I lower myself from the air and gaze upon my subjects. The people bow to me, their heads meeting the ground. As the Lord Baron of this territory, I am someone the people respect for my position. But now, after revealing myself as a Sorcerer, they see me as something akin to a god. This is the kind of world Magnus is.

"I am honored to be in the presence of the Lord Baron," a villager declares, their voice trembling with reverence.

"May your powers protect us, my Lord Baron," another person whispers, eyes wide with awe.

I hear prayers of worship, adoration, and praises from the people.

"Oh, mighty Sorcerer, guide us with your wisdom!" a voice calls out.

"Lord Baron, bless our land with your magical touch," another pleads.

The air is filled with a chorus of devotion as the people express their admiration for me.

And I don't like any of this.

I don't like this. I prefer things when the people are unaware of my sorcery abilities. It feels more normal when people just treat me as another person, though a lord, still mortal to most things. I snap my fingers and activate my Phantom Barrier. Through it, I begin revising the memories of everyone, excluding my wife. With a thought, I make it so that the Sorcerer the people saw fighting for them has a silhouette of a face, and is unrecognizable because of the too much distance.

"Go home, my people," I declare, my voice carrying a commanding tone. "Offer your precious prayers at the safety of your family."

The crowd disperses, murmuring among themselves, unaware of the magic that has just altered their memories. My wife from a distance looks at me with a knowing glance, acknowledging the power I possess. As the people retreat, I can feel a sense of normalcy returning, the weight of their worship lifted for the time being.

I come to my mansion where my wife is waiting for me, cradling our baby twins in her arms. She playfully reprimands me about how I mercilessly trounced the enemy, even going as far as to toy with them in despair. She seems to find my method of fighting quite brutal… and entertaining.

"Darling, you didn't have to be so ruthless," she says with a teasing smile. "You almost seemed to enjoy it."

I chuckle, gently taking one of the twins into my arms. "As a Phantomancer, this is the best way for me to fight. I deal with illusions, and the Phantomancer is a Sorcerer Pathway that attacks the mental fortitude of foes through thoughts. It's about instilling fear and confusion to gain the upper hand."

It is about transforming illusions into the real by making my audiences believe it to be real.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Well, I'm just glad you're on our side. Just try not to terrify the enemy too much, alright? Our little ones don't need a fearsome reputation for their father."

I nod, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I'll do my best, but no promises." After all, I am not perfect.

"I just don't understand, Mia," I complain, frustration evident in my voice. "If you're so capable, why don't you fight yourself?"

Mia defensively raises the notion, "I haven't completely recovered from the pregnancy, and you know that."

I know she's right, but I can't help but project my own frustrations onto her. Despite successfully dealing with Pierre Viola, it's only the appetizer of what I intend to do. Mia narrows her gaze at my back, sensing my inner turmoil. She questions why one of my conjured summons is still present – a dark-winged, dark-haired angel with dangerous purple eyes and an alluring figure.

The angel gracefully goes down on one knee and genuflects at me, calling me His Excellency of all things. Mia observes, a mix of confusion and annoyance on her face. The angel seems to be blushing, hyperventilating, captivated by my presence.

The angel's beauty is ethereal — dark, flowing hair cascades down her shoulders, and her wings exude an otherworldly allure. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of purple, hold a mix of danger and enchantment. The figure-hugging attire she wears accentuates her alluring form. Despite the ominous air, there's an undeniable grace to her movements, and an otherworldly beauty that seems almost too perfect to be real.

In the midst of my battle with Pierre, I summon armies after armies of angels, and even two kaijus. The kaijus, in terms of specs, are poorer in performance than what I intend to do. But the angels go beyond my expectations, performing admirably. I attribute it to the level of information I've imbued into them.

For example, the angels are based on my past life's chunnibyou days. I've provided as many details as possible about them. On the other hand, the kaijus don't have as much information embedded in their existence.

Now that I am face to face to one of my childhood imagined friends, I cannot help but feel embarrass as Mia seize up the brunette angel who exudes a kind of undetectable pheromones oozing with the desire to go yandere on me.

