Chapter 9
After my breakthrough early this morning, I knew I had little time to rest.
The surge of power that had pushed me into Tier 3—barely—came with a price.
My mana core was unstable, erratic, like a boiling cauldron just moments from spilling over.
I hadn't even reached the Peak stage of Tier 3, only touched its fragile threshold.
Still, that was enough.
Enough to draw attention.
I didn't need to seek out the high-ranking mages—no, they came to me.
Word traveled fast, and curiosity traveled even faster.
Despite the official reports claiming I was still only Tier 1, the mages knew better.
They could feel it.
Mana senses don't lie.
It wasn't just the raw pressure I now exuded.
It was the control—the fluidity of my mana, the seamless way it moved around me.
I'd honed my control to such an advanced degree that even veteran mages found it unnerving.
That alone was enough to make them want answers.
Surrounded by three mages and my brother, I stood in the center of an ornate alchemy chamber hidden beneath the old observatory tower.
Crystal lanterns glowed dimly from the corners, and arcane sigils shimmered faintly on the floor.
This wasn't some random meeting.
This was an interrogation masked by civility.
Lady Elizabeth—once mocked in hushed tones for her age—stood across from me, her skin radiant, her figure now youthful.
She looked no older than thirty, though everyone knew she was decades past that.
I gave her a respectful nod and smirked faintly. "I see Lady Elizabeth has been looking quite youthful and beautiful lately. Did you have a breakthrough in your Alchemy?"
She let out a soft, airy laugh, waving a slender hand as though brushing away smoke. "Ohh, this is nothing, Young Master," she said with a gleam in her eye.
"But your own advancement—Tier 3 in such a short time after joining the academy? And to do so while still officially recognized as a Tier 1 professor… Surely, there must be secrets. I wonder…"
Her words were laced with interest, but also a quiet warning.
The two men flanking her said nothing, but their gazes bore into me like hot irons.
Brook, a Seal Master with a reputation for turning living beings into walking talismans, stood at her right.
To her left was Maron, an Enchantment Master infamous for his weaved prisons and cognitive binding magic.
Each of them held mastery not just in their disciplines, but also in elemental magic—and all of them were at the Tier 3 limit.
They weren't here just for tea and compliments.
Their combined pressure was deliberate.
Testing me.
Challenging me.
I could feel the tension in the air thickening, drawn to my unstable mana like predators to wounded prey.
I remained calm, refusing to show weakness.
They weren't just interested in me because of my talent.
No.
These three had played key roles in my brother's rise.
With their help, he had become a Tier 4 Knight—an exceptional feat for someone our age.
On top of that, he now held the noble rank of Viscount and had already issued a challenge to a Count's household.
If he won, and there was little doubt he would, he would ascend in just two months.
And in this world, power was the only currency that mattered.
Status.
Influence.
Wealth.
Merit earned through contribution to the Empire—all of it could elevate you, even give you the right to challenge the throne itself.
Of course, no one ever did.
It was forbidden.
The highest any noble could officially ascend was to the rank of Marquess.
Still, the fact that the Empire had to impose a ceiling spoke volumes.
Elizabeth tilted her head. "You must understand, reaching the Tier 3 limit has always been seen as a wall. A point where the quality and quantity of one's mana simply… stops improving. We've all been there."
Brook folded his arms, his eyes narrowing. "The three of us have spent decades developing methods to push past that threshold. So tell us—how did you do it?"
They weren't going to let this go. I needed to give them something.
I kept my voice steady. "As you all know, being Nobles, we're taught the three established paths to surpass the Tier 3 limit."
Elizabeth gave a slight nod.
Maron's fingers drummed against his arm in interest.
I continued, "The first is body modification—experiments designed to change the mage's physical structure to better accommodate mana. But those methods are often brutal... and to say the least, inhuman."
I took a moment to let the silence settle around us.
The flickering crystal lights above cast long shadows on the walls, and my unstable mana subtly pulsed in the air—just enough to keep them uneasy.
Finally, I continued.
