"Live humbly."
That was the very first thing Clyde von Helmuth's father said to him after he became old enough to understand things.
"We possess power greater than others. That is precisely why we must not be seduced by that power, nor grow arrogant, but instead exercise the self-discipline to use it only when truly necessary — and the humility to not lord it over others. Remember that. If you forget — a fitting punishment will surely follow."
"Yes, Father!"
The Helmuth Marquis House was, unusually for a high-ranking noble family in this kingdom, one that did not flaunt its magic. True to the father's words, they were a clan of genuinely humble character.
This may also have been related to the unusual nature of one of the Helmuth family's hereditary magics — a Bloodline Magic that had been passed down to Clyde as well.
The family was extremely thorough in keeping their Bloodline Magic secret, disclosing it only to the royal family and a select few houses. Through that secrecy, and above all, through the undeniable power they demonstrated when they did use magic, they had carved out a position as the so-called "shadow powerhouses" of the Yustia Kingdom.
Born of that blood, and as one who would eventually inherit the house, Clyde had received that teaching in full.
On the surface, he grew into a reserved young man who never casually revealed his magic or flaunted his abilities. On the surface, that was.
But when he was twelve.
His way of being would be decisively twisted.
"Don't screw with me, you cowardly clan!"
It happened when Clyde had gone shopping in the lower city.
A product he wanted — one he had just bought — sold out the very moment he purchased it. A son of another marquis house arrived immediately after and demanded the same product. Upon learning it was sold out, he flew into a rage and started harassing Clyde, who happened to be there.
In other words — "Hand it over."
Obviously, there was no way Clyde would agree.
He argued back. He pointed out that the other's logic was absurd, that he had purchased the product first and therefore had ownership, and that he was obviously in the right.
But — unluckily for him, that other person was the textbook example of the worst kind of noble in this country.
And the moment he learned Clyde's family name, he launched into the aforementioned tirade.
"...Cowardly, clan?"
"That's right! The Helmuth family is nothing but a bunch of smooth-talking cowards who don't rely on their precious Bloodline Magic and just happened to cling to the royal family's coattails! The idea that they're hiding their Bloodline Magic is a lie — it's probably nothing impressive at all!"
"..."
"In this country, magic is everything! Which means that even as a marquis house, you — who can't even bring your magic to bear — have no business defying me! So hand it over now! Who knows how much more that thing will be ruined by cowardly hands!"
"...What an incredibly shameless person."
Hearing this, Clyde lost no time in tearing into the other man.
"Listen here. We're supposed to be humble. That's how nobles with power should carry themselves. ...And yet look at you — not a shred of decency, making baseless accusations, completely devoid of any spirit of concession."
Clyde never once doubted his own correctness.
After all, he'd been taught that way. And it had worked out fine.
So the one in the wrong was the other guy.
He was right, the other was wrong. —
So
it was fine
to say
whatever
he wanted.
"You're quite simply unfit to be a noble. There's no reason in the world to show someone like you any—"
At that moment.
A powerful impact struck Clyde's chest.
"Wha—"
He was sent flying.
The instant he realized what had happened, Clyde sat down hard on the ground.
The marquis's son — the very person who had shoved him — looked down at Clyde's pathetic form slumped on the ground, sneering.
"...Dust."
With that single word, he forcibly snatched the product from Clyde and leisurely walked away.
There was absolutely no way to accept that.
After returning home, he reported the incident to his father immediately.
His father swiftly took action and filed a complaint with the offending marquis house. The other family naturally acknowledged their son's behavior was problematic, the product was promptly returned to Clyde, and he received a formal apology from their son.
With that, the matter should have been settled...
But that evening.
Alone in his room — replaying the reluctant, half-hearted face of the marquis's son who had come to apologize that day — Clyde muttered to himself.
"......Is that all?"
They had trampled on him with incoherent insults, shoved him, and then forcibly stolen his belongings with rough hands.
He had suffered the ultimate humiliation — physically, mentally — at the hands of someone without a single shred of decency.
Yet all the other guy did was return the item, mutter a single apology, and that was that?
— There was no way that should be enough.
This couldn't be called a "fitting punishment." A far more severe, far more severe, far more severe punishment was what that son deserved.
Otherwise, it would hardly begin to match the crime he had committed. He had insulted a person who was in the right — surely he deserved further judgment.
...Ah, if only.
(That punishment should be given by me, the victim. That would be the most fitting — but!)
He could do it.
If he used his Bloodline Magic, it would probably be easy.
...But that was the one thing his own father had expressly forbidden.
The contradiction between the teaching he'd received from his father and the restriction his father had imposed. Caught in that bind, Clyde agonized.
(What does this mean, Father? Wasn't everything supposed to work out as long as I was humble? If you're telling me I mustn't use my magic as judgment — then the punishment should come from somewhere else!)
And then, it occurred to him.
If no one
found out
he did it
, that would be fine.
