Al and Harun walked down the side corridor of the estate toward the dim garden ahead, thin mist drifting quietly through the area.
At the end of the narrow stone path, a two-story building came into view, faintly lit by the rising moon.
Moss crawled along its walls, while the rusted iron window frames were slowly rotting away.
Overgrown grass wrapped around the foundation, and an old garden lamp flickered weakly, as if on the verge of going out.
Al followed behind Harun in silence, footsteps echoing faintly along the corridor. The distant sound of the other servants faded, leaving only stillness.
He closed his eyes for a moment. A flicker of memory surfaced—
a cramped orphanage with a leaky roof, spoiled rice, children's laughter echoing through dusty halls, and the promise of a kind old woman he once loved:
"You'll find your home someday…"
Now, he was here.
But to him, this place already felt colder than that orphanage.
Al could only shake his head and let out a sigh, pushing the tedious thoughts aside before turning his attention to his surroundings
So this is what nighttime feels like in this residence—fairly quiet.
He lingered in his gaze, until finally, a glint caught his eye.
Hm… Strangely, there were barely any spiritual beings around.
Normally, a secluded place like this would be crawling with them. So it was true—some kind of exorcism had been performed here, he analyzed.
Or maybe they were gathering inside that building, just like they had said. Or perhaps…
He paused, his gaze fixed on the structure that would soon become his room, standing not far ahead.
…it was because of whatever was emanating from that small building.
Al continued his observation, feeling the energy vibrations and scanning the higher points around him.
The aura here was naturally a bit negative, which was fine, but what was strange was the lack of spiritual beings.
But what's that over there? he muttered, his gaze moving to several tall tree branches.
Several dark shadows perched up there, all staring at him intently.
Al wanted to get a closer look, but by then they had already arrived at the building.
From the outside, the building was fairly large, more than enough to serve as Al's base of power in this area.
But something about it stood out. A strange energy was clearly nesting inside… and beneath it as well, without a doubt.
Harun stood before the old door. Even though he had braced himself, his body told a different story—chills crept down his spine all the same.
He pulled out a slightly rusted iron key. A heavy click echoed as he turned it in the lock.
"This is it," Harun said without any preamble, slowly pushing the door open.
The moment it parted, a strange aura washed over them.
Al's eyes sharpened, but he saw nothing. For now, it was just an uncomfortable sensation—an instinctive unease.
He couldn't tell what might happen once he stepped fully inside.
Harun moved first, though he didn't really go in. One foot remained outside as he leaned forward, reaching for the switch and turning on a dim light.
Watching that, Al was mildly surprised. So even an elegant butler could be scared of ghosts. Still, he didn't think much of it.
The first floor was finally revealed. The room was dim, but clear enough to show its condition.
Dust and cobwebs clung to every surface. The floorboards creaked softly underfoot. The air reeked of damp wood, mixed with the faded sting of old mothballs.
Broken crates and discarded planks were scattered in the corners. It looked far more like an abandoned shed than what used to be a cat house.
Harun quickly stepped back out and gestured for Al to enter.
Al walked in without hesitation, showing no fear at all.
Harun couldn't help feeling a little envious. He hadn't expected the young man before him to be this bold.
Sensing Harun's gaze, Al merely shook his head. His attention stayed on the room as he carefully observed it for a moment, then turned back toward Harun.
"This is better than I expected," he said calmly. "In that case, let's head up to the second floor."
The moment Al mentioned the second floor, Harun panicked.
"Th-the second floor? Do I… have to… go with you? But, young master… that… the second floor…" he stammered, unable to finish his sentence properly.
Al could only sigh at the sight. He wanted to scold Harun, but right now he felt too lazy for that. All he wanted was to clean the place and get some rest.
Crossing his arms, he muttered,
"I really don't get it. You're an elegant butler with the calm face of a religious practitioner, yet you're scared of ghosts."
In the end, he simply waved his hand.
"Forget it. No need. I'll do it myself," he said lazily. "Just tell me—where are the cleaning tools? I'd like to clean it myself."
