dispel the illusion.
But it was no use.
Because he had already disabled even the defenses of his deep subconscious, he was completely caught in it.
—There is only one way out of this illusion. Within this void, establish your own world.
“What…?”
Count Khazar stared ahead, dumbfounded.
Regardless of his reaction, Christian’s voice continued to resound.
—Only those who can define their own world—that is, create a microcosm—are worthy of defying the laws of reality.
—Only then will Father’s “Annihilation” possess the potential to sever the very laws of the world.
Count Khazar’s face twisted in disbelief.
“You think I can just do that because you said so?!”
At that moment, another message echoed through the void.
—I’ll give you a little assistance.
And then—
RUMBLE—
The edge of the void began to collapse.
It was obvious even at a glance—this wasn’t a harmless phenomenon.
—Miracles that transcend limits are born from crisis.
—If that collapse swallows the space where Father’s spirit resides, your consciousness will also be annihilated.
“!!”
Count Khazar’s face turned pale.
—There’s only one way to stop the collapse: reflect your will into the void, and repaint the crumbling areas as part of your own world.
—And for the record, this collapse will not stop until you completely establish your own microcosm.
Count Khazar clenched his teeth, swallowing the curse he was about to shout.
In other words—if he didn’t want to die, he had to succeed in building his own world.
—Please do your best, Father. It would truly break my heart if I had to live as a disgraceful son.
That annoyingly cheeky voice marked the end of the message.
“……”
Count Khazar stood silent and dazed for a moment.
Then he screamed in rage.
“That damn brat…!! Once I’m out of here, he’s getting a beating—with all the love I have to give!”
* * *
Meanwhile, Christian flicked his fingers as he recalled the contents of the phantom stone he had given Count Khazar.
“If he keeps repainting the crumbling void with his own will, he'll eventually be able to define his own world.”
Everyone possesses a different inner world.
To "define" it means finding one’s own truth within that inner world—and elevating it into a true microcosm.
‘Father had already completed most of the preparation. The problem was that the clues he had gathered remained fragmented and disconnected.’
The reason Christian had given him such a task was precisely to prompt the final step—to provide a trigger that would string those broken clues into a cohesive whole.
However, it was undeniably a dangerous gamble.
If Count Khazar failed to find the answer, he truly could die.
Christian did feel a slight twinge of concern.
But then, he simply shrugged.
“It won’t come to that. I calibrated the trial precisely to match Father’s current capabilities.”
Christian hadn’t created the phantom stone haphazardly.
It was a carefully designed trial, based on everything he had observed from watching Count Khazar.
Difficult, yes. Dangerously so.
But still just barely within reach—if Count Khazar pushed himself to the limit.
‘And if it looks like he truly can’t overcome it, the stone is set to send me a signal. If it comes to that, I’ll intervene before the worst happens.’
Christian shrugged again, relaxed.
‘Well… he’s in for a rough ride. This is only the first gate, after all.’
Naturally, the void world Count Khazar faced wasn’t the end of his trial.
Christian was certain his father hadn’t the faintest clue what ordeals awaited him inside that world woven by the phantom stone.
‘Still, this is all for the sake of filial piety, right? If you think about it that way… maybe I’m actually a decent son.’
Later, Merian came to visit.
Christian handed her a phantom stone as well.
“You’re saying I should train using this?”
“Yes, Aunt. I made this especially for you—it’ll be a huge help.”
“……”
Merian took the phantom stone and left, casting a suspicious glance over her shoulder.
‘Aunt will be facing an even harsher trial than Father… but she should be fine. I even included some cookie illusions here and there to keep her spirits up.’
He had specially prepared delicious cookie illusions within the trial space—to cheer her up and help her keep going whenever she felt like giving up.