The Silent Takeover

Fletcher hurried back to meet his esteemed guest.

Bluesand Island was a renowned tourist destination, catering to the wealthiest visitors. Among them were knights—some even golden knights. However, it was extremely rare for a legendary knight to visit.

Legendary knights were few, and each one was a ruler in their own right. They rarely left their domains unless for significant events, such as an impending war between islands. Yet, once in a few decades, a legendary knight—usually from the Flicker Empire—would come to Bluesand Island to spend some time.

Whenever such an individual arrived, Fletcher had to personally receive them. Any slight, even unintentional, could have dire consequences for everyone on the island. The power of a legendary knight was not to be underestimated. Moreover, those who visited were usually connected to the Flicker Empire, making it even more important to follow the proper protocols.

Everyone on Bluesand Island was well aware of the procedures for welcoming such guests, and Fletcher was no exception.

...

Arriving at the reception room, Fletcher quickly scanned the space. There, standing before him, was a tall man with dark hair, black eyes, and a muscular build. The stranger noticed Fletcher's entrance and smiled warmly.

"Fletcher, my friend!" he greeted.

Fletcher returned the smile. "Welcome, honored guest. Bluesand Island is always pleased to receive distinguished visitors."

The man chuckled, glancing around. "This island you've built is truly remarkable. The weather is perfect, and the buildings are breathtaking."

Fletcher nodded, choosing his words carefully. "I'm glad it meets your expectations. We've done our best to make it a pleasant place."

Then, with a polite yet curious expression, Fletcher asked, "Forgive me, but have we met before? My memory has been slipping as of late." He played along with the man's familiarity, though in truth, he had no idea who this guest was.

The dark-haired man chuckled. "No, I don't believe we've met personally—at least, not until now."

Fletcher laughed, masking his unease. "Then I suppose we'll have plenty of time to get acquainted, my friend." Though he kept a friendly demeanor, he disliked the way the man had phrased it, as if their meeting had been inevitable.

Fletcher continued, "May I ask for your esteemed name?"

He was well-versed in the noble houses of the Flicker Empire, and knowing this man's identity would determine how cautious he needed to be. If the stranger was from one of the great noble families, Fletcher would have to tread carefully, regardless of the man's attitude. If he belonged to a lesser house, he could afford to relax slightly. And if he was from one of the nearby islands, Fletcher could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

The man with black hair smirked and said, "Of course, my name is Fletcher Cooper, the owner of Bluesand Island!"

Fletcher froze, his mind struggling to process the bizarre statement. "What do you mean by that? Are you saying you want to buy the island from me?" His confusion deepened.

"No, I mean this."

The black-haired man raised his left hand and swung it toward Fletcher's neck.

There was no weapon—no blade, no sharp edge—just an open palm. Yet, it moved with such terrifying speed that even a legendary knight like Fletcher couldn't react in time.

In his final moment, only one thought surfaced in his mind: "Mythic!"

Before he could even resist, his head separated from his body.

The other people in the reception room collapsed instantly, killed by a golden-ranked spell. The air filled with silence, thick with the scent of death.

The black-haired man—now standing alone—stared at Fletcher's decapitated head. Despite being severed, it remained full of vitality. A legendary knight wouldn't die so easily, even after decapitation. Their powerful life force allowed them to survive for months. However, with his head detached, Fletcher had lost control over his body.

The once-proud knight's face contorted in terror, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to speak. His eyes darted wildly, unable to comprehend his fate.

The man with black hair—who was, in truth, Edric, merely disguised—sighed. "It wasn't personal. You were simply unlucky—I needed your position to make my task easier."

With that, Edric dropped Fletcher's head to the ground and cast a spell.

Flames roared to life, engulfing the severed head in a golden blaze. But despite the heat, the fire barely scorched the flesh. After all, the head of a legendary knight wasn't so easily reduced to ash—not by mere golden-ranked magic.

"Damn it," Edric muttered, frustration flickering in his eyes. He cast another Burn spell. Then another. And another.

Each wave of fire licked at the severed head, charring it inch by inch. The process was agonizingly slow, a torment worse than death itself. 

Fifteen minutes passed, and at last, the once-proud legendary knight's head crumbled into nothing but ash.

For a moment, silence hung in the air.

Then, something shimmered above the remains—an illusory wisp, translucent and shifting.

Fletcher's soul.

Edric observed as Fletcher's soul began to disappear slowly. It was whole, uninjured. The Mythic Lance could have severed even the soul itself, but Edric had deliberately avoided using it. After all, Fletcher was not his enemy—there was no need to erase his existence completely.

"Where do all these souls go?" he wondered.

Before becoming a legendary mage, he had barely been able to sense souls. But now, he could see them clearly—watching as they faded into nothingness.

"Is there reincarnation? Do they fall into the Abyss? Or perhaps there really is a Heaven?"

He pondered these thoughts for a moment, but finding no answers, he set them aside.

His gaze swept across the reception hall, now soaked in blood and death. Yet, he remained unconcerned.

With a simple wave of his hand, he cast a Silver-grade Cleaning Spell. Instantly, every trace of blood, every speck of gore, vanished. The room was restored to its pristine state.

