Chapter 28: Merciless Butcher

Behind him, the butler’s face paled even further—a silent, lingering reminder that his replacement was no longer just a possibility but a ticking countdown. Roman and Myria exchanged a brief glance but said nothing, maintaining their unshakable discipline. Fenric turned his gaze back toward the girl. Just in time to see her eyes lift and meet his. It lasted only a moment. No smile, no flinch, no fear—just calm calculation. Fenric mentally noted her for specialized training. Her innate specialties were already known to him: she had a clear affinity for assassination techniques and a natural pull toward Darkness Aura arts. I’ll need to find high-quality assassin aura techniques for her, he thought. {Brat. Use Soul Projection. You’ll see her real potential,} Duserdis’s voice echoed in his mind, smooth and faintly amused. ’Duserdis?’ Fenric responded mentally, mildly surprised. ’You’re awake?’ ’And what do you mean "use Soul Projection to scan her potential?"’ {Tch. You still haven’t fully grasped the magic I gave you. Lazy princeling. Now shut up and use it. You’re wasting time.} Fenric rolled his eyes internally. "If you don’t tell me how it works, how the hell would I know?" he shot back, even as he followed the ancient dragon’s advice. {Then stop whining and listen, hatchling,} Duserdis’s voice slithered through his mind like smoke—equal parts exasperated and amused. {Soul Projection isn’t just about ejecting your spirit and gawking at things. It’s an imprint resonance. You extend a fragment of your soul—like a ripple through water—and observe how other souls respond. Their reactions tell you everything: elemental affinity, mental acuity, spiritual strength... even deeply buried trauma.} Fenric raised a brow slightly as his awareness expanded. He allowed his spirit to brush gently across the nearby cluster of recruits. Threads of raw emotion, flashes of talent, and even fragments of buried memories sparked briefly in his mind like flickers of static. "I thought this was just to see one’s progress, not others’." {It is—if you’re basic. But in the hands of a real master, like me, it becomes a tool of destiny. You can assess anyone. You can even see what they themselves cannot: their latent potential, their ideal path, their limits... and their breaking points. Of course, you’re still at the toddler stage, so don’t expect prophecy.} Fenric gave a quiet grunt, his mental tone dry. "Thanks for the motivational speech, oh wise ancient lizard." {Flattery will get you nowhere. Now focus. Push your soul forward, gently. Think of it like fog crawling across stone—not a blade, not a hammer. You’re not dominating; you’re brushing. When your spirit touches another soul, pay attention to what returns: heat, chill, resistance, echo... every reaction tells a story.} Fenric followed Duserdis’s guidance, steadying his breath. He visualized his soul extending outward—a ghostly mist unfurling from his chest. It slipped silently into the air, like fog gliding across a midnight moor, brushing against the spiritual fabric of the compound. But that was it. No reaction, no feedback—just still, empty quiet. ’I don’t sense anything,’ Fenric muttered, a crease forming between his brows. Duserdis’s voice returned, unimpressed. {Tch... figures. You’re about as subtle as a warhorn in a library. I’ll help this time—but don’t get used to it. Talent without mastery is wasted breath. Practice until you can do this blindfolded.} Fenric was just about to make a sharp reply when something changed. The air in front of him shifted, not due to his own projection, but someone else’s. A vision shimmered into view—pale and faint, like mist reflected on glass, but undeniably clear. A profile floated before his eyes, formed by ethereal strands of energy: [ Name: Aria ] [ Age: 15 ] [ Potential: Soul Magic | Death Magic | Dark Magic ] {See? This is how you use Soul Projection—not just to view your own soul, but to perceive the structure of others as well.} Duserdis’s ancient voice rumbled in Fenric’s thoughts. The prince nodded slightly, though inwardly he muttered, "It’s like an appraisal screen in a game." He had already known he could use Soul Projection to assess techniques, but this—this was a new layer. ’Alright then, tell me all the ways I can use Soul Projection,’ he asked with a curious spark. {No. Today was an exception. I’m not going to spoon-feed you. Learn, experiment, master it on your own.} And just like that, the old dragon fell silent again. Fenric clicked his tongue softly, then refocused. "Fine. Then help me find more talent," he muttered. Though Duserdis didn’t speak again, Fenric sensed his approval. With renewed calm, he began sweeping through the facility once more. He returned to the courtesan wing first. Two more girls stood out—not just for beauty, but for raw potential. One harbored untapped skill in swordsmanship; the other possessed a dormant but powerful necromantic seed. Both were untrained but brimming with hidden capabilities. From the household wing, he selected a red-haired girl. Her spiritual structure was surprisingly aligned with Dark Aura and assassination techniques—similar to Aria, though lacking that same devastating spark. Her strength leaned more toward spiritual concealment and shadow weaving. And finally, the combat wing. There, three individuals caught his attention. Two boys had exceptionally high aura cultivation potential—both demonstrating innate control over life force and martial energy. The third, a quiet youth, showed staggering magical aptitude. His elemental affinity was raw but profound, hinting at a future as a master-class caster. Pity I didn’t use Soul Projection when I picked the first twelve, Fenric thought, mildly annoyed. I could’ve curated a far more refined first batch. Still somewhat caught in thought, Fenric brushed aside the stray fog at the edges of his mind. He stepped out of the slave trader’s estate, his expression composed but unreadable. Roman was waiting by the steps and gave a respectful nod. "Where to now, Your Highness?" he asked. Fenric glanced back briefly. He had already dismissed the butler—no longer wanting the man trailing behind him. The old servant’s usefulness had run its course. "Hmm... I’d like to explore the capital a bit," Fenric said casually. Roman and Myria exchanged a look. Myria stayed silent, arms folded behind her back. Roman cleared his throat and spoke cautiously. "I don’t think that’s a wise decision, Your Highness. You’ve just offended the Fourth Prince’s entire faction. It won’t be safe—especially if the Ragos family decides to retaliate."