Reincarnation of the magicless Pinoy!
From zero to hero "No Magic?, No Problem!"
Encounter 11 : Checkmate!
The announcer's voice echoed throughout the arena.
"AND THE WINNER OF THIS YEAR'S MAGESTERIUM TOURNAMENT… CROWN PRINCE KEIAN!!"
A deafening roar followed, but Rolien didn't hear any of it at first. His world was dim, sounds muffled like he was underwater. The last thing he remembered was the searing light from Keian's final spell crashing into him—then black.
His eyes fluttered open.
Everything ached. His muscles screamed. His body was still buzzing from the impact and yesterday's match against Luke was catching up fast—his stamina drained, his reflexes dulled. But the pain wasn't what bothered him the most.
It was the silence in his own mind.
He blinked. The bright blue sky swam into view above him, and then—
"Hey."
A hand.
Rolien turned his head slightly. Crown Prince Keian was standing over him, arm outstretched, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His golden hair shimmered under the sun, battle-worn but standing tall.
"Sorry for going that far, kid," Keian said, his voice calm, steady, respectful.
Rolien grunted as he reached up and took the prince's hand. "Heh. If I were you, I'd go all out too. That's fair."
Keian chuckled, helping him up. "How about it—you join my cause, Grey. You'll have a better shot in life once I become Emperor. And that's not an if—it's a when."
The prince gave him a firm pat on the back and turned toward the crowd. With a raised arm, he declared, voice full of pride:
"HE IS THE STRONGEST CADET! THE TRUE CHAMPION OF THIS YEAR'S TOURNAMENT!"
The coliseum erupted.
Cheers. Applause. The nobles stood in awe—watching not just the prince, but him. The magicless boy who stood toe-to-toe with royalty and didn't break until the very end.
Rolien let out a breath, smirking. "Heh. I'll think about it, weird smiles. Just make sure you leave the seat warm for me."
There was a pause—then a burst of laughter from a few nobles. Whispers turned into conversations. Some even nodded, impressed.
One by one, the applause spread.
First, Grand Duke Edric—Rolien's father—stood up and began to clap, slowly at first.
Then Luke's father followed suit.
Then another noble.
Then another.
Until the entire arena was standing—clapping for both of them. For Keian, the noble heir of magic. And Rolien, the boy born without it… yet somehow, still enough.
Off to the side, Leto was wiping tears from his eyes, clapping hard despite the wobble in his voice.
"Man, I lost my bet," he muttered. "Now I'm broke."
"You idiot," Mira sniffled beside him, glaring at him through teary eyes. "I bet on him too."
Princess Sophia sobbed openly, a hand on her chest as she joined the others in applause. "That idiot… he really did it."
But away from all the clapping, the cheers, and the celebration—someone watched silently.
Luke.
Wrapped in bandages, sitting quietly under the shade of the infirmary tent, his eyes were locked on Rolien. Not with hatred. Not with jealousy.
But with confusion.
And curiosity.
He didn't clap.
He just stared.
A thousand questions swirled in his mind. None louder than one—
"Who… really are you, Rolien Edric Grey?"
And then The cheers still shook the arena when the shadows shifted above them.
A tall figure stepped onto the edge of the royal balcony. His cloak caught the wind—dark blue, embroidered in silver sigils that only the highest nobility were allowed to wear. For a moment, the entire coliseum hushed. Even the nobles fell silent, as though every throat was caught in the same breath.
Then—
Thud.
The Emperor himself leapt down, landing between Keain and Rolien with effortless grace, his boots cracking the stone floor.
The air turned heavy.
Rolien straightened out of instinct, every ache in his body momentarily forgotten. Keain bowed his head, jaw tight.
No one expected the Emperor to appear in person.
The old man looked around—stern, composed, a face carved by decades of war and the weight of ruling. His voice carried without any spell to amplify it.
"People of the Empire," he called, each word resonating through the stunned hush, "rejoice for the strength of our new generation."
