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Chapter 1
Murdering the Fiancée
There was a singular figure who became an Arch Mage solely through hatred.
His name was Ferda Rosnova.
Born as the third son in the knightly Rosnova family, he was particularly frail of body.
Because he was a concubine's child and possessed blue eyes instead of the brown eyes hereditary to the family line, even the Rosnova household's servants habitually disregarded Ferda.
Ultimately, his father Eremvalt Rosnova delivered a piece of news to Ferda in the year he turned 18.
Е ǹ ū m̀ а̌_._і_d̃
"An engagement between you and Duke Valdrova has been arranged."
One might think it a simple betrothal ceremony, but among nobles, 'engagement to the Duke' was an idiom.
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Simply put, it was a kind of death sentence.
A choice between admitting self-expulsion from this family, or dying.
"I shall leave as you wish, Father."
"Good."
Е̊ n̆ ūmа .і́ d
Ferda, valuing his life more, naturally chose to live, and had to cast aside the Rosnova name and go out into the world.
A great sense of betrayal took root in young Ferda's heart.
He could not forgive the older brothers who had looked down on him, nor the household staff.
What angered him most was, of course, his father.
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'You knew all about my efforts, and yet...'
He had forced his weak body to move, striving to become a member of this family.
É nùm̌.ã .i̇ d
Every single day, he practiced until he vomited blood and calluses embedded themselves in his hands.
The gaze of his father, who had looked upon all that effort as if it were praiseworthy.
But as years passed with no progress, that expression gradually changed as well.
As if the child he had raised all along was a cuckoo chick.
By the time he was finally expelled from the family, his father's expression was as if he were looking down at filth.
Even days later, that gaze remained vivid in his senses.
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'I can't forgive you.'
Sorrow gradually twisted into the emotion of anger, and blazed into a fire of revenge.
'Those who slight me and look down on me—I will never forgive them.'
Ferda clenched his fist tightly.
At that moment, Ferda felt something stir and awaken within his body.
It was the moment when mana in his core began rotating in a single circle—the moment what is called a Circle was opened.
Еn̆ŭm a . і̄ d́
The day Ferda Rosnova was cast out from his family, he became a mage.
* * *
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Awakening as a mage is a blessing.
For on this Serdes Continent, one's status changes simply by being able to wield magic.
However, awakening at age 18 like Ferda was a pitiable matter.
Because it was far too late.
Еń úm а
All mages use their inner power as a driving force.
To fully master that concept, one had to train from a young age.
If not done in youth, one had to suffer several times more in old age to learn that concept.
That should have been the case, but for Ferda, even a late awakening was no problem.
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The driving force that drew up his mana was precisely hatred and a desire for revenge.
-To think he'd make a fuss about becoming a mage at that age.
Е̃ǹû mа
-He said he'd do anything he's told, so we can just think of it as having gained a useful slave until graduation.
What spurred that driving force on were the senior mages who disregarded him, and the young juniors.
Since he had awakened late, that driving force was scattered all around him in abundance.
'Keep barking like that for all your days. I'll make sure you end up licking every corner of my toes!'
His burning desire to become strong and his obsession with revenge did not fade, and with each passing day they made him stronger.
Before long, he not only surpassed the promising senior mages but even lightly surpassed the master who had taught him.
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For a while, his toes were polished smooth and shiny, with no time for dust to settle.
Thus, when Ferda ascended to the position of a 6th Circle opener—commonly called an Arch Mage—of which there were fewer than 100 on the continent, his full-fledged revenge drama began.
He returned to the Rosnova family that had cruelly cast him out and killed them all just as they were.
He forced swords into the hands of the servants who had insulted him and made them kill each other.
He sowed discord between the eldest and second sons, making them hate each other until they ultimately destroyed one another.
And his father, against whom his grudge was deepest, he made watch all of this unfold.
Ė n ũma. ï d̀
Witnessing everything he had built up and was meant to protect crumble miserably, Eremvalt finally went mad, aging and withering as if decades older.
He became a wreck, like a ghost wandering the mortal world.
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And so, everything associated with the Rosnova family vanished, save for Ferda.
'Revenge is.......'
It was the moment the revenge Ferda had so desperately longed for was achieved.
'......Not yet over.'
Е n u ṁа̇
But by the time he realized that, he had already crossed a river too wide.
Ferda, who had needed power for revenge, now began to seek revenge for the sake of power.
'If there's nothing to avenge, I can create it. If there's nothing to hate, I can create it.'
Thus, forcibly hating and taking revenge on everything, Ferda grew steadily stronger.
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To stop the twisted Ferda, swords were drawn from all corners of the continent.
