BMPEW 45

Chapter 45

Tiberius was returning to Ardentluna late in the evening after concluding the Mars Festival ceremony.

He urged his companions to quicken their horses when suddenly someone blocked their way.

“How dare you obstruct the procession of Ignitus! Reveal yourself at once—”

The servant at the front raised his voice, but then, recognizing the familiar silhouette, exclaimed:

“Young Master? What brings you all the way here?”

Hearing the cry, Tiberius stepped forward with a few close aides.

Since Abelus had never once behaved improperly, his sudden appearance could only mean that something urgent had happened.

He prayed it was not a grave matter.

Abelus, his violet eyes blazing, fixed them on his uncle and held something out.

The sight of the object hardened Tiberius’s face.

It was a child’s garment, soaked black with blood.

Even the aides, who had been idly waiting nearby with easy hearts, were horrified at the sight.

“Fortunately, I arrived in time to save the child’s life. The child is now at the Temple of Vesta,” Abelus said stiffly.

“Who did this?”

“Erasinus.”

Abelus answered without hesitation.

The family head was not surprised—he only nodded.

He had asked not out of doubt, but to steal a sliver of time to master his fury.

“Disband the formation,” Tiberius ordered.

“Please mount, Young Master,” one of the aides urged.

At once, they all spurred their horses and rode back toward the mansion at full speed.

Coincidentally, the ceremony they had just attended was a rite praying for victory.

In other words, most of the participants had been soldiers of the Fire Legion under the family head’s command.

He ordered the annex to be surrounded and personally went inside to judge the man suspected of the crime.

“L-Lord Patriarch…! What brings you here?”

Startled servants rushed out, bowing low.

Until now, the head of Ignitus had always left the annex as the domain of other branches of the family. For him to storm in without a word of notice—this was the first time.

“Bring Erasinus before me.”

He commanded.

Erasinus, who had been in the annex office, complied when summoned.

He had already failed to win over Abelus, so this much of a reaction from the head was something he had expected.

But he did not fear the future awaiting him.

As long as he invoked the child’s “deficiency,” he was confident that immunity was only a matter of time.

If challenged, he was ready to fight back, enlisting Plautus or Piraeon as witnesses.

Surely, the family head, who had far weightier matters outside, would not risk civil strife over a single child.

It is settled. The time has come to close this matter.

So he thought, casually dismissing the servants and suggesting that they leave the chamber.

When the last one was gone, he spoke:

“I killed the child because she was deficient.”

There was no shame, no guilt in his voice.

To Erasinus, his act was a justified measure for the survival of the family. And the man before him, Tiberius, was the true traitor.

That he could not punish Tiberius immediately because of the shifting balance of power was unfortunate.

Still, Erasinus envisioned a bright future.

The position of second successor was now vacant. He would place the rightful child there.

With the beloved sparks of the next generation, he would restore the noble will of Ignitus.

He firmly believed there was no disgrace in his intentions.

It had been so ever since he vowed that his only purpose in life was to look down upon the people of Ardentluna, protect them, and safeguard peace.

In truth, he had slowly gone mad amid the pity of those he scorned, but gradual decay is the kind hardest to recognize—even for the keen-minded.

Bloodshot veins filled Tiberius’s eyes.

“The Patriarch seems troubled.”

I was hiding behind a pillar in the annex, eavesdropping on their exchange.

Behind me was Lord Abelus. He had chased after me when I recklessly ran ahead, insisting I wanted to see Erasinus caught.

“Calidora, let’s return. Your uncle is here—now you’re safe.”

I shook my head, lost in thought.

Erasinus had tried to kill me because I was “deficient.”

Deficient…

It was a word I had seen somewhere before.

Perhaps in the story of a warrior who, like Lady Calidora, had been born without magic, suffered persecution, and later awakened.

It was considered half-legend, so I had never thought to connect it to myself.

After all, the belief that one’s natural vessel for magic could never change was an absolute truth passed down through ages.

But as I mulled over it, I gathered magic in my hand.

Flames flared up easily in my palm.

Maybe that truth was wrong.

Since barely surviving, magic had been endlessly welling up inside me.

A sensation I had never felt in my life.

Though I didn’t know the reason, confidence rose alongside the magic.

The Patriarch is careful with his words. That must mean admitting I’m deficient would give Erasinus justification.

Indeed, though their exchange had gone back and forth, not once had the Patriarch acknowledged that I was deficient.

If being seen as deficient put him in a difficult position, then my role was clear.

I had to prove that I was no longer one.

“Calidora, if you keep listening any longer—what are you trying to do?” Abelus asked when he saw me suddenly dash ahead.

“Mhm! I’m going to help the Patriarch!”

“What could you possibly—”

I turned back to his worried face and let out a little puhihi laugh for the first time in a while. A smile to reassure him.

“Ca-Calidora, wait—!”

Didn’t look like it worked.

Regardless, I charged straight toward the closed doors.

“Here I gooo!”

“Calidora! Stop!”

Bang!

I flung the doors open with all my strength and burst into the tense chamber.

The two men inside turned to me at once.

Erasinus.

My gaze locked onto him.

Kwoooosh!

A roar burst from my throat, and with it, a torrent of fire.

It was a monstrous blaze greater than anything I had ever even dreamed of conjuring.

Caught off guard, Erasinus stumbled back, driven several steps away.

Scrrrape.

The sound of a metal staff dragging across the floor—he had not fallen.

But my control was lacking. The flames did not burn cleanly but churned up thick smoke.

For a moment, the smoke cut off sight between us.

I glimpsed him raising his arm for a counterattack. My breath already spent, I clamped my mouth shut and backed away.

My back struck something.

Someone was standing behind me.

The Patriarch?

I couldn’t see, but I was sure.

Good. As long as he’s here, I won’t die no matter what.

I inhaled deeply again, readying my next strike.

Breathing fire was the easiest, after all.

But unexpectedly, Erasinus froze.

The smoke had cleared, and he could see me now.

“You—child.”

Recognition widened his eyes, disbelief warping his face.

“How are you—”

Before he could finish, Abelus’s voice rang from behind me, having followed me inside.

“Calidora!”

Behind him, soldiers of the family poured in, having heard the commotion.

“Patriarch, are you unharmed?”

“M-Milady?”

They caught sight of me standing between the two men, flames still in my mouth, and were stunned.

“That just now…!”

“Could it be the Young Lady…?”

Even in shock, the soldiers snapped into battle stances.

At that, Erasinus dropped his staff and raised his hands in surrender.

A heavy silence fell over the chamber.