Amidst the chaos of my thoughts, I focus my attention on a particularly powerful angel I've conjured. "Rise," I command, and she gracefully follows my directive. The angel's form radiates a surreal beauty, her wings stretching majestically as she bows gracefully, takes my hand, and kiss it.

What kind of fucking setting is this?

The angel proceeds to squirm in a suppressed manner as if she is going to explode in pleasure and reach paradise immediately at this point.

"Why are you still here?" I ask the angel, perplexed. "I've already dispelled <Phantasm Apocalypse>."

The angel explains, "There were excess live sacrifices you offered to activate your magic. As a result, I've been given True Life. Though, I'll only last for a minimum of ten years."

I'm taken aback by this revelation. "True Life? But what's your name?"

She pleads with me, "Please, give me a name."

I inwardly cringe, recalling the setting I gave these angels during my chunnibyou days – their greatest ambition being to bed me and spoil me. I was just a little prepubescent boy at that time. Forgive me, universe!

Mia's suspicious eyes bore into me, expressing annoyance and possibly jealousy. I ignore her gaze and focus on the angel. "Fine, I'll give you a name… let me think for a second."

"Follow me to the basement," I instruct the angel. Turning to my wife, I say, "Mia, don't follow. I'll be back shortly."

Mia, with her precognition abilities, understands my destination. "Is it that corpse?" she questions, concern in her eyes. "I don't want the twins to be near it."

I nod, appreciating her understanding, and head to the basement with the angel. As we descend the stairway, I've decided on a name for her. In this world, names hold great power. Even sorcerers mutter their magic spell names, and crafting original spells involves naming them in profound ways.

"From now on, your name is Chayyliel," I declare.

Chayyliel moans in pleasure at the sound of her new name. "Thank you, my Lord. I shall serve you with body, mind, and soul," she vows, placing a strong emphasis on "body."

Her words make me slightly uncomfortable, given the nature of the setting I bestowed upon these angels during my chunnibyou days.

As we reach the basement, the air turns cold around the stiff, lifeless corpse lying there. Its once-brown hair now clings to a frozen sheen due to the ice I've brought down here. The purple robes it wears are still intact, despite the gaping hole in its chest – a reminder of the confrontation with the Voidmancer who attacked my residence months ago.

Chayyliel gazes at the corpse with indignant anger, her eyes flashing with fury. "How dare this wretch target your residence," she seethes, her voice laced with vehement indignation.

The corpse looks eerily preserved in its frozen state, the features frozen in a rictus of pain and surprise. Despite its lifeless form, there's an unsettling air about it, a remnant of the powerful sorcery it wielded in life.

Chayyliel's anger boils over, and she unleashes a torrent of colorful words about what she would have liked to do to the now very dead Voidmancer. Her vivid descriptions involve dismemberment, mincing, and utter destruction, all fueled by her protective loyalty toward me.

I am flattered and scared at the same time.

"I have a plan for this corpse, Chayyliel," I explain, glancing at the lifeless Voidmancer. "I want to use it as a Phantom Puppet, a bodyguard for my wife and children. But, I'm not a Necromancer, so creating a Phantom Puppet out of a dead body will be inferior to what a Necromancer can achieve with their Undead Creations."

Chayyliel listens attentively, her expression eager. "What's the plan then?" she inquires.

"I'll extract the soul of this Voidmancer," I detail, "crack it like a walnut, get its 'Source', and then transfer it to you. That way, you'll become a Voidmancer, capable of protecting my family with the full power of this creature."

Chayyliel's eyes light up with joy and pleasure. She squeals in delight, expressing her excitement at the prospect. "Oh, what an honor! I shall gladly accept the Voidmancer's power!"

Her response is effusive, and she continues to be a sycophant, showering me with high praises and expressions of loyalty. "Oh master, your excellency, the universe shall know of your infinite might!"

With my hands seemingly part ghost and part fluid, I extract the soul from the lifeless corpse. Drawing power from the Phantom Barrier that shrouds my mansion, I feel the essence of the ego within the dead body. It's shapeless, but I gather the amorphous energy, shaping it into a sphere. Despite the difficulty of the task, I manage to extract a dark violet orb. Souls typically dissipate as bodies decay, but this one appears to be in pristine condition, a testament to the prior cultivation of the now dead Sorcerers.

