Report
The sun rose, heralding that fateful day.
Ian reclined against the sofa, his posture languid yet exuding a quiet intensity. Attendants bustled around him, meticulously ensuring every detail was perfect. They smoothed his hair into impeccable order, fastened the buttons of his attire, and carefully pinned the badge of the Minister of Magic, bestowed by the Imperial Palace, to his chest. As another attendant approached with a golden tray holding leather gloves, the sound of footsteps echoed from outside.
"Ian, are you ready?"
It was Viviana. Her formal dress, more elaborate than usual, reflected the significance of the day. Not only was this an important event at the Imperial Palace, but it was also destined to mark the final chapter for someone.
The opposition believed that someone would be Ian, but Ian’s allies were certain it would be Arsène.
"Viviana, you’re coming? I heard you weren’t feeling well."
"I wouldn’t miss this if it means standing behind you, Ian. Besides, Sir Romandro seems to be struggling, and I thought my presence might offer some reassurance."
The odds were stacked against them. Support for Jin had visibly diminished compared to the overwhelming backing Arsène enjoyed.
Even so, Viviana was determined to fill the empty spaces, even if she couldn’t venture into the inner chamber due to the risks involved.
"How are you holding up, Ian? I’ve heard Captain Acorella’s stamina potion has some nasty side effects. They say once you fall asleep, you’re out for days..."
"I can manage. How’s Prince Jin?"
"He’s ready."
"Good. Let’s go."
Ian clenched his fists as he pulled on the gloves, the leather fitting snugly over his hands.
Outside, Jin, Xiaoshi, and Romandro were waiting with the mages. Ian extended his hand to Jin, and the boy silently grasped it.
"Did you sleep well?"
"...Yes. What about you, Sir Ian?"
"I had a very good dream."
The night before, Jin had once again dreamt of Arsène, while Ian had not slept at all. Yet, as if to hint that fortune would smile on them today, the two shared a knowing smile.
Tat-tat-tat!
"How’s the magic circle?"
"It’s complete. Minister, you need to inspect it one last time. As for the attendees arriving at the main gate, we’ve instructed them to notify us immediately. We’ve also requested reinforcements from the Imperial Guard as a precaution, though we haven’t received a response."
This magic confirmation ceremony was unlike any Ian had previously participated in. It was being held in the Ministry of Magic’s meeting hall, rather than the Imperial Palace, and there were no additional events like the traditional New Year’s celebrations. The entire event was under the Ministry’s jurisdiction.
More importantly, the venue offered greater flexibility to prepare for any unforeseen incidents compared to the rigid structure of the palace.
Clatter.
"A bit more to the right—yes, that’s it!"
"What about this curtain? Should we leave it open?"
"Is the wine ready? Make sure we’ve got enough glasses."
"Can someone help me here? Hold this—yes, right there!"
As the veil was removed, the Oracle’s Light was revealed in all its splendor. Though shaped like a harp, its milky curves and the intricate arrangement of jewels adorning its surface gave it the appearance of a masterpiece. Its grandeur befit the legacy of Carbo, the artisan who had crafted it during the nation’s founding era.
"Ian."
"High Priestess."
The High Priestess Lilly, weaving her way through the mages, approached Ian. She let out a deep sigh, her frail shoulders rising and falling with effort.
"The preparations are complete, just as you instructed, but I can’t help wondering... Is this truly the right path?"
"There is no such thing as a ‘right path.’ Each of us has our own way to go. High Priestess, all you need to do is watch from the sidelines and make your choice when the time comes."
The High Priestess had not fully accepted the claim that Arsène was a monster, but she had chosen a cautious approach. She would assist in the verification process and decide her stance based on the results.
In the distance, Abidel and Makael were seen praying with their hands placed on the Oracle’s Light.
"Ian, Quintana from the Administrative Bureau has arrived."
"Five carriages have just passed through the main gate. Central nobles Leontis and Fileto are here, along with Delma from the Ministry of Culture."
