Chapter 4

#1

The Montemerre family estate was truly beautiful.

The grounds were centered around two towers and a mansion.

Whenever Lawrence walked here, he always hunched his shoulders like a criminal.

He hadn’t even realized there was a lake this lovely.
He hadn’t noticed the flowerbeds bursting with vivid colors.
The scent of blossoms drifting on the breeze had always smelled to him like the perfume of death.

So it was this beautiful all along…

Seeing the mansion again, Lawrence thought it dazzlingly beautiful.

He clenched his small fist tight and walked forward. The evaluations would be held in the Great Arena.

There must be a lot of outsiders here today as well.

The Montemerre family valued bloodlines, but they never forgot the importance of bringing in outside talent.
To keep the family strong, they always needed new and gifted blood.

That was why, on evaluation day, magicians from outside the clan were also tested.

“This way, please.”
“Is everyone here now?”
“Yes, young master. Since your residence is far, you were a little delayed.”
“I see.”

Lawrence nodded and made his way to the arena.

And then he saw it—

The rolling blue haze filling the air.

That’s…

Mana radiating from a Great Mage.

Perhaps even the master of Montemerre himself, a being who could be mistaken for nature incarnate.

That overwhelming mana surged, its presence undeniable.

Lawrence pushed forward, enduring the faint cosmic horror that brushed against his senses.

“Please take your place in an empty spot over there.”
“Yes. Thank you.”

When Nicolai finished escorting Lawrence, he walked straight to the patriarch, Edward, and reported loudly.

“As the great lord commanded, I have brought the fourth son of House Montemerre, Young Master Lawrence.”

“Well done.”

That single word from the patriarch boomed through the arena.

Lawrence noticed that whenever Edward’s lips moved, mana rippled outward.

The others all frowned in discomfort, but Lawrence simply stood still.

Such a flux of mana would normally agitate one’s mana road.
But Lawrence had no mana road. It had no effect on him.

Unless that mana was directly shaped into magic, such intimidation was pointless to him.

Thanks to that, he could calmly observe the patriarch’s mana.

So that’s how it’s manipulated…

Or perhaps the mana was just resonating with him naturally.

Lawrence glanced around. Familiar faces everywhere.

The eldest son, the second son, already in lofty realms.
His first, second, and third sisters…

And even Loras, his older brother by three years, the one who had tormented him most.

Along with them were magicians from related houses.

Most of their eyes carried mockery as they looked at Lawrence.

Of course they’d find me laughable.

Finally, Lawrence fixed his gaze on the patriarch’s face. And the face of the woman beside him.

Today, their expressions will change.

“Let the evaluations begin.”

The patriarch’s thunderous words left no time to hesitate—immediately, the testing began.

Everyone’s eyes burned with intent, aimed straight at him.

Lawrence found it amusing.

He had always imagined this moment—

When I, a boy with not a speck of mana, stand above all of you.

His eyes gleamed with malice and madness.

#2

The woman sitting beside the patriarch smiled faintly.

She had no idea why her husband had summoned that child.
What could someone without a mana road possibly do?

If it were a daughter, she could at least be married off well. But a son?

Utterly useless garbage. Nothing more, nothing less.

“We’ll begin with the ten-year-olds.”
“Mm.”

The patriarch nodded, and magicians of that age stepped forward—including Lawrence.

So, they intended to humiliate him thoroughly this time.

If he means to settle this once and for all, so much the better.

The woman—Lady Medeia, mistress of Montemerre—smirked faintly.

Lawrence’s mother had crushed her pride as a woman.

Of course Medeia despised the child.

She had barely thought of him since he had no mana road, but to see him here of all places…

Perhaps Edward only intended to erase the last trace of that woman.

That was how Medeia saw it.

“The rules are as always.”

The patriarch gave a slow nod.

His eyes looked hollow, his chin resting lazily in his hand as though bored.

Everyone knew what that meant.

This evaluation had to move quickly—fast enough to entertain him, but not so slow as to try his patience.

“Outsiders will select their opponents. The chosen cannot refuse. Do you understand?”
“Yes!”

The children shouted in unison.

Lawrence gave a perfunctory reply.

He remembered this day before his regression.

His younger self trembling in fear.
The children staring at him like prey, rushing to name him their opponent.
The mocking gazes of the adults.
His father’s indifferent eyes.

Every image flashed through his mind like a lantern reel.

“The first match: Arthur Goldivein, heir of the golden mage family.”

Arthur Goldivein—golden-haired, wielder of earth magic.

The exact same as before his regression. Lawrence couldn’t help but laugh.

Hahaha! Run some more, coward!
For trash like you to be born into a great house is shameful! You should’ve switched with me!

Pure malice.

All because he lacked a mana road, he had endured endless humiliation.

Lawrence turned his head, etching the indifferent faces of those watching into his memory.

