Cecilus had spent the morning preparing for his father's arrival — and that of the countless nobles following in his wake. Every corridor in the manor gleamed; every drape hung in perfect folds. He had chosen the week's wardrobe, dictated the menu for each family based on their particular palates, and ensured the wine cellars were arranged by vintage.
His mother had entrusted him with full responsibility, and so he worked tirelessly, directing servants with the poise of a conductor before an orchestra.
His siblings were conveniently exempt, their duties swallowed by schoolwork — leaving Cecilus alone to shoulder the drudgery.
I forgot how mind-numbing this kind of work is, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose as another maid scurried past. The battlefield might be hell, but at least it isn't boring. These past few days of peace have been nice... but now my brain is starting to rot again.
A week had passed since his little "outing" with Marina and Efrain. His father was expected that very evening.
The manor buzzed like a hive at the edge of dawn — servants running, kitchens roaring, banners being dusted and rehung. Cecilus stood at the grand entrance when a maid hurried toward him, nearly tripping over her dress.
"Lord Cecilus — your father and uncle have arrived, alongside the guests."
He gave a single nod and moved toward the gate.
Beyond it, an elegant procession of carriages gleamed beneath the late sun. Coats of arms flashed in silver and gold as nobles emerged one by one.
All the families that side with Father and the Convergence... Cecilus watched them, expression unreadable. Ten years of maneuvering to unite them. All for me to walk away in the end. Fitting, though — the one who first dreamed of this alliance already lost his resolve.
From the lead carriage, Reymund descended with his usual controlled grace. His eyes scanned the manor briefly before landing on his son.
"Where's your mother? I thought she was overseeing preparations."
"She gave the duty to me," Cecilus replied evenly. "Said she'd continue teaching instead. Don't worry — nothing's been forgotten."
A faint crease formed between Reymund's brows. "I wouldn't expect otherwise. You'll need to handle tasks like this regularly soon. Best to learn early."
Without another word, he strode past, his cloak brushing Cecilus's shoulder as he entered the estate.
The rest of the afternoon dissolved into formalities. Cecilus greeted family after family, ensuring each knew where to go, which servant to call, what wing they'd occupy. By the time he reached his uncle, Huon, who was conversing near another nobleman — Alastier — the boy's patience was already worn thin.
"Ah, Cecilus!" Huon greeted with an easy grin. "It's been ages. You haven't changed a bit."
Cecilus forced a polite smile. "Likewise, Uncle Huon. Your quarters are in the main hallway — I'll lead you there once I finish with Sir Alastier."
"Yes, Uncle Huon, you don't look much different either. Your quarters are in the main hallway, so you just need to follow me. I will first explain to Sir Alastier here where his family should go."
Huon nodded, stepping aside.
Cecilus turned to Alastier, who was chatting amiably with his wife. "Your rooms are on the second floor. A servant will meet you shortly and serve as your attendant for the duration of your stay."
Alastier's lips twisted into a crooked grin. "That's fine. But before you rush off — I have something more interesting for you. Tell me, Cecilus, would you care to help me decipher a few... historical documents?"
Cecilus tilted his head. "Documents?"
Alastier's eyes gleamed. "They're said to be the last writings of the first king of the Ascended Continent — the man who raised the land itself. No one knows how he achieved it, nor the monster he defeated to do so, and I reckon these hold the answers to it. Legend claims the pages can only be read by someone with a rare magic type. I've heard yours is quite... unusual."
So he's just giving them to me? If they're that important, you'd think he'd lock them in a vault.
"Alright," Cecilus said after a pause, taking the worn stack of papers. "I'll take a look."
"Splendid! Oh, and before I forget—" Alastier gestured toward the tall girl standing beside him. "This is my daughter, Alessia. Only a year younger than you."
Cecilus froze. The girl, taller by nearly a head, offered a graceful nod.
"Uh... hello," he muttered, raising a hand awkwardly.
"Hi," she said softly.
No! Get me out of here! Documents are one thing — this is emotional warfare! Why is this girl so tall?
As if summoned by desperation itself, a maid appeared to guide the family away. Cecilus exhaled in quiet relief.
***
That night, the manor was still.
Cecilus lay sprawled on his bed, half-dressed, exhaustion dragging at his limbs. The day had been a blur of orders, complaints, and crises. His father had helped with none of it, disappearing to spend time with his wife instead.
Figures. At least he's consistent.
He rolled over, eyes landing on the documents resting on his desk. Their dull parchment gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
I should probably just sleep... but curiosity is a curse.
He sat up, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders, and carried the papers to his lap. Every page was blank.
Right. He said the text only appears for certain magic types. Maybe I have to trigger it somehow.
He summoned and dismissed Aldo — nothing.
He quickly verified it by summoning and dismissing Aldo.
Alright... maybe I just need to move souls around the page. If I were a creation mage like Marina, I would probably try injecting it with lifeforce, so this is my equivalent.
He touched the page lightly. His fingertip began to glow faint violet, the light pulsing like a heartbeat. Slowly, ink bloomed across the parchment — dark purple lines unfurling like veins, words rising from nowhere.
At the top, a title appeared:
"Notes Left by Researcher Ramon."
Cecilus blinked. Ramon? The Ramon? The one who discovered magic types came from mythical creatures?
His pulse quickened as he read the first passage.
"The location of my original journal: the Oglomoth Ruins.
There lies my inheritance — my research on rebirth, soul fracturing, and the afterlife.
If you read this, fate has already guided you to my path.
We are the same — those who toy with the lives of others.
To unlock my world, you must gather one hundred and thirty-seven souls.
Take them. Bind them. Become what I could not."
The next pages delved into detailed theories linking personality to magic type — hundreds of cruel experiments, each more disturbing than the last. He described testing emotional triggers, drowning subjects, watching elemental reactions to pain.
Cecilus read in silence, the candlelight flickering across his face. A kind of grim fascination rooted in his chest.
Gruesome. Yet... brilliant. But where's the part on soul magic? You wrote about everything else. It was getting interesting until you left that detail out. Also, how is this even related to the first king of Ascension?
He turned page after page until the sun began to edge through the curtains.
So much for rest... It's fine, lack of sleep isn't enough to break me!
Yawning, he stood and dressed, intent on grabbing breakfast before the guests awoke.
As he stepped into the corridor, pale dawn spilling through the high windows, something caught his eye at the top of the spiral staircase — the faint silhouette of a man.
He blinked once.
Gone.
Huh. Probably just my imagination. Great — now I'm hallucinating from lack of sleep.
Cecilus walked down the stairs, and at the very bottom, his eyes widened. There was a pool of blood and a man splattered on the floor.
He descended the stairs.
Halfway down, a sharp glint caught the light. Then—
His breath hitched.
At the bottom lay a crimson pool spreading across the marble floor. A man's body lay crumpled within it, limbs twisted, eyes open and glassy.
Cecilus rushed forward, heart hammering, and knelt beside the corpse. The blood was still warm.
He turned the man slightly — and froze.
The face staring back at him was one he knew.
Alastier.
The noble who had given him the documents just hours before.