Reborn as the Dark General

Chapter 3

The air in the room was thick. The musty scent of old wood and settled dust filled every corner, creating a suffocating atmosphere. Rays of the setting sun pierced through cracks in the window—their patterns like the veins of withered, dead leaves. Dull, thin curtains hung listlessly, swaying gently with the soft breeze from outside.

In the center of the room stood an old wooden bed, with a thin mattress and worn sheets—the only place for rest. In the corner, a small wardrobe stood with hinges nearly detached, as if too weary to close perfectly.

Aiden sat cross-legged on the bed. His body was still. His dark red eyes stared straight ahead—empty, yet holding a storm waiting for its moment.

Hours had passed since he 'returned' to this family. But his mind was far from settled.

This world... was no longer Euphoria. Instead, it was the ruins of that land—a continent that had evolved into a modern era, yet still harbored the same greed and avarice as before.

Now he was in Velmora City. A modern city vastly different from the past, where magical power continued to wane. This city was like a beast waiting for its collapse—built upon mafia conflicts and the blood of young people forced to fight for power.

The body he now inhabited belonged to Aiden Kael—the grandson of a mid-tier mafia family that once stood at the peak of power.

The Kael family was once respected. But now, only the name remained. Zerach Kael, the grandfather, had once been the right hand of the continent's most powerful mafia. But now, he was merely a shadow of his past.

And Aiden Kael's life... was not free from the grasp of his greedy, cruel uncles and cousins, who never missed an opportunity to belittle him.

He was the son of Zerach's eldest child—a powerful mage, once. But after both his parents died and his body was declared crippled, Aiden Kael became a family disgrace. Paralyzed, unable to use magic, and dubbed "Broken Zero"—someone too stubborn to die.

Aiden closed his eyes. He tried to focus his consciousness on the Mana Core—the center of magical power that should have been directly beneath his chest cavity. Usually, from there, energy would flow throughout the body via Arcane Channels, igniting every cell like a flash of fire in the darkness.

But this time... there was nothing.

Empty.

As if his Core had been destroyed, or worse—had never existed in the first place.

He tried to trigger his Magic Circuit, hoping to summon even a single pulse beneath his skin. But the body remained still.

The veins in his temples began to tighten.

He tried again. This time harder. He pushed with all his will, gathering memories of his past—of when the dark power within him exploded and shook mountains.

Yet...

No response.

No warmth. No spark. Not even a single pulse emerged from his body.

Aiden opened his eyes slowly. His breath was ragged. Cold sweat drenched his forehead.

He stared at his hands.

"...Empty," he muttered softly.

"Even the weakest body usually has one or two active Arcane Channels... But this?" He sighed faintly. "Total silence. Like something is blocking it... from within."

Aiden closed his eyes more deeply. He changed his approach—this time using an ancient meditation technique from Euphoria, a method long buried in the pages of forbidden books.

He took a long breath, visualizing the magic net that stretched around his body, then tried to touch it... slowly infiltrating into its deepest core.

And that's when he felt it.

Thorns. Cold. Dark.

Something was creeping silently within this body's magic system—gentle yet spreading fast. Not a wound. But...

"...poison?" he murmured softly.

His eyes widened. His breathing began to quicken.

"Someone has sealed this body from within." His voice was low, almost a growl. "This isn't a birth defect... this is sabotage."

And everything began to make sense.

Why he was the only Kael descendant who had never passed a single magic rank. Why his family had never truly questioned it—as if they preferred to see him remain crippled, useless, and easily controlled.

His hands clenched the worn sheet beneath him. His gaze sharpened, burning like a knife blade in the shadows. A thin, cold smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

"If this is indeed poison... then I only need one thing—a mana core from a high-tier magical creature. A small dragon, a fire fox, or a fire-elemental cursed beast. Its energy would be wild enough to burn away this seal, reopening all my magic pathways. And when that happens..."

Aiden's voice dropped, almost a deathly whisper.

"...not one of them will be able to laugh at me again."

He closed his eyes again, slowly steadying his breathing, quelling the anger and tumultuous thoughts. He began to use an internal examination method once taught by the Silent Monks of the Vritra Monastery—channeling his consciousness inward, tracing each arcane channel that connected his entire magical flow.

