Inside one of the tallest Magus towers of the Merlin family’s ancestral stronghold, a soul lamp shattered with a sharp crack.

  The acolyte assigned to monitor the soul lamps jumped in alarm. Panic seized him as he recognized which lamp had gone out. Without hesitation, he cast a high-priority reporting spell directed toward the inner court. Soul lamps were ancient magic tools used to monitor the life and death of key family members. For one to shatter meant only one thing: death.

  The news reached Alphonse Merlin, the patriarch of the Merlin family and a Nexus Temporal Magus, within moments. Seated within his personal study chamber, layered with magic formations, the old Magus quieted down as he received the report.

  Then fury erupted like a broken dam. The very air quivered under the radiating energy pouring from him. His white beard rippled despite the sealed chamber, and the reinforced floor beneath his feet groaned from the immense pressure of his rising power. Arcane runes etched along the tower walls flared in protest, struggling to contain the sudden surge of mana.

  “Who did this?” Alphonse asked coldly.

  A trembling steward knelt nearby, sweat trailing down his temple. “I-It was the envoy sent to the Asteriscus family, my lord. His soul lamp… has extinguished. We can only assume that the Asteriscus family is responsible for his murder.”

  “How dare they!” Alphonse roared, the room shaking faintly at his outburst.

  Not only did his grandson perish from venturing with one of the Asteriscus family’s youths, but now even the envoy — a direct representative of the Merlin name — had been slain on their soil. It was an open insult. A defilement of honor. And to make matters worse, one of the contracted Magi in their service had recently defected without warning. Everything seemed to be slipping beyond his grasp.

  His eyes burned with wrath. “Gather the elders,” he commanded. “Mobilize our dirigible fleet and prepare the legion of Magi.”

  He paused before adding with ice in his tone, “The Asteriscus family has murdered a Merlin envoy. That is no longer politics. That is a declaration of war!”

  The steward’s face went pale, but he bowed low. “Yes, Patriarch.”

  Within minutes, words had spread throughout the inner court of the Merlin estate. About a dozen veteran Magi clad in Magus robes assembled before the high platform, their faces grim. In the distance, the dirigible dockyards rumbled to life — vast airships shaped like soaring falcons being taken out from their sealed hangars.

  On the family’s private training fields, elite acolytes and battle-ready Magi began preparing. Crates of spell scrolls, mana crystals, potions, and powerful magic tools were hauled out from the vaults. Magic cannons were fitted into place.

  In terms of strength alone, the Merlin estate was unmatched by ordinary Magus families. Over twenty Elemental Adept Magi resided here, more than triple the known number within the Asteriscus family. And while Alphonse was the only known Nexus Temporal Magus in the public eye, he wasn’t the sole apex of the family’s power. Another guardian — one not entirely human — remained sealed deep within the ancestral grounds. It was a final deterrent to any who dared challenge the Merlin family on their own soil.

  Actually, the Merlin family had been quietly preparing for war for the past two months. Through certain hidden channels, they had received fragmented but enticing information about a valuable Magus inheritance in the Thornwood Forest, and even more alarming, the existence of a concealed academy operating within its bounds. While the information felt like some sort of scheme, Alphonse could not afford to dismiss it for a certain reason.

  And so, preparations had already begun, even though it was now used for a different thing altogether. Standing atop the balcony overlooking the entire compound, Alphonse narrowed his gaze to the southeast, where the Asteriscus territory was.

  “The Asteriscus family will learn what it means to provoke the Merlin bloodline.”

  ***

  Before undergoing the Trial of Astrology, the elders of the Asteriscus family insisted on verifying Victor’s identity. Though his demonstration of power had shaken them, determining Victor’s real identity was equally important if he wanted to vie for the patriarch position.

  First was a spiritual resonance test — a ceremonial crystal inscribed with ancient runes was placed before him. Only those with the unique spiritual signature of the Asteriscus bloodline could cause the runes to illuminate. Victor placed his hand upon it, and instantly, the crystal blazed with deep-blue light.

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  Next was the soul verification rite. A Magus elder specialized in soul arts inspected Victor’s essence through a soul mirror, peering into the pattern of his being. The elder found that Victor’s soul was clean, strong, and undoubtedly his own. This result gave Victor a strange sense of relief. Ever since he had regained the memories of his past life, he hadn’t been entirely certain whether his current self had been altered or overridden. But now, he could be sure he was still the original Victor.

  Lastly came the bloodline verification. A drop of Victor’s blood was placed onto the ancestral altar — a relic from the founding generation of the family. If it belonged to one of the true lines, the drop would be absorbed and trigger the ancestral flame. The flame burst forth moments later in a brilliant surge, confirming his bloodline to be of the Asteriscus family.

