Roland spent a long time after that in the treasury.
In the servants' eyes, apart from making brief appearances at dinner, he was nowhere to be seen, spending practically the entire day buried in the library. In particular, Roland had specifically instructed that all affairs within the Duke's estate proceed as normal and that no one should disturb him for something as trivial as delivering meals.
Over the span of a month and a half, Roland had finished learning almost all of the forbidden grimoires.
His progress was extraordinarily rapid.
At this moment, only the final book remained.
《Blood Magic》
Forbidden magic was difficult to categorize neatly. Just like fire magic was an elemental classification rather than a single spell—where spells like Fireball and Flame Shield all belonged to the fire elemental magic category.
The same was true for blood magic.
It was merely an elemental classification.
However, the name wasn't quite fitting; in Roland's view, calling it flesh-and-blood magic would be far more appropriate. As the name implied, it was an ability specifically targeting races made of flesh and blood. In essence, blood magic was not inherently evil; the key lay in who used it.
Of course... those who used this ability were usually not good people.
After all, blood magic differed from other magic in that it required no elemental affinity. Those who naturally lacked talent would try every possible means to learn it just to fulfill their dream of becoming a mage. However, this path was far harder than they imagined, to the point where they had no choice but to bow to evil.
The reason was simple enough.
Since it required no elemental affinity, most of those who studied it were people lacking innate talent. Because these individuals found it difficult to convert raw mana into spell power for their own absorption and cultivation, one could easily guess what terrible things they would do to grow stronger.
To prevent more people from learning it and straying off the right path,
both the Empire and other races harbored absolute hatred toward those who practiced blood magic.
Nobles and talented individuals naturally would not learn an ability that gave even the Empire headaches. Thus, a vicious cycle began: blood magic was practiced only by those lacking talent; those lacking talent struggled to increase their own strength, so they used blood magic to plunder the fruits of others.
Moreover, blood magic could never be fully eradicated despite constant bans.
When blood mages were not using their abilities, they were no different from ordinary people. In fact, when some blood mages devoured other mages, they already had spell power stored inside their bodies, allowing them to use abilities of other elements to the point where they could not be detected at all. Regarding this group, authorities were truly helpless despite wanting to deal with them.
Compared to other forbidden magic, blood magic was actually quite simple.
No wonder those without magical talent revered it as a holy scripture.
Roland learned it after reading through it just once. He smoothly drew a drop of blood from his finger, which then sank back into his body. Blood magic was merely an elemental category; its true power depended on how the user developed it. Powerful blood mages could even achieve rebirth from a single drop of blood, steal bodies to prolong life, or drain an enemy's blood in an instant.
【Blood Scion (Gold): You have found the secret treasury of blood and flesh, hunting for blood food like the most primordial of beasts. You are cursed with "Bloodthirst" and will fall into an endless hunger for flesh and blood (this effect has been exempted by "Original Sin · King of Pride · Lucifer"). You can endlessly develop blood magic, physical self-healing ability +3000%. This passive effect further increases based on energy within the body, stopping self-healing when devoid of energy.】
This was a trait possessed by all blood mages.
Unfortunately for them, they would all sink into an eternal hunger for blood.
"Phew... It's time to take a proper rest."
Roland retraced his steps through the long corridor. The light of the magic circle beneath his feet enveloped him in an instant, and when he opened his eyes again, he was back in the library. It was as quiet as ever, with sunlight streaming through the windows and illuminating the dust motes floating in the air.
A month and a half of arduous cultivation had finally come to an end.
Donning his cloak, Roland began strolling along the streets of Lucifiel to catch a breath of fresh air. Ever since awakening his past life's wisdom, he hadn't been anywhere other than the Verus Mountains. He decided to take advantage of this hard-won leisure time to experience the hustle and bustle of everyday life. The surrounding buildings were standard European style.
It was incomparable to the small town beneath the Avalanche Domain he had passed through earlier.
The daytime climate here was also relatively much pleasant.
The surrounding commoners looked at him with awe and fear in their eyes.
Wherever he walked, the vendors' shouting vanished, out of fear of offending Roland, who was so obviously a noble. After all, the reputation of nobles had long been ruined by certain individuals. Even though the Lucifiel family had never oppressed commoners, in the end, this was a conflict between two social classes.
Moreover, the Lucifiel family was not the only noble house in the entire city of Lucifiel.
"Vendor, I'll take a candied hawthorn stick."
Roland stopped in front of a street stall.
Seemingly startled by Roland, the vendor showed a hint of panic and fear on his face. He hurriedly pulled two candied hawthorn sticks from his straw bundle, handed them over, and waved his hands repeatedly. "Young Master, please just take them! No charge, no charge..."
His words were extremely flattering, but mostly driven by fear.
"..."
Roland didn't say much, tossing a gold coin to the man.
For two candied hawthorn sticks, a gold coin was far more than enough. In fact, even a silver coin would have been overkill—a gold coin was enough to buy the entire stall. Unfortunately, the King of Pride never carried currency lower than gold coins. Mainly because he literally had none, and his family had never given him anything lower than gold coins.
Inside the butler's office at the Duke's estate:
Scott, who was reviewing documents, knitted his brows.
Just as Roland continued his walk, a tiny figure bumped hard into his lower body. It was a young girl about ten years old, also holding a candied hawthorn stick, though it was now smudged with a bit of dirt and dirty snow. Perhaps because of the ruined treat, tears welled up in her eyes.
Her gaze toward Roland was also mixed with a touch of bashfulness.
Beside her, an elderly woman turned pale. She immediately moved to kowtow and apologize, tugging at the little girl beside her to make her kowtow as well.
Roland sighed, helped them both up, and handed his untouched candied hawthorn stick to the girl. He gently patted her hair, crouched down, and said, "Bumping into me is a small matter, but if you hurt yourself, that would be a big deal. Look where you're walking, okay?"
"I... I understand, Big Brother."
The little girl said timidly.
"Go play now, and don't make your mother worry."
With that, Roland walked away quickly before the woman could thank him.
If they stayed any longer, the matter would drag on indefinitely; the old woman would likely start kowtowing again as she spoke. Roland's time was precious, so there was no need to bicker over such minor details, nor would he use such a moment to flex his nobility and pride. Sometimes, tolerance was also a form of pride.
For mercy and tolerance were privileges only the strong possessed.
Besides... gentleness and pride were not mutually exclusive.
As the saying goes, when the brave grow angry, they draw their blades against the stronger; when the cowardly grow angry, they draw their blades against the weaker. This saying applied equally to the nobility.
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