The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family-Chapter 230: Shattered Estate

Dawn painted the Lionhart Estate in hues of gold and crimson, the morning light unable to soften the devastation wrought by the night's events. The once-immaculate corridors bore scars of combat—cracked stone where amber and crimson energies had collided, blood stains not yet cleaned, the lingering scent of ritual incense left behind by the Icarus cult.

Roman Lionhart stood at the entrance to the Frost Chamber, his legendary composure intact despite the rage simmering beneath. Ice crystals formed unconsciously around his feet, spreading across the floor in intricate patterns that reflected his inner turmoil. Behind him, Melo remained silent, his white mask betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Inside the chamber, healers attended to the wounded. Alexandra lay on a makeshift bed, her injuries bandaged but consciousness not yet returned. Beside her, Researcher Thale received treatment for the deep gashes that had nearly claimed her life. Four white-robed members of the Ethereal Confluence moved between patients, their healing techniques amplified by specialized equipment brought from the main medical facilities.

"Report," Roman commanded as Raphael approached from the chamber's inner section.

"Forty-seven dead, seventy-nine wounded within the main estate alone," Raphael replied, his healer's robes stained with blood from hours of emergency treatment. "Reports from the outer grounds and servant quarters are still being compiled. The cult was surprisingly precise in their violence—they eliminated those who presented genuine threats but often merely incapacitated those who posed minimal resistance. Their objective was clearly extraction, not wholesale slaughter."

"And Klaus?" Roman asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Gone," Raphael confirmed, the weight of failure evident in his voice. "No trace of him remains in the estate. The cultists used ancient pathways beneath the foundations—passages that predate our family's residence here."

Roman's jaw tightened, frost spreading further across the floor. "What of the null field?"

"It is no longer in effect," Raphael replied. "The field collapsed shortly after their escape. Our mana connections have fully restored, though many practitioners are still adjusting to the sudden return of their abilities."

The implications were clear—the cultists had planned every aspect of their operation with precision, from the duration of the null field to the use of ancient passages unknown to most. This was not an opportunistic abduction but the culmination of meticulous preparation spanning years, perhaps decades.

"Has Nicholas Davoss been located?" Roman asked, recalling the reports of a red-haired youth who had somehow maintained energy techniques despite the null field's effects.

"Yes," Melo responded, breaking his silence. "Eastern watchtower guards encountered him shortly before dawn. He was in severe physical distress but conscious. I've had him brought to the command center for questioning."

Roman nodded once, decision made. "Raphael, continue overseeing the wounded. Melo, with me."

They departed the Frost Chamber, moving through corridors where servants worked to repair what damage they could. Guards stood at attention as they passed, their numbers doubled at every junction—a precaution implemented too late to serve its purpose.

In the command center, Nicholas Davoss sat alone at a table, his appearance markedly different from the glowing warrior described in frantic reports. The crimson runes that had covered his skin were now dormant—visible as faint scars etched into his flesh but no longer pulsing with energy. His face showed signs of extreme exhaustion, dark circles beneath eyes that nonetheless remained alert and focused.

Roman did not waste time with preliminaries. "You fought the cultists using techniques that functioned despite the null field. Explain."

Nicholas examined Roman for a moment, as if assessing how much to reveal. There was something in his eyes—a calculation, a depth that seemed incongruous with his apparent age. Roman noted this discrepancy immediately but chose not to comment yet.

"The Ancestral Circuit," Nicholas replied finally. "A blood-based runic system that operates independently of conventional mana pathways. It predates modern energy manipulation methods by several millennia."

"And where did a youth your age learn such ancient techniques?" Melo asked, his masked face tilting slightly.

"The Ancestral Circuit is a closely guarded secret of the Davoss family," Nicholas replied, choosing his words carefully. "My mother spent decades researching ancient runic systems before she lost her sight. Her notes and private journals contained techniques dating back to the Third Age that I've spent years studying and implementing."

He gestured to the faint runic patterns visible on his skin. "The blood-based pathways operate on fundamentally different principles than conventional mana systems. I completed the necessary modifications to my body shortly before joining the Crimson Owl."

Roman's expression didn't change, though frost crystals momentarily formed on the table's edge. The explanation was plausible—Erina Davoss was indeed renowned for her scholarly work before becoming "The Blind Blade"—but something in Nicholas's delivery suggested selective truth rather than complete disclosure. Despite the confidence in the youth's eyes, Roman sensed layers of concealment beneath each carefully chosen word.

