Chapter 118

Shadow Circle

That was the insight Lucy had given him.

A Red Circle was created on the foundation of emotion.

For that reason, the core circuit was always singular, and unlike a Blue Circle, it could not be replaced with a different method.

However, Ferda was in the rare situation of having two emotions interfering with a single mana circuit.

‘I’ll redirect that interference… into another circle.’

The moment Ferda confirmed the image forming in his mind, he immediately began.

He focused on the sensation of Shape of Shadow.

‘Concentrate everything into the shadow.’

Like the realization attained by a master of transformation magic who had once dreamed of becoming a butterfly.

He deceived himself into believing that this flesh was not truly his body and that the thing clinging to the floor was his real form.

At last, Ferda became the shadow.

‘I’ll create the circuit like this.’

No circle revolved within his shadow body.

Therefore, he had to proceed using the cultivation method for creating a First Circle.

Ferda summoned a negative emotion.

The moment he regretted more than anything else.

It was not difficult to choose.

It was the moment Valdrova had torn out her own heart.

He took in every detail of that instant through all five senses.

Then he felt a sensation brushing against his ear.

Why are you doing something so foolish?

The voice had already seen through his intentions.

I am not trying to harm you. I only want to help you.

Ferda answered the voice.

“No matter what you say, I cannot allow you to act as you please.”

Even if the day comes when you fail to protect what you wish to protect?

“Yes.”

Then all that will remain is regret once again.

“I don’t care.”

Ferda had already made his decision.

Even if he came to regret his lack of power, he would not allow himself to remain bound by his past.

I understand.

But do not push yourself too hard.

Whenever you desire power, I will give it to you.

Always remember.

—I am always inside you.

At that moment, he felt the voice separate from him of its own accord.

Something black and viscous began to churn within his shadow body.

The hand that had once rotated the circle stirred through the shadowy form, forcing it to flow.

As it moved, Ferda concentrated and shaped it like clay beneath a potter’s hands.

The entire process was no different from walking through a field of thorns.

He had to draw out the negative emotion without being overwhelmed by it.

At the same time, he had to continuously brainwash himself so that he would not recognize his physical body even once.

The moment his concentration slipped, Ferda would die.

Even as he felt the sensation eating away at his mind, he pushed himself all the way to his limit.

“There is someone who must be happy.”

That sense of duty was enough to keep Ferda standing.

After some time, he felt the circle that had been flowing violently within his body stabilize into a fixed form.

Ferda opened his eyes.

What he saw was his own shadow, stretched long by the candlelight behind him.

And within it, a circle revolving in a color deeper and darker than the shadow itself.

‘So this is what she meant.’

When he had not understood it, Lucy’s words had seemed vague.

Now that he knew the answer, he realized how precise they had been.

Two emotions capable of interference.

And two circuits.

They would not mix according to emotion, but move independently.

When the new circle moved, it would mean the emotion was one he needed to guard against.

When the original circle moved, it would mean the emotion was one he could safely follow.

Ferda released the shadow body and drew it back toward his physical form.

The circle that had settled within it was pulled upward as well.

He placed it beneath the original mana circuit resting within his dantian.

The two circles began moving together, interlocking like gears and assisting one another.

“My mana has increased as well.”

With the addition of a supplementary circle to his existing Four Circles, his mana capacity had risen to a level approaching that of a Fifth-Circle mage.

It was a strange phenomenon.

Circles did not work like simple arithmetic.

Adding one First Circle to Four Circles did not grant the mana capacity of a Fifth Circle.

Ordinarily, at least three additional circles would be needed to approach that level.

Yet this single First Circle held power close to that of three.

‘That means this emotion is that intense.’

The circle born from Ferda’s regret had been created from an emotion that had once reached the Ninth Circle—the realm of a demigod.

‘At the very least, I must not allow it to grow until I reach the Fifth Circle.’

He would nurture his affection while suppressing his regret.

At the same time, he would control that regret so it could become a source of strength, maintaining a balance between the two.

It would not be an easy path.

Even so, Ferda felt a measure of relief.

He could see it.

He could feel it.

That meant he could control it as well.

At the very least, the situation was far better than when the emotion had remained vague and formless.

This was a unique power that only Ferda could possess.

He decided to call it—

‘The Shadow Circle.’

In the midst of a brutal winter that had seemed as though it would never end, sunlight filled with warmth poured down upon the ground.

Blue sprouts peeked through the soil, praying in gratitude for the blessing of the morning sun as the earth warmed beneath them.

The followers of Alte also looked down at the fresh greenery and offered short prayers.

They gave thanks that the season of hardship had passed and Alte’s blessing had finally reached them.

Spring had arrived.

The refugees who had refused to stray far from the stoves enjoyed the sunlight for the first time in ages, and new vitality returned to the streets.

Together with Isabella, the administrator, Ferda conducted the quarterly settlement of accounts.

“The first phase of the town’s construction has been completed.”

The completion of the first phase meant that all buildings immediately necessary for the town’s operation had been constructed.

The second phase would involve expanding the buildings and dividing the town into districts.

The third would be the beginning of full-scale construction, including the erection of the outer walls.

“Were there any setbacks?”

“There is a reason construction is divided into stages, so naturally, we encountered a few.”

That was only to be expected.

They had begun work on the walls, which had originally been placed later in the schedule.

“When we constructed the walls, we accounted for how many people might eventually settle here and designed them to accommodate ten times the current population capacity, did we not?”