If he could administer the punishment with his own hands — so meticulously, so precisely, yet undeniably — what an exhilarating rush that would be.
Of course, he rationally rejected that thought immediately, knowing it was impossible, and pushed it from his consciousness.
But in his instincts. In his unconscious, that wish frantically craved fulfillment, resonated with his inflated ego, and raged out of control. And then—
'That man must be punished.' That 'pure wish' resonated with the Bloodline Magic slumbering in his deepest core.
The next day.
— A certain marquis house's son was caught in a mysterious explosion accident and suffered injuries severe enough to leave lasting aftereffects.
"Clyde!!!"
Upon hearing the news, the head of the Helmuth house — Clyde's father — went straight to his son.
And, face pale with confusion and cold sweat, he asked:
"You... what did you do?"
"I didn't do anything."
Clyde replied coolly.
"Ruling that it was my doing based solely on yesterday's incident would be hasty. That's very unlike you, Father. Or what — do you have any concrete proof that I was involved?"
His father was struck speechless by those follow-up words.
...He was right.
Given the circumstances, Clyde was undoubtedly the most suspicious person. That much was certain.
— And yet, there was not a single piece of evidence linking him to the incident. He had certainly not left the house that evening, so his alibi was perfect.
Clyde's father, of course, knew the true nature of his son's Bloodline Magic.
...And that was precisely why he could see it. Why he understood.
To the best of his knowledge, Clyde's Bloodline Magic could never — ever — accomplish 'something like that.'
What was more terrifying was that there wasn't the slightest indication Clyde was lying.
That was why he had no choice but to acknowledge it. That Clyde was, at this point, completely innocent.
"...I apologize, Father. I doubted you."
Paying no heed to his father's shaken state, Clyde smiled at him radiantly with genuine joy.
It was the same smile as always — and yet, decisively, it was the smile of something irrevocably twisted.
"That arrogant marquis's son received a perfectly fitting punishment, didn't he? Just as Father always said — being humble is what matters most!"
His father had made two miscalculations.
The first was that he had never let Clyde actually 'use' his Bloodline Magic. Because of that, he had failed to see — that his son was, in fact, a magical genius so great that calling him the finest in the history of the Helmuth Marquis House still wouldn't be enough. That with such talent, he could even activate Bloodline Magic unconsciously.
The second was that he had underestimated Clyde's Bloodline Magic. He hadn't realized that when wielded by someone of great talent, that magic could make almost anything possible — that it was, in a sense, the most terrifying magic of all.
His miscalculations, combined with this country's toxic culture, fed the malice lurking in Clyde's heart.
A monster was born, and the distortion only accelerated.
"You're supposed to be humble."
From that point on, he began to interpret his own catchphrase in increasingly warped ways.
First, he would impose his self-defined version of 'humility' on others. Going further — he would force others to 'be humble' while enjoying all the benefits himself.
"I'm putting up with so much, you know? So naturally you should be willing to do the same. That's what mutual help is all about, isn't it?"
"Nobles should sacrifice their own egos to support the people. Surely someone as shameless as you — who doesn't even know that — will gladly do this much too, right?"
"Oh, how arrogant you are! You've forgotten the noble spirit — otherwise there's no way you couldn't endure something like this!"
He would shower people with beautiful-sounding words, moving them about as he pleased.
Meanwhile, he would dress up his own comparatively trivial self-restraint as though it were the ultimate concession, performing a false equality.
Naturally, there were those who pushed back against him.
People who pointed out directly that it was wrong.
— To every single one of them,
punishment
was delivered.
Before long, no one dared resist him.
Ever more convinced of his own righteousness, he plunged deeper into distortion.
"Serve me. Your magic is useful — I shall put it to maximum use for the sake of this country."
Even after being recruited as a close aide to Second Prince Aster, that tendency did not slow down. If anything, it accelerated.
He even began to harbor private resentments toward Aster himself for his arrogance.
...Nevertheless, Aster was still a prince of the kingdom and the leading candidate for the next king. Moreover, he knew about Clyde's magic and valued him.
On account of that, Clyde swallowed his misgivings this once and continued to serve. Interpreting that, too, as 'humility.'
— But even that would break the moment Aster set eyes on a certain girl.
He was captivated at first glance.
Blonde hair so vivid it seemed to radiate light. Enchanting blue eyes that drew you in.
A gentle, kind beauty with perfect proportions.
And above all, a modest personality that perfectly embodied the very 'humility' he demanded of others.
Sara von Hartmann.
The Dual Aptitude girl who captured Aster's heart also seized the heart of his aide, Clyde.
By all rights, he should have stepped aside.
— But there was no way Clyde's swollen ego would ever accept that.
And once that happened, the arrogant aspects of Aster he had previously been able to tolerate became impossible to ignore.
— The prince was far too selfish.
And Sara devoted herself to such a prince with complete dedication. That would only make the prince more conceited.
