The Vistro manor was a wasteland, looking like the end of the world. The gigantic Underworld Finger was coming down slowly, like a falling moon. It was going to wipe everything out. As the palm lowered, the demonic pressure intensified to a degree that turned the air into a shimmering violet sludge. Edward was stuck in the middle of everything, his knees deep in the floor, head down from the heavy weight.
The Marquis, standing amidst the rubble with his mouth still agape in that horrifying conduit pose, felt a surge of ecstatic triumph. He watched the descent, his mind clouded by the demonic corruption, believing he was finally crushing the anomaly that had threatened his reign.
But beneath the shadow of the skeletal palm, Edward’s eyes flashed with a terrifying clarity.
’Closer,’ he thought, his heart beating with cold precision. ’Just a few more inches.’
Unknown to the Marquis, this single action was exactly what Edward had been waiting for. In his attempt to ensure Edward’s complete destruction, he forced the Underworld Finger fully into the physical plane, opening its palm wide to deliver a final, decisive strike. By doing so, he exposed the core of the spell itself, allowing Edward to extract the ancient demon fragrance hidden within.
Suddenly, the blue lightning around Edward’s body increased. With a quick move of his body, Edward pushed himself up, unleashing his own aura to boost his efforts.
His hands moved fast, doing a complicated spell. Seven Golden Revolution Seal!
The ancient celestial spell, which Edward had previously used to cage his Saint Flame within a localized space in his core to prevent a core fracture, now manifested in the physical world, placing Edward within a sealed space unaffected by the demonic pressure. A golden mana circle materialized above his head, followed instantly by a second, then a third, until seven interlocking rings of radiant, heavenly light formed a shimmering space around his body.
The Marquis’s withered face contorted in shock. ’The aura... is that a celestial spell? How can Edward comprehend such a spell?’
The Marquis was right to be terrified. The Seven Golden Revolution Seal was indeed a Rare-Ranked Celestial Spell. In the era of ancient times, the true version of this technique was the Seven Hundred Golden Revolution Seal, a spell that could cage primordial deities. Even at his peak as a Mage Emperor, Edward had watered it down to two hundred seals to prevent the sheer power from shattering his own sea of consciousness. Now, as a High Mage, he could barely maintain seven.
Yet, even a "watered-down" celestial spell was an absolute authority. The golden rings created a localized space that prevented the demonic pressure from affecting Edward. Edward stood tall, his clothes fluttering in the sudden stillness, while the world outside his golden barrier continued to be affected by the demonic pressure.
With the pressure neutralized, Edward turned his attention to the descending palm. The center of the palm was now inches from the top of his golden seal. He could see it—the Ancient Demon Fragrance—a swirling, smoke of pure dark essence that acted as the core of the demonic spell.
Edward reached out and activated his extraction spell, the same technique he had once used to extract goblin marrow. Now, however, the spell was reinforced by his High Mage–level mana, its power far beyond what it had been before.
A strand of mana shot out from his fingers, going into the center of the skeletal palm. The Underworld Finger twitched, and it sounded like a thousand souls screaming. Edward kept going, pulling the dark essence out of the bone structure.
He didn’t absorb it. To let the corruption touch his core now would be suicide. Instead, he wove a secondary set of seven seals within his Sea of Consciousness, creating a secure space to store the essence for later refinement.
The Marquis felt a sudden pain in his soul as the demonic spell was destroyed. The Underworld Finger started to turn gray, its dark aura fading as its core was taken away.
"My... my spell..." the Marquis wheezed, his eyes bulging.
In a crack of vacuum, Edward vanished from the crater. He appeared directly in front of the Marquis, so close they could feel each other’s breath. For a singular, frozen second, their gazes locked. The Marquis saw only the terrifying indifference of a killer; Edward saw only the hollow fear of a man who had outlived his relevance.
Edward’s sword, crackling with blue lightning, moved in a straight, surgical line.
SWOOSH!.
The blade pierced the Marquis’s heart, the tip emerging from the back of his robe.
The Marquis’s jaw snapped shut. The Underworld Finger in the sky instantly disintegrated, its skeletal bones turning into ash that rained down upon the courtyard like grey snow.
The Marquis gasped, his hands feebly clutching Edward’s shoulders. He looked down at the blade in his chest, then back at his son. In his final moments, the Marquis’s mind struggled with a single question: Why? He knew he had been a cruel father. He knew he had favored Damian and treated Edward as a stain. But to him, that didn’t justify the any of this. So why? Why was Edward so determined to kill him?
The Marquis did not understand that Edward’s decision had nothing to do with the petty resentment of a neglected child. Edward simply saw him as a redundant obstacle. To claim the Luminaris Kingdom, and eventually the six other kingdoms that followed, Edward needed a stable base of power. There could only be one master of the Vistro territory. There could only be one Marquis. It was a conclusion Edward had reached time and time again, a choice proven grounded across countless regressions.
As the light faded from the Marquis’s eyes, his body began to wither. Having sacrificed his lifespan and exhausted his mana, there was nothing left to sustain his physical form.
With a final, desperate twitch of his fingers, the Marquis pulled the Red Token from his sleeve and crushed it. He saw Edward’s face as the artifact shattered, expecting a look of fear. Instead, he saw that same, unwavering indifference. Edward didn’t even blink.
The Marquis’s last emotion was a suffocating, absolute fear—the realization that even his final trump card was part of his son’s calculations.
The Marquis’s body turned into dust, blown away by the wind. His clothes fell to the ground in a heap of silk, and his Marquis Title Ring—the golden seal of authority over the territory—slipped free, falling through the air.
Edward caught the ring before it hit the ground. As he held the ring, a shadow covered the courtyard.
The sky lit up.
A massive Fire Vortex, a swirling pillar of crimson and orange flames, descended from the sky with the force of a falling star.
From the heart of the inferno, a man stepped out. His regal clothing was singed, and his eyes were glowing with the predatory fury of the Flame Phoenix.
Duke Charles Luminaris stood in the center of the ruins, his gaze sweeping over the dust that was once his ally. He looked at the one-armed Valerius kneeling in the dirt, and then his eyes locked onto Edward, who stood calmly holding the Marquis’s ring.
The Archmage’s mana flooded the estate, a pressure that far exceeded the demonic weight of the Underworld.
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