Youngest Son of the Renowned Magic Clan chapter 38

In the 38th episode of “The Last Son of the Magic House,” Lasen entered a restaurant called ‘Modest Moonlit Night’ with the Fist King, Magner, and the Lady, Rosaline. The restaurant was known for its delectable pastas and pizzas—a famous eatery in the area. Evelia was waiting there for them.

“It’s been a while, Evelia.”

“It has, Uncle.”

Magner and Evelia were acquainted. Lasen could sense this. Magner and Evelia held a mutual fondness, not of a romantic kind, but one born from respect and admiration—the mutual respect between a man who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts, and a woman walking the path toward her own peak, in the pursuit of magical excellence.

“You seem to have grown even stronger?”

“In about five years, I think I could beat you, Uncle.”


Magner laughed heartily. Few ever spoke to him with such boldness, and it lifted his spirits.

“I’ll accept your challenge anytime.”

“When I was younger, I could challenge you at any time, but now I can’t.”

As a child, Evelia could challenge and fight without worry, even if she lost. However, now she was a ‘sorcerer’, an official candidate for the head of her house. She couldn’t issue challenges carelessly. There is a difference between the young Evelia losing to an uncle and a candidate for the Mayton family head losing to the second-in-command of the Grandel family.

“The recklessness of your youth is gone. You used to charge at things without considering the consequences.”

They reminisced about the past.

“You once burned off my hair while I was sleeping. Starting a fire to someone’s hair, that’s underhanded.”

Evelia chuckled lightly.

“I was aiming for your head, not just the hair. It didn’t work, though.”


Lasen found their conversation difficult to grasp. Aiming to set a head on fire and launching a sneak attack while someone slept? And yet Magner, the target of such plots, chuckled so heartily—what was so amusing about his past predicaments?

‘Back then, Magner must have willingly taken whatever Evelia threw at him.’

Magner appeared to be quite fond of Evelia.

“Oh, Sister. Hello. I am Rosaline Grandel of the Grandel family. We met once two years ago. Do you remember?”

Lasen was perplexed.

‘What’s going on here?’

Lasen recalled Rosaline’s ferocious past—quick and bold, a young but formidable leopard. But now, her bashful, blushing visage was no different from that of a fledgling chick.

Some conversations followed, and the conclusion was this:

“I want to become strong, like you.”

Rosaline admired Evelia and aspired to her strength.

“Physically, women are at a disadvantage compared to men, especially when young like me.”

“That’s true. You’ve yet to learn how to harness power.”

Swordsmen wield ‘swords.’ Sorcerers use ‘magic.’ And martial artists use their physical prowess. There are limits to the human body, and martial artists overcome these with ‘power’—just as magic is rooted in mana, martial arts are grounded in power.

“I’ll learn to master power and become as powerful as you.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

The pasta and pizza tasted quite good.

After finishing the meal, Evelia said,

“The activation of the teleportation gate will be at 7:17 PM today. I’ll be operating it myself. Would you like to come along?”

Magner wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Of course.”

“There’s still about an hour left. I need to have a word with our youngest for a moment. Would you mind if we step away?”

“So we meet at the teleportation gate at 7:17?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Magner and Rosaline rose from their seats, Rosaline particularly warm towards Evelia. There was a gentle smile that she never showed Lasen.

“I’ll look for you later.”


Evelia didn’t seem to dislike this heartwarming Rosaline. Eventually, Magner and Rosaline left ‘Modest Moonlit Night’.

After they departed, Evelia looked toward them, suggesting she had matters to discuss. The subject? Perhaps the recent events at the gate—not painting, but indeed, she seemed to know so much about the situation despite her absence.

“Instead of avenging a past grudge, you used a portion of martial arts. Why?” Evelia probed.

Lasen took a deep breath. As the writer Cha Sung-min, he orchestrated these events. As a character, scenarios became clearer and flowed exactly as intended.

“It was because Fist King Magner was there.”


“Magner is the second-in-command of the Grandel family. No doubt, he’s contemplating the efficient display of my martial arts. Though the results and interpretations of those thoughts are still uncertain.”

‘Evelia realized something about this uncle.’

What thoughts could Magner have had upon witnessing Lasen’s advanced martial arts? For a ten-year-old, his expertise was unusually high.

‘The amount of mana in Lasen’s body, Magner would have guessed.’

A picture began to form for Evelia.

‘But Lasen is known as a troublemaker. He’ll think it’s strange. That might lead him to the most logical conclusion—Lasen was intentionally developed or manipulated as an unforeseen variable.’

