From Slave to King: My Rebate System Built Me a Kingdom With Beauties!-Chapter 215: A Miracle In Disguise!? [FIXED!]
Byung had access to all of these new abilities flooding through his system like electricity through copper wire—the notifications still present in his peripheral vision as the absorption process completed its final integration. Mind Reading Level 1, Dark Magic Affinity Basic Tier, Memory Protection Passive—each skill nestled into his consciousness like they’d always been there, expanding his awareness in ways that felt natural. But there was something else that affected him on a fundamental level, something that went beyond the simple acquisition of new techniques.
He could now receive mana from his environment just like an elf, his body suddenly attuned to the ambient magical energy that saturated every inch of this cursed prison. The sensation was overwhelming at first—a constant influx of power flowing into him from the air, the stone walls, the very darkness itself. It was like being blind his entire life and suddenly gaining sight, or deaf and hearing music for the first time. This was how elves experienced reality constantly, this perpetual connection to the fundamental energy that made their impossible magic possible.
But there was a serious problem with all of this, a corruption that became immediately apparent the moment the mana entered his system. The form of magic he had acquired from Velara wasn’t pure or neutral—it was corrupted.
The energy flowed into him clean enough, drawn from the environment in its natural state, but the instant it touched the magical pathways he possessed, it changed. Turned a sickly dark purple instead of the clear blue or pristine white of normal mana, gained a viscous quality like oil that coated everything it touched with residue that wouldn’t wash away.
There was nothing good about corrupted magic, and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say it was the worst form of magic to exist in this world or any other. Byung could feel it in his bones now—the way it twisted and perverted everything it touched, how it hungered with an intelligence of its own to consume and destroy rather than create or heal. Normal magic could build structures that lasted centuries, could heal mortal wounds, could nurture crops and encourage growth in barren soil. Corrupted magic did the opposite—it ate away at living tissue like acid, corroded protective barriers until they shattered, turned healing spells into vectors for plague and mutation. It was cancer given form, poison that spread through contact, darkness that consumed light rather than being dispelled by it.
This corruption was why the dark continent had become the nightmare it was, why the barrier had been erected at such tremendous cost to seal it away from the rest of the world. And now that same taint flowed through Byung’s veins like infected blood, a permanent stain on his existence that would mark him as dangerous to anyone with the magical sensitivity to perceive it.
He could only do the basics for now—his skill levels were far too low, his understanding too fragmentary to attempt anything complex without risking catastrophic backlash. Mind reading allowed him to sense surface thoughts from those in close proximity, catching emotional states and immediate conscious intentions but nothing deeper than what someone was actively thinking about. Mind protection created a passive shield around his consciousness that prevented others from reading his thoughts in return, a defensive barrier that had the fortunate side effect of resisting the memory-stripping curse that had nearly destroyed his identity.
This form of magic was only accessible to elves, or at least dark elves.
Byung looked at the dark elf as she lay panting on the cave floor, their coupling finished, his seed still leaking from her body. He knew with absolute certainty: there was no way he could let someone like her out of this place. The realization settled over him like a heavy cloak, cold and undeniable. Velara was dangerous beyond measure—corrupted, insane, possessing centuries of magical knowledge combined with complete absence of moral restraint or empathy.
There had to be a reason she was imprisoned here rather than simply executed, some factor that made killing her impossible or inadvisable despite the threat she posed. And she had just demonstrated exactly how dangerous she was—manipulating him through edging and mind-reading, extracting every secret from his fragmenting consciousness, nearly cutting out his heart for some dark ritual purpose, all while maintaining complete control despite appearing vulnerable beneath him.
If she escaped, if she returned to the outside world with her power intact, the destruction would be incalculable. His settlement, Maui, the fragile peace Byung was trying to build—all of it would burn.
He had acquired what he wanted to survive this prison from her—the memory protection that anchored his identity against the curse, the mind-reading that could warn him of threats, access to mana that expanded his capabilities. But Byung had no idea yet how truly problematic this form of magic was, how the corruption would affect not just his abilities but his very soul going forward. Would he become like her eventually? The thought terrified him more than death ever had.
Byung began walking deeper into the prison, his feet carrying him forward with purpose he didn’t fully understand. Velara followed, trailing behind him at a distance of several paces, her robes hastily readjusted to cover her body. He understood the dangers she posed—there was no telling what her true motives were, what plans she’d formed during their encounter, what use she intended to make of him now that he’d proven himself capable of absorbing abilities.