Though it was still early, the guests’ sense of urgency was palpable. After all, this was the day they had all been waiting for.
Ian entrusted Romandro with greeting the guests and ascended the platform. Beneath the radiant glow of the Oracle’s Light, a massive magic circle drawn by the mages shimmered with power.
"There’s no problem, Ian."
"Good. It’s well-crafted."
The hall, filled with a rich melody, was packed wall-to-wall with people. Among them were a few who had likely come without invitations, but the Ministry of Magic didn’t bother to stop them. After all, the more the merrier at a festival, wasn’t it?
"So this is what the Ministry of Magic looks like. Honestly, it’s my first time here. My word, it’s beautiful! Pollen drifting continuously in the air—it’s enchanting."
"I’ve heard there are rooms in the Ministry where it constantly snows or rains. It seems they weren’t exaggerating."
"By the way, I don’t see Minister Ian anywhere."
"You know, at first, I thought I misheard. Arsène, a monster? It sounds absurd. But the claim is so heavy that I can’t help but feel a sliver of doubt."
"Even within the Ministry, opinions seem divided. Minister Ian hasn’t made a clear statement since the proclamation at the council."
"Didn’t he declare that only one of them would leave alive? It’ll certainly be a spectacle."
The nobles and officials murmured quietly, covering their mouths with their fans as their eyes darted around. Though the setting was no different from the parties they frequented, an unnerving tension hung in the air.
Today, at this very moment, the future of Bariel would be decided.
"Lady Delaina and Prince Arsène are here!"
"Duke Haiman has arrived!"
Creeeak.
The doors opened slowly, and the murmurs came to an abrupt halt. It was as if time itself had stopped. If not for the orchestra’s gentle music, one might have believed it to be true.
Delaina entered the hall, flanked by Arsène and Duke Haiman. Following behind them were their supporters, each taking a place of prominence.
"Oh, welcome, Prince Arsène."
"Lady Delaina, it’s been too long. How have you been?"
Several nobles swiftly stepped forward, eagerly greeting Arsène. Their behavior was not unlike ants drawn to sugar, a sight that made Romandro, who stood watch by the door, click his tongue in disdain.
Ziiing. Ziing.
A faint hum rang in everyone’s ears—the sound that accompanied magical announcements from the Ministry’s enchanted devices. The crowd immediately turned their attention to the platform, where Ian stood, glowing more vibrantly than usual under the sparkling lights.
"I am Ian Hielo, Minister of Magic. Thank you all for taking the time to attend despite your busy schedules. Today, we gather to witness what may be a historic moment in Bariel—the confirmation ceremony for a Royal Mage. Let us proceed with the ritual."
Ian’s gaze landed squarely on Arsène, his lips curling into a smile. It was a smile that seemed to say, I truly hope you’re a mage. The irony in his expression was unmistakable. With a graceful motion, Ian gestured toward the stage steps, drawing Arsène’s attention.
"Prince Arsène, today’s honored guest, please step forward."
"Before that, Sir Ian, there’s something I must address first, don’t you think?"
It was a challenge, daring Ian to repeat the accusations he had made at the council.
"You’ve accused me of being a monster, dishonoring our father, His Majesty, the Emperor. Not only that, but you’ve also sullied the name of our mother with a stain that cannot be erased. You’ve torn the dignity of the royal family to shreds."
Royal defamation.
"And then, you even declared you would kill me."
Royal regicide.
"On top of that, your despicable behavior, hiding behind my cursed brother Jin as your shield to seize power, is utterly deplorable. If I prove myself to possess the qualities of a mage, will you stake your life and accept death?"
The crowd held their breath, their gazes darting between Ian and Arsène. Their sharp stares clashed in the tense silence. It was Ian who broke the stillness first, his laughter light and confident.
"…Everyone, listen closely. I will state this officially once more. Arsène is the brother of the last monster to plague Bariel and is a demon who will lead this nation to ruin. He possesses the power to manipulate minds, a force akin to magic, and uses it to deceive and beguile."
Gasps rippled through the hall. Ian had cast the die—there was no turning back now.
