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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Silverriver
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When I opened my eyes, the scene from Archxius’s space unfolded before me. The wounded main and supporting characters from the original story. Professor Akdin, who shouldn’t have been there. And Ruberic, completely transformed into a demon after consuming the Blood Orb.
I took a deep breath. The contraction and expansion of my muscles, the circulation of my blood, the flow of Aura, the mana swirling in the air.
Everything was crystal clear. As if the terminally ill trait afflicting my body had temporarily vanished.
There was no pain. The world seemed vibrant, more so than before I possessed this body. I had never experienced such clarity.
My eyes snapped open, and I unleashed my aura. It mingled with Archxius’s mana, erupting in a black haze.
Crackle. Sizzle.
Black Lightning surged from my body, radiating outwards with enough force to split the sky.
Reacting to Archxius’s mana, Morax roared. He shoved aside Professor Akdin and Agnes, charging towards me.
Adele pushed me back and stood before me, gritting her teeth as she drew out her divine power. Even her immense divine power had its limits.
As she forced it out, blood trickled from her lips, unnoticed by her. When divine power reached its limit, it drew upon life force instead. It was a strange concept, exchanging lifespan for divine grace.
But that was irrelevant.
“You don’t have to do this.”
I stopped her. There was no need for her to intervene.
I pulled her aside and glared at Morax.
Shing
My hand grasped the hilt of my sword, a motion so familiar it felt like I’d done it a million times. Yet, the sensation of my fingers wrapping around the grip felt foreign.
An artistic, almost beautiful, draw of the sword, so natural it felt… transcendent. I shivered at the unfamiliar, exhilarating sensation.
The unlucky genius, Deron Philasia, whose efforts had been amplified at the cost of his lifespan. His swordsmanship was now mine to wield.
‘This is Deron’s swordsmanship, unleashed from the constraints of his terminal illness.’
It was captivating, a masterpiece worthy of being displayed alongside the finest paintings.
But this wasn’t the time for such admiration. My skin tingled. Morax’s demonic energy grazed me as he approached. If not for Archxius’s mana, I would have been wounded. Its sharpness was palpable.
“inhale…”
I took a deep breath and held it, channeling all of Archxius’s mana into my sword. Her mana obeyed my will, as if preparing for a final strike.
It was likely Archxius’s consideration, believing I was about to die. I was sorry to disappoint her, but I wouldn’t die. Not when I could experience this power.
I would overcome this damned terminal illness. With that resolve, I swung the sword, letting my body guide the motion.
The silent blade moved, a blur too fast for anyone in the training grounds to see.
They only saw…
…a flash, a severing, a falling.
Some would have stared, mouths agape. Others would have gasped, eyes wide with shock.
Morax’s head would have fallen to the ground. But I didn’t see it.
“Ugh…”
The price of wielding Archxius’s mana, of using this body to its full potential. The backlash hit me.
Overwhelmed by the intense pain, I lost consciousness. The last message I heard, as darkness consumed me, was that my lifespan had increased to one year.
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“Deron!”
“Wake up! Why did you suddenly collapse?!”
Crash!
“W-What are you doing here?”
Groan
“He’s still alive.”
“…Yes.”
“Hmm, it seems he exhausted his energy and fainted. There’s no apparent damage to his body.”
“Please wake up.”
“Please wake up, Young Master.”
I flinched.
‘…Why is it so noisy?’
‘Calling for me?’
‘I want to live.’
‘I want to be free from this cursed illness.’
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘So I’m doomed to live like this?’
‘What is it?’
‘If I reach the highest level, will my fate change?’
‘…’
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When I opened my eyes, an unfamiliar ceiling greeted me. A scene described several times in the original story, yet one I was seeing for the first time.
I sat up, gazing at the pristine white ceiling, likely painted that color to soothe patients.
“Ugh…”
Pain shot through me. My entire body, from my waist down, ached. Fortunately, my upper body was relatively unharmed.
I looked down at my hand, noticing the dried blood. It seemed the strike using Archxius’s mana had taken its toll.
My legs were practically immobile. Mana and blood still flowed through them, but…
It felt like I’d received an epidural. I examined my legs. I couldn’t feel anything, but I was certain something was beneath them.
“Petra?”
My personal maid and knight, Petra. She must have come to visit me; she was asleep at the foot of my bed.
Her face was creased with worry.
I gently stroked her hair with my uninjured left hand. It felt soft and smooth. I didn’t want to wake her. She would wake up eventually.
I lay back down. There was no point in sitting up when I couldn’t move my legs. It would only be more painful.
Warm sunlight pierced through the window. Someone had opened the curtains. I turned my gaze towards the window. A middle-aged man stood there, silently looking out.
Wait, was he really middle-aged?
He looked… ageless. I forced my stiff jaw open and spoke,
“Who are you?”
“…”
The man didn’t answer. He seemed to be waiting for something. A magic circle formed around him.
“Ah, it’s done.”
“…?”
He muttered something I couldn’t understand, then turned to face me. A face I couldn’t mistake. My eyes widened, and I spoke his name,
“Crepon Iliad Selvain…?”
“I didn’t expect you to address the Headmaster so casually. Well, you’re injured, so I’ll let it slide.”
What the hell was the Headmaster doing here?
One of the most powerful mages in the world, according to the original story. An 8th Rank mage, on the verge of becoming a 9th Rank Archmage, serving as the Headmaster of Iliad Academy for a single reason.
‘Interest.’
He was more altruistic than one might expect. Instead of secluding himself in the mountains to pursue his advancement, he took pleasure in nurturing young talents.
He was particularly interested in students with exceptional potential, those who could transcend human limitations, like himself.
“Did you rescue me, Headmaster?”
“Hmm… not exactly. You rescued everyone. I simply broke the demon’s barrier.”
While he held the title of Headmaster, most of the academy’s practical affairs were handled by other professors. His presence alone, as a near-Archmage, significantly elevated the academy’s prestige.
That’s why the Headmaster rarely appeared before the students. Only a handful of students had ever seen him during their time at the academy.
He pulled up a chair and sat before me.
He clearly had something to say.
“To be honest, I have some questions. I’ve cast a soundproofing spell, and your maid is… asleep.”
“What could the Headmaster possibly be so curious about, to go to such lengths?”
“Several things, actually. Starting with your physical condition.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over my body. Damn it. Now everyone knew about my condition.
Ah, right, and a dragon.
“But there are two things I’m particularly curious about.”
A golden light flickered in the Headmaster’s eyes. The same eyes that had helped Crepon reach the pinnacle of magic.
The Sage’s Gaze. Eyes that could perceive the truth of all things. Crepon looked at me and asked,
“Why does the Black Dragon’s mana reside within you? And how did you survive after your life force was clearly extinguished?”
I clamped my mouth shut.
One of his questions was particularly difficult to answer.
I considered how to respond, then began,
“I…”
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Of course he survive 😊
lol