──Laplace had no name.
To be more precise, his current name was one he'd given himself. After he became old enough to understand things, his mother had persistently called him a "demon," so he'd simply picked some random demon's name from whatever texts he could find and applied it to himself. He actually found the sound of it surprisingly pleasing, so he had no complaints about that.
And,
He had no family name either.
.
In short, he was what this country would define as a "commoner."
He wasn't like Ermes — someone who had originally been born a noble only to have their family name stripped away. From the very moment of his birth, Laplace belonged to no house whatsoever. No matter how he struggled, he would never — absolutely never — be recognized as a "noble" within this country's system.
So why did such a person possess Bloodline Magic?
The reason was simple enough. The man who was presumably his father had a terrible weakness for women, and after scattering his seed far and wide, Laplace happened to be born as the result of one such "accident."
Naturally, someone like that could hardly hope for a proper life.
His mother, clinging to the slimmest of hopes, paid a visit to the noble house where this father-figure presumably belonged, but was turned away at the door as a matter of course. He didn't know exactly what exchange took place during that visit, but afterward his mother had tormented him like a madwoman, screaming "someone like you!" — which more or less confirmed that whatever conversation she'd had with his father had gone poorly.
That mother, too — perhaps unable to endure the wretched living conditions — fell ill and died when he was six years old. He was left alone, abandoned at the very bottom of the kingdom's social hierarchy.
Under normal circumstances, a child like that would sooner or later die somewhere, unnoticed by anyone, and that would be the end of it.
Yes — under normal circumstances.
There were two points where Laplace's life diverged from the normal.
First, despite being a commoner in terms of social standing, he possessed Bloodline Magic.
And second —
He was a genius.
His Bloodline Magic manifested at roughly the same time as his mother's death, and not long after that, he intuitively understood how to use it.
Moreover, he didn't stop there. With his extraordinary intellect, he analyzed his own Bloodline Magic. Within the limits of what he could determine, he grasped the nature and capabilities of the magic, and systematically organized how best to put it to practical use in daily life.
By wielding his Bloodline Magic masterfully, he was able to protect himself and maintain a living even in the rough, lawless environment where he grew up. Despite having only recently awakened it, the performance of his magic — as well as his own magical ability — stood head and shoulders above the rest. As he grew older, the things he could do expanded further, his power deepened, and his knowledge accumulated.
And then, at last —
"Wh-who the hell are you, you wretched little brat? How did you get in here? Hey, guards! Drag this one out immediately! — What are you doing?! Why aren't you answering — You killed them all?! Wh-what nonsense! You look like nothing more than a commoner. Nobles possess a different kind of Bloodline Magic than commoners do —"
A Heavenly Gift —
"— a power bestowed by the Star Gods! Every last one of my guards possessed Bloodline Magic, and you expect me to believe you defeated them all — …………Huh? Wh-what — what is th— gck! D-don't you dare look down on me! There's no way my Marquis house's Bloodline Magic could lose to some unknown quantity of magic like — agaa…! Wh-why — what — what do you even want from me?! What grudge could you — hhh! W-what — what did I ever do?! Did I ever do anything to you?! There's no way I — i, a, f-forgive me, I'm begging you, I'll do anything — please, just help me —…………………………"
Laplace, who had obtained power enough to overwhelm even his own father without breaking a sweat —
— killed his father just as effortlessly as one might expect.
Having finished everything, he carelessly shook the spattered blood from his blood-soaked body.
He walked through the dark back alleys of the Royal Capital, where no one would notice him.
Laplace had fully achieved his goal: killing the very father who had created him and cast him into these wretched circumstances.
Beneath the full moon, he exhaled.
"………………I don't feel a damn thing."
He understood —
— that he himself was already irreparably broken.
He didn't particularly harbor any hatred toward his father.
It was simply that, as a matter of knowledge, he understood that people in his situation were supposed to develop murderous intent toward their father and live for the sake of revenge. He had only carried that out because he understood it intellectually.
If anything, he had harbored a faint hope that perhaps — just perhaps — doing this might stir something inside him, that even someone like him might finally feel something worthwhile.
But the result was exactly this.
Nothing more than the hollow, meaningless emptiness that comes from killing someone who meant absolutely nothing to him, stretching out endlessly in every direction.
He understood it at last.
He had become a person whom nothing in this world could move anymore. A person with nothing left inside.
It was the natural consequence of being born as he was, of enduring the experiences he had endured... emotions had been worn away to a fatal degree.
From there, he drifted aimlessly without destination.
He could no longer muster the will to eat anything. Naturally, hunger and weakness ravaged his body, but even that had long since ceased to matter.
Having lost even the will to live, Laplace soon collapsed in the shadow of some nearby building.
Surely this time, he would quietly starve to death and crumble away without anyone ever knowing. He accepted that without the slightest hesitation, and in the instant he gently began to close his eyes—
"Ar...are you okay...?"
A young boy from a certain ducal household, with rare black hair. And.
The only emotion that the hollowed-out version of him could still truly empathize with—he encountered it at last.
◆
"...It must have been several decades ago now."
And so, to the present.
Having climbed to the summit of a certain hilltop in the Royal Capital, Laplace.
Gazing out over the entire panorama of the Royal Capital, he murmured.
"What are you doing all the way up here?"
A voice, from behind him.
When he turned around, there stood the black-haired young man he knew better than anyone.
With an easygoing grin, Laplace replied.
"Hey, Boss. Nothing much—just reminiscing about the time we first met."
"Oh my, how unusual. You don't strike me as the type to get sentimental."
"Come on, now. This is the final phase of a plan decades in the making? Even I'm bound to have a thought or two about it."
He tossed back the quip, then turned to regard his boss once more—Chrono.
At a glance, he looked no different from before.
But to those who could truly see—specifically, those with exceptional magic power perception—the truth would be unmistakable.
Chrono's magic power had become something entirely different from before, something off the charts and utterly abnormal.
If he dared to draw a comparison—it was practically indistinguishable from a god's.
Seeing this, Laplace laughed once more.
"…Looks like the 'breaking in' is fully complete."
"Yeah. We can go anytime."
At that reassuring reply, Laplace turned his back to the Royal Capital.
"As expected. Then let's get started right away."
"Agreed. …The others are already in position. This is far too tense to just stand around waiting."
With that exchange, the two descended once more beneath the Royal Capital.
Indeed—standing around was simply not an option.
So much time had been invested for this very day. Schemes upon schemes had been hatched, allies gathered by the dozens, and above all, they had believed in themselves and pressed forward.
Today was the culmination of it all.
On this day, with everything finally in place—they would destroy it all.
Even a child, if they found a sandcastle displeasing, would stomp it flat first without hesitation.
What they were about to do was no different.
That thing
just a touch
flashier
they made it
that's all
.
With that certainty, and beneath an unwavering will.
Laplace and Chrono descended beneath the Royal Capital.
Other comrades, already in position, watched over them.
"......"
At the center of the altar.
The Ancient magical tool
Chrono raised it high, a quiet serenity drifting about him.
He drew a breath.
And sang.
Next time — the boss's magic reveal! Stay tuned!