The Villainous Son Loves His Mother - Chapter 63

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Love isn’t about accepting everything about someone; it’s about forgiving them.
The reason I’m suddenly saying this is because my mother has given me a trial.
It’s not just any trial, but one designed to inflict great pain upon me.

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“Lord Hein, do you understand? Magic is the privilege of the noble—therefore, just like pure bl00d among the aristocracy, its purity must be maintained.”

“Haa.”

I’ve been listening to this inferior creature named Eugen drone on endlessly.
What he’s essentially saying is, “I can’t stand that there are so many types of magic.”
There are indeed many schools and categories of magic.
Bloodline Magic of the Twelve Noble Houses, Primordial Magic, Spirit Magic, Rune Magic, Necromancy, Transformation Magic—
It’s enough to make one sick, and all of them are collectively called “magic.”
And schools are simply different interpretations of these types of magic.

For example, if one wishes to cast a fire spell, the approach to creating fire varies depending on the type of magic and the school of thought.
Some methods involve conjuring fire based on legends and anecdotes, while others ignite dust particles in the air as fuel. Still others summon flames burning elsewhere in the world.
This inferior claims that all these methods should be unified under his banner, because “the magic I wield is the greatest!”
There is no rationality or justification in his words.
It is a purely inferior argument, by the inferior, for the inferior.
If this isn’t a trial, then what is?
My mother insisted I listen to him, but my ears feel like they’re rotting.

“Lord Hein, what are your thoughts on this?”

“I think it’s insane.”

—You’re insane.

“Exactly! It is insane! This might be painful for you to hear, Lord Hein of the Twelve Noble Houses, but Primordial Magic is the sole magic that governs all phenomena!”

Primordial Magic is the most widely practiced form of magic among magicians.
The reason is simple:
It allows you to conjure fire, water, or wind—the quintessential acts of magic—through straightforward methods.
Take fire, for example, the most common form of offensive magic. There are countless tales from ancient times about how some great mage faced a terrifying monster and unleashed an incredible blaze. All you need to do is develop your own mental image of what that fire might have been like, based on these legends, and then channel your Magical Power.
Magical Power is a force inherent in everyone. Once you grasp the intuitive method of releasing it, channeling it becomes effortless.
By the way, I believe the Bloodline Magic of the Twelve Noble Houses isn’t anything truly special. Rather, it’s a concept that solidified over centuries of history—the notion that “this particular magic can only be wielded by the noble House of X.”

“The Prime Minister fully understands my ideals, you see. I hope that one day we can move towards unifying this region.”

“Through suppression?”

I asked bluntly, without mincing words.
I wasn’t accusing him of anything.
Force is the most primitive, the most physical, and the most fetishistic of methods.
Balance is crucial.
Too much force will annihilate your opponents instead of subjugating them, while too little will make you look weak.
I asked because I wondered if this seemingly dimwitted man possessed such finesse.
But…

“…Hmm, that’s a rather harsh way of putting it.”

“My apologies.”

“Lord Hein, do you have reservations about unifying magic?”

Of course I did.

“The Archmagus Merlin once wrote that diversity is what deepens magic’s brilliance.”

The Archmagus Merlin was the founder of Primordial Magic.
I had studied many of his (or her) writings to deepen my understanding.
Since Mother had told me to read plenty of books, I’d truly read a great many.

“Oh, you seem to be enjoying Merlin’s writings. Unfortunately, while The Archmagus Merlin was undoubtedly a great Mage, many of his magical theories are flawed. Diversity, for example, is nothing more than a distraction that dilutes the mystique of Magic.”

I’d chosen my words poorly.
I’d deliberately mentioned Merlin’s name, thinking this Inferior would appreciate it since he seemed to favor Primordial Magic.
Ah, I see. He doesn’t actually like Primordial Magic; he just likes himself.
Since the Magic he uses is Primordial Magic, he wants to declare everything else trash.
Why would Mother tell me to speak with such an Inferior—wait a minute?!
Belatedly, I finally understand Mother’s intentions with this Hein.
I wasn’t sent here to listen to this Inferior’s story; I was sent here to eliminate this Inferior.

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“It’s not so much that Merlin’s original texts are incorrect, but rather that they’re inherently ambiguous. In the Primordial Chronicle, he proposes the concept of ‘stratified division’ for the creation of fire. However, in the Chain of Light, he explains it through the concept of ‘bundling’. The procedures are similar yet distinct, and the fact that they lead to the same result apparently vexed scholars of the time. Personally, I don’t dislike Merlin’s theories. Ample room for interpretation means ample room to reshape them into my own form.”

The Inferior stared at me with a puzzled expression as I suddenly began rattling off these explanations.
But that was fine.

“Lord Eugen, as you know, the conventional method in Primordial Magic for creating fire involves symbolically invoking the essence of ‘fire’ itself. Many practitioners base their spell formulas on the specific Fire Gods or Flame Spirits, attaching the conceptual ‘Fire Attribute’ to them and channeling Magical Power to manifest actual combustion. In essence, by conceptualizing ‘fire’ beforehand, they convert Magical Power into heat and light through the shortest possible path. However, this also implies a failure to fully grasp the ‘Phase Conjugation’ principle outlined in Merlin’s Multilayered Imagery Theory.”

“Ah, yes… Well, I did read the Multilayered Imagery Theory… Hmm, I think it took me about three months to fully understand it.”

