The Regressed Illegitimate Child is a Genius Dark Magician

Chapter 8

Abigail von Edenvalt. The eldest daughter of the Florance family, one of the Empire’s Four Pillars, renowned for producing great knights and mages throughout history. Now, she is the Empress of the Empire, revered as the mother of all. A noble among nobles, exuding dignity with every breath she takes. As she gracefully walked down the corridor, it was as if she radiated a divine aura. Though the label of “second wife” still lingered, it would soon be of no consequence.

For the day her bloodline ascended to the imperial throne, Abigail would become the greatest woman in the world. Thus, she could not afford to let her guard down. To achieve her noble ambition, she had to overcome a colossal wall. The First Prince, Mikhail, who was currently slaying monsters at the northern borders, achieving brilliant military feats. Rubia, who subjugated even the empire’s aged archmages with sheer theoretical knowledge. These two stood as the greatest obstacles to Abigail’s grand dream. Though she could not match them in aura or magic, she would crush them with wisdom. Yet, her displeasure today stemmed from a different matter, not those two. Of course, she did not show it. Her face remained as serene as a still lake, without a single ripple. That was the ideal image of an Empress, as Abigail believed.

“—-!!!!”

With an incomprehensible yell, the door suddenly burst open. Startled maids, their faces stricken with fear, rushed out of the room. Upon seeing Abigail, the pale-faced maids felt as if their breath had been stolen away by sheer terror.

‘Ah.’

Exhaling softly, Abigail gestured for them to step aside. A glimmer of relief washed over their faces as they bowed their heads to the Empress and scurried away.

“Y-You damnable wretches!! …Ah, Mother!”

The Fourth Prince, Arkin, his face wrapped in bandages, lit up the moment he saw Abigail. Despite receiving the best potions and the finest healers in the palace, Arkin had deliberately kept his face bandaged as if in protest. As Abigail gracefully perched on the edge of the bed, Arkin buried his face in the folds of her dress.

“M-Mother, this son has been wronged. Damian, that wretched bastard, must have used some vile trick.”

The duel between Arkin and Damian. The rumors had already spread beyond the palace, and by now, most of the salons across the empire were buzzing about the outcome.

“Arkin. Raise your head.”

His mother’s gentle tone melted Arkin’s heart. He lifted his head—

Smack!

A burning sensation spread across his cheek. It felt different from when Damian had struck him. This time, he could not utter a word in protest.

“I told you clearly. Even if you cannot aid your brothers, do not become an obstacle.”

“M-Mother….”

Tears welled up in Arkin’s eyes as he looked up at Abigail, resembling a stray puppy abandoned in the rain. But no sympathy stirred in Abigail’s heart. Instead, irritation surged even further.

“You accepted a duel over a mere maid, suffered a disgraceful defeat, and yet you still cower in bed as if you’ve done nothing wrong?!”

The door was already closed, and soundproofing magic was in place. No one outside would hear or witness this scene.

“You should already be training to make up for your weakness… and yet, you pathetic fool…”

Abigail cut herself off, turning on her heels to leave the room. Arkin reached out with a desperate expression, but Abigail only spared him a fleeting glance before walking away.

“Your Highness, the Fourth Prince’s magic instructor has requested an audience with the Empress.”

Just behind her, a cold-spirited woman spoke in a low voice. She had served Abigail since childhood and was not only a lady-in-waiting but also a skilled knight.

“Is that man still living off the imperial treasury? Dismiss him immediately. Your efficiency is lacking, Ciel.”

“I will correct this at once.”

The two continued walking down the corridor, stepping into the grand hallways. Servants and nobles alike bowed deeply as the Empress passed, mesmerized by her radiant smile. None of them could imagine the molten fury seething within her chest.

“What will you do about Damian Renecht?”

Among the imperial princes, Arkin was the least talented. Abigail had little expectation of him. However, if the one who had bested Arkin was Damian Renecht, the situation changed entirely. That lowly dancer’s son who had bewitched the Emperor. When that woman first won the Emperor’s favor, Abigail had wanted to gut her like a pig. Yet, under imperial law, there had been no way to punish her. But the world was just. It knew what was right and wrong. A woman who bewitched the Emperor must atone for her crime with her life. That was the natural order.

Moreover, her sins extended to her offspring. Though half of Damian’s blood was of noble imperial lineage, his mother’s filth had tainted him beyond salvation. Watching Damian suffer and collapse from afar had been one of Abigail’s small pleasures. So, she had hired the finest tutors in the empire and assigned them to Damian. So that he would suffer more, despair more. So that he would eventually come to loathe his own wretched blood.

Yet that boy, though inferior to her own lineage, had utterly crushed Arkin. But Abigail was coldly rational in matters like these. Damian would never rise to claim the throne. Thus, there was no need to make unnecessary trouble now. Moreover, it would be undignified for the Empress to interfere in a fair duel. She only needed to uncover how Damian had gained such power. For the past two years, she had sensed a peculiar change in him. His swordsmanship and physical training had been taught by a stablehand. Not worth investigating.

That stablehand had long since disappeared, and tracking down such a lowly man was not worth the effort. What truly mattered was the green flames Damian had wielded. Some mages possessed unique colors in their magic. The most famous example in this era was Rubia. Her violet lightning was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Abigail had witnessed it herself. But it was impossible that Damian had simply awakened such a talent out of nowhere. Someone had intervened. That was certain.

