Count’s Youngest Son is a Warlock

Carson’s sword swung fiercely toward Hotram’s neck—only to abruptly change direction.

Darkness silently shot up from the ground where the blade had been aimed, sharp and swift.

Pulling back at the last moment, Carson’s sword shifted its trajectory, avoiding the trap.

Around Hotram, flower petals began to flutter.

“Die, you bastard!” Shaela shouted as the petals detonated in a burst of energy.

Clang!

At the same moment, the sound of a window shattering echoed through the room, drawing a faint smirk to Carson’s lips.

But he didn’t let his focus waver.

His hair whipped around wildly as the blue light in his eyes intensified.

He moved with precision, following the swiftest path his mind envisioned.
With a sharp stomp, Carson surged forward, piercing Hotram’s abdomen with mana that writhed around his sword.

“Gaaah…”

Hotram groaned in pain, but moments later, his pained expression twisted into a grin.

Darkness coiled around Carson’s blade, gripping it tightly.

* * *

Heint landed heavily on the ground outside, his descent cushioned by a burst of light. Even so, the impact rattled him.

If he was struggling this much, how bad must it have been for Lucion?

“Are you hurt—”

“Cough!” Lucion doubled over, spitting blood.

It wasn’t the first time, as his clothes were already heavily stained with dark crimson.

Russell shut his eyes tightly, while Bethel’s expression twisted in worry.

Even with his increased resistance to light, being exposed to it at such close range had taken a heavy toll on Lucion.

“A-Are you okay, young master?” Hume exclaimed, fumbling to pull a handkerchief from his pocket.

—Are you in pain, Lucion?

Ratta darted to his side, her small form trembling with concern.

“Lucion…”

“Big… brother,” Lucion muttered, cutting Heint off before he could finish speaking. He wiped his mouth with a trembling hand.

—Lucion, stay still! The darkness is surging like waves!

Ignoring the warning, Lucion pushed himself upright, steadying himself against the ground.

“Go… Go upstairs. Help my brother and sister!”

“Carson will be fine on his own,” Heint said, his voice calm, almost dismissive.

Lucion shook his head at Heint’s complacency.

Blood, after all, could serve as a catalyst to strengthen black magic.

And with so many ghosts available as payment, it was possible Hotram intended to tip the scales, not to defeat Carson outright but to sap his strength—and Shaela’s—by forcing them to pay the price of dark magic with their bodies.

“Brother… please go up. Hurry!”

“No. My mission is to protect you,” Heint said firmly.

“Then my brother and sister will die!” Lucion shouted, his voice cracking as more blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly, his eyes widened in alarm.

The ghosts began to swirl and converge as if summoned. Hotram was undoubtedly preparing black magic.

‘That bastard really is…!’

The cost of such magic was too high—Carson and Shaela wouldn’t last if they were targeted.

Even the escape route had been cut off. The Elder’s influence over the space had likely sealed the window they had used to enter.

“D-Die?” Heint stammered.

“There’s no time for explanations. Please, go up immediately,” Lucion urged, his voice desperate.

He needed to deal with those ghosts quickly.

[Lucion, we’ll handle these ghosts first, so calm down.]

Russell recognized that this was the moment to take action, before Hotram finished his black magic.

Lucion wobbled as he rose to his feet, but Russell and Bethel were there to support him.

[That’s right, Lord Lucion. Your enemy is Hotram. Don’t lose sight of that.]

Bethel patted Lucion’s shoulder gently before she and Russell headed upstairs.

‘Damn it.’

Lucion clenched his fists, frustrated at the circumstances binding him.

“I’ll be fine. Hume is here, and we have knights stationed outside. Don’t worry,” Lucion said, trying to reassure Heint even as he pushed him toward the stairs.

But Heint didn’t move.

Just a moment ago, Heint’s light had been unable to reach Hotram. However, this seemed implausible as it was only two years ago. It appeared to be a tactic to unsettle Heint. Thus, to help stop Hotram, Heint had to go soon.

“Lucion. I… have to protect you.”

Despite his words, Heint’s eyes were filled with uncertainty, trembling as if he didn’t know how to face this situation.

A saint, a member of the Cronia family, and two others from Cronia. Deciding whose life held more significance was a brutal dilemma.

“Brother. Please, I beg you. If anything happens to my brother and sister… I can’t—I can’t…”

Lucion couldn’t finish his sentence. Just thinking about it made his chest feel like it was being torn apart and made him want to retch.

Even if he managed to handle the ghosts, the price could be paid in another way. Among ghosts and humans, it was always humans who bore the greater cost.

‘Should I tell him the truth? That I’m Hamel? Would that make him move?’

Taking a deep breath, Lucion began to speak.

