Chapter 6
Acquiring the Void Attribute (2)
A small flame burned atop his palm.
This was the Imperial Vault. A restricted sanctuary where even the most trivial magic could not manifest.
Tidick, tick. Tick.
He stared down at the tiny flame.
It was silent. Wrapped in stillness, not a single trace of sound echoed through the chamber.
‘I can’t even detect the flow of mana within myself.’
It clearly existed, yet simultaneously did not—much like the feeling of erasing dense, black lettering from a sheet of paper with a rubber eraser.
Yes, that was the best way to put it.
‘If I had to give a name to this altered property of mana….’
Void (空白). It felt appropriate to describe his mana as having acquired the Void attribute.
Suddenly, his mind flashed back to the day he was caught in a trap during an assassination attempt. If only the detection sensors hadn’t picked up his magical spellwork back then, he would have successfully assassinated Zion Riovelt and escaped unscathed.
‘From now on, no one will ever catch me casting magic. Even after a spell goes off, it’ll be impossible to trace me as the caster.’
The world was currently in the midst of a grand upheaval. In this day and age, magic was no longer an enigma shrouded in mystery, but an object of cold analysis. The very existence of magic engineering was living proof of that shift.
‘Nobody bothers to master magic the hard way anymore.’
With the mass production of magic tools, anyone with enough money could throw spells around. It was a natural evolution.
“An outdated relic of the past—no longer worthy of understanding or analysis.”
That was what magic had become.
However….
‘A prince on the surface. A void mage in the shadows.’
That changed the narrative entirely. It was thrilling. His heart pounded in his chest.
“To be able to use magic as I please, completely undetected.”
He turned his head sharply.
Though he had only re-entered the path of magic two days ago and his current vessel could not cast anything grand just yet, he wanted to test this Void magic as soon as humanly possible.
“Stem of the North Star….”
It was a magic staff—one of the two great sacred relics of the Deveil Royal Family.
He picked up the staff from its display pedestal. With a faint clack, the cool touch of the crystal slid comfortably into his hand.
“Quere Stellam Orbita.”
He whispered the incantation to begin structuring the spell.
A body that had only been initiated two days prior did not possess enough mana within its circuits to weave a proper spell. But that didn’t matter.
Snap!
For an Imperial Prince, every single button on his clothes was made of high-grade mana stones.
“Consume. Activate.”
Though the blood in his veins belonged to the Empire, the magic he practiced was of the Deveil system.
Responding to Zion’s mana, the Stem of the North Star began to radiate light.
Hummmmmmm!
There was a reason this staff had been named the Stem of the North Star. Since ancient times, the North Star had served as a guide for lost travelers. In other words, this staff was a clever tool that could find its way home all on its own, no matter how lost it was.
“Quere Stellam Orbita. Delay. Accumulate. Bide your time, mesh together, and unleash.”
Paths of mana drew themselves in the air, weaving intricate circuits before forming a single magic circle. A magic array—a technique used to delay the spell’s release while granting an enchantment through external structuring.
‘That’s one down. A pity, but I’ll have to stop here for now…. Huh?’
“…Even this works?”
The Stem of the North Star, much like the Ring of the Guide, was an artifact that could only be wielded by those of the Deveil royal bloodline. Yet, even in Riovelt’s body, the Ring of the Guide had recognized Zion’s soul and declared a new covenant. The result of that had been the acquisition of the Void attribute.
“To think the Stem of the North Star would grant me its authority as well.”
The staff possessed three primary functions. Aside from basic magic amplification, there were two others. And one of them was—
Click!
The staff’s internal circuits bonded directly with the mana circuits inside Zion’s body.
It was the manifestation of a Soul-Bound Spell.
The Stem of the North Star—a national treasure of an artifact that wouldn’t be an understatement to call the symbol of the Deveil Kingdom—had just bound itself to Zion at this very moment.
Permanently.
‘Your Majesty, late King…. I have reclaimed the sacred relic that was taken from you.’
Zion tightened his grip on the staff.