Harun didn't respond right away. His eyes widened slightly, tense, as if something deep in his thoughts had been stirred.
On one hand, he felt a bit offended. On the other, there was guilt. He knew he should be the one obeying his master.
Yet hearing Al volunteer felt like a strange relief—not because of laziness, but because he still hadn't fully grown accustomed to Al's presence in this household.
He gazed at Al quietly, his eyes subtly distant despite the polite smile on his lips.
"I'm sorry, young master. Next time, I will serve you better," Harun said firmly.
"As for the cleaning tools, they're in the storage room behind the kitchen, near the service staircase. The staff knows the place," he finally added.
"The sleeping arrangements are kept there as well. You may take whatever you need. As for the rest of the installations, we'll handle them tomorrow morning."
"All right. Thank you," Al replied briefly, not wanting to drag the conversation out.
Harun nodded.
"I apologize once again, young master," he added softly.
"Normally, I prepare everything for the young masters… but since you expressed a desire to clean it yourself, I assumed you wished to begin building independence."
His words sounded professional, but there was a subtle note of reluctance beneath them—not rude, but unmistakable.
Al merely nodded.
"No problem. I'm more used to doing things myself than being served. Besides, I'm sure you wouldn't be too comfortable taking orders from me anyway. I understand."
Harun's eyes widened slightly.
He knows?
This kid… he's sharper than I thought. Is he going to confront me about it? The thought sent a flicker of panic through him.
Al, seeing Harun's stunned silence, smiled lightly and gave his shoulder a casual pat.
"Relax. I'm not the kind to make a fuss over something this small."
Harun exhaled quietly. Maybe there wouldn't be a problem after all.
But then...
"However…" Al continued, his tone casual, yet edged with steel.
"...I don't want something like this to happen again. Whether it's from other servants—or especially from you, who should understand your position better."
His eyes sharpened.
"...You'd better decide soon who your master is."
Harun froze, eyes wide. A cold sweat broke on his skin. He didn't fully understand what the boy meant.
"You may go," Al added, breaking Harun's stunned silence.
Harun snapped out of it, stumbled slightly, then bowed politely.
"Th-Then I'll excuse myself. If you need anything, just call a servant. But… male servants only."
Al blinked at that, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in disbelief.
Even while panicking, he still had time to slip that in. But that's understandable for now, he sighed inwardly.
Once Harun was gone, Al lingered at the doorway for a moment before fully stepping into the dim room.
Dust floated in the air, stirred by the evening breeze seeping through a cracked window.
Inside, he could feel the faint pulse of an energy he had sensed earlier in the day—subtle, ancient… and unmistakably abnormal.
He muttered softly to himself,
"A small, dusty house… and something's here."
His eyes narrowed—not in fear, but curiosity.
Stepping slowly toward a corner of the room, his mind began mapping out a plan—now his mission was no longer just about integration.
Even the mysterious things in this house needed attention.
Once he was sure Harun was long gone and no footsteps echoed nearby, Al gently closed the old door behind him and pocketed his phone.
The creak of the hinges was the only sound, and silence soon returned.
He stood in the center of the room. Moonlight spilled through the window, merging with the soft glow of the lamp, casting floating dust particles into sharp relief.
The magical energy in the room now pulsed more clearly.
Al closed his eyes. Slowly, he knelt and placed one palm against the cool, slightly damp wooden floor.
This resonance… it's not wild energy. Not a disturbance. It's something embedded—deep.
He could feel it faintly coursing from beneath the earth.
It was old.
Buried.
Stable.
Like something slumbering beneath the ground—not a living being, but perhaps an artifact.
Something left behind by a previous generation… or maybe someone from this household had intentionally placed it here.
Al opened his eyes slowly. His gaze was calm, but focused.
He decided to try something.
(Elemental-Earth) Basic Magic : Earth Control.
He attempted to shift the ground beneath the building, forcing whatever lay buried there to rise to the surface. But—
"Hm?" Al's eyes widened. "My magic isn't working?"