He could no longer read her mind either, frustratingly. Not that he’d expected to maintain that advantage—she’d closed off her surface thoughts the moment their coupling ended, shields snapping into place that his Level 1 skill couldn’t penetrate. He was still in the earliest stage of his magic journey, a novice fumbling with powers that she’d mastered centuries ago.
But there was something calling to him now, a pull he couldn’t explain or resist. This access to mana made it a lot easier to sense where the sword was. A beacon that pulsed with each beat of his heart, growing stronger as he moved in the correct direction. The legendary sword that had chosen the goblin king, that had orchestrated his arrival in this world, was close. So close he could almost taste it.
Byung followed the sensation through winding passages, descending stone steps that spiraled deeper into the earth, moving with confidence despite having no map or conscious knowledge of the layout. The pull guided him infallibly, and he trusted it with an instinct that felt older than his current existence.
Then the dark elf whimpered loudly behind him—a sound so unexpected and uncharacteristic that Byung stopped mid-step. He’d reached a certain location where the passage opened into a larger chamber, and her voice cracked with something that might have been genuine fear.
"Stop," Velara commanded, her usual predatory confidence replaced by urgency that bordered on panic. "Don’t go any further."
Byung looked behind and saw she had stopped at the threshold, her body rigid with tension, refusing to step beyond the invisible line that separated the passage from the chamber ahead. He noticed immediately that this path had a more condensed energy than the rest of the prison, the mana so thick here it was almost visible—purple-black wisps that curled through the air like smoke, carrying a weight that pressed against his skin.
He wasn’t arrogant in his strength despite his recent power acquisition. He could use her assistance if there was something truly evil in there, something that required more than his current abilities to survive. "What is it?" he asked, keeping his voice low. "What’s in there?"
Velara’s face had gone pale, her eyes wider than he’d seen them.
"That chamber," she said, voice trembling slightly, "contains something even I fear. Something that has existed since before this prison was created, something the first elf sealed away because it couldn’t be destroyed. If you go in there, you will die. Not temporarily, not with your resurrection, permanently. Whatever that thing does to souls, you will not survive it."
Byung felt a chill run down his spine, but the pull toward the sword was stronger than fear. "I have to," he said simply. "The sword is in there. I can feel it."
"Then the sword is bait," Velara snapped. "A lure to draw the worthy into that chamber so they can be consumed. Don’t you understand? This entire prison was designed around that thing, built to contain it because nothing else could."
But Byung reminded her with quiet certainty, "I can’t be killed. Not permanently." Byung was confused by the sudden change in tone because she was speaking differently about the sword a moment ago. Did she not entertain the possibility that the sword might be in there? Something wasn’t adding up.
"You stupid, arrogant—" Velara began, but before the conversation could continue further, before she could articulate her objections, something changed in the air.
A presence materialized.
A man appeared out of nowhere, simply existing in a space that had been empty a heartbeat before. Byung spun around, and saw an old man standing in the passage behind them. The figure was clearly ancient—easily in his hundreds if not older, with a long white beard that reached his chest, wispy and unkempt. His eyelids were shut, sealed over empty sockets or eyes that no longer needed to open to perceive the world. His legs were extremely shaky, trembling with palsy that suggested he could barely support his own weight, and a gnarled wooden cane held him upright, taking most of his considerable burden.
He looked frail, harmless, like a strong wind would topple him.
But the real problem—the thing that made Byung’s blood run cold and sent Velara scrambling backward with a gasp of shock—was that neither of them could sense him. No smell, no sound of breathing or heartbeat, no magical signature, no presence in the mana flows that now saturated Byung’s awareness. It was as if the old man didn’t exist in any measurable way, a hole in reality shaped like a person.
This man had caught both of them completely off-guard, appearing in a supposedly sealed prison where no one should be able to enter, manifesting without warning or any of the telltale signs that preceded teleportation magic or dimensional travel.
The old man’s head tilted slightly, as if listening to something neither of them could hear. Then his mouth opened, revealing teeth that were surprisingly white and complete for someone of his apparent age.
Byung’s hand moved instinctively toward his bone daggers, though he knew with sinking certainty that weapons would be useless against whatever this was. Beside him, Velara had gone completely still, her usual predatory confidence replaced by something Byung had never seen in her before.
Pure, absolute terror.
"You...!" Velara muttered under her breath but the old man tapped his cane on the floor once and before Byung could react, he was sucked into a pocket space. Valera grabbed onto him in a desperate attempt to keep him from going wherever this man was sending him but the suction was too powerful. She disappeared alongside with him.
The old man stood, looking up before dissolving into nothing, this was the first’s elf consciousness manifesting and knew the prison was in more danger with Byung in it than out of it.