“I guess you could say I went pheasant hunting, ate the pheasant, ate its eggs, and then caught the fox chasing the pheasant to make a scarf.”
He placed the staff back on the display stand. Taking it out with him right now would only result in it being confiscated.
Yet, he felt no regret whatsoever. Considering the final function of the staff’s three abilities, the relic was already as good as his.
‘To avoid falling under suspicion, I’ll need to create a solid alibi. Setting a delay of a few days should do.’
He set a generous timer for the magic activation.
With that, his business in the Imperial Vault was complete.
‘A week from now should be good. Enjoy the present, you bastards. It’s going to be so sweet it’ll rot your teeth out and pull a few of them while it’s at it.’
Phew. Just thinking about it felt sweet. Hopefully his own teeth wouldn’t rot from the thought alone. Truth be told, his mind was already melting from the sheer satisfaction.
Casting magic inside the Imperial Vault itself and getting away with it unnoticed?!
“Kuuuuh! Now this is real magic.”
Humming a cheerful tune, he strolled toward the exit.
The moment he stepped outside—
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!
A blaring alarm shrieked through the air. Before he knew it, a dozen Imperial Guards and the Commander of the Guard were standing right outside the vault.
‘If I recall, the Commander of the Guard holds a rank equivalent to a Duke, right? Same treatment as a Prince.’
“9th Prince. What have you taken?”
Seeing as the man skipped the bow and spoke in a half-informal tone, that assessment seemed correct. Which meant that even as a prince, he shouldn’t treat the Guard Commander lightly… technically.
‘Not my problem. I’m a trashy scoundrel, after all.’
This was the very body that had beaten a Viceroy half to death just a few days ago.
“If you have something to ask this Prince, observe proper etiquette first.”
“9th Prince. Hand over everything you have taken. If you refuse to comply, I will strictly enforce the law under the Emperor’s mandate.”
“You sure are picky.”
“I merely uphold the gravity of the law.”
“Ah, is that so? Then go ahead, try and take it.”
As if showing off, he thrust out his hand—more specifically, extending his middle finger, which was wearing the Ring of the Guide.
“9th Prince… do not push it.”
Feeling insulted, the Commander’s face flushed red as his brows furrowed deeply.
“Look at the ring, not the finger. I tried it on inside, but it won’t come off.”
“Is that true?”
Grabbing Zion’s hand, the Commander pulled and strained with all his might for quite a while, but the ring didn’t budge an inch.
“What now? Going to chop my finger off?”
Zion smirked mockingly.
The 3rd Prince stared silently at the Chief Steward who was delivering his report.
“So. You are saying the ring cannot be removed.”
“My deepest apologies. Short of severing the 9th Prince’s finger, recovering the artifact seems impossible—”
“Enough. I will read it myself.”
Interrupting the Chief Steward, the 3rd Prince flipped through the single-page report.
[Cause of spatial fixation: Unknown.]
[Other changes: None.]
[Even considering the anomaly, artifact grade remains lowest. Unlikely to re-evaluate.]
Since this was a direct analysis conducted by a imperial department, even though it was phrased as an estimate, it was practically a confirmed fact.
‘The Ring of the Guide… A treasure only to the Deveil Royal Family. In reality, it’s nothing more than trash unworthy of occupying space in the Imperial Vault.’
In the past, the Empire had pillaged every relic they could lay their hands on from Deveil. The Ring of the Guide was merely a piece of junk swept up in that process.
It couldn’t even be compared to ‘That Relic’—the primary reason why the Empire had looted the kingdom in the first place.
‘And yet, in the end, even ‘That Relic’ was never found.’
Legend had it that the Deveil Kingdom harbored a relic touched by the divine—a cliché savior legend claiming it would shine brightly whenever the kingdom faced dire peril. However, the source of that information had been highly credible, leading the Empire to believe in its existence.
‘We swallowed the kingdom whole and scoured every inch for decades. Even after pouring in a massive budget, we failed to uncover a single clue.’
