Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

Marden opened his eyes, gazing at the white skies above with a vacant look.

His shoulders were broad, and his stature was tall, unlike the hunchbacked, lanky fellow he usually portrayed himself as.

He had black hair that had a vibrant sheen to it, unlike his previous long, disheveled hair that had started graying at the roots.

There were no dark circles under his eyes, and he did not require the assistance of eyeglasses. His pupils were a striking grey, flickering with treachery, cunning, and… barely concealed pain.

His cheeks were no longer sunken, and his appearance was no longer haggard. He was neither shy nor timid. Yes, he was the black sheep of the Benton Family—or what remained of it now, anyway.

All of that was just a facade.

This was his true self.

No masks. No pretenses.

A mighty Mana Core Magus.

An Elder of the Inner Circle of the Cult of Bones.

Second only to the enigmatic Cult Leader himself.

Thinking of the Cult Leader, Marden's grey eyes flickered with triumph. Yet deep down, his eyes were overwhelmed by grief and sorrow.

A lifetime of research, a lifetime of slavery, and a great sacrifice of blood and soul… that was the price he had paid to reach this point.

As he squinted upward, he saw them… faint, illusory chains stretched across the white skies above, covering the entirety of his spirit sea.

It was common knowledge that spiritual energy was the power generated by the soul, and that the water inside one's spirit sea was a representation of one's spiritual energy.

So, this mystical realm—white skies above and the blue waters below—could be considered the manifestation of one's soul.

And if this realm was a reflection of Marden's soul, then these chains had bound his very essence!

But who could be capable of binding the soul of a mighty Mana Core Magus and leave a slave imprint?

Who else?

"After a lifetime of planning and scheming, I shall finally be free today," he murmured, his lips curling into a faint, bitter smile.

At the boundaries of his spirit sea, he could sense wisps of foreign energy slowly flooding in. The strange thing was that although this ethereal energy was alien in nature, it still greatly resembled his own spiritual energy.

This was naturally a given. The external spiritual energy… it belonged to the members of the Benton Family, after all.

Mana signatures, blood essence, and spiritual energy—these three traits were remarkably similar among all members of a bloodline.

That was the reason why he needed the spiritual energies of the Benton Family members.

He was not planning to break the Cult Leader's shackles on his soul. No, that would only alert the man, ruining all of Marden's plan.

What he wanted was something else entirely…

He wanted to shift the target of the shackles from his soul to something else that closely resembled it. And that would be the combined spiritual energy he had harvested through the slaughter of dozens of Benton Family members.

This was the price of freedom.

This was the only way to break free from the shackles of slavery the Cult Leader had placed upon him—and countless others who served him.

And though absorbing the souls of others would drag him to the brink of madness, he did not hesitate.

Sanity was a small price to pay for freedom.

He took a deep breath, staring at the colossal, ethereal chains covering the sky. His grey eyes flashed with conviction as he began weaving a complex set of hand seals.

The souls of his family members were being devoured by the runic formation he had laid down in the material world. The formation was made of the blood and flesh of his kin.

Finally, after what felt like forever but also an instant, he had finished absorbing the souls of his family. Their spiritual energies entered his spirit sea and floated upward, slowly enveloping the vast chains.

At the same time, while the target of the slave imprint was being shifted from his soul to that of his kin, something else was also taking place…

A large influx of memories and experiences started to merge with his own Vessel, making him question his identity and… sanity.

One moment, he was a newborn, glancing at his mother with warmth and adoration. The next moment, he was an elder, imparting arcane knowledge to the children.

Suddenly, he was a child playing with other children in the family. He then became a beautiful young woman, sneaking out of the manor to meet her lover under the twin moons.

Then, he was Sabrina Benton, discussing the city's administrative matters with other Councilors. A few moments later, he became Nash Benton, practicing mindfulness or spending time with his wife and children.

Marden experienced all of these memories. He became a man, he became a woman, he became a child, he became a teenager. He became everything, everywhere, all at once.

An excruciatingly pained scream escaped his lips as he struggled to hold on to the last vestiges of his sane mind.

As the souls of his family members slowly but surely clung to the slave imprint, he began to lose himself.

He had known…

Of course, he had known that this would happen.

The soul was composed of three parts:

The Will, which held the personality and individuality.

The Vessel, which carried the memories and life experience.

And the Spark, the core of spiritual energy that bound the soul to the physical body.

When Marden absorbed the souls of his kin, he absorbed not just their spiritual energies but also their personalities and their memories.

Now, he was no longer just Marden. He was slowly becoming the amalgamation of the Benton Family.

Whether or not he survived the ordeal and retained his sense of self, breaking free from the slave imprint etched into his soul, depended on one thing alone…

His willpower.

***

In the sprawling sewer complex underneath the city, the cold light of Nighthollow flashed in the darkness, reaping the life of the last Mana Vortex Magus from the Cult.

Adam exhaled slowly, gazing at the corpses of the cultists with cold, murderous eyes.

That wasn't so bad, he thought to himself, wiping the blood from his blade with the edge of his sleeve.

Not wasting any moment, he rushed in the direction of the group of contestants. It didn't take him long to catch up to them.

But then, his eyes widened slightly. He had sensed something through his Sphere of Resonance.

There were more ahead… a dozen corpses, and standing before the group…

Was a lone Mana Vortex Magus barring their path!