He slowly straightened up and stared at the floor.
"Some kind of anti-magic barrier?" he muttered as he analyzed the situation. "I didn't expect it to be guarded this tightly. Whatever's down there must be important."
Letting out a sigh, he added,
"Looks like I'll have to do this the conventional way. Huff… this is going to be tiring."
He stretched his arms and grumbled under his breath.
"I don't know how important this thing is…" he murmured. "But for now, I'll leave it be. Stirring this place up while I'm being watched would be a pain."
He looked toward the window. Outside, faint silhouettes—dark shadows—stood around the estate, all facing one direction: This place.
He scanned the room.
"This space is wide enough—six or seven people could fit comfortably," he muttered. "But… it's not enough for the dozens of eyes trying to pierce into it."
Al smiled faintly and brought his hands together. A subtle pulse of magical energy shimmered around him, flowing to his palms.
He interlaced his fingers and whispered:
(Dark) Advance Magic : Illusion Barrier
Fwussshhh!
A wave of arcane energy swept outward, enveloping the small building.
It was a light illusion barrier—undetectable by most, enough to distort the perception of anyone watching from afar. But not from up close.
Luckily, no one would dare get that close.
"And now, the finishing touch," Al said calmly.
With one smooth motion, he raised his right hand. The air grew a little colder, a soft breeze sweeping gently through the room.
A silvery white light began to glow in his palm—subtle, not blinding, but enough to softly illuminate the space. With a lazy flick of his wrist—
Advance Magic : Clean Magic.
A quiet swirl of cleansing magic burst forth from his body, sweeping through the entire room in a single pulse.
Dust lifted, cobwebs vanished, and the dull wood gained a faint sheen. The damp air turned crisp, replaced by the fresh scent of mountain air at dawn.
No need for mops and brooms. Magic was far more efficient.
The floor now sparkled. A large fur rug lay neatly in the center—likely once used to keep David's childhood cat warm.
No bed. No pillow. Just one soft spot on the floor.
Looks good. Somehow… I wonder how they'd react if they knew I could clean this filthy area in just one night, he thought.
He let out a slow breath and glanced toward the iron staircase in the corner of the room.
"I can go up to the second floor now," Al said lazily.
"But before that, I should pretend to visit the cleaning tools storage. It'd be suspicious if this place suddenly became clean without me ever going there."
With that excuse in mind, he headed toward the location Harun had mentioned, calmly collected every cleaning tool he needed, then returned to his building.
Not long after, he returned to his building and headed straight up to the second floor.
The space wasn't as wide as the first floor, but for a bedroom, it was more than sufficient. A medium-sized bed had already been installed, though it was covered in dust.
Cracked stains crawled along the walls. The curtains hanging beside the large glass door leading to the balcony were torn and frayed.
Still—overall, the room was usable. Livable.
Al slowly scanned his surroundings, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
So… are there really ghosts here?
A faint crimson gleam surfaced in his gaze.
And sure enough—
Several large shadowy figures revealed themselves.
A woman in a white dress with a shattered face. Pale silhouettes mixed with blackened shapes, their forms warped and unstable.
All of them turned toward Al, faces twisted with rage.
A cold gust swept across the room, heavy and biting, as if declaring their rejection of his presence.
Al simply shook his head.
"So all those horror rumors were caused by weak creatures like this?" he muttered in disbelief.
The faint crimson gleam in his eyes deepened.
His pupils shifted—from pearl-black to blood-red.
The aura around his body changed instantly.
It grew heavier. Denser. Oppressive enough to suffocate the very air.
The spirits that had been preparing to rush toward him froze in place. Their bodies trembled violently, primal instinct screaming at them to flee.
But with Al's nonchalant demeanor, hands tucked into his pockets and a faint smile on his lips…
"Kneel," he said lightly.
An overwhelming pressure—one that could affect even spiritual beings—crashed down upon them.
