The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family - Chapter 338

Capítulo 338: The Waning Ice and the Price of Power

Is Roman Lionhart truly dying?

The thought, immense and terrifying in its implications, slipped past Klaus’s mental defenses. It resonated with such force that it immediately drew the cold, ever-present attention of the ancient entity sharing his consciousness.

{ Are you asking me, or are you merely thinking, Boy? } Greed’s voice was a low, cynical rasp, amused by the breach in Klaus’s guarded mind.

‘What do you think?’ Klaus retorted mentally, offering nothing but defiance. He didn’t need a lesson in self-control; he needed confirmation of his mother’s dreadful suspicion.

{ Hmph. Is it even relevant for you to know? Don’t you have a far more pressing problem to worry about?}

Greed referred, of course, to the coiled snake of Arkadius’s consciousness that lay dormant, but always prepared to strike and reclaim the body Klaus inhabited.

‘Do you expect me to worry about that every second, and not live my life?’ Klaus challenged, a bitter edge to his thoughts. He felt the ceaseless, exhausting pressure of forces trying to pull him away from himself—history, a fragmented god, a dying Emperor.

{ What life? From where I stand, you are nothing more than a puppet, pulled by the strings of destiny, necessity, and now, the whims of a desperate, dying tyrant.}

The word puppet hit Klaus with the weight of absolute truth. He offered no reply, for he knew, deep down, that Greed was not wrong. His existence felt less like a journey of free will and more like a required performance on a stage set by forces beyond his comprehension.

‘Just tell me, Greed. Is she right? Is he truly dying?’

Greed let out a long, silent vibration that passed for a sigh of contempt.

{ I truly thought you possessed some measure of intelligence, Boy. I see now you are just as dull as the rest of your species. Do you genuinely believe it is possible to acquire the kind of terrifying, raw power he gained—that hideous, incomplete transformation—without paying a corresponding price? He is not an Apostle. He does not possess the unique, divine resilience that comes from Celestial power, like yours.}

Klaus absorbed the logic. The Ice Monarch’s power was a shortcut, a forced evolution that inevitably carried a fatal flaw.

{ From what I sensed, his life force is diminished by at least half, if not more. But considering the grotesque power he achieved—the level of might that makes him more than just a mortal man—yes, for him, it is a worthy exchange. At least he is no longer an ant.}

Klaus shut Greed out, focusing on the here and now. He looked at his mother, marveling at her calmness and sharp insight.

“Why do you think so?” he asked, needing to confirm his own chilling analysis against her practical deduction.

Elisabeth gently rested her hand on his, her gaze steady. “Think, Klaus. The Lionhart family has been built and maintained on a rigid, patriarchal system. Roman Lionhart is not a man to break rules; he is the rules. Yet, he suddenly includes Yenova—a woman—and you, whose father he officially disowned, in the succession race.”

Her expression softened, tinged with a deep, maternal sorrow. “Perhaps there is a flicker of guilt. Maybe he feels responsible because you were abducted by the Icarus cult under his watch. Or perhaps he is feeling guilty because you… you changed this much because he was unable to protect you when you were still unconscious.”

She looked at him with those sad, knowing eyes.

“I know you are not the same boy you once were, Klaus.”

“I’m still your son. I’m still Klaus Lionhart,” he reassured her, offering a warm smile that felt both genuine and necessary. He remembered vividly the terrifying days after fusing with the Icarus Fragment—the instability, the flooding of memories, the near-loss of self. If he had noticed it, then everyone else surely had as well.

“Yes,” she confirmed, gently touching his cheek. “You are. And you are re-becoming yourself every day, my love.”

She refocused on the Emperor. “Your grandfather is making crucial decisions that he would never make under normal conditions. He is forcing a crisis now to prevent a much larger one later. He is consolidating power, pushing forward the selection process, and testing potential heirs under intense pressure. He is accelerating the entire structure of the Empire because he clearly suspects he does not have the time to do it slowly. That is why I believe he is probably dying.”

“Maybe he is,” Klaus conceded, the political reality of a desperate Emperor hitting him with full force.

Elisabeth then changed the subject, picking up the official scroll containing Klaus’s assignment. “I now understand why you were frowning earlier,” she said, her smile faint.

She read the decree’s destination. “You are going to the Ice Palace. You will probably see her again.” By ‘her,’ Elisabeth was, of course, referring to Helene La Mer, the heiress of the Ice Palace, one of the candidates Roman had earmarked to become Klaus’s fiancée for political expediency.

“Well, I was certainly expecting another place,” Klaus remarked, taking the scroll. The Ice Palace was a hornet’s nest of political resistance and cold ambition.

“You should probably get ready,” Elisabeth urged. “It says you must depart within three days.”

Klaus did not reply, simply continuing to sip his tea, savoring the tranquility. They spent the remainder of the day making small conversation and having a quiet, intimate dinner. That night, Klaus slept in his old room in the Annex, finding comfort in the familiar walls.

The next morning, the three of them—Klaus, Elisabeth, and Eleara—had breakfast. He deliberately stretched the time, needing to anchor himself to them. His family was the center of his humanity, the constant reminder of who he was, despite the countless memories of past lives and the deadly presence of Arkadius.

“I will see you soon,” Klaus said, giving a kiss to his mother’s cheek and a gentle hug to his sister, before leaving the Annex Mansion, saying a final goodbye to the household staff.

On his way, he noticed the sudden shift in the estate’s atmosphere. The chaotic movement of soldiers and frantic servants was gone. It had been replaced by a tense, disciplined stillness. The surface-level panic had been contained; the Emperor’s will had enforced an unnerving quiet focus.

Klaus did not head back to the Eastern Tower. His mind was already moving past the simple diplomatic mission. He knew that if the Emperor was truly dying, this mission to the Ice Palace was a test, a prelude to something far greater. If he was going to survive the inevitable power vacuum and save the Empire from total collapse, he needed to secure his authority now.

He walked toward the main estate, across the vast, echoing courtyard. He was heading for the absolute core of the Lionhart Empire: the Throne Room. He strode past the giant, polished statues, the air growing colder with every step he took toward the central column of the building.

Finally, he stood before the colossal, rune-etched obsidian doors of the Throne Room. Two Ice Guards, tall and silent as granite pillars, stood at attention on either side, their presence radiating a low, lethal chill.

Klaus gave a concise, almost formal nod to the guard on the right. “Announce me.”

The Guard did not hesitate. He stepped forward, placing a gloved hand on the door. He did not touch the metal, but channeled a faint, deep resonance into the structure. After a moment of chilling silence, a mechanical voice, amplified by hidden magic, boomed through the stone hall.

“His Grace, Young Master Klaus Lionhart, requests audience with the Patriarch.”

A moment of silence stretched, heavy and endless, before a voice, ancient, cold, and terrible, answered from within the sealed room.

“He may enter.”

Power Ranking Weekly #50

Dec 10, 23:00 – Dec 31, 22:00

Mass release 20 chapters