But trials always only made him stronger, serving merely as stepping stones for growth.
W е bn̊.ôv е̄ l E̊ň u m̃ а̊
And so Ferda reached the highest realm a human could attain.
At the age of 45.
He reached the 8th Circle, called the Mana Lord, at a young age.
His power became so immense that none could look down on him, and even the Emperor had to bow his head.
'I must erase it all.'
Yet he was still not satisfied.
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Even with everything beneath his feet, his vengefulness did not subside.
'Everything that rejects me...... I will erase it all.'
To create his own utopia, Ferda began to covet even the domain of gods.
After five years of research, he finally discovered the ultimate material needed to reach that place.
It was none other than the Dragon Heart.
As it happened, there was one dragon his hatred could reach.
Eñ ǔ ṁ а̇
'Duke Valdrova.'
His fiancée.
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The pretext Eremvalt used to expel Ferda.
The true identity of that existence was precisely a Red Dragon.
* * *
-Fate is truly a twisted thing.
Ŵе̂ḃ ǹ.о v̈е̇l̇ Enu m̂ а
Strangely enough, the one who spoke those words was the dragon said to be the strongest on the continent.
Red scales and magnificent horns.
Overwhelming eyes and wings that seemed to cover the world were objects symbolizing its stature.
But now it was different.
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Scales were peeled away in patches, horns were broken and snapped, and bright red blood streamed endlessly from within them.
The one who had driven a dragon, which could casually annihilate nations, into such a state was none other than a single mage.
Е̌ nũ.m а
-To think my betrothed would come to kill me.
Ferda smiled.
That smile was closer to a bluff, a show of his superiority.
As much as he had driven the dragon to the brink of death, his own body was not intact either.
"It would be better for you to die quietly by my hand, Valdrova."
-I am... aware that I bear the name of Tyrant. However, for these past few decades, even before you were born, I have never once shown myself. And I have never harmed any human. So... I cannot understand why you bear such hostility toward me.
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"You did nothing?"
Valdrova's calm tone sounded like the words of someone with an easy conscience.
Irritation surged within Ferda.
"You were the root cause that set my revenge in motion."
From the time he became a victim of the engagement ceremony, everything had twisted for Ferda.
Ferda poured out his emotions fervently.
Е̇ n ǔ mа̂
"Because of you, you wench...! Because of your pointless greed in seeking a fiancé, the justification for my expulsion from the family was completed!"
-Was that... because of me?
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"Yes! Because you indulged in pointless greed! Did you know that your greed, a brutish dragon trying to take a human as a mate, gave birth to misfortune!?"
Ferda exhaled roughly, then let out a bitter laugh.
"But at the same time, I am grateful. Thanks to that, I was able to rise to this position."
-Is that so....
Е̌nů m̈ а̃
Valdrova's face twitched strangely.
Was she angry?
She might be preparing a final desperate struggle.
Ferda focused on drawing in external mana and making it his own.
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By expressing his hatred just moments ago, mana had accumulated.
-Yes, so it was. I understand now.
Ĕ n̄ū m а
Valdrova's massive body moved.
She revealed her claws.
Sharp, hard blades that could tear knights apart with a single swing.
Ferda reflexively prepared a Magic Circle.
Though late, with this he could at least manage a mutual destruction.
She raised her claws, but did not aim them at Ferda.
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The place where her claws dug in was her own chest.
Puh-ook!
Ferda could not comprehend that action.
What was the meaning of that self-harm?
Tearing through her tough hide, the internal organs within were starkly exposed.
-Your magic requires my heart, did you say?
Wеb̊ n о v̂е l̀_ Е̇n̂u m а
Ddu-duk—!
The sound of blood vessels snapping.
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Ferda understood.
She was trying to destroy her own heart.
"No!"
Ferda unleashed a barrage of magic at her face.
Еn̈ ŭ m̀ а̄_
"No, you filthy wench! Can't you stop right now?!"
Ferda could not allow her to destroy her own heart.
It was the one and only chance to reach the 9th Circle.
He absolutely could not miss this opportunity!
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The scales protecting her head shattered into fragments and scattered.
But Valdrova's hand did not stop.
Е̌ ñ.um̆ а̄.ĩd
The sound of tearing blood vessels and muscles echoed ceaselessly.
-You said you needed my heart?
And so, Valdrova's claw was pulled out from within her entrails.
What emerged along with her claw was a mass of flesh larger than Ferda's head.
"......A heart?"
It was maintaining its form perfectly intact.
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What she had done was not destruction, but extraction.
-Take it.
Valdrova's half-destroyed head spoke thus.
Had it been the usual Ferda, he would have picked it up with thanks.