"You encountered their leader," Roman stated, moving the conversation forward. "What did you learn?"

"They've taken Klaus to what their high priest called their 'Final Sanctuary'—a location consecrated before the founding of the Rikxia Empire," Nicholas reported. "They believe Klaus is the 'Worthy One' prophesied to become Icarus's vessel during the Ascension Ritual."

"Timing?" Melo asked.

"Seven days," Nicholas replied. "The ritual requires a celestial alignment that occurs one week from now. Until then, they'll conduct purification ceremonies to prepare Klaus's consciousness for Icarus's manifestation."

Roman processed this information with the tactical precision that had made him the Ice Monarch. Seven days to locate an ancient sanctuary hidden from imperial knowledge. Seven days to mount a rescue operation against fanatics with three thousand years of preparation behind them.

"Your knowledge of their rituals is extensive," Roman observed, studying Nicholas carefully. "How did you come by such information?"

Nicholas maintained eye contact, revealing nothing of the calculation behind his response. Though his face remained composed, Roman detected the subtle signs of someone constructing a narrative rather than merely recalling facts.

"During my second assignment with the Crimson Owl, I uncovered evidence of cult activity in the eastern archives. Captain Meros tasked me with a covert intelligence-gathering operation. I managed to infiltrate a small cell and access portions of their sacred texts before eliminating the cultists."

He paused, then added, "Additionally, the Crimson Owl's specialized archives contain detailed accounts of a partial Ascension ceremony during the Mage Wars—an interrupted ritual that still claimed thousands of lives. Most of the records were deemed too dangerous for general knowledge and restricted from other armed groups."

What Nicholas omitted—what only he knew—was that many of those "historical records" had been meticulously forged by his own hand. His selection of the Crimson Owl had been deliberate; their archives were extensive yet poorly organized, making them perfect for his purpose. Over months, he had carefully planted fabricated documents covering not just the Icarus cult, but dozens of other historical phenomena and forgotten techniques. Each forgery was aged appropriately, referenced in multiple catalogues, and cross-verified with genuine texts to withstand scrutiny. This elaborate network of false documentation served as a safety net for moments precisely like this—when his inexplicable knowledge required a credible source.

Roman and Melo exchanged a brief glance, both sensing the carefully constructed presentation behind Nicholas's words. The boy spoke with a conviction that inspired confidence, yet neither man fully believed the simplistic explanation being offered.

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"And what happens if they succeed with Klaus?" Melo inquired, his tone betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Nicholas's expression darkened. "Icarus manifests fully through the vessel, gaining physical form in our reality. The consequences would be..." he paused, searching for adequate words, "...apocalyptic. According to the texts I discovered, Icarus is not a deity as the cult believes, but something older and more destructive—an entity that exists to consume entire realities."

The command center fell silent as the implications settled over them. Roman's legendary composure remained intact, though the temperature in the room dropped noticeably.

"You believe you can track them?" Roman asked finally.

"With resources, yes," Nicholas nodded. "The sanctuary must meet specific criteria for the Ascension Ritual—astronomical alignment, thinned boundaries between worlds, ancient foundations predating modern magical theory. Cross-reference those requirements with historical knowledge, and I can narrow the possibilities."

Something in Nicholas's manner raised Roman's suspicions further—the confidence seemed too absolute, the knowledge too perfect for someone who had merely studied ancient texts. Yet the urgency of the situation demanded action regardless of these misgivings.

"You'll have whatever you need," Roman stated without hesitation. "Melo will coordinate resources for your search."

Before the conversation could continue, a guard entered the command center, bowing deeply before addressing Roman. "Emperor, the Beast Emperor's envoy has arrived. He demands immediate audience."

Roman's expression hardened further. "Inevitable," he murmured, ice crystals forming briefly in the air around him before dissipating. "Have him escorted to the reception hall."

As the guard departed, Roman turned back to Nicholas. "Begin your work immediately. Melo will provide access to imperial archives and intelligence networks." He moved toward the door, then paused. "One question, Nicholas Davoss: if we locate this sanctuary, can Klaus be safely extracted? Or has that possibility already passed?"

Nicholas considered the question carefully. "Until the final phase of the Ascension Ritual, extraction remains possible. The vessel's original consciousness isn't destroyed, merely suppressed to make room for Icarus's manifestation. With Klaus's consciousness already fragmented, the process is more complex—but that might actually work in our favor."

"Explain," Melo requested.