“That’s brilliant! I understood it in ten minutes. In my case, I don’t simply summon fire as a burning phenomenon. Instead, I create a ‘combustion level’ at the interface by causing multiple interferences of Magic Waves in space. Specifically, inspired by Merlin’s ‘Recursive Binding of Heterotopic Hierarchies,’ I conceptualize fire’s essence as the process of decomposing surrounding air and rearranging its chemical bonds. Through iterative calculations, I synchronize the core molecular vibrations with conscious space. Therefore, every time I generate fire, a virtual fractal operation runs simultaneously in my brain, stabilizing the combustion reaction by freezing the interface with a standing wave.”

I paused to let him catch up.
He was desperately trying to understand, his eyes darting around and his mustache twitching.
It was a pity there was no tea.
My hobby is enjoying tea while watching the futile struggles of inferiors.

“Of course, this method is incomparably more difficult than ordinary magic procedures. Any mage can easily summon the mere concept of fire. But my approach requires calculating dozens of factors each time, from spatial tension to temporal phase, and maintaining perfect synchronization to prevent them from colliding. Even the slightest miscalculation could destabilize the combustion power, endangering both myself and my surroundings. However, the benefits are immense. Once the combustion level is established, I can freely control the fire’s temperature and shape. There’s no need to select specific anecdotes related to the concept. Do you understand? It’s easily applicable not only to combat but also to forging and engineering—that’s its true utility. In exchange for high-precision flame manipulation and vast versatility, I’m forced to perform mental calculations far beyond the capabilities of ordinary people. That’s my fire magic, and the greatest advantage I’ve learned from Merlin’s theories.”

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(Damn that brat, acting so smug!)

Eugen ground his teeth, his anger boiling over.
He had looked down on Hein, that young upstart, just moments before. But now, after exchanging words, Hein casually referenced Merlin’s works with ease and even claimed to have grasped Multilayered Imagery Theory, which had taken him three months to unravel, in just ten minutes.

(He’s all talk, it seems.)

There was a strange barb in Hein’s words—a kind of polite insolence that carried a hint of disdain for Eugen. Even considering Hein’s status as the heir of one of the Twelve Noble Houses, his arrogance was excessive.

“W-well, it seems you’ve studied quite a bit…!”

Eugen spat out the words with a forceful cough.
Nobles were inherently skilled orators. He dismissed Hein’s eloquence as mere bluster.

“But theoretical arguments hold no weight. No matter how intricate your reasoning, if it cannot be put into practice, it’s all meaningless.”

Hein smiled faintly, as if in genuine agreement.

“You’re absolutely right.”

But his eyes… Hein’s eyes betrayed his true feelings.

(Damn it…! This brat is looking down on me…!)

Eugen felt the bl00d rush to his head, but he managed to maintain his composure.

“V-very well, then!!”

His voice cracked. After another clearing of his throat to regain his composure, Eugen placed his hands on the table and leaned forward.

“If you’ve studied to such an extent, I’d like to see the fruits of your efforts. Let’s prove it not with words, but with actual practice… In other words, a Wand Duel.”

A Wand Duel.
It was a mock battle between mages, where they clashed their magical power without resorting to a full-fledged duel.
Two magicians would maintain a set distance, each wielding their wand or magical implement, and alternate between attacking and defending.
The victor was determined by who could exhaust their opponent’s magical reserves first—a simple system.
However, since defeat would damage one’s reputation, Wand Duels were rarely practiced among nobles.

They were typically reserved for masters and their apprentices.

Eugen’s true intention was to provoke a refusal, confident that the boy would back down in fear.
No matter how boldly the boy boasted, he was ultimately just a bookish brat with more knowledge than practical skill.
He’s no match for me, the Vice Mage-in-Chief of the Empire.
If he foolishly accepts, I’ll crush him. If he refuses, I can mock his cowardice.
Either way, it was a win-win for Eugen.
That’s why he was momentarily speechless when Hein readily agreed.

“If that’s the case, I accept.”

Hein’s tone remained as calm as before, as if he were simply agreeing to a morning exercise.

“H-ho… You seem confident. Let me warn you, my skills go far beyond my title. The position of Vice Grand Mage is no mere decoration.”

Eugen blustered, trying to regain his composure.
He felt a faint sheen of sweat on his palms.

“I will do my best. Consider it an honor to test my limits against you.”

Hein said, his smile infuriatingly smug.

“Grr… Very well. We’ll reschedule for a more suitable venue. A cramped space would be too dangerous. We’ll contact you again.”

Hein quietly bowed to Eugen’s words.

“Of course. I look forward to it.”

With that, the meeting concluded.
As Hein left the room, Eugen gripped the table so tightly his knuckles turned white, then slammed his fist down with enough force to shatter the wood.

“That little brat! Just you wait! I’ll make you beg for your life in front of the entire court!”

He screamed, slammed his fist on the desk, and kicked it over.
Still unable to calm down, he summoned a maid and violently embraced her.
A thoroughly vulgar man—that was Eugen.
Yet it was true that his position as Vice Grand Mage was no mere decoration.

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Meanwhile, Hein rode back to the mansion in a swaying carriage, a faint smile playing on his lips as he gazed out the window.

(Good, now I can legally eliminate him. If I make him beg for his life in public, his reputation will be utterly ruined. Mother will be pleased. Those inferiors, if left unchecked, will become a cancer in the future reign. Ah, yes, I should ask if it would be acceptable to stage an accident and kill him.)

Hein continued to ponder these thoughts as the carriage rolled onward.