As the meeting came to an end, Marcus clenched his fist as his mind raced with thoughts of revenge. His eyes gleamed with a dark aura as he made his way out of the Count of Azazel’s castle. He knew that waiting was no longer an option.
Marcus had made up his mind and he would take matters into his own hands, even if it meant risking everything. He made his way deeper into the gardens. The heavy scent of blooming flowers mixed with the cool night air.
He checked making sure no one was following him. Satisfied that he was alone he continued further where the garden grew darker and more secluded. The deeper he went, the more he felt the weight of his decision. But there was no turning back now.
As Marcus reached the secluded spot. He took a deep breath, his voice steady despite the swirling thoughts in his mind.
“Are you there?” he called out into the shadows.
There was no immediate reply, only the soft rustling of leaves. Marcus stood still as his heart pounded waiting for an answer.
Finally he heard a voice. “So, did you think about it?” the voice asked.
Marcus steeled his resolve. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I will do what you say. But remember I need power, power to kill that son of a bitch, Julian.”
“Yes, you will get the power.” The voice echoed in the silent night sending a chill through Marcus as it responded,
The figure stepped forward, revealing more of himself. The moonlight shone on the man’s face but it was hidden by a mask.
Marcus could feel the weight of his gaze. It was a dark and heavy presence that made his skin crawl.
As the man drew closer, the atmosphere grew thick with tension. Marcus’s hands trembled, but he tried to steady himself. The man’s aura was unlike anything he had ever encountered before.
If Henry were here, he would instantly recognize the man standing before him. This was the same masked man who had accompanied them in the city of Bajang.
The masked man slowly reached into his cloak and took a glass out. It glowed ominously and a dark and terrifying light pulsed from the potion.
Marcus’s heart raced as he stared at the potion. The sight of it sent a wave of unease through his body. He could feel the oppressive aura growing stronger as the masked man held the potion out in front of him.
The masked man said, “This is what will grant you the power you seek. All you have to do is drink it.”
Marcus hesitated but his thirst for power overwhelmed any lingering doubts. He held the potion and after a brief moment he drank it.
Marcus’s body trembled violently as the potion coursed through his veins. The moment he drank it, an unrelenting wave of pain surged through him. Blood poured from his mouth as his eyes bulged. His hands and legs twisted at unnatural angles, and he collapsed to the ground. The pain never was unending.
For what seemed like an eternity, Marcus lay in the darkness, desperately gasping for breath. He was caught between life and death.
Despite the torture something strange began to happen. A power that was dark and unfamiliar, slowly began to flow through him. The pain was unbearable, but it was also… intoxicating. It was as though something was awakening deep within him as it filled the void that his own magical abilities could not.
And as suddenly as the energy began to flow through him, the pain stopped.
Marcus lay still on the ground completely drenched in sweat. His body was still aching, but the aura that surrounded him was unmistakable. It had expanded and grown stronger, until it felt almost tangible.
He could sense the shift in his power, from a mere mage realm to the sacred realm and even past the boundaries of the sovereign level. In a matter of moments, he had ascended into the staggering heights of an Arch Mage. His body was excited with a raw power, and his senses were sharper.
However, as Marcus attempted to channel his mana, a cold shiver ran down his spine. His mana, once the core of his power was now replaced by something far more dangerous — an evil energy. It was not the mana he knew, nor any elemental energy that he was familiar with.
This energy felt… foreign and corrupted as if its whole existence was to destroy.
Marcus’s heart raced as uncertainty filled his chest. He had asked for power, but what kind of power had he truly gained?
“You… what have you even created?” Marcus asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The masked man’s cold laugh echoed in the quiet garden, a sound that sent a chill down Marcus’s spine.
“How can someone as lowly as me create such things?” he replied, “This… is not my doing, Marcus. This is simply the vessel I offered you. The power is ancient and something far beyond my control. I merely guided you to it.”
Marcus’s excitement surged as the overwhelming power coursed through his veins. His hands clenched into fists, and a dark grin spread across his face.
“Well, prepare yourself, Julian,” he said as the power burned in his eyes.
The day of the feast arrived, and the entire city of Azazel was filled with excitement. Banners and flags adorned every corner as people filled the streets all celebrating their unexpected victory. The sound of laughter, music, and clinking glasses echoed through the city. The nobility too, gathered in their finest attire, eager to enjoy the lavish feast.
The banquet hall was luxuriously decorated with the finest and most luxurious items. The newly promoted count’s castle had never looked more splendid.
Inside the hall, the king sat majestically on the throne. His gaze swept over the gathered crowd. The Count of Azazel and Lilia were busy greeting and welcoming the guests. The dukes were engaged in lively conversation with various participants as they exchanged words with nobles and military leaders, discussing the recent events and future plans.
Julian sat quietly at a corner observing the interactions with a calculating gaze.