  After all three tests confirmed his identity, the elders could no longer refute him. With the formalities completed, the Trial of Astrology was prepared.

  Despite its ominous name, the trial itself was relatively straightforward. The participant would enter the sacred Astrologer Dungeon — a manmade labyrinth carved by the Asteriscus family’s ancestors deep beneath the estate. It was a rite passed down through generations, designed to test both strength and resolve.

  The goal was simple: reach the heart of the labyrinth and retrieve the ancestral treasure or inheritance kept within. Yet, the path was anything but simple — at least for an average Elemental Adept Magus. The labyrinth was riddled with ancient traps, and guardians in the form of life-sized mannequins stalked the twisting corridors. Each possessed strength on par with a Ki-Master or a newly advanced Elemental Adept Magus. Though they lacked sentience, their coordination and precision made them formidable foes.

  At the end of the winding path was said to be a vast chamber guarded by a mannequin unlike any other. Beyond it lay a sealed room believed to hold the legacy of the family’s forebears. No one had ever reached it, however. Those who had taken the trial in the past only dared to explore the smaller chambers scattered throughout the maze, never venturing to the very end.

  But Victor had a second motive for accepting the Trial of Astrology — he wanted to uncover the truth of what lay behind that final door.

  A long procession gathered outside the entrance to the cavern as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Elders, retainers, and core family members stood in attendance. It was a sacred place that hadn’t been explored for decades — not because it was forbidden, but because those daring enough to challenge its depths had dwindled over generations. Most of its scattered treasures had already been claimed, and few sought the ancestral inheritance that had never been reached, as no one had ever succeeded.

  Victor stood at the threshold, hands calmly folded behind his back. With a brief glance toward the crowd, he entered the cavern without hesitation, vanishing into the dark maw of the cavern.

  Inside, the dim mana torches sparked to life, illuminating the etched stone walls and the faded constellations carved into the passage. As he ventured deeper, it didn’t take long for the first wave of traps to activate — arrows launched from hidden slits, tiles sank away to reveal jagged spears, and stone walls closed in with crushing force.

  But to Victor, it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. None of it even grazed him. The spatial shield that surrounded his body shimmered faintly as it deflected the hazards with ease. With a flick of his finger, a barrage of arrows reversed course and embedded harmlessly into a distant wall. When a blade lunged at him from the side, space warped, curving the weapon away in a harmless arc.

  Then came the mannequins. One by one, they emerged from alcoves and side passages, their bodies pulsing with infused mana. For an average participant, each one would be a life-or-death struggle.

  I see… It appears that these mannequins absorb ambient mana from the cavern to sustain and empower themselves, Victor thought. That must be the secret behind their strength. As long as this place remained intact, they wouldn’t lose their power.

  Still, he didn’t slow his pace. Without breaking stride, he lifted a hand and unleashed a spell: {Warpblade}.

  Ethereal blades shimmered into existence, slicing through the air toward them. The first mannequin was cleaved cleanly in two, its upper body sliding off with a dull thud. The blades moved like sentient things, darting toward the next targets until none remained.

  For him, the entire trial was nothing more than a leisurely walk.

  Finally, Victor stepped over the last of the shattered mannequins and made his way deeper into the labyrinth. There were several rooms scattered along the path, but he didn’t bother to check them — most were likely empty or filled with minor trinkets unworthy of his time. Yet as he was advanced deeper, he noticed the atmosphere became denser, almost as if something was watching him.

  Soon, he arrived at a wide, circular chamber, far grander than any corridor or hall he had passed through. The walls were adorned with faded murals, depicting ancient Magi raising celestial globes and weaving constellations into reality. Clearly, these Magi were Astrologers, which was a sub-class of Magus. Victor always had the hunch that his ancestors were Astrologers because of their last name.

  At the very center of the chamber stood a lone figure — a mannequin, but unlike the others.

  This one was dressed in vibrant, tattered motley — a jester's garb stitched together with patches of deep crimson and midnight blue. Its limbs were long and jointed like a puppet’s, and bells hung from its pointed hat and sleeves. But the most striking part was its face, which was porcelain-white with a painted grin that never moved. Two hollow eyes stared at Victor, unblinking, as if it had been expecting him.

  The moment Victor stepped into the chamber, the jester mannequin’s head tilted sideways with a soft creak. Its bells jingled as it bent its knees and dropped into a bow before rising again in a motion that defied natural joints. In a blink, it leapt from its pedestal and landed with eerie grace between Victor and the sealed door at the back of the chamber.

  “The last guardian…” Victor muttered.

  The jester twirled once on its heel, then raised both arms and pointed at Victor exaggeratedly, as though to say, “Show me what you’ve got.”

  Victor let out a chuckle. “Intere—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, the jester threw a bunch of sharp knives at Victor without warning.

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