It had been a false legend. Much like how the Imperial Family widely propagated the lie that they were descendants of gods for propaganda purposes.
Alternatively, he thought, perhaps the origin of the legend was simply their royal bloodline, which produced a genius of magical talent once every generation. While half-joking, seeing how it had given birth to a monster like Zion Bleise, the theory wasn’t entirely baseless.
The 3rd Prince’s jaw tightened.
‘Zion Bleise. Zion Bleise.’
When he had used that shame of a bloodline, Zion Riovelt, as bait to haul in the big catch known as the Raven of Deveil, the 3rd Prince—despite his cold, emotionless nature—had almost leaped for joy. Zion Bleise was a monumental capture in his own right, a versatile piece he could play like a Queen on a chessboard.
And yet, that bastard had vanished.
‘How on earth did he pull off a prison break through such tight security?’
The symbol and hope of the Deveil Liberation Army, ‘The Raven’—Zion Bleise.
For nearly a year after his capture, not a single day went by without an article about him plastered across the Empire’s newspapers. To announce his escape now, after all that propaganda?
There was no greater humiliation. The Empire’s prestige would plunge into the dirt.
‘In the current political climate, I cannot afford to waste time and mental energy on someone as insignificant as the 9th Prince. In the first place…… no matter how lowly the 9th Prince may be, his nobility cannot be compared to the scraps of a fallen kingdom.’
The 3rd Prince turned his gaze toward the central palace, located in the vast heart of the imperial grounds. His Imperial Majesty would undoubtedly arrive at the same conclusion.
The grandeur of divine blood was far too high and noble.
“We will not retrieve the ring.”
As the Chief Steward let out a faint sigh of relief, the 3rd Prince watched him coldly. The 3rd Prince was thoroughly pragmatic; he did not tolerate incompetence in his subordinates, nor did he keep anyone who made the wrong choice due to poor judgment by his side.
“What matters now is how we handle that good-for-nothing bastard.”
The disgrace of the Imperial Family. A piece of trash so revolting that calling him ‘brother’ brought a wave of nausea.
While already slated for imprisonment, Zion Riovelt had managed to commit two additional major offenses.
“How has the 1st Prince reacted?”
“He remains quiet for now.”
On the surface, Zion Riovelt belonged to the 3rd Prince’s faction. That was because they had staged his expulsion from the palace and subsequent retrieval merely to use him as bait.
“It is obvious the 1st Prince will attempt a political assault using this incident. Devise a countermeasure.”
“Understood, Your Highness. I will gather all the strategists immediately to craft a scheme that turns this situation into an opportunity.”
It was a proper response, yet the 3rd Prince continued to stare at the Chief Steward in silence.
“How many hours have passed since that fool caused the incident?”
“……Five hours, Your Highness.”
In other words, he had failed to come up with a way to mitigate the damage for five whole hours.
That was incompetence.
“I will give you one hour.”
“U-Understood!”
Watching the sweating Chief Steward, the 3rd Prince rubbed his temples.
‘That trash will only continue to cause me losses if left unattended.’
Even bad cards must be given a purpose, but once a card loses its utility, it must be discarded without hesitation. Having lost his sole reason for existence as bait, Zion Riovelt was nothing more than baggage—no, a heap of filth.
A disgusting presence that reeked just by staying near him….
The 3rd Prince’s expression shifted.
‘If merely having him nearby causes losses… why not drop him right next to my enemy?’
A scheme that could kill two birds with one stone crossed his mind.
The 1st Prince’s territory. The reaction the 1st Prince would show upon being struck by a pile of filth. The additional profits that could be reaped from the opening created while his attention was diverted.
He made his decision.
“Chief Steward. I have decided on the 9th Prince’s punishment. We will proceed like this.”
Gazing down at the wanted poster resting on his desk—the face of Zion Bleise, the Empire’s worst criminal—the 3rd Prince spoke.
“We will present him as a gift to the 1st Prince. Predict the aftermath and draft a full report.”