"As expected from a Voidmancer," I murmur to myself.

Turning to Chayyliel, I instruct her to ready her mind for what comes next. Cracking the orb, I reveal an iridescent violet gem within. The Source of Voidmancers is often described as 'Nothing,' yet here is something tangible within the palm of my hand.

"Chayyliel, eat it," I command.

Without hesitation, she obeys, consuming the gem with an almost primal eagerness. The transformation is immediate, her form shuddering as the power of the Voidmancer's Source courses through her.

As Chayyliel consumes the iridescent violet gem, a surge of power courses through her, and she feels a connection deepening within her being. Closing her eyes, she suddenly vanishes, reappearing a meter away from where she stood moments ago. The transformation is complete – Chayyliel is now a Voidmancer.

"Chayyliel," I address her, "from now on, your responsibility is to guard my children and wife. Prioritize escape if the fight becomes unwinnable, and listen to my wife's words as if they were my own."

Chayyliel solemnly makes an oath in a formal manner, expressing her commitment to the task. "To this life, and the next until all of eternity and beyond, I shall dedicate myself to you— I shall be your slave, property, and everything you wish shall become. I can be your queen, your lover, and your infinity. I solemnly swear from henceforth that my faith and fate has been bound to your great existence."

I am honestly speechless…

Chayyliel looks so holy as she clasps her palms in a prayer, and her thoughts seems to have been transformed indefinitely, thus connecting her to me. I calm my mind with a thought, and sees her wings. I wonder, does her wings taste like chickine wings? "…"

I kill my intrusive thoughts right on the bat, and addresses her casually.

I nod in acknowledgement and add, "Tuck in your wings; they're distracting."

Complying with my request, Chayyliel tucks in her wings, now ready to fulfill her new role as a Voidmancer bodyguard.

"Chayyliel, take the corpse and bury it far away from here," I command. "Afterward, come to my wife and make a report."

Thumping her bountiful chest, Chayyliel confidently responds, "It shall be done."

I hand her the items and accessories of the Void Eternal, Pierre Viola – a purple robe layered with black, exuding powerful Void energy, and the Amulet of Lies, which grants the ability to detect lies. I have made sure to stitch the robe with my magic, ensuring no damage has been left to it.

Chayyliel expresses her gratitude.

"Thank you," she says, her voice filled with praise. "Your generosity knows no bounds."

I chuckle, feeling a slight discomfort at her effusive expressions. "Just get the job done," I reply, trying to downplay her admiration. "And no need for the praises."

Chayyliel nods, still beaming with gratitude as she takes the items. "Of course, my Lord. I shall not disappoint you."

Leaving Chayyliel to her task, I head for Mia. "I need your help with something," I say.

Curious, she raises an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"I need you to send an Oracle to Bartholomew Whitman and Sanaryn Flamberge," I request.

Mia teases me, "Ambitious, aren't we? Going after the big names?"

I explain, "It's necessary for the sake of my family's normalcy."

Disappointment creeps into Mia's expression. "Ambition can cloud judgment," she warns. "But it is also a powerful stimulus." Mia sighs apprehensively, giving up rather quickly about her lectures and preaching about ambition.

"I know," I reply, "but trust me, it's for a good reason."

Mia complies, saying, "Your wish will be done. What's the message?"

"Just tell them I killed Pierre Viola," I instruct. "I want to meet both Sages in Mount Origin. I'm ready to partake in the Trial of Power willingly."

Mia gasps, and then laughs, unable to believe my audacity yet amused by it. I'm fully aware of the recklessness of my request. Unlike Pierre, whom I killed so one-sidedly, Bartholomew Whitman is an experienced fighter and someone who could genuinely pose a threat to me. Sanaryn Flamberge, a talented Pyromancer, further complicates the odds.

"Do you think I'm doomed or something?" I ask Mia, wondering if that's why she's laughing.

"Huh? What do you mean?" she replies in confusion.

I inquire, "Is that why you're amused? Because you think I'm in for trouble?"

Mia explains, "No, not at all. It's just that, for a long time, the hierarchy of the Three Sages will change again after your appearance. I find that amusing."

I can never get used to it – Mia seeing me so highly and putting me on a pedestal always manages to throw me off.

