Chapter 40
"Everyone, shouldn't we verify the most basic magical power when deciding the head of House Ophensa?"
"V-Vice Tower Lord?"
"That's why I brought a precise verification tool."
Calyphe's eyes widened.
'That half-elf—of course!'
She couldn’t expose her pitiful magical power like this.
Calyphe shot to her feet and shouted:
"Guards! Drag him out!"
"Y-Yes?"
The soldier guarding the conference room door flinched, clearly reluctant to lay hands on the Vice Tower Lord.
At that moment, Viscount Kaiman sneered:
"What’s the issue? Given the recent illegal magical tool incident—which wasn’t even on the agenda—isn’t verifying magical power justified?"
Damn it. That old fox!
Calyphe bit her lip.
Meanwhile, Marcel readied the magical power verification tool.
The flustered vassals gradually nodded at the mention of "the family head’s magical power."
"But Vice Tower Lord, this is the largest verification tool I’ve ever seen."
"Naturally. It tracks even concealed magical power and grades it—including untapped potential."
"Oho!"
"Then I’ll go first."
Viscount Kaiman placed his hand on the orb.
A low hum reverberated as light enveloped him.
Soon, the previously empty orb filled with radiant light.
"Ohh... A deep blue!"
"The Viscount once displayed a pure azure hue before."
"The clearer and purer the blue, the higher the quality and quantity of magical power. Blue itself is rare—truly fitting for the Viscount’s disciple."
The vassals murmured praises one by one.
As if expecting this, Kaiman smiled faintly.
"I’m embarrassed. Once, I dreamed of surpassing blue."
"Hahaha! You jest. That color hasn’t appeared since our founder’s era!"
The vassals fawned over Kaiman’s results, their satisfaction evident.
Kaiman smirked thinly and prodded:
"Now, the lady’s turn."
"......"
After glaring at the eagerly awaiting Marcel, Calyphe placed her hand on the orb.
The device hummed—
"......"
"......"
"Gray... And a murky one at that."
"Let’s wrap this up."
The abrupt shift to dismissiveness left Marcel stammering. He fiddled with the machine, muttering:
"This can’t be right. If she opened a supreme-grade potion, then surely..."
Supreme-grade potion?
A realization struck Calyphe.
‘Wait—I smashed the potion vial back then. Because it required magical power to open.’
Her unique ability required physical strikes to activate—the same condition for channeling magic. This applied even to objects, though only transferring magic, not growth-enhancing abilities. She’d learned this while testing potion vials before the banquet.
‘Could the verification work the same way?’
Worth a try.
Pretending to throw a tantrum, Calyphe slapped the crystal orb repeatedly.
"Is this thing broken?! Fix the output now!"
"Eek! You’ll damage it!"
Then—
Flash!
Blinding golden light flooded the chamber.
"......!"
Everyone froze.
Even Calyphe gaped at the radiance pouring from the orb.
Someone whispered hoarsely:
"G-Gold... The Founder’s color..."
A legendary hue, unseen for generations.
Moreover—
"I never thought I’d see it again after Lady Portia’s passing..."
The same gold her mother, Portia Ophensa, had once manifested.
"By the gods! Gold! It’s gold! Do you see it?!"
Marcel bounced like he’d struck a vein. Calyphe stared dumbfounded—
‘Huh?’
At first, she thought she’d imagined it. But the golden light swirling inside the orb felt... wrong.
‘What are those black spots?’
Like tendrils strangling the light—
As she squinted closer—
The spots twisted into nooses and devoured the gold.
Simultaneously—
Cough!
Calyphe vomited dark blood.
When her hand left the orb, the light vanished.
"Calyphe!"
Rainen caught her swaying form.
"What happened?! Are you hurt?!"
"Oh no! Magical rejection symptoms!"
Marcel hurriedly seated her.
"The orb’s light is pure magical energy. Such intense exposure must’ve overwhelmed her. She’ll recover shortly."
Cough! "Y-You damned old—"
Rainen muffled her mouth with a handkerchief.
"You’re still bleeding. This is serious."
"Mmmpfh!"
He ignored her protests, addressing the vassals:
"House Ophensa now has another candidate worthy of leadership. Don’t you agree?"
"......!"
Murmurs rippled through the room.
Kaiman swiftly countered:
"What use is high-tier magic if she coughs blood from mere contact?"
"I’ll assist her!"
"...Vice Tower Lord Marcel."
Kaiman’s gaze turned venomous, but Marcel pressed on undeterred:
"There may be ways to resolve the rejection. Give me time."
"I thought you understood the separation between family and Tower affairs."
"My apologies. But this concerns the Tower’s future too."
"......"
As Kaiman glowered, the presiding officer intervened:
"Given these developments, the succession will be finalized at the Grand Assembly."
"......"
"Lady Calyphe and Viscount Kaiman—one of you will become head then."
The room collectively inhaled. An unimaginable outcome when the meeting began—Calyphe, a contender?!
The officer glanced belatedly at Kaiman.
"Are you agreeable, Lord Kaiman?"
"I’ll comply, regrettably. However—"
His hidden fury shifted toward the dazed Calyphe.
"—the marriage between Lady Calyphe and Duke Ortega must proceed. I’ll select an auspicious date."
"Ah, we can summon a high priest for—"
"No."
His eyes glinted slyly.
"For such an occasion, only the Archpriest will suffice."
The Assembly’s results spread rapidly.
The world reeled at Calyphe’s sudden candidacy.
"Did she beat the vassals into submission?"
Such rumors abounded.
Meanwhile, crackdowns on illegal magical tools—fueled by accurate intel—crushed the underground network.
"...My funding pipeline is severed."
Kaiman tossed aside the report before sweeping everything off his desk.
Crash!
"Damn you, Calyphe Ophensa! How dare you hinder me?!"
Beneath his composed facade, his face contorted with rage.
"All because of accursed bloodline luck!"
The world was unjust. Once again, talent bowed to pedigree.
"No—this is merely a trial. A temporary delay. I’ll win in the end."
Obstacles always preceded greatness.
A knock interrupted him.
"Lord Kaiman. Baron Dietrich has arrived."
"...Send him in."
Dietrich entered cringing.
"M-My apologies, Lord Kai—thud!"
A candlestick struck his forehead. Clutching the bleeding wound, he winced as Kaiman snarled:
"Know your place, fool! Do you think I’ll tolerate your blunders?!"
"......"
Dietrich clenched his teeth. Years of appeasing Kaiman told him everything—
‘Damn it! I’m a discarded pawn now!’
Already cornered by his unfair contract with Calyphe, this sealed his fate.
‘I’ll grovel for scraps if I must—’
Kaiman spat:
"Trash like you, raised in filth, cling to anything. Have you forgotten who saved your wretched life?"
"......!"
Dietrich’s lips twitched.
‘Saved? That mage you sent barely kept me breathing!’
Had Calyphe not intervened earlier, he’d be dead.
Suppressing his fury, Dietrich grinned obsequiously:
"Ah—I meant to say... Calyphe threatened me! She demanded information, or she’d reopen my wounds."
"...You talked?"
"Yes! I was half-dead, not in my right mind! Please forgive me!"
As Kaiman narrowed his eyes, Dietrich pressed:
"But since I’ve ‘switched sides,’ they’ll lower their guard."
"...Explain."
"Let me pretend to ally with her. Who knows? I might uncover her and the Duke’s weaknesses."
Kaiman’s interest flickered.
"A spy?"
"Yes. To regain your trust."
‘Screw you—taste betrayal yourself, you bat!’
Veins throbbing, Dietrich smirked inwardly.