He rested a hand on Keain's shoulder. "My son—Crown Prince Keain—has proven himself worthy of the bloodline."
He paused, and the weight in his gaze shifted.
"But I have come to speak not only of victory."
A ripple of unease moved through the crowd.
"At the edge of the northern seas…far past the ruined forts and the old demon trenches…something has awoken."
He turned to the nobles, his tone turning grave.
"The emergence of a new Demon King has been confirmed. Even now, the black banners are rising across the new Demon Continent."
Gasps erupted around the arena. Rolien frowned. Keain clenched a fist.
The Emperor lifted a hand, bidding them to quiet.
"And that is not all."
He gestured behind him. A royal attendant stepped forward, carrying a scroll.
"It has long been foretold," the Emperor continued, "that when a Demon King rises, the Phantom and the Great Sage will appear once more to protect our realm. It was the same in the last age. The last Demon King nearly broke the world—until a new Phantom appeared and ended the threat."
Murmurs turned to fearful speculation.
"And this time," the Emperor said, his voice ringing like an iron bell, "we cannot rely on legend alone. The Great Sage has vanished—some say he wanders as a black wraith, neither living nor dead. Others claim he searches for the vessel of his lost power."
He glanced at Keain and rested a firm hand on his son's shoulder.
"But this I swear before all of you—my son, Crown Prince Keain, will be one of the four heroes to rise against the Demon King and the Outer Gods."
A stunned silence.
Then the Emperor turned.
Slowly, inexorably, he walked to where Rolien stood, still catching his breath.
His gaze locked with Rolien's, steady and unblinking.
"And as of today…"
He lifted his hand high.
"I officially declare—the Grey family's youngest son, Rolien Edric Grey…is our new Phantom!"
The arena exploded.
Cheers. Cries of disbelief. Shocked voices rising over each other:
"—The Phantom?!"
"—It makes sense—no magic, yet he fights like that—"
"—Is this really happening?"
Luke, bandaged and pale in the infirmary, scowled darkly. His brows knit.
"…Bastard," he muttered under his breath. "He said I'd be his Phantom. This two-faced prince with the weird smile…"
---
The Emperor waited for the noise to subside.
Then he raised his palm, and a small distortion shimmered in the air.
A tear in space itself—dimensional storage.
From that rift, he drew out a thick, ancient volume bound in midnight-blue leather and sealed in layered protective wards. The golden title gleamed as he held it aloft:
The Book of the Heavenly Body.
Gasps rippled outward again—this time almost reverent.
He extended it to Rolien, his voice lowering with solemn weight.
"Please help us protect this realm, young man."
Rolien stared at the book. His heartbeat thumped in his ears.
"Damn…what's with this book?"
Appraisal. Analyze the item.
A tiny mechanical chime pinged in his skull.
> Book of the Heavenly Body
A codex containing the combat principles and body-tempering secrets of the original Phantom.
Grants the user:
— Superhuman strength, speed, and durability.
— A body nearly indestructible, immune to conventional magic.
— Sensory and reactive capabilities rivaling the Demon King.
Compatibility: 100%
Note: No other compatible candidates detected in current population.
"…Well, shit."
Rolien's eyes flicked to the Emperor, to Keain, to the dozens of nobles watching with hungry curiosity.
"If I accept this…I'll be bound to the Empire's feuds and politics forever."
"I'll lose any chance at a quiet life."
"And this butt crack of a Crown Prince is definitely planning something."
He closed his eyes, feeling every bruise, every burn, every ache.
A full minute passed in tense silence.
Even his father—Grand Duke Edric—stepped forward, voice hopeful.
"It would be a great honor for our family, my son," Edric said carefully. "This could lift House Grey above all but the royal blood. Think what you could do with such a title…"
All eyes turned to him.
Rolien opened his eyes again—calm, steady, unflinching.
"…Nah."
The arena collectively forgot how to breathe.
"I think I'll pass, sir."
The Emperor blinked. "What…?"
Rolien lifted his chin slightly.