“We did.”

“According to our latest assessment, we are now in a situation where we must slow population growth.”

Slowing population growth meant they would no longer be able to accept refugees.

“Petitions from the nobles have begun reaching the Empire. They claim we are siphoning away their refugees.”

“That is not exactly something we can deny.”

They were, in fact, doing precisely that.

Most of the refugees who arrived had been accepted.

The reason nobles refused to take in refugees was not simply because of the brutal winter cold.

Once spring arrived and labor was needed, even the smallest pair of hands became valuable.

“Some nobles are also demanding that the refugees be returned.”

“Not a chance.”

“Precisely.”

Ferda was no philanthropist.

He had drawn in penniless people and increased the population because he wanted to breathe life into the city.

The more people there were, the more merchants would gather, and as they came, word of the city would spread.

“Would it be enough to send them a letter saying they have no chance?”

“With respect, that would be the worst possible move.”

Isabella offered her advice coldly.

“The fact that they have begun writing petitions means their numbers have already grown large enough to be called a faction. What we need now is to break their momentum. Sending a letter would merely give them an opening to intensify it.”

“Then assassination must be the answer.”

“…Are you serious?”

“It was a joke.”

Isabella blinked.

She had not expected the word joke to come from Ferda’s mouth, and no matter how she looked at him, he had not sounded as though he were joking.

Ferda could roughly see the flow Isabella was talking about.

He had accumulated more than enough resentment in his lifetime to understand where this kind of discontent would eventually lead.

‘The Empire.’

The Empire would not be pleased to see the principality growing at such a dramatic rate.

It would not simply stand by and watch. In one way or another, it would try to restrain the principality.

They might even spread the damaging impression that Ferda was deliberately provoking wars throughout the realm to create refugees and absorb them into his territory.

“What do you think we need right now?”

“Connections, naturally. Political problems require political connections.”

That was what Ferda was worst at, aside from physical activity.

“Do we not have Count Consilus?”

“Count Consilus is an excellent man, but his support is limited to the Far East.”

Just as a village headman only ruled within his own village, outside his territory, Consilus was little more than an unfamiliar old man.

Consilus himself had always said the same thing.

It would be good for Ferda to become acquainted with someone who wielded real influence within the Empire.

At the time, the idea had seemed distant to Ferda.

He had never imagined he would end up building a settlement in his own front yard.

“According to my records, Regent, you have already attended the Grand Council once. Did you not become acquainted with anyone there?”

“Someone I became acquainted with…”

Ferda thought back to that day and tried to remember the people he had gotten along with.

A smooth, shining bald head seemed to gleam as brightly as the sun.

“There is the Chancellor of Escholeia.”

“The Chancellor of Escholeia lacks the influence to serve as our political backing.”

If anything, Ferda was the one who had to support him.

“What about the Iorga Magic Tower, which formally declared an alliance with us?”

“They do possess influence, but as a rule, they do not interfere in human politics. Unless the matter involves demons, they will not move.”

That was only natural.

They always insisted that human affairs should be resolved by humans.

“What we need is someone within the Empire itself. Someone capable of restraining the Empire when it attempts to interfere with our momentum.”

Someone like that.

Where could they possibly find such a person?

Just as Ferda began to think about it, Luri arrived while carrying out her cleaning duties.

“A guest has arrived from the Empire.”

The visitor who had traveled along the imperial road was a knight.

He bore the insignia of direct service to the imperial family and was adorned in silver and gold, as though his entire appearance warned that no one should dare lay a hand on him.

However, because Ferda was also a knight, he immediately understood the man’s role.

The owl feather attached to his helmet gave it away.

‘A courier.’

He was responsible for delivering letters written by members of the imperial bloodline.

It was a high-ranking position that could never be treated lightly.

“I greet the consort of the Great Flame! I am Aren, a knight of the imperial household.”

“Welcome to Valdrova Castle. What brings you here?”

“I have come to deliver a letter from the imperial family.”

The knight removed a case he had kept inside his uniform.

Within it lay a letter, still wrapped exactly as carefully as its sender had prepared it.

Had he come to proclaim an imperial decree, it would have been written on expensive paper wound around a golden rod.

This meant it was not an official statement from the Arken Empire, but a personal matter sent by someone in the imperial family.

‘The fact that someone sent such a letter means…’

Perhaps because of his conversation with Isabella, Ferda’s first thought was that the sender might become a useful connection.

He broke the seal and read the letter.

“May I ask what it says, provided the contents are not too private?”

Since Isabella handled most of the troublesome affairs, Ferda willingly told her.

“Someone from the imperial family intends to visit us rather suddenly.”

“Do you mean they could arrive as early as tomorrow?”

“In one week.”

Time within the Empire was measured by the minute and second.

And members of the imperial family were the equivalent of the highest class of dignitaries.

From their perspective, one week’s notice truly was sudden.

Which member of the imperial bloodline could it be?

Ferda looked at the signature written at the bottom of the letter.

The slight excitement he had felt vanished the moment he saw the first letter of the name, and he clicked his tongue.

“It was sent by an imperial princess.”

Olivia Arken.

Unlike the princes who possessed rights of succession, she could not openly express political opinions.

“A fine-looking fruit with nothing inside.”

Isabella was right.

Still, an empty fruit was better than nothing.

And Ferda, starving for influence, needed something he could put in his mouth immediately.