He moved slowly. Focused. With each breath guiding him.

But when he reached his chest... the poison refused to be touched. As if a thick layer of mist enveloped his core, keeping him distant from the frozen magical heart.

Remaining calm, he continued.

Now he activated the Three-Axis Circle Method—an ancient technique long since erased from modern academy literature. Each exhalation guided fine particles—like silver mist—to infiltrate the locked magical channels within his body.

Point by point he passed through. Slowly. Silently. Methodically.

Until he reached the center of his chest...

His body instantly tensed. A sensation like a cold electric shock spread from his chest to his fingertips.

Something was there.

Dark. Solid. Refusing to be touched.

Not a wound. But a kind of thick black liquid frozen around his core.

Poison. But clearly... not ordinary poison.

"...Mana Curse," Aiden murmured, almost inaudibly. "A forbidden technique from the dark magic clans. It takes years and deeply rooted malice to implant it."

His jaw clenched. If this was indeed a mana curse... then the only way to burn it out was from within. But he needed a trigger—a stable external heat, or an internal catalyst strong enough to penetrate his magical core.

He began to stabilize his breathing. Regulating its rhythm. Applying gentle pressure towards the poison—little by little—pushing energy and breath to test the layer of the curse, hoping to make it crack. But...

His body began to tremble. Every drop of energy he forced to flow bounced back, causing a burning sensation in his veins and a sharp throb in his temples.

"A little more..." he hissed, low but laden with pressure. "A little more and I can—"

Brak!

His room door suddenly burst open violently.

A loud bang shook the room—the sound of wood slamming hard against the wall.

Aiden’s eyes snapped open. He turned his head quickly, and just like that, his face went cold. Stone cold.

In the doorway stood a young man, around twenty-four years old, with messy silver hair, wearing a long black suit with silver embroidery along the edges. His face was handsome, but his sneer radiated arrogance.

“How dare you look at me like that, loser?”

Ryn Kael. Aiden's cousin. The golden child of the family. The bastard who was celebrated just for reaching Second Flare at the age of 21.

Ryn stepped inside, his gaze filled with disgust as he surveyed Aiden's room. To him, this room wasn't a room... it was a cage.

“I prefer it when you’re scared and begging,” he sneered. “But now? Have you forgotten how to bow, Aiden?”

Aiden looked at him for a moment, then turned his gaze forward again. Cold. Uninterested.

“If you only came to talk nonsense,” he muttered flatly, “get out. Don't bother me.”

Ryn let out a short laugh. “How dare you speak to me like that. Maybe I should roast this rickety place to remind you who you are.”

He raised his hand.

Snap!—a small fireball ignited at his fingertip.

“Have you forgotten, Aiden? I’m Second Flare now. You?” He bounced the fireball up and down. “You’re still playing with your wheelchair, aren't you?”

He looked at the worn bed. “If I wanted to, I could burn this room down right now... and you wouldn’t even have time to save your cheap robe.”

Aiden just stared at the flame. His face remained flat. But in his mind, he scoffed loudly.

Second Flare. Unstable light. No more than three seconds before the backfire could burn him alive.

If I still had my power... this boy would already be ash.

But the reality was... this body couldn't even stand.

Ryn raised his hand higher, ready to throw the fireball, a twisted smile gracing his face.

“Since you've annoyed me, there’s no harm in teaching you a little lesson, right?”

“Mr. Ryn!”

Eri appeared in the doorway, breathless. “Please don't! The Elder will be angry if you ruin the west wing again…”

Ryn snorted. The fireball slowly extinguished.

“Tch. You always protect him,” he grumbled, then glanced at Aiden. “You're lucky to have a little guardian like her. But remember, next time I won't be this gentle.”

He turned, stopping at the doorway once more.

“Oh, right. The family is calling you to the living room now. They’ll announce this month's family hunt…”

Ryn smirked. “Just a formality, of course. You can't possibly join... but maybe they want to give you a spectator's seat.”

He chuckled softly and exited, letting the door close with a loud thud.

Eri let out a long sigh, trying to compose herself. “I’m sorry about him… he’s always like that…”

Aiden just stared straight ahead, his eyes now radiating a sharp, calculating gleam.

“A hunt?”