Published at 4th of February 2026 7:17 am

Chapter 1472 True Power

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Inside the private study of the Marquis, a dark-haired man with brown eyes sat by the window, one leg crossed over the other, and a glass of wine in his hand.

Raindrops struck the pane in a gentle, steady rhythm. Beyond the glass, the city sprawled out in dull gray layers. Smoke still rose from the distant chimneys, thin and slow, as they blurred into the rain and the low clouds.

The whole skyline of Springdale looked heavy, tired, and melancholic.

Marden's gaze never wavered. For a moment, however, something flickered in his eyes… something sharp, something unstable.

In his mind, he saw them again. The ghostly silhouettes of the Benton family. Their hands were clutching at his legs, fingers digging into his ankles, trying to drag him down into the pits of hell.

He couldn't help but sigh.

"Why do I have to deal with this?" he murmured.

He took another sip of wine, leaned back in his chair, and let the visions fade.

Madness, madness, madness, he mused.

Madness everywhere.

He was alone. He was undisturbed. And he was perfectly content in the silence. He liked solitude, but it was hard to come by.

Marden opened his eyes, his gaze sharp and cold now. He stared out at the rain again, and the memories came… as they always did.

Dark rooms, chains biting into his wrists, and the sound of bones cracking in the silence. A flash of iron instruments laid out on the table, and the grating voice of the damned lich asking the same question over and over again.

He recalled his own screams when molten iron was pressed to his skin, then his voiceless wails when ice water was poured on him. Then fire again. Then the ice. Again and again…

Years of torture compressed into fragments flashed before his brown eyes.

The Cult Leader tried hard to find the mole within his organization. And when he couldn't find one, his bony claws gripped the throat of the person most likely to betray him.

And that was Marden.

His lips curled into a wicked smile, and he mused:

But in the end, you didn't find anything at all. You're still under the assumption that my soul is bound to your whims.

How foolish you are to hand over the responsibility of building the new facility to me.

Ah, I should be thankful that you, too, have gone mad.

In the end, I will win.

The silhouettes of Sabrina and Nash Benton appeared before him, causing his smile to falter and then vanish.

"It wasn't me, damn it!" He hissed at them, his brown eyes gleaming with suppressed madness.

At last, he sighed helplessly.

"Ah, who am I even kidding?" he muttered under his breath.

Marden poured himself some more wine and continued to watch the scenery outside the window. For the last six years, he had been regularly traveling between Springdale and the secret location where the new facility was located.

If he were being honest, he quite liked this city.

It's better than Aranal, at least, he thought to himself.

Also, far more pleasing to the eyes than… Ravenfell.

His eyes flashed with complicated emotions when he thought of his home.

Marden sighed.

He missed his home.

Knock! Knock!

"My Lord, its me."

Henrick van Booth's voice traveled over.

Marden snickered, thinking to himself, Acting like a servant in your own home.

Such is the status true power grants you.

"Come in," he said in a dignified voice.

Henrick and Sebastian entered, their postures respectful. They came before Marden and humbly stood with their heads slightly lowered.

This was a Mana Core Magus they were dealing with, after all. And Marden was no ordinary Mana Core Magus either. He was someone powerful enough to be in the Cult's Inner Circle.

He was hailed as the Blood Lord of the Cult of Bones.

Marden gestured for them to speak.

"We have recruited yet another supplier, my lord," Henrick began. "After years of vetting his background, I can say for certain he can be trusted."

"What's his name?" Marden swirled the goblet in his hand as he looked out of the window.

"Baron Alan Veyne," Henrick replied. "A Mana Foundation Magus and a well-reputed merchant in Springdale."

Marden turned to him with an arched eyebrow. "Merely at the Mana Foundation Rank?"

"…Yes, my lord." Henrick nodded. "But he's part of a vast network of traders in the Union. A very skilled and shrewd merchant, if I say so myself."

"Huh." Marden nodded. "Very well. I'll leave the smaller details to you."

"It is my honor." Henrick humbly bowed.

He then exchanged a quick glance with his butler, Sebastian, hesitating whether to say what was on his mind.

"Out with it," Marden said in a gentle voice.

But Henrick would be a fool to believe that the Blood Lord was anything but gentle and polite.

"My Lord, please don't mind me asking, but…"

Henrick gulped nervously. "I'll be going out on a mission for the Brotherhood sometime next week. So I was wondering… how long you'll…"

Marden scoffed. "I'll be gone before you leave. I have matters to tend to back at the Empire."

Henrick visibly paled. "I did not mean to offend you, my lord. It's just that… I was fearful of the Brotherhood finding out about your presence in the city."

"Who's going to tell them?" Marden asked, his lips curling into a cold smile. "You?"

He then turned to Sebastian and added, "Or you?"

"We dare not!" Both dropped to their knees, their heads lowered in deference.

"The Brotherhood would never imagine, even in their wildest dreams, that their mortal enemy is sitting right under their noses," Marden said with a light chuckle.

"Besides, even if they did," he added. "I'm sure the higher-ups would bury that information, would they not?"

"Yes, of course!" Henrick quickly said.

"Now, go." Marden waved his hand dismisively. "Make sure none of your family comes anywhere near me. I'm not in a particularly good mood these days."

"As you command, my lord!"

With that said, Henrick and Sebastian took their leave, shutting the door behind them.

"Spineless." Marden scoffed.

He returned to enjoying the rainy view outside as he sipped on the wine.

Moments later, the sound of wheels on stone drew his attention. A carriage entered the stage and slowed in the courtyard below. Marden glanced down just in time to see the door open.

Henry stepped out, and servants hurried forward, raising an umbrella over his head to shield him from the rain as they escorted him inside the manor.

Marden gave the young man only a fleeting glance. To him, Henry van Booth was nothing more than an insignificant bastard son of this noble house. Not worth remembering.

He turned back to the scenery outside, unaware that the young man he had just dismissed was someone he knew.

Knew well.

Very well.

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