Manaless Mage-Chapter 307: The Blackheart Family

A few minutes earlier, in another part of the forest...

High above the forest clearing, where the air was still and crisp with morning dew, a young figure lounged lazily on the thick branch of a towering oak tree. freewebnσvel.cøm

He reclined with his back against the trunk, one leg dangling freely over the edge and the other bent upward as a makeshift prop for his arm.

His brown hair was tousled, and a calm, almost distant look rested in his pitch black eyes as he exhaled a soft sigh.

The sounds of rustling leaves and chirping birds surrounded him, but Harry paid them little mind.

He was still, contemplative even. His fingers toyed absently with a twig, breaking it piece by piece, flicking the remains into the foliage below without thought.

Above him, a faint metallic hum stirred the air, and Harry lazily tilted his head upward.

There it was.

The drone floated serenely in the sky, its surface sleek and silver, casting a faint blue glow as it projected the latest scoreboard.

A holographic panel flickered into view just above the machine, the names and points displayed in bold, glowing letters.

[No 1: Harry Ainsworth from Vane Academy — 200 points]

[No 2: Miranda Blackheart from Sky Academy —170 points]

Harry smirked.

"200... should be good enough," He mumbled with a slight shake of his head.

He leaned back a little farther into the tree, squinting at the rising sun peeking through the canopy.

Its rays filtered through the leaves in golden shafts, dappling his face and chest in warm light.

’Guess I should just take a nap,’ He thought, a slight smirk appearing on his lips.

During the past few minutes, all he had been doing was running around the forest, claiming the points of any other students or even beasts he came across.

There were some he found in groups, who thought they could beat him by combining their strength.

However, with how much he had grown, mere students were no match for him anymore.

Yet, despite the score, despite the comfortable view and the soft wind brushing his cheek, he felt... bored.

He glanced to his right, plucking another leaf from a low-hanging branch and spinning it between his fingers.

The silence was comfortable, sure, but there was something too still about it. Like the calm before something unpleasant. His instincts were whispering again.

"Something’s off," He said under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the horizon.

Harry’s smirk faded slightly.

But before his thoughts could sink any deeper into worry, a sudden shout jolted him out of his daze.

"Hey! You there!"

Harry blinked, twisting his torso slightly and peering down below.

A girl stood at the base of the tree, looking up at him with hands on her hips.

She was beautiful.

Her long, jet-black hair cascaded down her back in glossy waves, swaying gently with the wind.

Her skin was smooth and pale, a perfect contrast to the vivid green eyes that shone like emeralds beneath thick lashes.

Her expression was a blend of irritation and curiosity, lips slightly parted as if she’d been calling out for a while.

She wore a light blue and white uniform tailored to fit her slim, curvy figure.

A pair of short daggers hung at her sides, and a faint shimmer of mana danced along her fingertips—light enough to show her control, heavy enough to imply danger.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

’Miranda?’ He thought, a bit surprised to find her.

He remembered seeing her before the tournament started, along with some of her classmates.

Back then, he had scanned her stats, and realised something... she was a stage four Elementalist, and definitely the only one among the students!

Ever since then, he had been trying to think of why her name seemed so familiar, and he finally got the answer.

She was none other than the sister of Sandra Blackheart, who was the current head of the platinum-ranked Flaming Lion Guild.

Harry’s gaze remained fixed on the girl, and a strange glint flashed across his eyes.

His mind drifted to the fragments of information he’d come across about the Blackheart family.

Years ago, during a quiet evening at his parent’s house, he’d stumbled upon a news segment detailing the tragic history of one of the most renowned families in the magic world.

It was public knowledge that Miranda’s mother had passed away just days after giving birth to her.

Complications during childbirth had claimed her life, leaving the Blackheart siblings to be raised by their father, a man whose name was etched into the annals of history.

Their father, Alaric Blackheart, was once hailed as one of the most powerful figures on Earth.

A Grand Lightning Mage of unparalleled prowess, his feats were the stuff of legends.

Harry recalled the awe he felt watching archival footage of Alaric summoning storms with a mere gesture, his lightning strikes precise and devastating.

But it wasn’t just his power that made headlines—it was his sacrifice.

Several years prior, a catastrophic event had threatened the very fabric of their world.

A rift, unlike any other, had appeared above Sky City. Classified as the first and only black-danger level rift ever recorded by humanity, its emergence sent shockwaves through the global community.

The rift spewed forth abominations, creatures of darkness that defied comprehension.

Cities trembled, and the world’s most formidable mages were summoned to confront the threat. Leading the charge was Alaric Blackheart.

Reports spoke of his bravery, detailing how he single-handedly held back the tide of monstrosities, buying precious time for evacuation efforts.

Witnesses recounted the sky alight with his lightning, a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

In a final, desperate act, Alaric charged into the rift, and unleashed a cataclysmic surge of energy, sealing the rift.

However, the grand mage never returned... and a few months later, he was proclaimed dead.

The world mourned the loss of a hero. Memorials were erected, and his name became synonymous with sacrifice and valor.

For Harry, learning about Alaric’s deeds had been both inspiring and sobering. It was a stark reminder of the responsibilities that came with power.

He was only about seven years old when he heard the news, and the image of the grand mage had struck a powerful chord within him.

He was one of the mages who made him dream about becoming a powerful mage, but at the end of the day, all those dreams fizzled out when he couldn’t awaken an affinity.

He was shunned by his parents, and his life took a quick spiral downward.

Now, as he looked down at Miranda, he couldn’t help but see echoes of her father’s determination in her eyes.

There was a fire in her gaze, a resolute strength that belied her youthful appearance. It was clear she carried the weight of her family’s legacy on her shoulders.

’Miranda Blackheart...’ He thought, narrowing his eyes at the girl.

"Hey! Are you just going to stare all day?" Miranda called out, her voice tinged with impatience.

Harry blinked, snapping out of his reverie. He offered a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head.

"Sorry," he replied, "Just lost in thought."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. ’Well, everyone always seems to stare whenever they see me, tsk. Guess even he’s no different.’