Neol wet his lips with his tongue as he listened to what the guild member told him. “They’re… what?”

“They’re butchering the slums’ residents.” The guild member bowed. “Some of our members… even Elno… has been killed.”

“But… we left no traces.”

“They are executing everyone and anyone who seems suspicious or has acted suspiciously before… Anyone who’s into the business of murder. They seem to think this might be a noble’s actions, and naturally, many nobles approach the information guilds or the slum rats first.” The guild member seemed to be trembling lightly. “We’ve managed to make some of them turn somewhat of a blind eye from our guild headquarters and some of our members by paying them… more than a hundred gold coins each time, but… some of our more violent members were still executed anyway.”

Leaning back into his chair, Neol cupped his mouth. He’d expected backlash from the palace, of course he did, but he hadn’t expected… a cleanse. He’d made sure to only target the poorer districts, after all. There was no reason to go into a cleanse for this. An investigation, sure. Tight security, sure. Some arrested and executed, sure.

But this…?

“Are they doing the same in the richer districts?” Neol couldn’t help but ask.

“They are,” the guild member stated. “Of course, mostly only the ‘suspicious’ individuals, but… even there, many civilians…” The guild member paused, licking his lips. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

Neol could interpret what suspicious meant. Some of the nobles’ knights, mercenaries, and, of course, some unfortunate civilians who did not have one stable job, or some that… were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

If these unlucky civilians were able to pay enough and beg for mercy and the royal knights deemed them enough of a non-threat, they’d perhaps be spared, but that was impossible, since none of the civilians would have enough money. 

Even they, harmless information guilds who usually only licked the nobles’ boots, even after they had paid a ludicrous amount, many of their members were caught and simply butchered. And the reason it had only been many and not all was since most of them didn’t engage in activities such as murder or disposing of individuals until now.

For such an intense reaction to occur from the palace, whatever had happened inside that required the higher priests to go in was far, far bigger than Neol had predicted.

Just what was happening in the palace? Neol couldn’t help but ponder, his throat parched.

—

If Aran could challenge his brother to a duel to the death, he would. What in the world was the stupid idiot thinking when he’d sent a royal mage to torture their brother?

At least for the previous attempt, his second brother had mentioned what he was about to do! And Aran, being the more sane one, had told him to not send assassins who would actually kill him. That would make their father launch into a rampage!

But this time, he didn’t consult him, and voila, he’d made a spectacular mess of things.

Aran sighed, leaning back onto the grimy, solid wall, a pang of hunger making him circulate his mana once more. Even with his mana, he couldn’t survive for much longer in this dungeon. Should he just… beg for mercy? Was that all he could do?

His goddamned second brother. Aran was going to tear him into pieces once he left this godforsaken dungeon.

—

If Rena could challenge his brother to a duel to the death, he would. What in the world was the stupid idiot thinking when he’d sent a royal mage to torture their brother?

Wasn’t Rena supposed to be the hotheaded, impulsive one amidst them? What possessed his brother to do this? Sheer idiocy? Unchecked arrogance?

Perhaps his brother had gone insane?

With unshed tears glistening in his eyes, Rena curled up on the floor, clutching onto his stomach tightly, channeling mana desperately. He couldn’t do this for much longer. Perhaps it was better if he begged his father for mercy… But he’d done nothing wrong! It was all his first brother!

His goddamned first brother, Rena swore under his breath. He was going to tear him into pieces once he left this godforsaken dungeon.

—

The head royal healer, a seventh level light mage named Winston, was having the most difficult month of his life. Food was optional, sleep was but a dream. All he’d been focused upon, along with seemingly all of the capital’s healers, was channeling his light mana into the prince’s body.

And, to Winston’s endless dismay, no matter how much light mana they poured into the prince, his injuries would not heal. Yet his body did not reject the light mana either. So they were stuck in a stalemate, pouring as much light mana as they could without pause into this endless blackhole.

And it had been a full month.

Yet the prince still absorbed more.

And more.

And more.

It made no logical sense. If it was anyone else but the prince, they would have simply concluded his mana circuits were so broken that mana was simply not even staying in his body, he was unsaveable, and call it a day. But they couldn’t, not with the third prince. Not with the king breathing down their necks, ready to behead them all if they stopped without trying their best.

But finally.

Finally, after exactly a full month, right on the thirty first day since the prince had been tortured, he stopped absorbing mana. Instead, their mana finally began affecting his injuries as his skin began healing, piecing together.

And finally, the third prince’s condition stabilized—stabilized enough that he’d soon wake up.

And, even better, due to the Inheritor’s grace, a miracle had occurred. Even the third prince’s mana circuits had healed up. They were different from the third prince’s original mana circuits. The healer knew the mana circuits of the entire royal family intimately, having checked their health and mana status every single week for almost a decade.