"He manipulated Prince Jin’s prophecy and stripped Lady Delaina of her maternal instincts."
"Sir Ian! That’s enough!"
"If I am wrong, I will take my own life. But if Arsène is revealed to be a demon, I will personally see to his execution."
Delaina tightened her grip on Arsène’s shoulder and made her demand.
"Very well. I expect you to honor your words and stake your reputation. But before we proceed! How can I trust the magic circle you created? For all I know, you’ve tampered with it to make Arsène appear as a demon."
"The magic circle was drawn collaboratively by the entire Ministry of Magic," Ian replied calmly.
"Your followers, no doubt!"
A ripple of unease passed over the faces of mages who weren’t fully loyal to Ian. What if Ian failed? Would their heads roll simply for standing by his side?
"What do you want?" Ian asked plainly.
"The magic circle exists only to activate the Oracle’s Light with minimal mana, correct?" Delaina probed.
"That is correct, under ordinary circumstances," Ian admitted.
"But this one has been altered, hasn’t it?"
This was information Ian had shared during the council meeting. With the High Priestess’s guidance, the circle had been adjusted to reveal any trace of a demonic presence.
"That’s true," Ian confirmed.
"How can you prove the alteration was solely for identifying demons? Remove the magic circle and conduct the ritual using only the Oracle’s Light."
"If the amplification function is removed, the light will be weak—practically insignificant. Is that how you want to mark the start of the first Royal Mage in Imperial history?" Ian countered.
"Weak or not, the first light of the Imperial legacy will shine brighter than anything else. If you refuse, I’ll assume you’ve tampered with the circle," Delaina retorted, lifting her chin defiantly.
Her posture made it clear she wouldn’t back down. Ian fell silent for a moment, and the murmurs among the nobles grew louder.
"Why isn’t Sir Ian answering?"
"Indeed, what’s the hold-up? This is suspicious."
"Delaina’s request is reasonable. Surely the Oracle’s Light itself is pure—it’s from the sacred Carbo Temple, after all."
Snap!
Ian snapped his fingers, silencing the room. His gesture toward the steps was firm and commanding, signaling that there would be no further refusals.
"…Very well. Have it your way."
Creaaak!
The mages and clergy moved the Oracle’s Light back, distancing it three steps from the magic circle. Arsène began to walk forward, parting the crowd as he went. Even those loyal to him gave way, clearing a path for the young prince.
"Step aside. This stage is mine," Arsène said, exuding confidence.
Placing his hand on the Oracle’s Light, Arsène glanced at Ian and whispered.
"As you wish."
At first, nothing happened. With his bare hand resting on the Oracle’s Light, there was no unusual reaction. Observing this, the nobles exchanged knowing looks, concluding that Arsène wasn’t a demon after all.
"Let it begin."
Ian descended from the platform, leaving Arsène alone on stage. The boy raised his hand confidently, pointing his fingers toward the air. Then—
Ziiing. Ziiing.
A radiant stream of light burst forth, a sight often associated with the magic of seasoned mages. The glow extended gracefully, shimmering in beautiful patterns. The orchestra resumed, its bold melody perfectly matching the waves of light that filled the hall. The spectators gasped in awe, many covering their mouths.
"Didn’t they say there was no amplification device?"
"This is incredible! Truly magnificent!"
"Wow, they say that’s the power of mana! Doesn’t it rival Ian’s? This is surely Bariel’s blessing!"
The display was just as dazzling as Ian’s earlier demonstration, even without the magic circle. Pollen cascaded from the ceiling like delicate snowflakes, giving the scene a heavenly aura.
Arsène reveled in the moment, casting a triumphant glance at Ian. His expression seemed to say: See this? Enjoy the show—this will be the last performance you’ll ever witness.
But then—
"Huh...?"
"What is it?"
"Look carefully. Something’s not right."
A quiet murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd.
Someone in the audience, gazing up at Arsène, noticed Ian smiling.
"…Prince Arsène... has no shadow."