.....

....

...

..

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Chayyliel admires her new robe. Though it comes from a dead person, it doesn't matter since the giver has been His Excellency, her master, and her one and only God. After doing her job of burying a corpse, she immediately returns to His Excellency's wife. Of course, not after she robs the corpse of its every valuable, everything stored in her Void Storage, a magic exclusive to Voidmancers.

She greets Mia, the wife of her master. Mia looks at her up and down, judging her. Chayyliel introduces herself. "I'll be bodyguarding His Excellency's family."

She even boasts her name and shares its meaning to Mia. "My name represents an army, and it is the name of a powerful angel."

Mia regards her with skepticism, but Chayyliel stands proudly, waiting for any response. Objectively to Mia, Chayyliel feels like a naughty child.

The robes fit too snugly on Chayyliel's body, showcasing her legs and cleavage. She has used Void Magic to shrink and modify the garment, revealing more of her sensual and alluring side. With pride, she crosses her arms and squeezes her two bountiful assets, attempting to assert her superiority over Mia. Chayyliel's bust size is undeniably a level above Mia's.

Mia, frowning, comments, "You are too sexy."

Chayyliel responds confidently, "Of course, I am His Excellency's ideal woman!"

Mia, doubtful, questions, "Are you sure?"

Mia raises an eyebrow, questioning, "Aren't you created by Ran? That means he is like your father. The way you sound, and cling to him, it is as if you want to bed him. Have some decency. He already has a wife and children, and you are like his daughter."

Chayyliel smirks, replying nonchalantly, "Of course, I want to bed him! That's the purpose of the Dark Army!"

Mia, taken aback, queries, "Dark Army?"

Chayyliel explains with a sly grin, "You won't understand. The point being, my lordship, the master of the universe, can have as many women as he likes… After all, a great Hero needs the attention of a lot of beautiful girls!"

Mia rubs her nose bridge, resisting the urge to summon her Fate Weapon and strike the indecent woman before her. She's determined never to let this woman near her husband. With a quiet whisper, she calls to the maid to bring a certain something.

Chayyliel watches with curiosity, but her expression changes to miffed when the maid returns with a maid uniform. Mia orders the maid to leave as she drags the uniform herself to Chayyliel.

Mia declares, "From now on, whenever inside the mansion, you must wear the maid uniform."

Chayyliel frowns, feeling very reluctant.

Chayyliel eyes the maid uniform with annoyance. It's baggy, and the skirt seems long enough to even cover her heels. Mia adds firmly, "You must never modify the maid uniform. This is an order!"

Chayyliel, conflicted, wants to defy Mia's words, but she remembers the initial order from His Excellency to listen to Mia. She grumbles about the stupidity of the maid outfit's design, expressing her frustration, "With this ridiculous thing, I won't ever be able to get His Excellency in the mood."

Using indecent words, Chayyliel verbally expresses her fantasies of finally getting His Excellency into bed, all while wearing the inconvenient maid uniform. "If I twerk in this, he won't see my bubble butt! I also cannot show legs with this! I won't even be able to show my mountain peaks! Come on! This is unfair! It is baggy, it will hide my curves and make me look fat! It will be also difficult for His Excellency to insert his hot rod… Though, I can see the appeal of wearing this while giving a wet blow j—"

"Shut up, you imbecile!" Mia finally explodes in anger, huffing puffing. "That is not the kind of man Randel is!" Her words silences Chayyliel.

"Okay," Chayyliel demurely twirls her index finger as she chooses to shut up finally.

Mia, contemplating, acknowledges that she won't easily get rid of Chayyliel, recognizing her usefulness as a bodyguard. However, she's determined not to let this woman disrupt her perfectly normal life—something Mia can't believe she's actually thinking.

Addressing Chayyliel, Mia declares, "From now on, you will be the nanny of the twins—Morgan and Merlin."

In unison, the almost three-month-old twins cheer as if on cue, raising their arms. "Yahh~!! Coo! Coo!" A hint of black hair is already visible in their little heads, indicating their relationship with their father, who similarly has black hair.

The twins' sparkling blue eyes, inherited from their mom, direct adorable looks at Chayyliel.

