Chapter 139: A Softie and Trouble
"He just happens to know a few enchantment incantations. What's so impressive about that?!"
"Trying to scare me? Not a chance!"
Indignant shouting echoed faintly from beyond the door, gradually fading away—intertwined with stammered, hurried apologies.
The first voice left Charles feeling genuinely puzzled. Whoever it belonged to was clearly overthinking things.
The apologetic voice that followed, however, left him at a loss for words.
"…Has my brother always been like this?"
Charles turned to look at the butler beside him, only to find the old man staring down at the scorched hole burned into the expensive wooden floor, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably.
"Master Allen has always been gentle by nature," the butler replied. Then, hesitating slightly, he added, "Sir Charles… I must remind you—His Lordship may be displeased by this."
"Then I'll have to apologize to him," Charles said politely. "You know, I didn't mean to."
"..."
The butler opened his mouth, then closed it again, finally sighing.
"I'll summon a carpenter to see if this can be repaired. You must be tired from your journey, Sir Charles. Please rest for now."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left. His steps were noticeably less composed than before, as if he could already foresee the trouble this newly returned eldest son would bring.
...
Watching the butler's retreating figure, Charles stroked his chin thoughtfully.
He wasn't being careless.
He'd done it on purpose.
Not to show off in front of a group of brats—but for another reason entirely.
"Burning a hole in the house the moment I return… I refuse to believe you'll stay calm."
Thinking of the father he'd never met face-to-face, Charles narrowed his eyes.
This was a test.
A test of how that so-called "father" truly felt about him.
Back in Pita City, Charles had learned pieces of the man's grand scheme from the greasy town mayor. The explanation had sounded reasonable enough—but Charles had never truly believed it.
If the goal was to draw out his "sister," there were plenty of ways to do so.
Using his own son as bait?
That might make sense if he had many sons.
But he only had two.
"One's a scumbag. The other's a softie. Honestly… the he's got it rough."
Shaking his head, Charles closed the door and finally took a proper look around.
Setting aside the charred hole in the floor near his feet, the bedroom itself was still impeccably arranged—wardrobes, vases, oil paintings, chandeliers, all in place.
The square glass window stood open. White curtains fluttered gently in the breeze, and beyond them stretched the manor's lush, tranquil lawn.
"Nice view."
Charles was fairly satisfied with the room.
That said, admiring the scenery wasn't his priority right now.
What he really needed to check was whether there were any hidden surveillance devices lurking nearby.
---
Compared to the residence in Pita City, Charles felt no sense of belonging or security here whatsoever. He carried far too many secrets—caution was not optional, it was mandatory.
Fortunately, with the Eye of Reality, he was able to conduct a thorough inspection of the bedroom.
The result proved that he'd been overthinking things.
Only then did Charles finally relax, opening the Traversal Gate and stepping through it.
There was no rush to continue probing his so-called father's attitude. As for engraving the Holy Mark after the so-called post-advancement shock period, that would still take about a week. During that time, he had almost nothing to do.
Since he was free, this was the perfect opportunity to return to the A Song of Ice and Fire world. There was no way to test things properly outside, and he was intensely curious about his newly acquired abilities.
...
However, the moment Charles arrived in the Ice and Fire world, his curiosity was immediately—and brutally—"satisfied."
Before he could even steady himself, a piercing shriek suddenly rang out beside his ear, sharp and desperate, like a cat whose paw had just been stepped on.
Startled, Charles instinctively turned his head—just in time to see a hazy humanoid shadow dart away from his feet!
The figure looked almost like a living shadow: vaguely human, semi-transparent, its body flickering with scattered golden sparks. Those lingering embers seemed to cause it intense pain.
Charles could even feel the creature's fear.
It was his shadow servant.
Standing in the cold, desolate bedroom atop the stone tower, Charles watched as the shadow fled through the doorway, trembling uncontrollably despite lacking true consciousness.
He sighed helplessly.
A necromancer who couldn't be approached by dark creatures…
This was going to be troublesome.
He had considered this possibility before—but he hadn't expected the problem to manifest so quickly.
The Shadow Servant spell was less a spell and more a magical "construct," similar in nature to the Phantom Turtle. Through special runes and a simple ritual, it refined the soul of a deceased person into a kind of "third hand" that could mentally communicate with a necromancer.
It possessed no true intelligence—only instinct—but that was more than enough.
In daily life, it could handle simple tasks like pouring tea, opening doors, or escorting guests. Functionally, it wasn't much different from a real servant.
The key difference was that Charles relied on it to read books—after all, no ordinary servant would dare touch grimoires steeped in curses.
But now, it seemed he wouldn't be able to do that anymore.
At least, not during the day.
"Does that mean I can only use it at night?"
Frowning slightly, Charles found himself oddly relieved.
At least the ability lost its effect after sunset. Otherwise…
Shaking his head, he shifted his focus and began testing another ability.
Pulling a stack of runic sheets from his desk, he selected one and began chanting.
As his voice rose in a resonant, almost ceremonial cadence, the rune branded itself onto his palm. Moments later, flames erupted from his hand.
Holding his palm upright before his eyes, heat waves rolled outward. The fire looked no different from before at first glance—but upon closer inspection, he noticed a faint golden thread woven through the orange flames.
"So this is how the enhancement manifests?" he murmured thoughtfully.
The Child of the Sun trait enhanced both light- and fire-based magic. He'd already used fire magic outside earlier, but it had been extinguished too quickly for him to observe anything.
Light magic was still untested, but fire magic had clearly changed.
That, at least, was good news.
The fact that dark creatures couldn't approach him, however, remained a headache.
But since the situation was already set in stone, there was nothing he could do about it for now. Charles decided to set the issue aside.
After changing into his medieval robes, he recalled his plan to check on his materials before leaving and stepped toward the door—
Then abruptly paused.
"…It doesn't feel as cold?"
He hadn't noticed while changing, but now that he was about to head out, the difference became obvious.
Normally, even indoors, he could feel the biting chill of this place. Now, while his exposed arms still felt cool, it was only a refreshing coolness—like reaching into a refrigerator on a hot summer day—not true cold.
"A passive benefit?" he wondered.
As he walked, another thought occurred to him.
"I wonder… am I immune to fire now?"
That would need testing as well.
A true Sun God would obviously have no fear of flames—but he was only an inheritor, someone who had received a fragment of that power, not its entirety.
That distinction mattered.