MTDIK 01

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Chapter 01 “Killing My Fiancée.”

There was a unique person who became an Archmage driven only by hatred.

His name was Ferda Rosnova.

Born as the third son of the Rosnova knight family, Ferda was frail and sickly from birth. To make matters worse, he was the child of a concubine and did not inherit the family’s signature brown eyes, instead possessing piercing blue ones.

Even the Rosnova family’s servants looked down on him.

When Ferda turned 18, his father, Erembalt Rosnova, brought him some life-changing news.

“You’re being engaged to the Crown Prince of Valdrova.”

At first, it sounded like a typical engagement, but for nobles, an “engagement to the Crown Prince” was just a polite way of saying he was being given a death sentence.

It was a choice: either leave the family willingly or die.

“I’ll leave, as you wish,” Ferda said.

“Good.”

Of course, Ferda chose to live. He abandoned the Rosnova name and was cast out into the world.

But in his young heart, a deep sense of betrayal took root.

He could never forgive his older brothers, who always looked down on him, or the servants who mocked him. Most of all, he could never forgive his father.

‘You knew how hard I tried…’

To be accepted as part of the family, Ferda forced his frail body to endure grueling training. Every day, he coughed up blood and practiced until his hands were covered in blisters.

His father had once looked at him with pride, as if to say Ferda’s efforts were admirable. But over the years, as Ferda failed to make progress, that gaze began to change.

By the end, when his father cast him out of the house, his expression was one of pure disgust, as though he were looking at filth. Even days later, that look was burned into Ferda’s mind.

‘I’ll never forgive you.’

His sorrow gradually turned into anger, and that anger ignited into flames of revenge.

‘I’ll make everyone who looked down on me regret it.’

Ferda clenched his fists.

At that moment, he felt something stir deep within him. Something inside his core awakened, and mana began to spin in a circular motion—it was the birth of his mana circle.

On the day Ferda Rosnova was exiled from his family, he became a mage.

Awakening as a mage was considered a blessing. On the continent of Serdes, the ability to use magic instantly elevated one’s status.

But awakening at 18, like Ferda, was seen as tragic.

It was far too late.

Mages relied on their internal strength as a source of power. To fully master that concept, one had to train from a young age. Anyone who awakened later in life had to endure immense suffering to catch up, and even then, it was nearly impossible.

But for Ferda, even this late awakening wasn’t a problem.

The fuel driving his mana was hatred and a thirst for revenge.

“How pathetic. At his age, trying to become a mage? What a joke.”
“He’ll do whatever we say. Just think of him as a useful slave until graduation.”

The disdain of senior mages and even younger cadets only stoked the flames of his hatred. For someone like Ferda, late awakening simply meant he had more fuel lying around him.

‘Keep barking all you want. I’ll make you all grovel at my feet.’

His desire to grow stronger and his obsession with revenge burned endlessly, pushing him to greater heights every day.

Eventually, he surpassed promising senior mages—and even his own mentor—with ease. For a while, people were too busy trying to flatter him.

When Ferda rose to the rank of Archmage—a 6th-circle mage, one of less than 100 on the continent—his true campaign of revenge began.

He returned to the Rosnova family, the ones who had cruelly cast him out, and killed them all.

He handed weapons to the servants who had mocked him and made them kill one another. He sowed discord between his older brothers, pitting them against each other until they destroyed each other.

And his father, the one he resented the most, was forced to watch it all.

Erembalt Rosnova saw everything he had built crumble before his eyes. The sight of his family falling apart drove him mad. He aged decades in mere days and became little more than a walking corpse.

By the time Ferda was done, everything and everyone connected to the Rosnova name was erased—except for him.

‘Revenge…’

The moment Ferda achieved the revenge he had craved for so long…

‘…isn’t over yet.’

But by the time he realized it, he had already crossed a point of no return. Ferda, who had once sought power for revenge, now sought revenge as an excuse for power.

‘If there’s no one left to take revenge on, I’ll create someone. If there’s nothing left to hate, I’ll find something to hate.’

Clinging to his hatred, Ferda grew stronger and stronger. In an attempt to stop him, warriors and mages from across the continent raised their swords against him. But each trial only made him stronger. Each enemy was a stepping stone to his growth.

By the age of 45, Ferda reached the pinnacle of human power.

He became a Mana Lord, an 8th-circle mage, a level so high that even emperors bowed their heads to him.

‘Everything must be destroyed.’

And yet, he was still unsatisfied. Even with everything under his feet, his thirst for vengeance burned on.

‘I’ll destroy everything that dares reject me.’

Ferda’s goal shifted. He now sought to create a utopia of his own design, and to do so, he began to pursue the realm of the gods.

After five years of research, he finally discovered the ultimate key to his ambition:

The heart of a dragon.

And it just so happened that there was one dragon he already despised.

‘Valdrova.’

His former fiancée.

The excuse Erembalt used to cast him out.

The Crown Prince of Valdrova had been a Red Dragon all along.

