NOVPUBVincent, the Rochester family's loyal knight, appeared before him, presenting the duke's final letter. His eyes burned with resentment.
The griffon he rode trembled in fear as it stood beside Marcus, who licked his fangs with interest.
"This came from Duke Rochester?" Michael asked as he took the letter and began reading.
His face grew increasingly grim with each line—but inwardly, he felt at ease. There would be no civil war. No drawn-out purge. The rebellion had already destroyed itself.
So he took all the rebels with him in death, and asked only for mercy on his surviving family? Hah… clever.
Michael snorted softly, then met Vincent's gaze.
The knight gripped a dagger lodged deep in his throat, blood pouring between his fingers. His strength was gone, his body nearly lifeless—but his eyes never left Michael.
"This… grudge… will never… be forgotten…"
Vincent collapsed, his words dying with him.
The griffon, sensing its master's passing, let out a mournful cry.
Michael looked down at the body without emotion.
Then he turned to the nobles gathered around him.
"The rebels chose to destroy themselves," he announced. "Shall we go claim the spoils?"
A roar erupted from the assembled knights and lords who had joined the campaign against the Northwestern nobles.
It was obvious why the rebels had chosen self-destruction: they feared what was coming.
"Michael! Michael! Michael!"
The crowd chanted his name.
Michael smiled as he felt the magic within him surge in response.
It was clear now.
Their praise—their belief—was feeding his power.
Michael and the knights who had followed him into the punitive expedition entered the territory of House Rochester.
Outside the fortress walls, a crowd of frightened commoners had gathered, startled by the thunderous explosion earlier. Their expressions were filled with fear and confusion. Most were visibly emaciated, clothed in ragged garments made from coarse fabric, many of which were torn and barely holding together.
The townspeople hesitated at the idea of approaching the noble's keep, unwilling or too afraid to venture near.
Then the skies darkened.
A vast swarm of flying beasts descended, so numerous they nearly blotted out the sun. As the monstrous cries of the beasts rang out overhead, panic erupted—villagers scattered in every direction, desperately seeking shelter.
From the front, Michael raised his voice above the chaos.
"We received intelligence that the nobles of the Northwestern Provinces had plotted a rebellion. From this moment forward, all territories in the region are confiscated by the Crown!"
The startled townspeople exchanged wide-eyed glances. Even the remaining soldiers seemed shocked, their murmuring nearly drowning out the wind.
Michael's voice rang out again, sharp and commanding.
"House Rochester, as the head of the Northwestern Provinces, bears ultimate responsibility. However, due to the duke's decision to perish alongside the other rebels, the name of his house will be spared. All who are uninvolved—lie flat on the ground!"
With no hesitation, the people—peasants and soldiers alike—dropped to the earth in submission. Having suffered years under the cruelty of the Northwestern lords, they knew instinctively that obedience was survival.
The remaining soldiers, stripped of loyalty after their more zealous comrades had perished within the fortress, followed suit without hesitation.
So he only brought with him the nobles and knights who understood the plan, Michael thought.
Though he caused great harm in life, his final decision was at least... tactful. Or perhaps it was less about sparing lives and more about ensuring the safety of his family.
With that thought, Michael dismounted Marcus and landed atop the fortress walls. The other flying beasts soon followed, touching down one by one.
Inside the fortress was a scene of utter devastation—even Michael shook his head at the sight.
It's as if the whole place was thrown into a blender.
Blood was splattered across every surface. Chunks of flesh clung to the stone walls. The magical blood that had flowed through the giant spell circle had already begun to congeal, clinging to the ground in thick, sticky patches. Bits of bone and muscle littered the area, creating a horrific mosaic of gore.
Even the most hardened knights gagged at the sight.
Trying to stay calm, Michael surveyed the central plaza.
No survivors…
Traces of immense magical energy still lingered. Anyone who could have survived such force wouldn't be human. Only a foreign god's avatar or a tier-one magical beast could possibly endure it.
The mages who had traveled with Michael on Marcus began to mutter among themselves.
"Is that the legendary Amadeus's magic circle? I've only ever heard of it—but now that I see it in person, it's beyond anything I imagined."
A wizened mage with a beard down to his chest craned his neck to get a better view of the glowing circle, which still pulsed faintly at the heart of the plaza.
"I saw it once, as a child, during an expedition with my master. It was terrifying," said another mage, reverently.
A third mage, practically trembling with excitement, fidgeted beside them. "I want to study the mechanism. But it's still active, right? Shouldn't go down yet, should I?"
Faust, standing nearby, calmed the excitable one.
"Wait for His Grace. Follow his lead."
No one disobeyed the seasoned mage's words. Silence fell again.
Feigning ignorance of their conversation, Michael jumped down from the wall.
"Stay here until I confirm it's safe. The circle appears to still be active."
Marcus and Miaomiao, both now shrunk to smaller forms, climbed onto his shoulders. Miaomiao leaned close to his ear and whispered:
[That circle's definitely infused with the power of an Outer God. Hurry and absorb it.]
Michael gave the slightest nod and approached the center of the glowing sigil. As if simply inspecting the area, he reached out and placed his hand on the magic circle.
The power of the Outer Gods was different from standard mana—only Michael could manipulate both. The other mages wouldn't notice unless they were close enough to inject their own mana into it… or unless they were high-ranking priests, wielders of detection artifacts, or tier-one beasts.
