As luck would have it, the court mage had chosen the worst possible target for his scheme. The spell he had cast was an extremely sophisticated mental probe—a magic that could accurately gauge an opponent's power, but one that also came with the unsavory side effect of "voyeurism." To conduct a thorough and precise assessment of a target's abilities, the caster had to delve deep into their magical aura, which meant overcoming the natural resistance of mortal flesh to magical energies. Though the court mage's motives were far from honorable, he was still cautious by nature. He had cast the mental probe with extreme care, ready to withdraw at a moment's notice to avoid any potential counterattack that might put him in danger.
What he had failed to anticipate, however, was that Ophelia was no ordinary human being. Every fiber of her being—down to the very last strand of her hair—was a pure, condensed manifestation of magical energy. There was no creature in this world more attuned to the flow of magic than she was. Even the most powerful archmages were still bound by mortal flesh; no matter how immense their magical power, they could never purge the "impurities" of their physical bodies. In terms of sheer sensitivity to magic, no one could hold a candle to Ophelia.
In truth, even this would not have spelled complete disaster for the poor court mage. After all, despite her unparalleled attunement to magical energies, Ophelia herself had no knowledge of spellcasting and could not manipulate magic at will. Even if she had sensed someone prying into her mind, she would have had no idea how to respond. But there was one crucial factor he had overlooked: her magic attribute was **Void Affinity**.
The bane of all mages.
Void Affinity was a power that could nullify all forms of energy. Unlike elemental affinities, it offered no offensive or defensive capabilities of its own—but to any mage, it was an absolute death sentence. The reason was simple: no matter how powerful a spell might be, it was ultimately nothing more than a condensed form of energy. Ophelia's Void Affinity could forcibly decompose and dissipate any energy it came into contact with, reducing it to nothingness. In other words, against a mage with Void Affinity, all other mages' attacks and defenses were utterly useless. Worse still, if a mage was afflicted by Void magic, it would not only destroy their spells but also inflict irreparable damage to their very essence.
A mage's power derived from their own reservoir of magical energy. Once that energy was dispersed by Void magic, it could never be recovered. Even a high-ranked archmage, if struck by Void magic and stripped of their internal mana, would be reduced to a helpless cripple for the rest of their life, with no hope of ever regaining their former strength.
For this reason, mages across the continent maintained an ironclad watch for any sign of Void Affinity. Those who possessed it were either recruited at all costs—or eliminated immediately, regardless of age, gender, or innocence. The only silver lining was that Void Affinity was completely ineffective against swordsmen. Blake had learned all this in his previous life, when he had accepted a commission from the Mage's Guild to hunt down and kill a man with Void Affinity. It was during that mission that he had uncovered the full extent of this attribute's terrifying potential. The Mage's Guild's greatest fear was that someone with Void Affinity might choose to master swordsmanship—if such a person were to become a high-ranked swordsman or even a knight, mages everywhere would be doomed.
In his previous life, Blake had even entertained a similar thought: if he could find someone with Void Affinity and train them to become a high-ranked swordsman, they would be an invaluable asset against mages. After all, many mages wielded strange and devastating spells; having an ally who could render those spells useless would be a game-changer.
But Blake had soon realized that the gods were fair—for every gift they bestowed, they exacted a price. Every person with Void Affinity he had encountered in his previous life, and now Ophelia in this one, had been utterly lacking in combat talent. Ophelia in particular was a perfect example. Given the density of the magic that composed her body, she should have been far more powerful than the wandering spirits like Judy that inhabited enchanted armor. Yet she was as physically frail as any ordinary young woman. It seemed that Void Affinity came with an inherent "curse" of physical weakness for its wielders.
Thus, when Ophelia had sensed the court mage's prying mental magic, her latent Void Affinity had instinctively surged to the surface. To Void energy, all other forms of magic were like a succulent steak—too tempting to resist. Before Ophelia could even register what was happening, the Void energy within her had erupted, completely nullifying and dissipating the mage's intrusive mental probe.
The court mage had been caught completely off guard, and the backlash had been catastrophic. Mental energy was an extension of his own power; having it violently erased was like having a part of his own body hacked off—agonizing and debilitating. It was this searing pain that had forced him to his knees, coughing up blood.
"Seize her! Seize her at once!!"
He frantically checked his internal mana reserves, only to be met with a crushing sense of despair. His once formidable mid-ranked mage power had been reduced to the level of a mere apprentice. He could no longer channel magic at will—his days as a full-fledged mage were over. From now on, he would be nothing more than a lowly apprentice for the rest of his life.
This devastating realization had sent the court mage into a blind rage. He had completely forgotten that it was his own unsavory probing that had triggered this disaster, directing all his fury toward the unsuspecting Ophelia.
At the court mage's frantic command, the soldiers assigned to guard him hesitated for a moment before drawing their weapons and advancing toward Ophelia. Though they had no idea what had transpired, the sudden collapse of the man they were sworn to protect had made it clear that something was terribly wrong. Dutifully, they had rushed forward to carry out his orders without hesitation.
Witnessing this, the few retainers who had accompanied Blake instinctively moved to defend their lord, only to be stopped by Kaster. He stood silently off to the side, his eyes fixed intently on Blake, observing his every move. Given Kaster's experience, he immediately recognized the soldiers' identities. If that man was a court mage, then these warriors must be the legendary Mage Guard. Individually, their combat prowess was no more than mid-ranked swordsman level—but they were far from ordinary swordsmen. The Mage Guard was equipped with exorbitantly expensive enchanted armor and weapons, which elevated their effective strength to the peak of the mid-ranked tier.