You’re all the same.

They had done nothing when a child was being brutalized before their eyes.
His siblings had laughed when he screamed in pain.

Aside from a few pitying gazes, they were all the same kind of people.

“Please name your opponent.”
“I choose—Lawrence Montemerre!”
“As expected.”

Murmurs rippled through the arena.

Some said Arthur had gotten an easy win.
Others said he was lucky.

Not a single one expressed sympathy for Lawrence.

“Tsk, tsk…”
“I don’t understand the lord’s intentions.”
“Exactly. He could have just sent the boy quietly to research work.”
“Shh. Let’s watch.”

Lawrence stepped forward, facing the golden-haired brat.

Arthur’s smirk made him want to smash his face.

“You really don’t have a mana road, do you?”
“Who knows.”
“I still don’t get why trash like you was born into this great family.”

Lawrence only stared silently.

Arthur kept babbling nonsense, his mouth running like a leaking faucet.

“Maybe a defective child was born because of your mother, huh?”

Of all insults, that was the one Lawrence hated most—even in his past life in Korea.

Mocking his family.

No matter how many lives he lived, his late mother was still his mother.

And they never stopped dragging her name through the mud.

Family slander was the one thing Lawrence could never abide—past life or present.

Arthur went even further.

“Your mother must’ve been the problem, right? Otherwise, how could the lord’s blessing produce something like you?”

Lawrence didn’t answer.

He only thought about how best to shut that filthy mouth.

So I’m the abandoned son, and no one will even stand up when I’m insulted? Pathetic.

A Montemerre child was being disgraced.

Yet none of the family lifted a finger.

Such was their ruthless meritocracy—without magical ability, one was discarded.

Lawrence despised it all.

“No one will help you. You’ll be cast aside, just like your mother.”

“Enough chatter. The duel begins now. If one side admits defeat or collapses, the match ends.”
“Yes!”

Arthur answered with vigor. Lawrence’s anger only deepened.

The evaluation was nothing more than entertainment—watching children fight.

Disgusting. All of it.

Still, smashing the face of the brat who insulted his mother would at least ease his rage.

Guardians, destiny—whatever.

He would change things one by one, starting with what he hated most.

#3

Arthur Goldivein was called a prodigy.

The Goldivein family specialized in earth magic.

It was powerful, versatile—but also had a fatal flaw.

Its casting speed was painfully slow.

Magic consisted of three stages: mana control, image construction, and manifestation.
For Goldivein magicians, image construction was always sluggish.

But Arthur had an unusually vivid imagination, which compensated for that flaw.

The Goldivein patriarch had even dreamed of changing his son’s surname.

If Arthur bore the Montemerre name, his family would rise to glory.

A mere change of name would bring them wealth and honor beyond measure.

“So, show them.”

Destroy that useless trash and take his place!

The patriarch’s eyes gleamed with ecstasy as he watched his son.

Crackle—!

Arthur began his chant.

O Mother who governs the earth, here in this place, your servant…

He half-closed his eyes, chanting in concentration.

Meanwhile, the defective child with no mana road just stood there, vacant.

He’d soon realize his worthlessness, give up, and slink away.

But then—

Whoosh—!

Something unexpected happened mid-chant.

[Fire Arrow]

“—Huh?”
“What!?”

The so-called failure, half-wit, cripple, disgrace of the family—

That very child had cast magic.

And at incredible speed.

“Hm…”

The patriarch Edward’s eyes gleamed.

Fwoosh—!

A streak of flame shot forth, drawing a red line.

Arthur, startled by the heat, lost his chant.

“Ugh!?”

Boom—!

It wasn’t a trick or something prepared beforehand.

It was real magic.

Ten-year-old Lawrence ran at Arthur, lips moving.

His second artifact—the one he had spent sleepless nights crafting as insurance for this day—flared with blue sparks.

[Lightning Bolt]

Crack-crack-crackle—!

A sphere of lightning formed in an instant.

Arthur’s jaw dropped.

When the blue orb shot toward him, he panicked and rolled desperately aside.

KABOOM—!

Another explosion. Smoke billowed thick.

Impossible. Absolutely impossible!

“H-how—!?”

“I haven’t said I’ve lost yet, have I?”

Crunch—!

Lawrence’s hand clamped savagely over Arthur’s jaw.

Through the smoke, his eyes blazed with venom.

“If you can’t even dodge this, you’re no magician at all. Right?”

“Uaaaagh—!”

[Dragon Body]
[Physical ability greatly enhanced.]

He could’ve kept blasting with magic, but this one—this one he wanted to smash with his fists.

Even a hatchling dragon was still a dragon.

As heir to a hatchling’s will, Lawrence’s body was far too powerful for an ordinary ten-year-old to endure.

“Clench your teeth.”

Crunch—!

The price for insulting his mother would be paid dearly.