"Well, I don't like hidden agendas," he said, his tone as blunt as a hammer. "And besides…I don't think I'm ready to accept that role. Or even that my body could handle it yet. Maybe in a few years, I'll be in a place where I can."
He bowed his head, one hand pressed over his chest.
"I'm sorry, sir. But I have to refuse…for now."
---
Absolute, stunned silence.
Then the crowd erupted again—but this time, in utter disbelief.
Rolien just sighed, ignoring the commotion, and thought privately:
"…And maybe, if I stay free, I can figure out exactly what kind of trap all this really is."
The crowd had just stopped reeling from his refusal when the Emperor raised an eyebrow. His eyes locked with Rolien's.
"...You refuse the title of Phantom?" the Emperor repeated, half-in disbelief.
Rolien gave a small shrug and looked the man straight in the eye.
"Yeah. Nah, I'm good, Your Majesty," he said, tone as casual as someone turning down a second helping of rice. "I just want a peaceful life. Don't want myself getting dragged into a war I know I can't win."
Gasps swept through the audience like a gust of wind.
Some nobles choked on their drinks. Others stared like Rolien had slapped the Emperor with a fish. Even Keain twitched—his brow creasing slightly, lips twitching.
Rolien, still sore and exhausted, added bluntly, "Even if I did accept, I don't think my body can handle that much power. So I'll pass. For now."
A beat of stunned silence.
Then the Emperor…laughed. Loud and sharp.
"Hahaha! You're bold—too bold! Hahaha, yeah, you're right. I always forget—you're just a kid." He waved it off, still chuckling. "Alright, alright. Come pick the book up after you're ready!"
The tension cracked. The crowd relaxed. Some nobles chuckled. Others gave reluctant nods. And just like that, the pressure shifted away from Rolien.
But then—
The Emperor clapped his hands again.
"Well, let's set that aside for now!" he declared. "Now for my next announcement!"
He gestured toward the royal dais.
"Princess Sophia. Come, my dear."
The pink-haired princess stepped forward, tears still clinging to her lashes from earlier. She stopped beside the Emperor.
"I—Emperor Valius Althareon of the Empire of Aetherion—hereby declare…" His voice rang out.
"Rolien of House Edric Grey! And my third daughter, Princess Sophia—are officially engaged!"
"Wait, what—"
The cheers exploded before Rolien could even blink.
He turned his head, mouth half-open. "F—"
But before he could finish, Keain casually wrapped an arm around his shoulder, grinning.
"Man, we're officially family now. Celebrate!"
"What the hell just happened. I should've just stayed unconscious in the infirmary." Rolien muttered under his breath as confetti rained down.
Even Sophia looked half-dazed. Her face beet red, tears back in full force—though now more confused than joyful.
---
LATER – IN THE GREY ESTATE, PRIVATE FAMILY ROOM
Rolien sat in a cushioned armchair, bandaged and holding a cool drink to his head. His father, Grand Duke Edric, paced across the room.
Elian, his older brother, leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His cool demeanor hadn't changed, but his eyes were narrowed in thought. Elara, their fiery sister, had kicked off her heels and sat cross-legged on a couch, eyebrows up.
"So," Elara said first. "You refused being the Phantom. Then somehow ended up engaged to a princess. Not bad for a Tuesday."
Rolien groaned. "I didn't agree to that either. That old man just threw it in without warning."
Edric nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Still. Refusing the Phantom was the right move. The crown prince has too many pieces in motion. If you'd accepted, you'd be his pawn."
Elian finally spoke, calm but sharp. "Better to hold leverage. Right now, you have the Book of Heavenly Body and the Empire's attention. That's worth more than any title—for now."
Rolien nodded, setting down his glass. "Exactly."
He swiped his fingers, and a faint blue interface appeared in the air. A stat window. His siblings leaned in.