And with that, Zion Riovelt’s fate was sealed.
It had been three days since he was dragged out of the Imperial Vault.
He had undergone more than ten interrogations and examinations. In the end, while the Ring of the Guide proved to have no active function whatsoever, it was officially declared impossible to remove from Zion’s finger.
‘The Imperial mages sure suffered a blow to their pride when they couldn’t undo the soul-binding.’
Seeing their faces turn beet red as they huffed in frustration had been a delight to watch.
Either way, the Empire wasn’t about to spill imperial blood over a useless magic tool, so the Ring of the Guide was officially left in Zion’s possession—though he was slapped with a fine as compensation.
‘Still, after causing such a mess, I didn’t even get to see the Emperor’s face once.’
Then again, the Emperor of the Empire was famously shrouded in mystery. By deifying the Imperial bloodline as divine, they deliberately crafted an image of the Emperor at the very top as a mysterious, enigmatic figure. It likely doubled as a security measure against assassination attempts as well.
‘A bit disappointing, but even if I got an audience, an assassination would be impossible right now anyway.’
Unless he regained his status as an Archmage, assassinating the Emperor was completely out of the question for now, even with the Void attribute. Therefore, it was best to focus entirely on his immediate objective.
“Exile to Deveil. Exile to Deveil. Mmm……”
He had to get his prison sentence commuted to exile. And he had to ensure the exile location was set to Deveil.
The problem was how.
‘It’s not like I can just raise my hand and say, “Hey, I want to be exiled to Deveil,” and expect them to listen.’
He had been pondering for three days since the incident, but no brilliant idea had come to mind. He was decent at coming up with petty tricks, but he had always left actual strategic planning to that coward, Kairon.
If he had known things would turn out like this, he would have practiced using his head a bit more.
‘Ah, who am I kidding? A guy like me should just stick to what he’s good at.’
The 3rd Prince will probably deliver the sentence himself again, right? Should I subtly cast a brainwashing spell on him then?
Though, with my current level, casting brainwashing would shave off decades of my lifespan. Hmm.
Is it really worth that much?
Knock, knock, knock!
“Come in.”
“Your Highness. His Highness the 3rd Prince has summoned you.”
At the old butler’s message, Zion pushed himself up.
“Still haven’t thought of a way. Oh well, it’ll work out somehow.”
“A way, you say? What do you mean by…?”
“None of your business.”
“I beg for your forgiveness, Your Highness!”
Seeing the old butler drop to his knees, preparing to slam his head onto the floor, Zion reached out and caught his shoulders to pull him back up.
“……?”
Without saying another word, Zion brushed past him.
Today would likely be the last time he’d see that face, too.
‘Now for the climax.’
The word that signified the peak of a play.
The grand climax of everything he had orchestrated since taking over Zion Riovelt’s body was happening right now.
‘Whichever way it goes, let’s bring this to a kickass conclusion with no regrets.’
He was going to Deveil, no matter what.
Even if it meant resorting to brainwashing the 3rd Prince.
“Choose.”
The 3rd Prince spoke abruptly without missing a beat.
“Will you be locked away in a cell, or will you accept exile to Deveil?”
“Pardon?”
Zion, who had just stepped into the office and was about to sit down, froze mid-crouch.
‘Wait… it’s happening just like that?’
He had spent the entire day stressing over how to wangle an exile, and it just fell into his lap this easily?
“Exile to… Deveil…?”
A laugh threatened to burst out, but he fought with everything he had to suppress it.
‘If I laugh here, it’s all over. I have to hold it in.’
An opportunity to live as Deveil’s sole prince of divine blood. In other words, a chance to become the highest authority and aid in the liberation of his homeland.
To think he could grasp it in his hands without having to do a single thing.
‘Still, this makes me feel a tiny bit guilty, doesn’t it?’
Assuming things wouldn’t go his way, he had gone ahead and left a massive surprise hidden back in the Imperial Vault.
Well, whether those Imperial bastards ended up in chaos or not was none of his concern anyway.