She should be with someone who truly understood the value of her humility.
Ah, this wouldn't do.
Even if he was the prince, if he was going to be that arrogant, then perhaps —
— So he had prayed. As he always had, he prayed that someone would...
...And those prayers were answered. Aster was defeated by the mage who had once been his fiancée, abandoned the people he was supposed to protect, and showed himself fleeing from monsters in utter disgrace.
That insufferable second prince had been utterly and completely ruined.
Watching Aster being carried off to the tribunal with a look of despair, Clyde declared with a thoroughly twisted smile:
"— See? The punishment has been delivered."
He had reached the pinnacle of his life.
No longer was there anything holding back his rise. No longer was there anyone standing between him and the lady he deserved.
He was nothing like Aster. He knew what this country lacked.
He would preach the importance of humility and mutual cooperation. And then, with himself at the center, he would change this country.
Never once doubting this vision, he set off with high spirits for the academy, where the latter term was about to begin.
◆
And now.
"What is the meaning of this...!!"
Clyde was cornered like never before.
Why?
Why, even at this late hour, had the people standing in his way not disappeared?
Why did arrogant people who knew nothing of their place keep appearing before him?
And above all—
"— Why hasn't he been punished...!!"
Ermes.
That man who had twisted the inter-school match with despicable means, who had achieved academy reform in the wrong direction — something Clyde himself should have been the one to accomplish — and who had swindled away the very trust from Sara that should have been his.
How could such villainy, such arrogance, go unpunished? Clyde lamented.
Worse still, it was the opposite — Katia von Trackia, the woman who served as Ermes's master, had turned her schemes against Clyde, and now he was the one being cornered. If this continued, the Helmuth house would be destroyed along with him.
She should have been punished long ago, and yet — there wasn't the slightest sign of it.
"It's not just them...!"
The ones who escaped punishment weren't limited to Ermes and Katia.
There was also that Class A student — the one who, despite being shown the fates of three others, had recklessly thrown himself at them. Punishment should certainly have fallen on him too, but for some reason, ever since that man had been assigned
Ermes as his
bodyguard,
the judgment never came.
"What does that mean!? Could it be... that his power is so great he's immune to 'punishment'!? Impossible — that can't be true!"
But the very prediction he had dismissed as impossible was in fact the truth.
What Clyde had been doing was using his Bloodline Magic unconsciously, disguised as someone else, to attack people.
In short — he had been conducting hidden lynch mobs.
Such a thing would inevitably break down the moment someone appeared who was beyond his control. Someone with superior abilities.
That was precisely Ermes. And Katia. True mages whom Clyde was no match for.
The moment they appeared, Clyde's fate was sealed.
He had no means to deal with Ermes and his allies alone. And the mechanism behind his so-called 'punishment' had already been figured out by Ermes, who had blocked his attempt to execute it prematurely on that Class A student and then worked backwards from there.
The conclusion was checkmate.
At any moment now, Ermes and his companions would arrive at the school, expose everything Clyde had done in front of everyone, and with no way to deflect the bomb Katia had set, he would be destroyed.
"Why... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
A petty, insignificant creature who had deluded himself into believing he was infallible and great, who had tried to avoid his former master's mistakes only to end up treading the exact same path.
His fate had already been irrevocably determined—
— Or so it should have been.
"Ah, how pitiable."
The fate available to such a petty creature could be broadly divided into two.
One was the natural course: being destroyed without being able to do a single thing about it.
The other was — being conveniently used by something far greater.
For Clyde, unfortunately.
His fate was the latter.
"A precious warrior who tried to guide this kingdom in the right direction, blocked by an evil adversary, now facing ruin in a place like this."
From the darkness came a refined, elegant male voice.
"How tragic. Being destroyed here where no one can even see it.
— But don't worry. 'We' have been watching all along."
The voice was beautiful, yet somehow devoid of emotion, giving a hollow impression.
In plain terms, it was supremely suspicious.
"And yet even now, cornered like this, you still believe in your own righteousness. I salute that mindset of yours, Clyde."
...But Clyde was drawn in.
Because he no longer had the judgment to distinguish truth from falsehood.
And above all — because the content of those words was far too sweet to resist.
"The place where you belong isn't there."
As if answering Clyde's expectations, the voice spun words that said exactly what he wanted to hear.
And finally, emerging from the darkness, was a lean-faced man in his mid-twenties.
With a terrifyingly refined smile, he slowly extended his hand toward Clyde.
"...I'll prepare a place where you can shine the brightest. So come, won't you?"
There was no longer any reason left in Clyde to refuse that hand.
And so, they would face each other.
The kingdom's darkness. Something truly evil, truly destructive — yet possessing a noble will. A vast presence that had never been seen, never shown itself until now.
First, taking their hatred and desire for vengeance as vanguard pawns.
— The great event that started it all would raise its curtain.