Their forms were slammed into the floor, pinned by invisible force, compressed as if the very world was pressing down on them.
The space itself shuddered.
Reality quivered under the strain. The ground trembled faintly, animals in the surrounding area instinctively moving away.
A few guards working near the garden felt a faint vibration pass through them, but quickly dismissed it as nothing more than their imagination. It vanished as suddenly as it appeared.
"Did you feel that vibrtaion just now?" one of the guards muttered. "Or am I imagining things?"
"Really?" the other replied. "I think I felt it too… but I'm not sure. My blood pressure's been low lately, so I thought that vibration might've just been my body reacting—some kind of symptom."
"Ah… that makes sense." The first guard nodded. "I've been staying up late recently. Maybe I've got low blood pressure too, haha."
"Hehe." The other guard laughed softly, then glanced toward Al's building. "By the way, I heard that kid is staying there instead of the main residence—and starting tonight, too."
"Yeah, I heard the same thing." The other guard shuddered. "Poor kid. Out of all the buildings, he had to stay in that place."
An uneasy chill crept over both of them as the horror-filled rumors surrounding that building surfaced in their minds.
Meanwhile, inside the room—
The spirits had already been crushed.
Reduced to nothing but drifting particles of dark energy.
Al slowly opened his fingers. With a simple spell, he absorbed all the scattered energy dust into his palm.
And strangely enough, the building—and even the surrounding area—felt brighter than before.
The guards nearby noticed it too. The inexplicable sense of unease they'd always felt around this place was simply… gone.
Al shook his head once more.
"I only told you to kneel," he muttered, watching the last traces of dark energy fade from his palm.
"But you chose to be destroyed instead. Huff… pathetically weak."
He reached out, sensing the flow of energy in the air as he analyzed it.
"Just as they said. This place has already been purified… but—"
His gaze shifted downward.
"…whatever is buried beneath this building seems to be what's drawing all those creatures here. No matter how many times it's purified, new ones will keep coming."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"But I'm here now." He chuckled softly. "Come if you want—just come and be destroyed."
He didn't dwell on it any longer.
Using a touch of magic, he cleaned the second floor with ease.
He then sat down quietly—letting his body rest in complete stillness.
His eyes slowly closed, as though shutting himself away from the noise of the outside world.
A faint, luminous energy soon began to envelop his body, wrapping around him like a soft, glowing mantle.
After a short while, as if he had taken in enough, he gently opened his eyes again and stretched out his hand into the empty air in front of him.
"The energy surrounding this residence is unusually dense…"
"...I truly did not expect to stumble upon a place with such a rich concentration. With this, my magical level should advance by quite a margin," he murmured in a low voice.
He sharpened his focus.
The faint crimson gleam reignited in his eyes, and information began to surface in his mind—data reflecting his current state.
[Name: Al]
[Race: Human]
[Age: 17 years (human) / xxx years (cursed human)]
[Primary Energies (human):
Entra: 19,752 (Grandmaster)
Vita: 19,527 (Grandmaster)
Arma: 19,071 (Grandmaster)]
[Primary Energy (cursed human):
Hxxx: xxx (xxx)]
[Secondary Energies (human): xxx]
[Special Trait (cursed human): xxx]
[Other Parameters: ——]
Al deactivated his special vision and snorted softly before muttering to himself.
"My stable energy currently rests at the upper stage of the Grandmaster level in all three of my primary energies."
He sighed.
"Yet even so, it still does not feel sufficient to suppress the instability of energy and the fluctuations of my emotions. It is nothing but irritating," he whispered faintly.
"But something feels off… Ever since I came back here, there's been an unusual surge of energy interfering with my own," he added.
He shook his head.
"I don't know what it is… but I hope it won't have any negative effects."
He then lifted one hand toward the lamp above him. With a small flick of his finger—
Click.
The lamp instantly went out, shrouding the room in darkness.
This is a world where magic exists—but it isn't some miraculous force that lets you do anything just by imagining it.