"A fragmented consciousness has... spaces between the pieces," Nicholas elaborated. "The cult will attempt to fill those spaces with Icarus's essence during the purification process. But if specific fragments of Klaus's identity remain intact, they could potentially resist or even reverse the process with proper support."

"And you believe you can provide such support?" Roman asked, his tone making it clear he detected the carefully constructed narrative behind Nicholas's explanations.

"My studies of ancient texts have given me unique insight into consciousness manipulation," Nicholas replied with measured confidence. "The Davoss family archives contain knowledge preserved from the Third Age regarding mental interfaces and identity preservation. Combined with the resources of the Lionhart family, extraction should be possible—if we can locate the sanctuary in time."

Roman's eyes lingered on Nicholas for a moment longer than necessary, communicating silent awareness of the partial truths being offered. Yet the conviction in the young man's gaze inspired a tentative trust despite the obvious omissions.

"Begin your work. I will handle the Beast Emperor's representative."

As Roman departed for the reception hall, Nicholas turned to Melo. "I need maps of astronomical alignments for the next seven days, historical texts on pre-imperial sacred sites, and any information your intelligence network has gathered on cult activities over the past century."

Melo's masked face revealed nothing as he studied the young man before him. "You speak with unusual authority for your apparent age."

Nicholas met the enforcer's golden eyes without flinching. "Experience comes in many forms, Enforcer Melo. And we have very little time to waste on protocols or suspicion."

After a moment's consideration, Melo nodded. "You'll have what you need within the hour. The Lionhart family has considerable resources at its disposal."

"Good," Nicholas replied, already mentally calculating potential locations. "Because we're hunting a sanctuary that has remained hidden for three thousand years, protected by fanatics willing to die rather than reveal its location."

"The Lionhart family has conquered greater challenges," Melo stated with quiet certainty.

Nicholas's expression remained grave. "Not like this. When Icarus manifests, it begins with the vessel but extends outward—consuming everything in an expanding circle of annihilation. If we fail, it won't just be Klaus who is lost. The entire Runiya continent will be at risk."

*

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In the reception hall, Roman faced the Beast Emperor's envoy—a tall woman with golden eyes identical to Elisabeth's, her ceremonial armor bearing the stylized beast motifs of her imperial house. Behind her stood eight elite guards, their posture suggesting both readiness and restraint.

"The Beast Emperor sends his regards, Ice Monarch," the envoy stated, her voice crisp with carefully controlled anger. "And his absolute demand that you explain how his grandson was abducted from what was supposedly the most secure location on the continent."

Roman's expression remained impassive despite the provocative tone. "The situation is being addressed with all available resources. The Icarus cult employed techniques unknown to modern practitioners, including methods to negate mana enhancement throughout the estate."

"Excuses," the envoy dismissed with a gesture. "The Beast Emperor warned that the boy required more specialized protection. He offered his own guard to supplement yours. You refused."

"Political concerns took precedence over security considerations," Roman acknowledged with rare candor. "A mistake I do not intend to repeat."

The envoy seemed momentarily surprised by this admission. Her golden eyes narrowed slightly. "The Beast Emperor's patience is at an end. He demands participation in all recovery efforts. His specialists will arrive within twenty-four hours to join the hunt."

"They will be accommodated," Roman replied smoothly. "Our interests align in this matter."

"Do they?" the envoy challenged. "The Beast Emperor believes the Lionhart family has consistently underestimated the danger surrounding his grandson. First Northwatch, now this abduction—a pattern of failure that suggests either incompetence or something more deliberate."

Ice crystals formed briefly around Roman's fingers before he controlled the reaction. "You may inform your master that rescue operations are already underway. Any assistance he provides will be incorporated into these efforts, provided such assistance does not impede progress already made."

The envoy studied Roman carefully, likely assessing how much to push. "The Beast Emperor has also authorized me to inform you that he expects immediate results. Every moment the boy remains with these cultists places him in greater danger."

"As I am well aware," Roman replied, frost edging his words. "Now, if there is nothing further, preparations require my attention."

As the envoy departed with her escort, Roman remained in the reception hall, contemplating the complex web of politics, prophecy, and power now centered around his kidnapped grandson. The knowledge Nicholas had shared—of an entity capable of consuming entire realities—added weight to an already burdened situation.

Seven days to find a sanctuary hidden for millennia. Seven days to prevent a catastrophe beyond conventional understanding. Seven days to rescue Klaus from becoming the vessel for something that might destroy everything.

The Ice Monarch's composure remained unbroken, but in the empty hall, frost spread across the floor in intricate, crystalline patterns that betrayed the depth of his concern.