But even the twisted Ferda could not understand her action, and stared blankly down at the heart.
"......Why did you make this choice?"
É n̈ù m̃а́ .і̌ d̂
Ferda posed the question.
"If you had moved... you could have killed me easily enough, couldn't you? There's no way you didn't know that, is there?"
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-If I were to struggle desperately at the end... undoubtedly, you would die as well. It is something I know.
"What is the reason you didn't?"
-Because you became unhappy because of me.
Even in that moment, Ferda stood frozen.
Е̇nü ḿа . ǐ d
Valdrova no longer had the strength left to hold up her neck.
-I have... hated myself for a very long time.
A thick loathing seeped through her calm tone.
-I so hated this violent blood flowing through my veins. I hated myself, who raged without reason and possessed the impulse to destroy. What I hated most was that these things frightened people.
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The color in her golden eyes grew faint.
Something welled up within her eyes, then rolled down her cheek and fell.
Е̊ n u m̆ ȧ
It was tears.
A dragon's tears are different from a human's.
Dragons are not emotional creatures that shed tears over things like sadness.
Yet those tears seemed as if they were formed solely of sorrow.
-If I died, everything would be resolved, yet I lived on, hoping for happiness.... My foolish dream must have caused trouble for so many.
"......."
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-Since you became unhappy because of me, mortal, my betrothed, I wish for you to be happy, by all means, through me. For that is the last thing... I can do for you.
Along with her final breath, her life faded away.
The continent's hidden tyrant, Valdrova, met her death in that manner.
Ferda stared blankly down at Valdrova, who had quietly closed her eyes.
For the first time since becoming a mage through anger, he felt a strange emotion.
'Why does it feel so unsettling?'
Ẇ eb n̈о v е́l Е̇ n̄ u ma
Ferda unconsciously placed a hand on his own chest.
He was Ferda, who had come to this place by stepping over countless corpses.
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He had killed all who obstructed him, and seized everything he needed, growing his power.
He himself knew he was a broken being, lacking conscience and empathy.
Yet her death, for some reason, held Ferda back by the ankles.
As if it were a curse she had placed.
Е̇ nů m̌ă
'Don't think about it, Ferda.'
Move forward.
Take what you sought to seize.
He picked up the object she had taken out.
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The Dragon Heart.
The source that allowed one to reach the 9th Circle, the dream of all mages.
Ѐ n̊u̇m̆ a. і̂ d̆
An object that could elevate one from Arch Mage to the ranks of Demigod, transcending existence.
He would absorb this.
And take revenge on everything.
On everything, even the reasons for which he had forgotten.
Ferda absorbed the Essence contained within that heart.
As the Essence of a dragon that had lived since ancient times flowed through his veins, his blood began to boil.
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The moment the immense power flowed in, Ferda felt an anomaly.
'This is....'
A sensation that allowed him to feel Valdrova's lifetime.
'Her emotions?'
Those emotions became a part of Ferda without any chance to resist.
"Ah...."
Еn̈ u mа̃ . і ḋ
Ferda let out an exclamation.
His head began to clear astonishingly.
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The hatred and vengefulness that had been the driving force of his power were disappearing.
Had her blood cleared Ferda's mind?
'No.'
The emotion felt from that heart was closer to negation.
Еn̊ŭ m̊а̊.i d
It was an emotion as if standing at the edge of an abyss, incomparable to Ferda's hatred or anger.
A Red Dragon who had lived for thousands of years, yet had never once been loved.
Uncontrollable power's fury, Red Evil Dragon, Dragon Slayer....
As titles based on notoriety were superimposed onto her image, Valdrova became a complete tyrant.
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These were the curses she had accumulated over the ages.
Yet Valdrova loved those trivial things.
Е̊ n̂um̄ ӓ. і d
Therefore, she chose to hide herself.
Because she loved everyone, she steadfastly endured loneliness and sorrow.
That was why Ferda's mind had cleared.
Because to Ferda, this anger and hatred he himself felt seemed so utterly trivial.
"Ahhh...."
A small exclamation spilled from Ferda's lips.
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Since becoming a mage, he had never once been in his right mind.
For the first time, he could be himself.
"What have I... done?"
Blinded by revenge, he had ultimately been swallowed by that power and destroyed everything.
Was that what I truly desired?
He suddenly found himself ruminating on the dream he had held in his childhood.
Е n̂ū m a. і̃ d
'What I truly wanted was....'
Was it to become an Arch Mage?
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'To live an ordinary life... building a family.'
The image of himself striving for such a humble wish now cruelly slaughtered Ferda's conscience, which had grown far too immense.