“Fate truly is a cruel thing.”

The words came from none other than the most powerful dragon on the continent. Red scales, majestic horns, imposing eyes, and wings that could cover the sky—it was a being that embodied absolute might.

But now, it was different.

Its scales were torn in patches, its horns broken and bleeding. And the one who had brought this mighty dragon to its knees was none other than a single mage.

“I never imagined my fiancée would come to kill me.”

Ferda smirked.

It was a smug smile, born of arrogance and the belief that he had the upper hand. Even so, his body wasn’t in great shape—battling a dragon had taken its toll.

“You’d be better off dying by my hand, Valdrova.”

“I know I’m called a tyrant. But for decades, even before you were born, I never revealed myself to humans. I’ve never harmed anyone. So… why do you harbor such hatred toward me?”

“Never harmed anyone?”

Valdrova’s calm tone felt infuriatingly indifferent. Ferda’s anger flared.

“You were the reason my revenge started in the first place!”

It all began with the engagement. That moment twisted everything in Ferda’s life. Ferda poured out his rage.

“Because of you…! Because of your selfish desire to take a human as your partner, I was given the perfect excuse to be thrown out of my family!”

“That… was my fault?”

“Yes! It was your greed! A savage dragon’s greed for a human partner brought misfortune upon me! Do you understand that!?”

Ferda panted heavily, then let out a twisted laugh.

“But at the same time, I thank you. Because of you, I was able to rise to this position.”

“I see…”

Valdrova’s expression twitched subtly. Was it anger? Perhaps it was preparing for a final desperate attack.

Ferda began drawing mana from the surrounding area. The hatred he’d just unleashed had only further fueled his power.

“So that’s how it is. I understand now.”

The dragon moved its massive body and raised a claw. Its sharp, unyielding talons could tear through knights with a single swipe. Ferda reflexively prepared a magic circle. It was too late to stop the attack, but at the very least, he could ensure mutual destruction.

However, the claw didn’t strike him.

Instead, it plunged into the dragon’s own chest.

Squelch!

Ferda froze, unable to comprehend the sight before him. What the hell was this?

The dragon’s durable hide tore open, exposing its insides.

“You said you needed my heart for your magic, didn’t you?”

Snap—!

The sound of blood vessels snapping echoed through the air.

Ferda understood now. The dragon wasn’t destroying its heart—it was extracting it.

“No!”

Ferda fired off magic toward its face in desperation.

“No, you filthy wretch! Stop right now!”

He couldn’t let the dragon destroy its heart. This was his one chance—his only shot at reaching the 9th circle. He couldn’t let it slip away!

Shards of shattered scales scattered in all directions, but the dragon’s movements didn’t stop. The sound of tearing muscles and bloodied veins continued to reverberate.

“You said you needed my heart, didn’t you?”

Finally, the dragon’s claw emerged, holding a chunk of flesh larger than Ferda’s head.

“…The heart?”

It was still perfectly intact. Rather than destroying it, the dragon had neatly extracted it.

“Take it.”

The dragon’s half-destroyed face uttered those words.

Normally, Ferda would have snatched it up with gratitude. But even he, twisted as he was, couldn’t understand the dragon’s actions. He simply stared blankly at the heart.

“…Why would you do this?” Ferda asked. “You could have killed me if you wanted to. You must have known that. So why?”

“Because you became unhappy because of me.”

Ferda stood frozen, unable to respond. The dragon no longer even had the strength to lift its head.

“I have hated myself for a long time.”

Its calm tone was tinged with deep bitterness.

“I hated the savage blood that flows through my veins. I hated the mindless rage and destructive urges that consumed me. But most of all… I hated how I terrified others just by existing.”

The light in the dragon’s golden eyes began to fade. Something swelled within those eyes before spilling over, trailing down its face.

Tears.

A dragon’s tears are unlike those of humans. Dragons are not emotional creatures that cry out of sadness. And yet, those tears seemed to be born from sorrow.

“If my death resolves everything, then why did I dare to dream of living happily? My foolish dreams have caused too much pain to too many people.”

“…”

“Because you suffered due to me, mortal, my fiancé, I hope you’ll find happiness because of me. This is the last thing I can give you…”

With those final words, the life faded from the dragon.

Valdrova, the hidden tyrant of the continent, met her end.

Ferda stared blankly at Valdrova’s lifeless body. For the first time since becoming a mage fueled by rage, he felt something strange.

‘Why do I feel so uneasy?’

Without thinking, Ferda placed a hand on his chest. He had walked over countless corpses to get here. Anyone who stood in his way was killed, anything he needed was stolen, and his power grew.

Ferda knew he was a broken man, devoid of conscience and empathy. And yet, her death seemed to weigh on him, as if holding him back. Like a curse she’d left behind.

‘Don’t think about it, Ferda.’

Move forward. Take what you came for.

He picked up the object she had left behind. The dragon’s heart.