So the prince would probably have to start over again in his journey, become a mage from the base up, but… at least he had the opportunity to.

Perhaps that’s why Winston was almost in tears when he delivered the news to the king.

—

The king looked at the two princes bowing in front of him, their gazes stuck to the floor, both gaunt.

He stared at them for a few seconds before finally asking, “Do you know why I let you two out of the dungeon? Even though neither of you begged for mercy nor confessed?”

The princes didn’t reply, but the king didn’t mind. His rage had been quelled ever so slightly, and besides, the princes’ punishments had only begun. Even though, luckily, the healers had managed to heal his third son’s mana circuits, he had to get used to the new mana circuit, find which element suited him the most.

He was out of the race, practically.

He’d lost the chance to become the king.

“The third prince’s condition has stabilized,” the king announced, and both the princes’ posture seemed to lighten at that, almost like they were relieved.

The king felt himself smirking at that. “Go eat. Take a break for a few days,” he ordered. Both the princes stood up shakily, walking towards the throne room’s grand doors, when the king continued, “I’ll be investigating the nobles’ soon. From your factions.”

Both the princes turned to look at him. The second prince just looked confused, but the first prince had a glint of dawning horror in his eyes.

Yes, he understood. He was the more politically savvy of his children.

The king’s smile widened, at which the first prince’s eyes dimmed. He simply nodded before leaving the room.

—

The king stared down at Winston with a cold gaze. A cold enough gaze that it made Winston confused. Shouldn’t the king be happy? Pleased? Satisfied with Winston, satisfied that he’d been able to save the third prince?

Winston had expected that the king had called him to reward him. However, instead of that, the king was staring at him coolly.

With suspicion.

“Do you have any suspicions about who did this, Winston?” the king asked, his tone ice cold.

Winston blinked. “No, Your Majesty. However, I suspect it is one of the mages. They have no solid attachment nor loyalty and are here only on a contract. They can be easily influenced and would do something like this if given sufficient motivation.” 

The king chuckled. “Indeed, I had the same thoughts as you initially. But then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized… To torture the prince with such precision, ripping out all his mana circuits one by one without killing him, one would have to know his mana circuits well, yes?”

Winston felt himself pale at what the king was implying, but he nodded. “Y-yes, Your Majesty. They would.”

“And who knows the prince’s circuits the best, Winston?” the king questioned gently, and Winston gulped gently.

“I-I do.”

“Indeed. How very interesting.” The king chuckled some more. “No mage could do something like this without killing the third prince. It would have to be a healer. A very familiar healer. True, it could be one of the other healers instead of you, Winston. So I ask you, once more. Do you have any suspicions about who it could be?”

Winston looked down onto the floor, a shiver passing through his spine. No, he did not. He trusted all his colleagues. All the healers of the palace were good people. They were a bit weird with their experiments at times, but they would never harm a fellow human, let alone a member of the royal family.

“I… do not, Your Majesty.”

“Think about it carefully, Winston,” the king said, carefully, slowly, precisely. “Think about it very carefully. You have one week. Find me the culprit. Do not protect them. Or I will be forced to make some… personal checks, and you will not be pleased by the results.”

Winston bowed low, feeling himself trembling ever so slightly.

“I will do my best, Your Majesty.”

—

Ivor blinked, his eyes opening slowly. His eyelids felt rather heavy, and as he took in the white ceiling, his bedroom’s, and the weight of the bed sheet draped over him, it took him a few seconds to remember what had happened.

Indeed. He’d asked the shop to grant his wishes, and… pain.

Perhaps Ivor should have expected it.

Reforging his mana circuits, giving him the ability to use an entirely different type of mana proficiently, and making him a level seven mage…

It was only natural for it to be an extremely painful process.

Ivor let out a sigh. It was fine. The pain was over. At that thought, excitement began blooming in his heart. Indeed, the pain was over. Could he use light mana now? Could he exhibit the skills of a level seven mage? Stronger than even his father, wielding two elements, which only mages in the legends could do?

“I-Ivor?” A voice, so feeble and soft, broke him out of his thoughts. He turned his head towards the source of the voice. Violet was present next to him, sitting on a chair, and was looking at him with undisguised concern. “Y-you’re awake?!”

“Hello, V.” Ivor smiled at her, and she seemed ready to cry. 

With glistening eyes, she gently grabbed his hand, and muttered, “I thought you’d die.”

“I didn’t, did I?”

“No, thank goodness, no.” Violet was gently sobbing by now.

Ivor gently sat up and stroked her hand, looking at her with gentle eyes. “Don’t cry, V.”

This only made her sob harder, and Ivor leaned forward, pulling her in for a hug.

He didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, Violet calmed down, only sniffling, and withdrew herself from the hug.

“So, what happened while I was unconscious?”