High-ranked swordsmen they were not—but even so, their power was more than enough to inspire fear. Now, the young lord had dared to antagonize a court mage and his guard. This would be the perfect opportunity to witness the true extent of Blake's abilities. After all, the Mage Guard was not like ordinary noble retainers—they could not be cowed by mere threats.
"My Lord!"
Seeing the soldiers charging straight for her, Ophelia let out a startled gasp. She still had no idea what had happened to her, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that they were coming for her. As a former princess, she was intimately familiar with the Mage Guard's reputation. The sight of them advancing to arrest her made her tense up, rising to her feet in alarm.
"Fear not," Blake said, his voice calm and reassuring—far calmer than Ophelia had expected. He raised a hand to signal her to stay back, then stood up and turned to face the soldiers who had already closed in on them. His right hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
"Swish!"
In the blink of an eye, the soldier leading the charge was greeted by a blinding burst of pure white light. At the same time, an overwhelming aura erupted forth—condensed into a tangible, crescent-shaped shockwave that shot toward him like a bolt from a crossbow.
"Soul Sword Light!"
The Mage Guard soldiers were thrown into a state of panic by the sudden attack. They scrambled to dodge to the sides, narrowly avoiding the devastating strike. But the same could not be said for their surroundings. As the Soul Sword Light tore through the air, a deep, thunderous boom echoed throughout the inn's main hall. The floor shattered into splinters under the impact, and even the solid stone walls trembled violently, spiderweb cracks spreading across their surfaces where the shockwave had struck.
He actually attacked?!
Everyone present was stunned by the turn of events. No one could have imagined that someone would dare to lay a hand on the Mage Guard—the personal enforcers of the royal court mages!
Even Ophelia stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Based on everything she knew about Blake, she had expected him to use his silver tongue to talk their way out of this predicament, as he always did. She had never thought that he would comfort her one moment and then turn around and draw his sword to attack the next. The contrast was nothing short of staggering.
What confused her even more was the nature of the attack itself. She had seen Darros use Soul Sword Light back in the Twilight Forest, and Blake's version was almost identical. Granted, the power and intensity of Blake's strike seemed slightly weaker than Darros's—but the technique was the same.
But could Blake even use this kind of swordsmanship? She remembered him saying that every swordsman's understanding of their soul was unique, which meant their techniques would differ as well. Darros's style was focused on raw power—a style that did not seem to suit Blake at all.
Puzzled, Ophelia tilted her head and glanced at the jet-black sword in Blake's hand. At that moment, it was wreathed in a brilliant white glow, the tangible light coiling and twisting around the dark blade.
"Who are you?! What is the meaning of this?!"
True to their reputation as the guardians of mages, the Mage Guard quickly regrouped despite the sudden ambush, forming a protective circle around the injured court mage. This time, however, they did not dare to advance recklessly. The enemy had already demonstrated his strength—anyone who could project their soul power externally was undoubtedly a high-ranked swordsman. While the Mage Guard was more than capable of holding their own in a fight, they knew better than to underestimate a high-ranked swordsman. Caution was paramount.
"That is precisely the question I should be asking you," Blake replied, holding his sword diagonally across his body in a defensive stance. He looked at the soldiers with a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips.
"You burst in here brandishing your weapons and demanding to arrest someone without any explanation. Since when did the Mage Guard have the authority to apprehend people arbitrarily?"
At this, the Mage Guard soldiers looked distinctly uncomfortable. Their sole duty was to protect the mage in their charge—they had no legal authority to arrest anyone. Their earlier advance had been nothing more than an instinctive response to their commander's orders. Now that Blake had called them out on it, they found themselves at a loss for words.
Could they claim that the young woman had injured their mage? Everyone in the hall had seen what had happened: the court mage had suddenly collapsed for no apparent reason, then gotten back up and shouted orders to arrest her. The young woman, meanwhile, had not moved a muscle throughout the entire incident. She had merely been sitting there talking to the young man across from her. She had not uttered a single incantation or made any gesture to cast a spell. The soldiers of the Mage Guard knew more about magic than most ordinary people, and they could clearly see that she had done nothing to threaten them. The court mage's sudden demand to arrest her was completely unfounded.
Realizing this, the soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. They suddenly found themselves caught in a situation that had spiraled far beyond their control. If their opponent had been weak, they could have ignored his protests and taken the girl into custody by force. But he was a high-ranked swordsman—even setting aside his personal strength, they had to consider the power of the forces he represented. Only someone with an extremely powerful backing would dare to openly confront the Mage Guard. The man they were protecting was just a lowly court mage, not some high-ranking dignitary. It would be a foolish mistake to incur the wrath of a powerful enemy for his sake.
"Who is in command of the Royal Court Mage Division these days?" Blake suddenly asked, breaking the tense silence. He ran a finger along the hilt of his sword, his smile never fading as he looked at the soldiers.
The unexpected question caught them off guard, but after a moment's hesitation, one of them replied instinctively:
"We serve under Archmage Laribaud Seraya..."
Laribaud Seraya?
Blake raised an eyebrow in surprise. The image of a scrawny, pale youth clad in a tattered robe immediately flashed through his mind.
So that kid has become an archmage now, has he?
"You may leave," Blake said, waving a dismissive hand.
"Go back and tell Laribaud that he needs to discipline his subordinates better. He should not let them run amok and cause trouble wherever they go."
The audacity of this young man!
At these words, everyone present—soldiers and onlookers alike—drew in a sharp breath of astonishment.