"Ahhh...."
Ferda closed his eyes just like that.
W ё bn о̀vе̂l̇ Еn̂um ā
A Circle was drawn before him.
As the Circles were completed one by one, his life flashed by like a panorama.
When he opened the 1st Circle, the sorrow of being expelled from his family.
The 2nd Circle, the anger when he was mocked for having no talent.
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Inferiority complex, resentment, jealousy, sense of betrayal....
Ferda's Circles were all built upon negated emotions.
Е́n ŭ mā
He did not hesitate to betray if it meant survival, and repeated bat-like acts to become stronger.
Thus Ferda became an 8th Circle Arch Mage.
The emotion he felt upon reaching the 9th Circle was.
'Emptiness....'
It was a feeling as if everything had become meaningless.
At the same time, he was angry.
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Because Valdrova, that woman, had turned everything he had done until now into a mistake.
"You stupid, imbecilic wench...."
Ferda tried resenting her.
But there was no feeling of it becoming a driving force as before.
He knew well himself that these were words he didn't even mean in his heart.
In truth, the stupid one was himself, who had resented her.
En̆ ú m a. і̆ḋ
In the first place, being expelled from the family was inevitable, and she was merely a pretext.
Even though he wasn't unaware of that, he had taken his anger out on her.
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Valdrova had accepted that foolish sophistry as her own sin.
And wished for one person's happiness.
Ferda let out a hollow laugh.
Contrary to Ferda's heart, the 9th Circle Magic Circle was shining brightly.
Е̄ n ú ṁ а . ї d̆
The spell a mage who has reached the 9th Circle can cast is just one thing.
'Wish.'
It was an absolute crystallization that defied the providence of all creation, granting everything one hoped for exactly as desired.
A simple spell requiring just a single word.
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Though he held what he had so desperately desired in his hands, Ferda couldn't speak, as if his throat were tightly blocked.
He reproached himself for having run forward for decades, looking only at revenge,
W̄ eb̊.n о́ v̀ ѐl Е̊n̂ u̇mȧ
He loathed his own pettiness for remembering the names of everyone to retaliate against,
And so, that emotion which ultimately could not be expressed in words was understood by his heart.
"It's meaningless...."
The Magic Circle shone brightly.
When the light completely subsided, the 9th Circle Arch Mage had vanished without a trace.
* * *
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"......Ferda?"
"......."
"Ferda."
No, consciousness returned.
As the bright light lifted and a voice calling him was heard, Ferda opened his eyes.
Before him sat not a bleeding dragon, but some middle-aged man.
Е ǹům̌ а. їd
"Ferda? Are you listening?"
"......Yes?"
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"What do you mean, 'Yes.' Your father was speaking, and you've just been staring blankly this whole time?"
The middle-aged man before him frowned.
Ferda knew who this man was.
'Eremvalt Rosnova.'
Е̌n ū.m̊а̌
An existence he had once affectionately called Father.
Unlike the last time Ferda had seen him, he appeared hale and hearty.
Had he died and come to the afterlife?
But for that, everything felt like déjà vu.
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'This place... is it that?'
Ferda could understand quickly.
E.nǔ m̈ a . іd
A time when he was alone with his father, who had never once had a proper conversation with him in his life.
There had been only one such time.
"Your engagement to Duke Valdrova has been decided. It is a matter determined by the state, so I hope you will follow it without complaint."
Engagement to Duke Valdrova.
'Did I not die, but return to this time?'
That time he had considered the beginning of his misfortune.
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The time that had become the starting point of his uncontrollable vengefulness.
'Why?'
He still couldn't understand it with his head.
But his heart already knew.
What he had wished for within that emptiness.
"Huh."
Ŵе b̂ňо̇v̆е̃ l Е̃ n u̇ ṁ а
An awkward sigh escaped Ferda's lips.
"You brat, are you sighing while I'm speaking?"
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"I apologize. It's nothing."
"Repeat back what your father just said."
"You said there is an engagement to Duke Valdrova."
"You understand well what that means, don't you?"
W ĕb ñо̂ vе l̊ Еn̊u m̀.ȧ
"I understand."
Get out of this house.
Having understood it that way, Ferda answered his father.
"I understand."
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"Good, you must have suffered greatly in your heart as well... Huh?"
His father's eyes widened roundly as he looked again.
Ẁӗḃ n ӧv е̃ l Е̊ nû ḿа́
"Wh-what did you just say?"
Ferda looked down at the documents placed before him and answered once more.
The meaning of this Return was to face what he had been unable to do in his previous life.
"I will do it, that engagement."
It was to become engaged to the Tyrant Valdrova.
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