Was Lasen consciously creating this situation, anticipating these outcomes? If so, that would be astounding.

“Perhaps he might think I’ve been strategically nurtured by the magical Mayton family.”


“He will want to unravel me.”

Evelia considered her father’s intentions.

‘Create a variable to be just that—a variable.’

Perhaps the limit of such talent as martial magic existed, but other capabilities outside of magic were exceptional.

‘The ability to orchestrate, to craft developments based on the current situation and variables.’

It was notable that one so young could display this skill. The potential was limitless, especially considering her youthful age. Evelia finally made up her mind. She wanted to nurture this child. Regardless of her father’s orders, Lasen had proven his worth; his trial was over.

‘I want him to be mine.’

“I was 14, a pilgrim by status when I happened to encounter Uncle.”


Before candidates of the Mayton family can earn their title, they must undergo a ‘pilgrimage’ and ‘seeking.’ The pilgrimage lasts two years, starting at 14. Therefore, Evelia met Magner in her mid-teens.

“If I had known he was Magner, I would’ve tried harder to kill him.”

“The warmth of your expression doesn’t match the gravity of your words.”

“He said if it’s such a grievance, to try to kill him. He gave three chances.”

Lasen understood—Evelia, by some degree, cherished her memories with Magner. A faint smile lingered on her lips.

“Anyway. If something puzzles Uncle or strikes him as odd, he’d confront it head-on.”

Even if it meant dealing with a mid-teen’s furious attempts on his life. Lasen clearly grasped her meaning.

“If he harbors strong doubts, he’ll approach me.”

“That’s right.”

The conversation brought Evelia an ounce of joy—each exchange deepened her fondness for her brother. Speaking one word but understanding ten; his brazen posture was likable.

Evelia stood up.

“We have about 30 minutes.”


“Why don’t you join me for a date? This is a trading city, so there’s much to see. And perhaps, many wonders to discover.”

“But you’ve experienced several trading cities already, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

Evelia’s expression darkened slightly.

“Those I’ve been to mostly met their demise. By my hand.”

Without pushing further, Lasen remained silent. His ability, ‘Heaven’s Eye,’ conveyed Evelia’s emotions. He normally wouldn’t be able to read such clues from her—after all, she was far too powerful. And yet, he could feel the magnitude of her emotions—their breadth and depth vast and profound.

‘It’s dark.’

Somehow, at that moment, the strong second sister seemed sad—even vulnerable.

Lasen led the way first.

“Let’s go on a date. I’ll take the lead.”

Evelia’s darkness couldn’t be felt in the ‘Heaven’s Eye’ anymore.

* * *

Meanwhile, Magner roamed with Rosaline, purchasing a banana from a fruit vendor and engaging in idle conversation. His mind, however, wasn’t on Rosaline—it was stuck on Lasen, piqued with curiosity.

‘Lasen from two years ago, at 8, was undoubtedly a scoundrel and a naught.’

Yet Lasen was far from that now—entirely different.

‘Can a person change that much in two years?’

It felt impossible; Magner had met many a person and knew well enough—a person seldom changes. If Lasen’s current demeanor was true, then the past was a sham, the history meticulously distorted. Magner surmised this.

‘A meticulously designed child by the magical family.’

Such was the child.

‘What is Mayton trying to accomplish?’

There has to be a grand plan. The Grandel family, by his assessment, was weaker compared to Mayton or Seyde. If an unforeseen variable emerged, the Grandels would likely fall prey to the other two families.

‘If Lasen is meant to be a meticulously orchestrated variable between the two houses, I ought to verify it myself.’

And so his resolve was set.

Time passed, and at the appointed hour, they met at the teleportation circle.

“We’ll begin the transfer now.”

“To be teleported by Evelia herself. It’s an honor.”

“Be wary of assassinations during the transition.”

Evelia appeared somewhat relaxed in Magner’s presence, far more so than when amidst Mayton family matters.

“You’re aware, I still have one attempt left, right?”

“Ah, I remember. I’ll be careful.”

The vast black sea, ‘Black Sea’, crossed in a flash by the teleportation gate. Golden light emerged from the circular formation, encompassing Lasen, Rosaline, and Magner.


The light exploded forth.

Rosaline felt queasy.


She loathed the sensation—as if her mind and body were torn asunder. Martial artists, tied so intimately to their physical form, abhor such disorientation.

“We’ve arrived.”

“Did you resist any assassination impulses?”

“Ah, I let it pass, for the sake of the delightful child.”

The light brightened.

Having reached another gate, this one beyond the Black Sea within Seyde’s territory. But Magner faced the unexpected.

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