---
ROLiEN EDRIC GREY — STATS
Level: 49
Core Tier: Level 3 (High)
Class: —
Unique Trait: Blueprint Master (Growth-based body optimization)
— Strength: 320
— Agility: 301
— Defense: 295
— Vitality: 280
— Intelligence: 112
— Perception: 267
> [Note: Stats are double the average for a Level 49 human.]
[Next milestone for Phantom Book compatibility: Core Level 5 + Character Level 60.]
---
"See?" Rolien pointed. "My body hasn't reached the threshold to use the damn book yet."
Edric's brows lifted. "Level 60 and Core Level 5…hmm."
"I get that much power, my body needs to keep up. Otherwise, the book kills me instead of helping me."
Elian nodded. "So you wait. Build leverage. And then decide."
Rolien sat back, cracking his knuckles. "Yeah. I've got my own path anyway. I don't need the crown prince's drama."
Edric raised an eyebrow. "And what path is that?"
Rolien grinned. "I'm looking for the Mother of All Flames."
Elara blinked. "What?"
"To melt something important. Something that can only be shaped with a flame hotter than anything known."
Edric's eyes lit up slightly. "Oh… You need to melt that. That actually makes sense now. You're planning to reforge the Groteus Core, aren't you?"
"Bingo."
Edric stood, his tone suddenly serious. "Then I'll gather information on the Mother Flame's whereabouts. You focus on healing—and staying ahead."
He gave Rolien one last look before striding off.
---
PRESENT — ROLIEN'S ROOM, ALONE
Rolien now sat cross-legged on the floor, the new sword the Emperor gave him resting across his lap.
It gleamed even in the dim candlelight—a sleek black katana, trimmed in stormsilver. Its hilt was dragon-bone. Its edge felt like it hummed, faintly reacting to his presence.
He opened his system's [Appraisal] window.
---
Item: Sword of Heaven and Earth (Alias: Dragon Killer / "Tenbatsu-no-Yari")
Rarity: Relic
Requirements: Level 80 (Partial access at current level)
Compatibility: High
Perks (Locked unless Level 80):
— Dragonbane: Deals double damage to dragon-type entities
— Heaven Cleave: Can cut through magical constructs and fields
— Earth Anchor: Nullifies spatial movement within a 10-meter radius when unsheathed
— Aura Memory: Stores one elemental slash to release later
Current Passive Boosts (Active):
+80 Strength
+50 Agility
+60 Defense
+50 Perception
---
Rolien gave a low whistle.
"Man… the stat boost alone puts me above that butt crack crown prince."
He grinned.
"Guess I'll keep this little monster."
Later that afternoon.
Crown Prince Keain clicked his tongue in frustration as he stared down at the center of the now-empty arena. His fingers tightened behind his back, the echo of cheers still lingering in the air. He offered Rolien the golden leash—a symbolic gesture disguised as opportunity: a prestigious spellbook, an open hand, and a future under his shadow. But the damn brat twisted it, turned it into a stepping stone.
He made himself bigger.
Keain's mind raced. The emperor, watching from his throne, had smiled. Smiled. And even spoke of Rolien with favor in his private chambers. Now Princess Sophia was officially engaged—another tool meant to cement Keain's future. But with this turn of events, with her tears in the stands and the way she looked at Rolien… that bond… it was dangerous.
If Rolien refused him, he couldn't use him. And if he couldn't use him, he might just have to erase him.
"...Tch," Keain muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. "If things keep going this way, that magicless bastard might become a threat not just to the throne… but to me."
He exhaled sharply, eyes cold. "I can't have anyone else in line for the throne. Not while I'm still breathing."
Just then, a voice broke through the silence behind him.
"Well," Luke said, still bandaged but standing upright. His presence was calm, but his gaze was anything but. There was something calculating in his tone. "I've got some plans, if you let me do as I please, Your Majesty."
Keain didn't turn around right away. A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. "Plans, huh? And what exactly do you want in return?"
Luke's eyes locked on the arena below, where Rolien had walked out a moment earlier with his friends. "Just one thing," he replied.
"I want to know who he really is."
To be continued...