I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 531: Let’s Fight

Magnus’s yellow eyes gleamed with approval behind the white porcelain mask, visible even through the narrow slits as he looked down at the arm buried halfway to the forearm in his stomach.

”Yes, yes!” His tone conveyed a profound sense of accomplishment that extended beyond a mere professional evaluation.

”You don’t hesitate. Most would have paused, questioned, and deliberated before striking someone who claims leadership over an organization that’s hunted your kind for generations. But you saw an opening and took it without a moment’s doubt.”

Jack’s heterochromatic gaze meticulously observed Magnus’s response, his arm remaining embedded within the masked individual’s torso.

Golden lightning continued crackling around the point of penetration, arcs of electricity jumping between his fingers and the torn fabric of Magnus’s clothing.

Then Jack withdrew his hand smoothly, his arm pulling free from flesh and bone with the same casual precision he’d used to drive it in.

His fingers emerged clean.

There was no blood coating his skin, no viscera clinging to his knuckles, no evidence whatsoever that his hand had just been buried inside another person’s body.

Jack’s gaze dropped to his hand, turning it over to examine both sides.

It was as if he’d thrust his arm through empty air instead of living tissue.

”That’s a nice trick you have,” Jack observed, his tone conveying a sense of disappointment. ”Your body is hollow. It went through flesh and bone, but there’s nothing on the inside. As if my hand went through a portal rather than an actual person.”

Magnus’s posture shifted slightly, the hole in his stomach closing with fluid precision, making the injury disappear.

The torn fabric remained, providing evidence that the attack had occurred, but the flesh beneath showed no wound or scar to indicate it had ever been damaged.

”An old technique,” Magnus acknowledged, neither confirming nor denying the specifics of how it functioned. ”Useful for surviving encounters that would kill lesser beings.”

Jack’s heterochromatic gaze ascended from his pristine hand to Magnus’s obscured countenance, and a subtle shift in his demeanor became apparent.

The aggressive intent that had fueled his attack evaporated, replaced by something else.

”How do you know about Sarin?”

The question cut through the tension like a blade.

Magnus’s yellow eyes studied Jack through the mask’s slits, calculating how much to reveal, how much to conceal.

The silence stretched for several moments before he responded.

”Sarin is not a name spoken lightly. Very few remember it, and fewer still understand its significance. But those who do recognize that certain... patterns repeat themselves throughout history. Echoes of power that manifest in unexpected vessels.”

Jack’s jaw clenched, his right hand curling into a fist at his side. The answer revealed nothing while confirming everything.

Magnus knew about Sarin, understood implications Jack couldn’t fully grasp, and was deliberately withholding information for reasons that remained opaque.

”I’ve lost my motivation to fight you,” Jack stated flatly, his tone carrying genuine disappointment. ”Because I know I won’t kill you. But you also won’t kill me.”

He paused, his mismatched eyes boring into Magnus’s masked face with intensity that made the air between them feel charged.

”If we fought seriously, no holding back, how much damage could I do to you before you killed me?”

Magnus’s laughter emanated from behind the porcelain mask, a profound response to the directness of the inquiry.

”You would die a gruesome death,” his response conveyed an air of unwavering conviction, as though he were articulating self-evident truths.

”Your capabilities are impressive for your age and experience level, but you’re still inexperienced in combat against opponents who’ve spent centuries perfecting their craft.”

His yellow eyes tracked Jack’s reaction, measuring how the young Soul Warden processed the harsh truth delivered without softening or qualification.

”The only ones here who could probably stop me are S or your father. But that would be stretching it. Even they would struggle, and victory for either would come at costs they might not be willing to pay.”

Jack absorbed the information without visible reaction beyond a slight tightening around his eyes.

His father, the man who’d casually dominated two Council members in Contractee states without using magic, might struggle to stop Magnus.

”I’ve lost interest in the toys behind you,” Jack declared, his gaze shifting past Magnus to where Warren and Mira stood watching with growing desperation. ”I want to fight you instead.”

Magnus’s posture subtly altered, and despite his expression remaining obscured, his smile shifted into a malevolent grin.

”So be it.”

Jack turned his back on Magnus without hesitation.

Showing his back to someone who’d just been declared capable of killing his father was either supreme confidence or tactical provocation, and Jack’s casual stride away from the masked figure suggested the former.

Magnus said nothing as Jack walked away, his yellow eyes tracking the Soul Warden’s departure.

Jack’s boots struck wet stone in a measured rhythm as he crossed back toward where Alaric stood, watching.

The Duke’s discerning violet eyes meticulously observed his son’s approach, clinically assessing the recently concluded exchange.

But before reaching his father, Jack’s attention shifted to where S stood near the portal, his blood-covered suit still dripping onto marble despite the time that had passed since whatever violence had painted him so thoroughly.

”S.”

The Contract Demon’s red eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he straightened slightly, acknowledging his master’s call.

”You can torture Mira and play with her,” Jack’s tone carried casual indifference that made the command more disturbing than if he’d delivered it with anger or satisfaction.

”But don’t kill her yet. I want to show her something before she dies.”

S bowed deeply, the gesture oddly formal despite being performed while covered in fresh blood. ”As you wish, Master.”

Behind Magnus, Warren, and Mira’s expressions shifted from confusion to horror as the implications crashed through them.

”This is insane,” Mira hissed, her voice barely audible but carrying enough volume for Warren to hear clearly. ”The Leader is just... allowing this. Encouraging it. What possible benefit does our death serve?”

Warren’s blue tattoos flowed faster across his skin, his mind racing through scenarios.

”I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice tight with tension that threatened to break into panic.

”But we need to find a way out of this dome. The barrier has to have weaknesses. Loryn’s construction is powerful but not perfect. If we can identify stress points in the dark mana structure...”

”And then what?” Mira interrupted, her orange eyes tracking S’s approach with growing dread. ”Even if we breach the barrier, we’re surrounded by thirty thousand demons, two Emperor-class entities, and a Soul Warden who’s somehow immune to fire magic. Where exactly do we run that they can’t follow?”

Warren had no answer. His tactical mind cataloged possibilities and discarded them with equal speed.

Every scenario ended in death, every escape route was cut off by overwhelming force, and every hope evaporated under the cold analysis of their actual situation.

They were going to die here.

The only question remaining was how much they could learn before the end, what information they might somehow transmit back to the Council if any opportunity presented itself.

Jack reached Alaric’s position and stopped, his mismatched eyes tracking his father’s face with focus that excluded everything else from consideration.

”I want to talk to Drakon.”

Alaric’s purple eyes widened fractionally.

The first visible sign of genuine surprise Jack had seen from his father throughout this entire encounter.

”Why?”