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The spirit had encountered madmen before. Such people often distorted their own memories, believing events that never happened to be real.

However, Ghislain’s memories were different. They were clear, sharp, and detailed—nothing like the hazy, inconsistent fabrications of lunatics.

Still, the spirit chose to believe this explanation. If not, the situation was too incomprehensible to grasp.

For now, I’ll play along. But when the opportunity arises, I’ll take this body for myself.

Despite Ghislain’s insanity, his strength was undeniable. The spirit had never inhabited a body as powerful as this.

It wanted that strength for itself, but it was an impossible goal. No one with a will as sharpened by decades of rage as Ghislain’s could lose control of their body.

Unless his mind completely broke.

Then again, maybe that’s what makes it even harder—he’s already insane.

There was no reasoning with madmen.

While it coveted Ghislain’s body, the spirit also found itself increasingly curious about him. When the time was right, it planned to ask what those memories truly meant.

As Ghislain tested his newly gained powers, he addressed the spirit.

“I should give you a name. What do you think I should call you?”

The spirit had been given a name in its past life—one bestowed by the Duke’s faction—but Ghislain wanted to give it a new one. A name that symbolized its new place under his command.

After pondering for a moment, the spirit spoke from within his mind.

— How about Dark Fire Dragon?

“...”

Ghislain blinked, unimpressed. Clearly, the spirit had a flair for the dramatic.

“How about just Dark?”

— But I like long names…

“Don’t argue. Come out here.”

— Come out? How?

“If you use my mana, you should be able to form a physical body.”

— Oh… oh! Really? Let’s try!

With Ghislain’s permission, black smoke began coalescing in front of him. Slowly, the smoke took the form of a person, shimmering faintly.

Using Ghislain’s mana as a foundation, the spirit had manifested a corporeal body.

Hehehe!

Its smoky form was humanoid, with only its glowing eyes providing any clear features.

Dark chuckled, twisting and stretching its new body. It instinctively understood its capabilities now, but the weak vessels it had inhabited before had never provided enough mana to manifest physically.

“Not bad,” Dark said with a grin. “Master.”

The term “master” rolled off its tongue without hesitation. Having resigned itself to servitude, it wasn’t particularly bothered by pride.

As Dark inspected its new body, it asked, “Can I use a bit more mana?”

“What for?”

“To mimic that guy.”

Dark gestured toward Arel, who still stood frozen in shock at the unfolding scene.

“Go ahead.”

Shhhhh…

A surge of mana flowed from Ghislain into Dark, allowing it to reshape its form.

Eyes, a nose, a mouth—features began to take shape. Even the clothing materialized to perfectly mirror Arel’s. It was as if a doppelgänger had appeared.

A moment later, another “Arel” stood in the room. But while their appearances were identical, their expressions were not.

The real Arel radiated a sense of determination and resolve. The copy, however, exuded slyness and malice, creating a stark contrast despite their shared features.

“Ah!”

Arel recoiled in shock, stumbling backward at the sight of his double. Meanwhile, Dark flexed its fingers, still wearing a mischievous grin.

“Hmm… not bad. Feels almost like freedom.”

Dark’s body, formed from Ghislain’s mana and its own abilities, was a temporary construct. The mana gradually dissipated into the air, meaning the body would vanish once the energy was depleted.

The spirit’s consciousness remained tethered to Ghislain, merely piloting this duplicate rather than fully inhabiting it. Still, the illusion of independence was exhilarating.

Ghislain examined himself and clicked his tongue.

“It’s not very efficient. Come back inside.”

Creating Dark’s body had consumed a significant amount of mana. Despite the cost, the ability to create and control independent bodies was highly practical and would undoubtedly prove useful in the future.

“Aw… can’t I play a bit longer?”

Ghislain shook his head.

“You’ll have time to mess around later. For now, come back. If you cause any trouble with that form, I won’t let it slide.”

“Hmm… What’s stopping me from running off and causing trouble now?”

Dark smirked, testing Ghislain’s resolve.

Ghislain responded with a sharp grin of his own.

Immediately, Dark’s body began dissolving into smoke, drawn back into Ghislain against its will.

“W-What’s happening?”

Dark panicked, realizing that it was entirely subject to Ghislain’s control. After all, its form was created from Ghislain’s mana.

As the body vanished, Dark clicked its nonexistent tongue in frustration. But that wasn’t the end.

— W-What is this?!

Suddenly, the mental space where Dark resided plunged into darkness. The spirit could see and hear nothing, trapped in an endless void.

Ghislain had cut off the mana sustaining it and sealed it away entirely.

— Aaaah! Let me out!

The terror of slowly fading into oblivion was overwhelming. When the darkness finally lifted, Dark was left trembling and gasping.

— I won’t act out…

“Good. Behave, and I’ll let you out to play from time to time.”

— Understood.

Ghislain smiled, satisfied. Dark’s abilities, a mix of mana and spiritual power, were exceptional. Though the Duke’s faction referred to it as a “spirit,” it was more accurately something beyond a traditional spirit.

“So, what exactly are you?” Ghislain asked.

— What? You captured me without even knowing? How did you figure out my abilities then?

“I read about you in a book. Explain yourself.”

Dark hesitated before sighing.

— I don’t know.

“You don’t know?”

— Yeah. One day, I just woke up in this world. To survive, I started hopping between bodies, living quietly. I don’t even know how long I’ve been doing this. I only did it because I wanted to live.

Without any memories of its origins, discovering Dark’s true identity would have to wait.

Ghislain nodded slightly, unfazed.

I’ll figure it out once I deal with the Duke’s faction.