"The second method," I said, "is to form a soul-bond with a Legendary Item or Weapon. A true connection—deeper than mere ownership. These artifacts resonate with the very essence of a person's soul, unlocking dormant potential, allowing a mage to ascend."
Brook and Maron both shifted, eyes narrowing.
"But Legendary Weapons," I added, "are nearly extinct. So rare that I only know of three confirmed individuals who possess one. And none of them are in this room."
No one argued that point.
"The third," I said, "is to form a contract with a spirit."
Their gazes all sharpened.
"A spirit, if it acknowledges you—chooses you— a mage can past the Tier 3 wall and into Tier 4. But unlike weapons, you cannot force a spirit. The bond must be mutual. Equal. And that," I said, meeting each of their eyes, "is where all three of you have failed."
The words hit harder than I expected.
All three stiffened.
Elizabeth's smile vanished, replaced by a rare flicker of bitterness.
Maron looked away.
Brook clenched his jaw and scowled, fists tightening.
They had tried.
I knew that.
Spirits had judged them—had seen something lacking and turned away.
And for mages of their stature, that kind of rejection cut deep.
"I didn't come here to mock your failures," I said calmly. "I came for your knowledge."
They all looked up again, attention refocused.
"I have an idea," I said. "One that might allow all three of you to break into Tier 4—if you follow my instructions exactly."
Silence.
Then all at once, their eyes lit up.
Greedy.
Desperate.
Hopeful.
For mages at the Tier 3 limit, the idea of progression was like a starving man seeing food for the first time in days.
They leaned forward, eager for more.
But I raised a hand.
"In exchange," I said, voice sharper now, "I want everything."
Elizabeth's brows furrowed.
"Everything," I repeated. "Your knowledge, your research, your spellcasting techniques—your combat experiences, down to the smallest detail. Everything you've developed or witnessed since the day you took up magic."
Brook actually stepped back, his expression darkening.
His aura flickered sharply. "You little—"
He stopped himself mid-sentence, coughing. "Ahem. Apologies. Young Master… aren't you asking too much?"
I didn't answer.
I just looked at him—expression calm, unreadable.
Brook fidgeted, tension crawling across his posture as if he expected retaliation for his outburst.
He wasn't wrong to be cautious.
They all knew by now that my Tier 3 wasn't just for show.
Elizabeth, ever the diplomat, stepped in to defuse the situation.
"Perhaps… perhaps there's another way, Young Master," she said smoothly. "A compromise that benefits both sides without risking so much?"
I didn't reply immediately.
Instead, my attention drifted toward the far end of the hall.
There, amidst the flickering mana crystals, stood Olivia—and her older sister.
She stood tall, with short raven-black hair that framed her face perfectly.
Crimson eyes locked onto mine.
Her body was curved and sharp in equal measure—like a blade wrapped in silk.
Everything about her radiated temptation, danger, and control.
She smiled.
And waved.
But her eyes—cold.
Piercing.
Her smile was a mockery of warmth.
I lifted my hand slightly in return.
Then I turned back to the trio before me, face unreadable.
"Let's make it interesting," I said softly, my voice carrying just enough edge to silence further protest.
The three mages blinked.
I stepped forward. "A duel. If one of you defeats me, I'll give you the method. All three of you."
They stared at me.
"And if I win," I said, "I get what I want."
My demand hadn't changed.
I just gave them a path they could accept—with pride still intact.
For a long moment, the three just looked at each other, trying to gauge my seriousness.
But I was done explaining.
Finally, Brook let out a dry chuckle. "You're insane. But… fine. Deal. When?"
Maron nodded silently.
Elizabeth sighed but didn't object.
A slow smile spread across my face.
"I don't like wasting time," I said. "How about now?"
Before they could respond, I waved my hand, and three glowing mana contracts appeared in the air.
Golden parchment bound in seal chains, radiating authenticity and weight.
"Choose who's fighting," I said. "And sign the contracts."
They each caught their contract and began to read, the hall thick with the scent of ink, mana, and old ambition.
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