Morgan and Merlin, in their infant babble, giggle and coo as Chayyliel approaches. Their tiny hands reach out, fingers curling around Chayyliel's offered finger.

The little infant girl, Morgan, with a little ribbon on her hair mutter exaggeratedly, "Kill! Kill!" Chayyliel shudders.

Meanwhile, Merlin, the little infant boy grabs Chayyliel's chest, "Boob!"

"Eh??" Chayyliel turns to Mia in confusion.

But Mia simply cusses, "Randel… What the hell are you teaching Merlin!? This isn't normal!" After releasing her pent-up frustration, Mia calms down as she takes the babies away from Chayyliel.

Chayyliel, suddenly feeling shy and overwhelmed, hesitates as the reality of being a nanny sinks in. She protests to Mia, insisting that she knows nothing about being a nanny and expresses her reluctance.

"I'm meant to be their bodyguard, your bodyguard," Chayyliel declares.

Mia, slyly arguing her point, responds, "The best place for you to protect them is by being very close to the children and me." She smirks, revealing her plan. "So, I've decided you'll become my personal maid servant."

Chayyliel grits her teeth in indignation, conflicted about her new role.

Mia quickly perks up, her precognition activating at an inconvenient moment when she is going in a roll to lecture Chayyliel. Mia foresees attackers—fifty of them, all low-dreg sorcerers, led by a not-so-bad sorcerer. Mia swiftly delves into the identity of the perpetrator of the attack, discovering the individual's information, a Cursemancer, a member of the Arcane Sect and partially affiliated with the Four Great Dukes. Mia pushes back the name, deeming it inconsequential in the grand scheme.

"Chayyliel, deal with the enemies," Mia orders. With Chayyliel's abilities, she should manage the situation.

Chayyliel, feeling grateful for the sudden intruders saving her from embarrassment, responds, "I have received your command."

Chayyliel unfurls her beautiful black wings, ready to set off, but Mia calls for her one last time.

Mia's eyes narrow with determination as she instructs Chayyliel, "Make the Cursemancer suffer. He is among the Sorcerers who kept unleashing their Curse Magic at me from a long distance after my labor."

Chayyliel replies with a dangerous grin, "Your wish is my command," and propels herself into the air.

At the same time, Chayyliel vanishes with the void, leaving Mia to enjoy her alone time with her children. The air crackles with magical energy as Chayyliel speeds towards the approaching threat, determined to make the Cursemancer regret their choice to target Mia.

The old man hovers in the air, surrounded by an entourage of elemental casters hired from the Mercenary Guild. Today is the day he wishes for revenge against Miyandrel Celeste, the woman who killed his entire family. The entourage flies over wide plains, determined to carry out their vengeful mission.

Suddenly, appearing out of thin air, a dark-winged, beautiful woman with purple eyes and sensual robes materializes before them. The old man, with a sense of urgency, demands, "Get out of my way! There's business to be done. I won't let anyone interfere with my sweet revenge."

The woman, Chayyliel, smirks and responds defiantly, "Sweet revenge, you say? Well, it's not going to be that easy." Her presence signals a potential obstacle to the old man's quest for vengeance.

But it is not that simple for Chayyliel is not merely an obstacle that can be removed in one's way, she is a vengeful ghost most loyal to her master!

hayyliel laughs boisterously, the sound echoing with a haunting quality. "All of you shall be offerings to my God!"

The old man, alarmed, demands, "Who are you!?"

"I am Chayyliel," she declares proudly. "The 'Army' that serves the phantom of a world beyond your understanding! And for daring to lay a hand on my master's wife, I shall inflict you with judgment so horrible you'll wish yourself dead!"

The old man scoffs, dismissing her words. "Empty talk! Sorcerers! Attack her." The elemental casters in the old man's entourage respond to his command, preparing to engage Chayyliel in battle.

Pyromancers and Skymancers gather at the old man's command, standing in formation. In unison, they unleash a combination magic, yelling its name— Sky Dragon's Wrath. A serpentine dragon of flames and wind materializes, heading straight for Chayyliel.

Chayyliel remains calm, facing the attack head-on. With a swift incantation, she summons a black hole named the Dark Void, a high-level spell for Voidmancers. The black hole swiftly engulfs the Sky Dragon's Wrath, rendering it powerless.