They had undoubtedly sought Dark for a reason. Uncovering their motives would answer many lingering questions.

For now, though, Ghislain had gained an incredible new power.

With Dark’s abilities, he could not only nullify mental magic but also transform mana into versatile and destructive forces.

As he considered how to apply this newfound strength, hurried footsteps echoed from below.

“Edwin! Edwin!”

“My lord!”

“Save the young master!”

Count Mowbray and his soldiers had arrived. Seeing the tower’s upper floors obliterated had sent them rushing in a panic.

Still dazed, Edwin began to cry out when he saw his father.

“Father! Please, save me!”

Everyone froze at the sight of Edwin’s desperate expression.@@novelbin@@

“E-Edwin? Have you… regained your senses?”

Count Mowbray’s voice trembled as he asked. Edwin, pulling at his chains, shouted in desperation.

“Father! It’s me, Edwin! Get me out of here! That man—he’s a demon!”

Count Mowbray turned to Ghislain, uncertainty etched on his face. Was this truly his son, or was the spirit still playing a trick?

Ghislain offered a warm smile.

“The spirit has been completely exorcised. It resisted to the very end, which is why the tower collapsed. Its power was immense, but you can rest easy now—it has been destroyed.”

“Oh…!”

Relief washed over Count Mowbray’s face, but Edwin’s cries grew louder.

"No, you’re wrong! That demon devoured the spirit! He’s the real monster! He destroyed the tower! Father, please get me out of here quickly!"

“W-What are you saying…?”

Count Mowbray’s eyes darted between Edwin and Ghislain, his mind reeling with uncertainty.

Ghislain maintained his calm, soft smile.

“After being possessed by the spirit for so long, it’s natural for the young master’s mind to still be clouded. A few days of rest should help him recover fully.”

As he spoke, Ghislain casually clenched and unclenched his fists, throwing a sharp glance at Edwin.

Edwin froze, snapping his mouth shut.

He realized that this man had obliterated the tower’s ceiling in an instant and subdued a malevolent spirit. Any rash actions could spell death for everyone present.

Watching Edwin’s awareness settle in, Ghislain’s voice softened.

“Young Master Edwin, are you feeling more clear-headed now?”

“Y-Yes, yes.”

Edwin nodded fervently, determined to stay in Ghislain’s good graces.

Ghislain approached and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

“Good. The spirit is gone now, so I suggest you listen to your father, live virtuously, and most importantly, quietly. Because if there’s another incident like this…”

Ghislain leaned in, emphasizing the word “quietly,” and Edwin trembled, nodding again.

With matters seemingly resolved, Ghislain turned to Count Mowbray with his signature smile.

“The young master just needs some rest to recover. Now, about my reward…”

“R-Reward? Oh, yes, of course! Guards, take Edwin to his room at once!”

Though no formal discussion had occurred, Ghislain had resolved one of the most troublesome issues for the Mowbray estate. As a noble, Count Mowbray was obligated to provide a fitting reward.

Freed from his chains, Edwin was overcome with emotion. His father, teary-eyed, embraced him tightly.

“I’m sorry, my son. I failed you.”

“F-Father…”

“I promise I won’t be so harsh on you anymore.”

“I-I’m sorry too. I was… weak…”

“No, no. Don’t think like that. Weakness isn’t a crime. We all grow stronger at our own pace. I was wrong to expect so much so quickly.”

Tears streamed down Edwin’s face as he clung to his father. For so long, he had longed for such warmth.

He now understood that his rebellion stemmed from an inability to bear the weight of expectations.

His father’s sternness had only been born from a desire to raise a capable heir.

Compared to the beatings he had endured at the hands of that demon, his previous life had been almost comfortable.

“Sob… I’m sorry… for being so weak…”

“You’re not weak.”

Count Mowbray’s voice quivered, and he patted Edwin’s back repeatedly, tears glistening in his eyes. He was simply grateful to have his son back.

The guilt and sorrow he had carried since Edwin’s madness had been unbearable. Now, seeing Edwin return to normal, he silently vowed never to repeat his mistakes.

Ghislain watched the touching reunion with a satisfied smile.

Family should always cherish one another like this.

After their heartfelt reconciliation, Edwin was escorted from the tower with the help of the soldiers.

“Now then, Baron Dugley,” Ghislain said, turning to Count Mowbray, “shall we continue our discussion?”

The count nodded, leading Ghislain to a quieter space. Arel, still shell-shocked, trailed behind them.

Once they were seated, Count Mowbray spoke directly.

“I am truly grateful. Tell me, Baron Dugley, what reward would you like? Name anything within my power, and I shall grant it.”

“What I want is something significant. Are you sure you can provide it?”

Count Mowbray’s confidence swelled.

This was the resource-rich South, and he was one of its most powerful lords. With wealth and troops at his disposal, he had managed to maintain neutrality between the Royalist and Ducal factions.

Count Mowbray was also a meticulous administrator, renowned for his well-managed estate. His strict approach extended even to his dealings with his vassals, making it nearly impossible for the Duke’s faction to sway them.

Puffing his chest, Count Mowbray replied boldly.

“I’ve never heard of a Baron Dugley. Are you a landless noble? If so, I shall grant you an estate of your own.”

It was an extraordinary offer, one that few lords could make.

But Ghislain merely shook his head with a smile.

“I don’t need wealth or land. What I need is your strength.”

“My strength?”

Ghislain’s expression turned serious as he locked eyes with the count.

“Join the Royalist faction. Stand beneath the banner of the Crown and fight against the Duke’s forces.”

Count Mowbray’s face instantly hardened.