“Brother, I actually—”

“Mr. Heint!” Hume cut him off, stepping forward to face Heint directly. With surprising strength, he pushed him toward the staircase.

Heint stumbled back, startled by Hume’s unexpected power.

“I will protect the young master,” Hume said, his voice steady and resolute. “I swear on everything I have. So please, trust me and go.”

Heint bit his lip, taken aback by the intensity in Hume’s gaze.

“I really am unfit to be a guard,” he muttered, hesitating as he took in the desperation in Lucion’s eyes and the unwavering determination radiating from Hume.

His heart wavered, trembling under the weight of the darkness surrounding the Magic Tower. Moreover, his instincts now screamed that the true danger wasn’t aimed at Lucion but rather at Carson and Shaela.

“Go, Brother. Trust yourself,” Lucion urged, offering a grateful smile despite his weariness.

“Don’t… die, Lucion,” Heint replied, casting one last glance at Lucion before turning to Hume.

When Hume nodded firmly, Heint enveloped his feet in light and ascended the Magic Tower with swift determination.

Boom!

A burst of light erupted, cutting through the oppressive darkness like a blade.

Only then did Lucion wipe the blood from his face with a handkerchief and retrieve a communication device from his pocket.

“Kran,” Lucion said, his eyes lifting toward the chaos above.

The situation was urgent, but the ghosts, despite being obliterated by Russell and Bethel, were once innocent. It was Lucion’s responsibility to send them off properly.

* * *

Heint entered the tower just as the window he had leapt through shattered behind him.

Light burst forth from him, illuminating the room.

He didn’t know what Hotram had done in that brief interval, but the room was teeming with warlocks, including Hotram, though half were already lifeless on the ground.

In the center stood Carson and Shaela, surrounded by darkness, their faces tense as they braced for whatever wickedness was about to unfold.

When Heint’s light erupted, groans escaped the warlocks, and the thick stench of blood grew heavier in the air.

‘What’s this? The light works after all?’ Heint thought, noticing Hotram flinch.

He suddenly recalled Lucion’s parting words: Trust yourself.

As the light dimmed, Heint reassessed the room.

Darkness lingered around the Elder, while a warlock nearby staggered, weakened by the radiance.

Heint stepped forward, his feet encased in light, and cut the warlock down before positioning himself in front of Carson and Shaela.

Carson had dark markings on both legs, and Shaela had one on her arm.

Despite the oppressive atmosphere earlier, the current darkness felt somehow diminished.

“You, Lucion—!” Carson exclaimed, his voice edged with panic.

His unusual state was obvious; his eyes had lost their light.

“So many marks. Planning to use them as decorations?” Heint quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

He clenched light in his hand and shattered the darkness surrounding Carson’s legs.

“I’ve lost my sight to black magic. Shaela’s lost her senses. And…” Carson began, but Heint interrupted as he reached for the mark on Shaela’s arm.

“Damn it! That crazy bastard!” Heint cursed as he broke the marking.

How crucial were eyes to a knight? Was it a curse? Or some other twisted form of black magic?

At this moment, Heint desperately wished Hamel was here. The light he had cast gave him hope that Hamel would arrive soon.

“The air has changed as he spills blood,” Carson muttered.

Even without sight, his other senses had sharpened, allowing him to perceive the subtle shift in the air.

Clang!

Carson struck out toward an approaching shadow, his reflexes sharper than even Heint, despite the latter’s blessing of light.

“I’m starting to get used to this,” Carson remarked grimly.

Hotram sneered, his gaze fixed on Heint.

“It’s already over, even if you’ve come. No—this is perfect. I couldn’t ask for a better opportunity to take the heads of a Cronia and a commander.”

Hotram and the remaining warlocks moved the darkness with skill, summoning a gust of wind.

But then Hotram’s pupils trembled.

This wind wasn’t theirs.

A masked man appeared silently behind him.

Lucion and Bethel, swords drawn, moved as one.

With precision, they severed one of Hotram’s wrists.

“Aaaaah!” Hotram screamed in sudden agony.

“That’s one down,” Lucion growled, watching the spray of Hotram’s blood.

As Lucion’s cloak settled, Hume charged forward, wielding a massive sword.

Wherever she passed, frost followed, freezing the darkness in place.

In mere moments, the warlocks fell, their necks severed effortlessly.

“Let’s move,” Lucion commanded, his voice steady.

He could sense the darkness lingering in the shadows of every warlock present.

—They’re dangling like puppets!

With Ratta’s cheerful observation, Lucion pressed forward, targeting the enemies’ shoulders,

just as he had in Keortia.

“Aaaaargh!” The warlocks screamed in unison.