The source of every mage’s ultimate dream: to reach the 9th circle. It was the key to becoming more than a Grand Mage, to ascend to the ranks of a demigod. Absorbing it would give him the power to take revenge on everything. Even the things he’d forgotten why he hated.

Ferda began absorbing the essence within the heart.

As the ancient energy of the dragon flowed through his veins, his blood began to boil. Overwhelming power surged into him, but along with it, Ferda felt something else.

‘What… is this?’

He could feel Valdrova’s entire life.

‘Her emotions?’

Those feelings became a part of him before he could resist.

“Ah…”

Ferda let out a soft gasp. His mind became clearer than it had ever been. The hatred and desire for revenge that had driven him all his life were fading away.

Was it her essence clearing his mind?

‘No.’

The emotions he felt from her heart were almost the opposite of clarity. They were like standing at the edge of a deep, endless abyss.

The Red Dragon, who had lived for millennia, had never been loved. The uncontrollable rage and destruction that earned her the titles of Tyrant Dragon, Calamity, and Dragonslayer… All those infamous names had been imposed on her, turning her into the very image of a tyrant. They were curses she had accumulated over her long life.

And yet, Valdrova had loved those insignificant things. She chose to hide herself because of that love. She endured loneliness and sorrow for the sake of others.

And that’s why Ferda’s mind felt so clear. Compared to her, the anger and hatred he had carried for so long seemed so petty.

“Ah…”

A small, hollow sound escaped Ferda’s lips. Since becoming a mage, he had never once been in his right mind. For the first time, he felt like himself.

“What… have I done?”

Blinded by revenge, he had been consumed by his own power and destroyed everything. But was that truly what he had wanted? For a fleeting moment, he remembered the dreams he’d once had as a child.

*’What I really wanted…’ *

Was it to become a Grand Mage?

‘No. I wanted… a normal life. A family.’

He had worked so hard for such a simple, modest dream. But now, that dream felt like it mocked the broken man he had become.

“Ah…”

Ferda closed his eyes. Before him, a magic circle appeared.

As each layer of the circle completed, his life flashed before his eyes. The first circle formed when he was cast out of his family, filled with sorrow. The second circle, when he was mocked for having no talent, filled with anger. Inferiority, resentment, jealousy, betrayal…

Every circle Ferda had ever formed was built on negative emotions. He had betrayed others to survive and switched sides whenever it suited him to grow stronger. That’s how Ferda became an 8th-circle Grand Mage.

And now, as he reached the 9th circle, the only thing he felt was:

‘Emptiness.’

It all felt meaningless.

At the same time, he was angry. Angry at Valdrova, the woman who had made all his efforts feel like a mistake.

“You foolish, naive woman…”

He tried blaming her. But unlike before, he felt no drive from his anger. He knew deep down that he didn’t mean it. The real fool had been him, for blaming her in the first place.

He’d known all along that being cast out of his family had been inevitable. She had simply been an excuse. Still, he had taken out all his anger on her. And yet, Valdrova had accepted his twisted reasoning as her fault.

In her final moments, she had wished for someone else’s happiness.

Ferda let out a bitter laugh.

Even as he laughed, the 9th-circle magic circle glowed brilliantly.

A mage who reached the 9th circle could only cast one spell. A single wish. The ultimate spell, capable of defying the very laws of existence. A simple incantation, requiring only a word.

Ferda had spent decades chasing revenge to reach this moment. But now, his throat felt tight, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He resented himself for spending so many years consumed by vengeance. He despised the petty man who had remembered every name just to settle petty scores.

And yet, his heart understood the feelings he couldn’t put into words.

“It’s meaningless…”

The magic circle glowed brightly.

When the light faded, the 9th-circle mage was gone without a trace.

“…Ferda?”

“…”

“Ferda.”

No, he hadn’t disappeared.

As the brilliant light faded, Ferda opened his eyes at the sound of someone calling his name. In front of him wasn’t a bleeding dragon, but a middle-aged man.

“Ferda? Are you listening?”

“…Yes?”

“Yes? What do you mean yes? Your father’s been talking to you, and you’ve just been sitting there in a daze!”

The man furrowed his brows.

Ferda recognized him immediately.

‘Erembalt Rosnova.’

The man he had once called father.

But this time, he looked younger, stronger—completely different from the broken old man Ferda had last seen. Had he died and arrived in the afterlife?

No. Everything about this moment felt eerily familiar.

‘This… is that time, isn’t it?’

Ferda quickly understood.

It was the one time he’d ever had a real conversation with his father.

“You’ve been engaged to the Crown Prince of Valdrova. It’s been decided by the state, so I expect you to follow through without complaint.”

His engagement to the Crown Prince of Valdrova.

‘I haven’t died. I’ve returned to this moment.’

The beginning of his misfortune. The moment that sparked his uncontrollable thirst for revenge.

‘Why?’

He didn’t fully understand it yet. But his heart already knew what he had wished for in the emptiness of that magic circle.

“Hah.”

A soft, awkward laugh escaped his lips.