As for the bodies, he retrieved a storage ring, an artifact capable of storing corpses, and swiftly placed them inside.

Then, he cast another spell.

Clone Spell—Activate.

Twelve clones materialized before him. Eleven took on the forms of the slain servants, while the twelfth became an exact copy of his current black-haired disguise.

He dressed them in proper attire, adjusting every detail to perfection.

Then, once more, he activated his Disguise skill.

His flesh twisted, bones shifting as his muscles contorted unnaturally. In mere moments, his entire appearance changed—his hair turned white, wrinkles formed along his face, and his posture adjusted to match an older man.

In his place stood Fletcher—or at least, someone who looked exactly like him.

Then, he laughed and said, "Master William, welcome to my humble abode! I hope you enjoy your stay here!"

His clone, the one with black hair and eyes, responded with a polite smile. "Thank you, Master Fletcher. I look forward to it."

Edric's main body—still in disguise as Fletcher—nodded. "How long does your honor plan to stay?"

"No more than a month," the clone, now posing as 'Master William,' replied.

"Good. Then, I'll take my leave." Edric said, excusing himself.

As he stepped out of the reception hall, he turned to the butler, who had been waiting outside as per Master Fletcher's instructions, following proper protocol.

"Ensure that Master William has everything he requires," he ordered.

The butler bowed respectfully. "Understood, Master Fletcher."

"Let's go," Edric ordered.

Soon, they arrived at a storage room—an unremarkable place that Fletcher had never paid much attention to.

Edric gestured toward the entrance. "Go in."

The butler hesitated, confused. "Master? What is this about?"

Edric's expression remained unreadable. "Just go in."

Though still uncertain, the butler obeyed. With cautious steps, he entered the dimly lit room.

Edric followed, shutting the door behind them.

"Freeze!"

Edric cast the spell, and the butler immediately stiffened, unable to move.

"Soul Search."

A sinister aura filled the room as Edric invoked a Golden-ranked Abyssal Spell from the Book of Weirdness. Though he was reluctant to use these spells, he had no qualms about doing so when necessary.

The invasive magic tore into the butler's soul, mercilessly extracting every fragment of memory. The poor man, a mere Silver-ranked, stood no chance against such overwhelming power. His soul was crushed, squeezed dry like a fruit, offering up every drop of "memory juice" that Edric desired.

The butler was in unimaginable agony, yet he couldn't move, couldn't scream—couldn't even twitch a finger.

Minutes passed, and Edric absorbed everything. He now understood nearly two centuries of Fletcher's life, as well as glimpses of his past before then.

With this knowledge, he could seamlessly assume Fletcher's identity. No one would notice.

Not that he particularly cared if they did.

As for the butler… his soul was shattered into thousands of fragments. His body remained frozen by the spell, but even if Edric lifted it now, the man would do nothing but scream and collapse into madness.

Even a slight fracture in the soul could turn a person insane. But with his soul in its current state? The butler would have thousands of personalities, his mind lost beyond saving.

There were methods to repair a broken soul. But first, Edric wasn't capable of healing something this severely damaged—it would likely require a Mythic-rank soul technique.

And second?

He didn't care enough to try.

With a swift motion, he decapitated the butler.

The shattered remnants of the man's soul twisted in agony, writhing as they dissipated. It no longer even looked human—warped, grotesque, barely recognizable as a human spirit.

Edric watched in morbid fascination.

"That soul… it looked more like a beast than a person. Could it be that beasts are actually humans with destroyed souls?"

The thought unsettled him. Seeing the butler's deformed spirit was painful—disturbing, even.

But he shook off the unease.

Raising a hand, he cast another spell. The butler's corpse ignited in flames, reducing to ashes in seconds.

Then, he summoned a clone to take the butler's place.

A perfect replica stood before him.

"Master," the new butler greeted with a respectful bow.

Edric smirked. "This new Golden-ranked cloning spell is far more advanced than before."

It had been months since he first arrived on Bluesand Island. He had remained hidden, waiting for his XP points to surpass 800,000 before making his move.

Once he reached that milestone, he upgraded his Mage Talent to Golden and improved his cloning spell to the same level.

Only then did he step out and replace Fletcher.

Now, he had two types of clones:

Low-Intelligence Clones – These could last one month and function at an acceptable level of intelligence. He could maintain up to 100 at once.

Normal Clones – These lasted a full year and had a Normal level of intelligence. He could create 10 of these at a time.

His clones of Fletcher and the butler were both Normal clones, lasting one year each.

The servant clones were low-intelligence Clones, but it was sufficient for their roles.

As for power? It depended on how much mana he invested into them.

Fletcher's clone had Golden-rank power.

The butler had Great-rank strength—just enough to be convincing.

Once mana was used to create a clone, it couldn't be recovered until the clone died. That was why Edric was careful not to make them too powerful—draining himself unnecessarily wasn't worth it.

Still, as he looked at his perfectly replicated butler, he couldn't help but feel satisfied.

"Everything is set. Time to go back."

Edric smiled and turned to leave.