It's more like stamina: the more you have, the more you can do. The rest depends on how you use it, and what abilities you possess.
In the end, magic is simply a special kind of energy.
This world still holds remnants of that energy, even though most people have long forgotten it.
Because of that, those who remain connected to the magical realm usually choose to hide their powers from ordinary eyes.
But someone like Al is different—he belongs to neither this world nor its ordinary order, even though he was born into it.
As Al himself had explained, the magical energy of humans was classified into three distinct categories;
- Entra, the energy used to externally manipulate objects or phenomena, the most common form harnessed by magicians.
- Vita, the internal energy that altered and enhanced the body of its wielder, often cultivated by martial artists.
- Arma, the energy used to manipulate the very essence of external objects, a power typically wielded by weapon users.
The amount of magical energies a person possessed—and how well they could control them—determined their overall level.
With that, a person's strength was then categorized into several levels.
Depending on which type of energy they focused on, or whether they had managed to advance in all three simultaneously.
These levels were ranked as: Novice, Adept, Expert, Master, Grandmaster, Saint, Sovereign, Emperor, Legend, and finally, Mythic.
Beyond even that final level, rumors whispered of a level where a person might transcend mortality altogether and step into the domain of the immortal.
Al set his backpack down at the edge of the room, and settled onto the rug. He took a deep breath and smile.
The tall window, curtainless, allowed the moonlight to pour freely inside. The night outside was dark—but peaceful.
"Ouchh," he muttered softly as a slight ache prickled the back of his head.
He sat up and removed a small device from behind his ear.
"I almost forgot."
It was a tiny chip—now damaged—that had apparently been embedded there earlier.
"Good thing this emotion blocker exists," he muttered. "Otherwise, I don't even know what would've happened just now."
"Huff… I'll need to ask for a replacement."
The device was a tool he used to keep his anger under control—a limiter that delivered electric shocks whenever the wearer began losing control.
The stronger the emotional disturbance, the more powerful the shock would become.
All of that was because he was no longer an ordinary human. He was someone who had already been corrupted by dark energy.
A corruption that prevented him from becoming too emotional, because once the limit of what he could still control was crossed… something dark within him would awaken.
Later,
He took some time to lightly manipulate his body with magic. The wounds that had once covered him disappeared instantly, leaving behind no trace at all.
Previously, he had used minor transformation magic to make his body appear wounded.
It was a camouflage—to prevent them from seeing what was on his back, and it had also inadvertently helped him escape from that low-level skirmish with Dedy.
It kept his secret identity safe.
And when his body returned to its original form, a strange mark was revealed on his back. Not very large, but distinct, with a reddish-black hue.
Its shape resembled a seven-pointed star with a unique pattern. People might mistake it for a satanic symbol, but whatever it was… it remained a mystery of its own.
Finally, Al could relax.
He stared at the dim light inside the room.
For a moment, he reflected on everything that had happened earlier—the anger, the chaos, the impulses he had barely restrained.
The quiet of the room, the soft light… it all felt strange, yet oddly grounding, a small reminder of what this place was meant to be.
"So… this is what they call home and family," he muttered, his voice flat. "A family where the children are raised to devour one another."
"But maybe that's just how elites live," he added calmly. "A life soaked in competition."
He shook his head lightly. "It's not that bad… but it's not exactly good either. Either I manage to blend in like a normal person, or…"
A faint smile surfaced.
"…I conquer this family."
He then raised one hand, and a red circle flared on his wrist. The circle glowed, etched with ancient inscriptions, like a burning tattoo.
It was a Glyph—a magical medium he used for long-distance communication. Messages sent through it would enter the recipient's mind directly.
More advanced than telepathy, it could reach far distances and even be broadcast to multiple people.
Unfortunately, it only worked on those with an established connection.
With it, Al sent his message:
"Make sure tonight's patrol goes smoothly," he began.
"Eradicate all human sacrifice operations. Intercept the evil spiritual entities roaming around."
"Don't take unnecessary actions or meddle in other people's affairs more than needed. Our task is only to prevent the abnormal."
