Final Regression of The Legendary Swordmaster Chapter 27

"Unfortunately, he is," the Marquis answered, his voice dripping with barely concealed disdain. "That is Edward, my third son."

""Unfortunately?" the Duke repeated, catching the Marquis’s wording. He then tilted his head, his gaze never leaving the boy in regal blue.

"Yes, indeed," the Marquis said. "You see, the boy is without power. At fifteen, he hasn’t awakened. He can’t use magic or martial arts. In a house like Vistro, where strength is of importance, he is... well, he’s useless."

"But his confidence," the Duke countered, narrowing his eyes as he watched Edward navigate the room. "Look at how he carries himself. Surely that must count for something."

The Marquis let out a shallow, hollow laugh. "It’s because of my care, Phoenix Lord. I’m not like other houses. When they realize a son has no potential, they treat him as second class, or worse. I’m different. I ensure he feels at home, despite his... shortcomings."

The lie had a bad taste, but the Marquis delivered it with a straight face. He could hardly admit that he had spent the last week trying to break that very confidence in the Abyssal Cells.

"And your heir, Damian?" the Duke asked, scanning the room. "Why hasn’t he shown himself until now? Surely he would want to meet the Fifth Princess."

"Unfortunately, a matter of great urgency arose, and he had to travel north," the Marquis said. "It’s a strategic concern. He was quite disappointed to miss the ceremony."

The Duke raised an eyebrow. "It must be truly important, then, for a brother to miss his sister’s engagement to a Prince."

The Marquis nodded solemnly, but behind his eyes, a vein of frustration throbbed. The truth was far more pathetic. Damian Vistro was currently locked away in the most secluded wing of the manor. Three maids were instructed to keep watch over him, as the physicians had warned of some kind of mental trauma.

On the surface, Damian appeared functional, but the humiliation at the fountain had left a jagged scar on his psyche. The guards had reported that Edward had held his head underwater for less than a minute, yet the trauma had manifested into an irrational fear of water. The "Genius of Vistro" could no longer bathe without panicking, and the mere sight of a glass of water made him scream. To avoid disgrace and any unwanted outcome, the Marquis decided that, until further notice, it would be best to keep Damian out of the public eye.

Edward got to a long table covered in white silk and grabbed a glass of water from a tray that went by. Fiona had already blended in, hanging out with the other maids as they walked through the crowd like they were all in sync.

He was by himself, and people seemed to avoid him. Most of the nobles stayed away, feeling uneasy because of the intense vibe he gave off. Edward raised his glass, the water reflecting the light from the candles. He slowly took a sip.

Edward, with eyes that held countless lifetimes, fixed his gaze on Duke Charles Luminaris.

Edward focused his spiritual sense, now stronger after his Late stage Adept breakthrough, into a fine, unseen point. Instead of scanning the Duke’s body, he took a peek at his Sea of Consciousness.

Suddenly, the Duke’s body stiffened. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword, and a cold sweat broke out across his brow.

To the Duke, the world had suddenly vanished. He felt as if the tip of a blade was resting directly against his heart, a pressure so immense and focused that it felt as though his very soul was being laid bare.

The Duke turned his head around, his eyes sharp as he searched for the source of the killing intent. His gaze landed on Edward.

’Did that kid... did he just peek into my Sea of Consciousness?’ the Duke pondered, his heart hammering against his ribs.

In a panic, the Duke unleashed his own Archmage-level spiritual sense, slamming it toward Edward like a tidal wave. He expected to find a hidden core, a suppressed power, or at least a flicker of mana.

But he found nothing.

The Suppression Rune Edward had mastered across his lifetime held firm. To the Duke’s spiritual sense, Edward appeared unawakened, mana-less, and utterly ordinary.

’There isn’t a single mana core.’

’But how?’ the Duke thought, his grip on his sword tightening until his knuckles turned white. ’I am certain.... Something from that direction nearly stopped my heart.’

The Duke began to have a slight tantrum of the mind, his logic failing him. An Archmage being peeked by a mana-less child was an impossibility that threatened his sanity. He felt the phantom itch of a blade at his throat, yet the supposed culprit was merely a fifteen year-old boy quietly sipping water.

"Charles? Is everything alright?" the Marquis asked, noticing the Duke’s sudden paleness and the way he was staring at Edward.

The Marquis didn’t wait for an answer. He reached out and tapped the Duke’s shoulder, a triumphant smile spreading across his face as the orchestra began a slow, majestic crescendo.

"Look," the Marquis said, gesturing toward the grand staircase. "The bride-to-be has arrived."

The Duke turned, but as he did, he caught one last glimpse of Edward. The boy was still staring at him, and for a fleeting second, Edward offered the Flame Phoenix Lord a tiny, terrifyingly knowing smirk before looking toward the stairs.

At the top of the marble staircase, the heavy velvet curtains parted. Sara Vistro stepped into view, looking every bit the tragic queen Edward remembered. She was draped in a gown of white and silver that seemed to glow under the candlelight, the necklace from the market glittering at her throat like a collar of stars.

"She looks beautiful." That was the remark of the onlookers as they saw Sara slowly descending from the stairs.

The ballroom fell into a hush of awe, but the Duke remained cold, his mind still reeling from the invisible blade that had just tasted his soul.