Grinning crazily, Chayyliel mocks the sorcerers in front of her. "Ants," she sneers, relishing her control over the situation. The Pyromancers and Skymancers are left astonished, their combined attack easily neutralized by Chayyliel's mastery of Void Magic.

Chayyliel summons a katana made of Dark Matter. While her 'Source' may not match that of the Void Eternal Pierre, she has keenly observed his fighting style, allowing her to replicate some of his abilities. The dark matter in her katana isn't stable enough, so she decreases it, substituting it with her pure magical power.

Raising her katana, Chayyliel announces with glee, "I shall now begin the slaughter!" She swings the katana, and a crescent of void energy ripples in the air, heading toward the sorcerers. The void energy resembles a Sword Aura one might find in novels, a deadly force unleashed with precision.

Chayyliel revels in the thrill of battle, teleporting effortlessly around the sorcerers, each strike a dance of deadly elegance. With every teleport and kill, she chuckles darkly, savoring the taste of the chaos she's unleashing. The fighting becomes increasingly one-sided as her void-infused katana cuts through the ranks of Pyromancers and Skymancers like a hot knife through butter.

The sorcerers, bewildered and unable to comprehend the speed and precision of Chayyliel's attacks, fall one by one. She toys with her victims, relishing their futile attempts at defense. As the crescent of void energy severs magical connections and renders the Skymancers' aerial advantage useless, Chayyliel's satisfaction grows.

Amidst the chaos, she taunts, "Your futile resistance is nothing more than a fleeting ember in the void!" The skirmish unfolds as if choreographed, with Chayyliel orchestrating a macabre symphony of death and destruction. Each teleportation leaves a trail of disarray, and her enjoyment intensifies with every sorcerer who meets their demise. The old man watches in horror, realizing the futility of his revenge as Chayyliel effortlessly dominates the battlefield.

Chayyliel's mastery over the unique application of Void Magic stems not only from her innate talent but also from the memories she inherited from her master, Phantomancer Randel Eir Dromastus. Unlike Pierre, whose short-sightedness and lack of talent hindered him from exploring such magical intricacies, Chayyliel embraces the depth of her knowledge and the perspective she has been allowed when she is just existing in the imaginary realm..

Infused with fragments of memories from a 21st-century world rich in culture, Chayyliel's approach to magic is dynamic and adaptive. She draws from her master's experiences and the powerful Destiny shared with her, allowing her to wield Void Magic in ways Pierre could never conceive.

As she effortlessly weaves through the battlefield, teleporting and striking with calculated precision, Chayyliel's actions reflect the fusion of inherited memories and her natural talent. "RUN! ALL OF YOU, SAVE YOURSELVES!" She screams joyously in a murder spree as she wings her katana horizontally and continues to cut off sorcerers from the distance.

The old man watches in disbelief as Chayyliel effortlessly counters his Curse Magic, her void-infused katana nullifying the very essence of his attacks. The realization that his carefully planned revenge is slipping away dawns on him, and despair sets in. The sorcerers he hired, their faces etched with fear, struggle to maintain any semblance of order on the chaotic battlefield.

A Cryomancer from the Mercenary Guild, seeing the impending disaster, rushes to the old man and pleads desperately, "Old sir, we can't win! Order a retreat before it's too late!"

The old man, torn between the shattering of his revenge and the desperate plea of his hired mercenaries, hesitates. The once cohesive force he assembled begins to crumble, the mercenaries on the verge of deserting as panic spreads among their ranks. The old man's eyes reflect a mix of anger, despair, and the bitter taste of defeat as he contemplates the impending failure of his vengeance.

However, the old man no longer has time to contemplate as quickly, his head rolls from the air, and as gravity pulls his head, he sees the what remains of his body— a headless him. The magic in the body still remains, but he can no longer control it as his head has been severed.

At the last moment, the old man's head plops in a bloody smudge to the plains, a tiny dot in comparison to the demise he has left his hired mercenaries with. The last thoughts that crosses him before his ultimate death is how Miyandrel Celeste's cunning has never dulled, and she is now even capable of acquiring a subordinate as strong as this.