Soon after, the voices of dozens, perhaps hundreds, echoed simultaneously in his head.
"Understood, Master!"
Al simply smiled and deactivated the Glyph. The light dimmed and vanished, as if it had never existed on his wrist.
"Yup. We were victims once, and the world would not accept us back," " he murmured.
"But we were ready for that, and we would make sure no more victims were added. And also…"
His voice sharpened.
"…We will ensure that we are accepted by this world once again."
With that declaration, slowly, he let out a slow breath and stared at the ceiling.
Then he moved, tidying up the room, preparing it as a place to sleep for the night.
---
Meanwhile, in David's room…
Far from the evening's lingering tension and the now-quiet dining hall, David's private room stood in chilling silence.
Located on the second floor of the eastern wing of the Virellano main house, the room was vast, but held a cold, unwelcoming aura—like something unseen lurked beneath the surface.
The walls were draped in dark blue fabric with gold trimming, lending an air of restrained luxury.
A crystal chandelier flickered faintly above, offering barely enough light to fill the space.
The only true illumination came from a single candle, glowing quietly atop a black lacquered table in the corner.
At the center of the room, David stood calmly. His nightwear—black silk trimmed with silver—looked more like a military uniform than something meant for sleep.
His eyes were sharp. Controlled.
Before him lay more than a dozen chessboards, each arranged differently, with varying numbers of pieces.
Familiar names were etched onto every board—Edward, Sandra, the six daughters of the Virellano family, and several others.
He stood before the board bearing Aurielle's name. The formation was still far from checkmate, not even close to check, as if the game remained perfectly balanced.
Beside it was the board labeled Sandra, one that needed only a few more moves before checkmate.
He felt satisfied with several of the boards… yet others continued to irritate him.
Soon, he walked to the far end, beside the board labeled Lysha. An empty table stood there, waiting.
He placed a new board on it and began arranging the pieces.
The setup ended with one pawn fallen on David's side—as if the opponent on that board had already claimed his first piece.
When he attached the nameplate to the board, his teeth clenched. Irritation surged, and dark energy leaked from his body.
The name read:
Al
A figure he had dismissed—yet one who had already disrupted his opening move.
Moments later, he calmed himself and turned away.
He stared toward a shadowy corner of the room, untouched by light—where a man stood silently.
Dressed in the formal uniform of a Virellano servant—black coat, white gloves—he might have looked ordinary, if not for the fact that his face remained completely hidden in shadow.
As if he weren't part of this world at all, but a shade that consumed both light and sound.
The antique clock ticked slowly, creating a tense rhythm in the silence.
David sat back in his luxurious chair, crossing his legs as he spoke—his tone calm, yet commanding. It was the voice of a young noble, not that of an ordinary teenager.
"What do you think of that boy?"
The shadow gave no answer.
David looked toward the heavy velvet curtain covering the window.
"He's no ordinary orphan. Too quiet. Too composed. His eyes… they hold something. Like he's waiting."
He turned his gaze back to the shadow, his eyes colder now.
"I don't like things I can't predict."
Then, in a low, steel-edged voice:
"Watch him. Find his weakness. If necessary… eliminate him."
The shadow nodded once—barely visible. Silent and lethal, like a being from another realm.
David rose from his chair. His posture was straight, movements fluid but resolute.
He stepped to the window, pulling back a sliver of curtain to peer toward the small building in the garden—Al's new residence.
"He's sleeping there tonight. The place I once shared with my cat… before it died, years ago," he whispered. A trace of sentiment, perhaps, but none in his eyes.
"Sleep well tonight, my misplaced brother…" A faint smile curled on his lips.
"Because tomorrow… you'll begin to disappear. Slowly. Silently. Like a shadow when the sun dies."
He let the curtain fall shut.
When he turned, the shadow was gone—vanished as if it had never existed.
David didn't flinch.
He simply smiled again.
This time, thinner.
Colder.
Let the game begin.
---