Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

Ballard Estate, Uptown Quarter.

The entire manor was drowned in overwhelming sadness and misery. The family members were beside themselves, mourning the loss of Hayes Ballard.

Upon his passing, he left behind a grieving widow and several children, their lives suddenly overshadowed by loss and uncertainty.

Hayes’s mother had locked herself in the room, sobbing uncontrollably. Outside her door, several maids and servants had gathered, their eyes filled with tears as they repeatedly called out to the lady of the house, hoping she wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Scenes like this played throughout the manor. The Ballard Family, with all its members, was now wallowing in grief and pain over Hayes’s death.

It was evident that he was truly liked and respected by all the family members.

Within the study on the top floor, Ives Ballard sat slumped against the wall, his back pressed to the cold stone.

The room was in complete disarray. Wooden shelves lay splintered, pages torn from books littered the floor, glass windows were shattered, and chandeliers hung in broken pieces.

It was almost as if a raging tempest of sorrow had swept through the study, leaving only devastation in its wake.

Ives Ballard had a vacant look on his face, staring blankly into the void. He had wept until his eyes could shed no more tears, screamed until his voice was stripped raw and silent.

All that remained was a blank expression and a heart devoid of any feelings.

In his hand, he stared at a moving portrait of him and his eldest son, Hayes. The picture depicted a young Ives cradling a baby boy who was a spitting image of him.

It was filled with warmth, joy, and love.

Yet, all of that had now vanished from Ives’s life. All that remained was… fury and vengeance.

It was a trap set up by the Dark King…

The Master’s words continued to echo inside his lightless mind.

Anger flashed through his eyes. He clenched his jaw so intensely that his gums started to bleed. Crimson-tinged foam gathered at the corners of his lips as he spat a single name through gritted teeth:

”Constantine…”

How did things turn out this way?

He wondered.

Where did it all go wrong?

If this was a trap set up by the Dark King, Hayes… he should have been smart enough to escape. He had the teleportation magic scroll with him, so why didn’t he…

Why didn’t he…

Ballard closed his eyes, his chest violently heaving up and down, as he sobbed again. He clutched at his robes, seemingly clawing at his heart.

It hurts…

It hurts so much…

My son, I love you… Please, forgive me…

In his mind, he was already beginning to blame himself for the death of his beloved son. All sorts of dark thoughts continuously assaulted his feeble mind.

If only I hadn’t sent him away…

The image of the young man responsible for his misery emerged in his mind.

”Constantine… Constantine… CONSTANTINE!!!”

He had thought several times of wanting to secretly leave the manor and confront Adam. However, despite being overwhelmed by grief and irrationality, a faint spark of reasoning stopped him from doing so.

Ballard knew that there was a spy somewhere within his household, silently observing his every move from the shadows.

Otherwise, it didn’t make sense…

How else was the Master able to learn about his son’s death, and subsequently arrive at his manor to prevent him from doing something reckless?

Ballard was slowly becoming paranoid.

He raised his trembling hands and clutched at his hair. His eyes were bloodshot as thoughts of murder and savagery constantly clawed at his sanity.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the study, rustling the torn pages of the books and making the shattered crystals of the chandelier chime with faint, eerie sounds.

Ballard lowered his hands, then slowly turned towards the open window.

There, on the ledge, sat a mysterious robed figure, his elbow resting on one knee, and his chin cradled in his hand.

”When can I leave?” Ballard asked flatly, his face devoid of any emotions.

He no longer cared about maintaining any decorum in front of this man. Truth be told, he no longer cared about anything… except for one thing.

The Master didn’t reply. Instead, he simply observed the councilor.

Attachments are indeed burdens for a Magus, he thought to himself.

To achieve greatness, I must cast them aside. Or else…

The Master’s eyes gleamed with utter disdain as he looked at the pathetic state of Ives Ballard.

What a loser.

”The coast is clear,” he said after a while. ”There are no dangers ahead.”

”Good!” Ballard rose to his feet, his expression contorting in fury.

”Are you going to leave now?” The Master asked with an arched eyebrow.

To him, the old man looked like he was in the worst possible condition to go out hunting.

”Do you intend to make me wait even longer?!” Ballard roared angrily. ”Do you take me for a prisoner?!”

Huh, would you look at that?

The Master thought in amusement.

It seems that he doesn’t even fear death anymore.

He shrugged nonchalantly. ”Do as you wish.”

Pausing for a moment, he then added, ”I’ve already made arrangements. Rumors of your son’s death have spread across the city. I’m sure the upper echelons will understand why you suddenly had to leave with all the Magi of your family.”

Although it seemed like the Master was doing the councilor a favor, the truth was something else entirely. It was yet another insidious plot of his.

Ballard frowned. ”What have you—”

”Shhh.” The Master cut him off.

Then, he tossed a rolled parchment at the old man. ”Inside is the contact information of a very secretive assassin’s guild operating within the Empire. They’re quite good at what they do, if I say so myself.”

He paused for a moment, his lips curling into a cold smirk. ”For the right price, you can hire several Mana Vortex-level assassins. You’re a wealthy man, aren’t you, Ballard? I suggest you invest wisely.”

Ives Ballard didn’t even unfurl the parchment. Instead, he asked in a dubious tone, ”You… aren’t sending any cultists with me?”

”We have more pressing matters to attend to,” said the Master, his voice calm.

With that said, he slowly disappeared into curling wisps of shadows, leaving behind his parting words:

”Go, Ballard… avenge your son’s death. Let your grief become your sword, and your fury, the fire that burns everything in your path.”

Filled with madness, Ives Ballard clenched his jaws. His eyes flickered with boundless emotions as he conjured his son’s Soulmark Lantern.

The wisp of black spiritual energy within the lantern pulsed ominously, pointing him toward his son’s killer.

Ballard slowly turned his head south and spat through gritted teeth, his words oozing bloodlust and insanity:

”Whoever you are... I will find you, and I will fuckin’ kill you!”