Lucion wasn’t trying to kill them outright—he needed time.

Before the enemies could manipulate the darkness further, Lucion reached the Elder, grabbed him, and moved him behind Shaela.

Crisp.

The blue thread binding them was severed.

Shaela stared at the Elder in shock before turning her wide eyes to Lucion.

—Ratta stopped the black magic too!

[Good work, Ratta,] Russell praised, his gaze shifting to Lucion.

Although they had sent the ghosts away, Hotram had already used nearly half of them as sacrifices.

[A heavy curse binds Carson and Shaela. Carson’s is far worse,] Russell noted grimly.

‘I know.’

Anger boiled within Lucion at the thought.

If not for that accursed magic, how could Carson and Shaela have fallen victim to such a wretch?

“Burn the blood immediately,” Lucion instructed.

Shaela, who had been staring blankly at Lucion, finally grasped his meaning and began to bloom her petals.

While the positioning was not ideal due to the magic requiring all senses, she dropped the petals near the blood spilled by the enemies, and as soon as they touched the ground, they all burst forth.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

“Hamel!”

Heint, finally snapping to attention at the sound of the explosions, welcomed the moment, while Carson flinched at the name.

‘Hamel…?’

Though she had heard the name before, Shaela felt a tightening in her chest when she heard the name ‘Hamel’ directly.

Why that name, of all names?

Her mind raced.

‘But why does it feel so familiar? Who… is that person?’

Shaela cast a brief glance at Hume, then quickly refocused. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on such thoughts—this was her chance.

As her hair fluttered, Hume paused mid-swing, lowering his greatsword as he approached Lucion.

The Elder’s magic had distorted the battlefield, shrinking the space where Carson and Shaela stood while expanding the area occupied by their enemies.

Shaela knew all too well the terror of silent, formless darkness that crept and coalesced, overwhelming them. Even with their best efforts to defend themselves, she and Carson had been pushed to their limits.

But now the tide had turned. There were no enemies blocking her way.

Shaela reached out to the ground, summoning trees to rise in accordance with the number of enemies.

“Just a second, lightbringer.” Lucion called out to Heint while observing the growing trees as they constricted the enemies.

“Got it. I’ll hold this place. Just check on Carson first,” Heint replied with a faint smile, reassured by Hamel’s presence.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Lucion said, his voice tinged with anxiety as he turned toward Carson.

Carson’s condition was dire. Lucion could see the cursed words etched in his eyes, glowing faintly. There were two curses inscribed:

Doomed to dwell eternally in the world of night.

As the night deepens, blood shall spill until death claims you.

‘I can get rid of this,’ Lucion thought, though his lips trembled at the enormity of the task.

[Do you recall the methods I taught for dispelling curses?] Russell’s voice cut through Lucion’s thoughts.

Lucion nodded. Of course, he remembered.

[This curse won’t fade even if Hotram dies. The sacrifice used to create it was immense. You’ll need to either shatter the curse inscribed in his mind or—]

Before Russell could finish, Lucion extended a tendril of shadow. Its violet hue glowed faintly as it reached Carson’s forehead, where the curse was engraved.

[…]

Russell fell silent. Could Lucion really see the phrases hidden within the curse?

Carson flinched slightly, but Lucion spoke calmly. “Don’t resist.”

Carson exhaled and relaxed his shoulders. The darkness felt surprisingly warm, and though it startled him, it wasn’t unpleasant.

The violet darkness etched itself into Carson’s eyes, slowly revealing the hidden words.

[Eternally dwell in the world of night? That’s the curse?] Bethel’s shock was palpable as the phrases became visible.

[Exactly. If left unchecked, the curse would have fulfilled its promise. Hotram planned to use the ghosts as a sacrifice to claim Carson’s sight—and his life.]

Crack!

Lucion shattered the glowing words with his hand, enveloped in darkness.

—Whoa! Lucion broke it!

“Your vision will return gradually. Don’t worry,” Lucion assured Carson, though his expression remained clouded with confusion.

Crack. Crack.

The sound of bones breaking drew Lucion’s attention. One by one, the warlocks succumbed to the crushing pressure of Shaela’s trees, their necks snapping or their breaths stolen.

Now it was Shaela’s turn.

Step into the desolate world.

Gaze upon the sun, and from head to toe, you shall burn.

‘That bastard.’

Lucion swallowed the rising anger as he smashed the curse that had been placed on her.

“Haha…”

A sudden, chilling laugh echoed through the room.

Hotram, slumped and battered after destroying Shaela’s magic, let out a maniacal cackle. His eyes gleamed with a deranged light as if he had lost all reason.

Lucion turned his attention to Hotram.

In his hand, a black orb radiated an ominous darkness.