“The Hermit, Ezekiel.”

“Damian’s last magic instructor.”

“If it is someone’s intention, then it’s only him.”

“I will step forward.”

“You know as well as I do that Ezekiel is not someone to be taken lightly. Focus on tracking and gathering information rather than direct combat.”

“Yes, Your highness.”

Even if this was Ezekiel’s arrangement, it would not significantly impact Abigail’s grand cause. However, it is always best to be certain. Variables must be eliminated. That is Abigail’s way.

* * *

Kwaaaang-!

Three fireballs left the fingertips, each striking its target, followed by towering pillars of flame rising into the sky. Once the flames subsided, only a slight scorch mark remained, leaving no trace of the targets. Now, controlling hellfire equivalent to three fingers was manageable. It was the result of weeks of training after the duel with Arkin. In terms of speed alone, there was no comparison to his previous life. Back then, it took several months just to properly handle the hellfire of a single finger. It was the product of past experience combined with nearly two years of physical training.

The arm that had been broken during the duel was also fully healed. This was because, by the Empress’s command, the palace’s chief physician was responsible for his treatment. Nutritious meals beneficial for recovery were also provided.

‘It wasn’t out of goodwill, though.’

He was well aware that Empress Abigail despised him. Even so, she cared for him and provided excellent teachers. This was both to build a reputation for being benevolent even to an illegitimate child and due to her twisted personality. Although they were not as dangerous as Mikhail and Rubia, the Empress and her children were also enemies to be wary of. Arkin was simply the biggest fool among them; the other siblings possessed both talent and strategy.

“Ah, Young Master! I told you that the tailor was coming today!”

Anna ran over, her skirt fluttering. The tailor’s visit to the separate palace today was to prepare an outfit for the Arnesian cruise ball. Over the past two years, Damian had grown rapidly, and none of his old formal wear fit him anymore.

“He is the most promising tailor in the capital recently. I went through great effort to find him.”

Anna spoke with a proud expression. Since the duel, her demeanor had become noticeably brighter. Arkin had not set foot in the separate palace since then; instead, he had been holed up in his room. Surely, his injuries had healed by now, so Damian could not understand why he was still making such a fuss.

“Our Young Master has an outstanding appearance, but he still needs an outfit to match.”

“You’re making too big a deal out of this….”

“Not at all. Even if you don’t say anything, I already know, Young Master.”

“Know what?”

Hehe. Anna let out a playful laugh and poked Damian’s side lightly.

“The reason you requested an invitation to the cruise ball.”

At those words, Damian could only tilt his head in confusion. His primary reason for attending the Arnesian cruise ball was to obtain a new Grimoire of Hell. However, Anna couldn’t possibly know that, so she must have misunderstood something.

‘It doesn’t really matter, does it?’

Seeing her bright, smiling face, it was hard to argue. Until the cruise ball, Damian dedicated himself to training and continued gathering information about the Grimoire of Hell. He also formulated his own hypothesis regarding the summoning of the Demon Lord. First, it was undeniable that his regression had the most direct impact. But was it solely due to regression? That was uncertain. Before his regression, Damian had made contracts with a considerable number of Infernal beings. Even though those contracts had disappeared due to regression, some imprint on his soul might have influenced this summoning.

‘Or maybe it’s just Molech’s personality.’

Molech had a peculiar fondness for young children. Although Damian could not exactly be called a child now, he was certainly younger compared to his previous life. Either way, if past contracts still had an effect, it meant that he could summon the Demon Lords he had contracted with before his regression right away. Coincidentally, the Grimoire of Hell obtainable at the cruise ball was related to that very demon. Time passed. Damian continued training and succeeded in controlling hellfire equivalent to four fingers.

“Today is the day, Young Master.”

And so, the day of the cruise ball arrived. It took half a day of travel by carriage to reach Lake Arnesian, the venue.

“Amazing.”

As they approached the lake, more and more extravagant carriages filled the surroundings. The nearby villages were adorned with colorful decorations, eager to capitalize on this opportunity. Only those who received an invitation could attend the ball, but many people had gathered by the lakeside to take part in the festival.

“We will wait here, Young Master. If any issues arise, please say the word.”

“What issues? You two should enjoy yourselves as well. Pick up some gifts for the people in the separate palace.”

Receiving Anna and Felix’s send-off, Damian headed toward the pier. In the center of the lake, three massive cruise ships were connected as one, floating gracefully. The dazzling lights made it seem as if the moon had already risen over the lake.

“It is an honor to serve you, Lord Damian.”

Upon presenting his invitation, the attendant bowed deeply and guided him to a small boat.

-♬♩♪♬♬♩♩♪♬

As the cruise ship came into view, the sounds of laughter and music filled the air.

“Is there anything uncomfortable?”

“Not at all.”

The attendant had to ask. Unlike the other guests, who had been brimming with excitement since the dock, Damian’s expression remained utterly composed.

‘Now, it begins.’

Damian was not the only one who changed due to regression. The world, too, would change because of him. With the thought that at the end of it all lay the vengeance he had failed to achieve in his past life, Damian stepped onto the cruise ship.