The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family-Chapter 223: Null and Void

Flames painted the imperial capital in shades of crimson and gold. From the Lionhart Estate's highest tower, Roman watched as the city that had stood for a thousand years burned. Another explosion bloomed in the western quarter—the seventh in the past ten minutes. The pattern was too precise to be random, too coordinated to be anything but meticulously planned.

"The latest reports, Emperor," announced a communications officer, presenting a scroll bearing urgent updates. "White Lion's Third Division reports the central bridge has fallen. Éclair's forces are stretched across four sectors, unable to contain the spread of cultist activity."

Roman scanned the report with practiced efficiency. "Casualties?"

"Over two thousand confirmed, with estimates tripling that number. The living bombs continue to detonate in sequence."

"And our perimeter?" Roman asked, his gaze returning to the burning city.

"Holding, Emperor. Triple guards at all access points as ordered."

Roman nodded dismissively, and the officer withdrew. Alone again, the Ice Monarch considered the patterns emerging from the chaos. The Icarus cult had not been a significant threat for nearly a century—not since his grandfather's purge had seemingly broken their power structure. For them to resurface with such devastating force suggested decades of careful rebuilding, patient infiltration, and resources gathered in absolute secrecy.

But why now? Why target civilian centers with such methodical destruction?

A familiar presence materialized beside him—Melo, moving with the preternatural silence that made him the perfect enforcer.

"The defensive preparations are complete," the masked figure reported. "The Frost Chamber is secured with our most reliable guards. I've personally verified the detection arrays."

"And the Beast Emperor's researchers?" Roman inquired without turning.

"They insist on proceeding with tonight's procedure despite the chaos. Researcher Thale argues that delaying could compromise weeks of preparation."

Roman's expression tightened imperceptibly. "Political considerations outweighing security protocols. Typical." He turned from the window. "You sense it too, don't you? This is not merely an ideological attack. The timing is too convenient."

Melo's golden eyes narrowed behind his white mask. "The intelligence reports indicated no knowledge of the vessel's condition or location. But..."

"But intelligence can be compromised," Roman finished. "Particularly when an enemy has decades to place assets."

A tremor shook the tower—subtle but unmistakable. Roman frowned, moving with fluid grace toward the stairway. "That came from within the estate grounds."

They descended rapidly, the Ice Monarch's legendary composure unbroken despite the urgency of his movements. As they reached the ground level, a guard captain approached, his face pale.

"Emperor, we've lost contact with the eastern perimeter. The energy communication crystals are returning only static."

Roman's eyes narrowed. "Localized interference or complete failure?"

"Spreading, sir. Started at the outer gardens approximately three minutes ago. Communications are failing in sequence, moving inward."

"Switch to physical signal systems," Roman ordered without hesitation. "Runner relays at all major junctions. If energy communications are compromised, we adapt."

As the captain rushed to relay the command, Melo spoke quietly. "The ancients wrote of such technology—arrays capable of disrupting energy transmission networks. A prelude to more dangerous interference."

"The Icarus cult specializes in converting theory to reality through forbidden methods," Roman replied, his voice hardening. "Alert Researcher Thale. The Frost Chamber must be sealed completely, procedure delayed."

Melo moved to comply, but paused. "If energy communications are compromised..." He left the implication unspoken.

"Physical messenger," Roman confirmed. "Trust nothing that relies on energy transmission until we understand what we're facing."

With those words, Melo departed with preternatural speed, and Roman strode toward the command center. The disruption of energy communications created dangerous blind spots in the estate's defensive network. Without the instantaneous coordination these systems provided, response times would slow—potentially creating vulnerabilities an enemy could exploit.

* * *

Sister Myrith led her extraction team through ancient tunnels that predated the imperial capital itself. The narrow passages wound beneath the foundations of the Lionhart Estate, following paths known only to the most senior members of the Icarus cult.

"First phase initiated," reported an adept behind her, monitoring a crystal similar to those used throughout the operation. "The communication disruption field is expanding as designed. Estate defenses are losing coordination capability."

Myrith nodded, her scarred face illuminated by the soft amber glow of their specialized lanterns. The thirteen members of her team moved in perfect silence, their bodies modified through rituals that had killed dozens of less worthy candidates.

"Proceed to position Omega," she commanded. "Prepare the primary array for second phase deployment."

The team advanced methodically, navigating through passages that had been carefully mapped over generations. Occasionally, they passed small amber crystals embedded in the tunnel walls—markers placed by cult agents decades earlier, each containing a sliver of life essence from a willing sacrifice.

"First resistance approaching," warned an adept at point position. "Three guards, standard patrol pattern."

"Neutralize," Myrith ordered. "No survivors. No alarms."

The confrontation was brutally efficient. Though the guards retained access to their mana cores, the disruption of energy communications had left them isolated from the estate's coordination network. Unaware that anything was amiss beyond communication difficulties, they were unprepared for the cultists' silent approach.

Within seconds, all three guards lay motionless, their throats opened with surgical precision.

"Collect the essence," Myrith commanded. Two cultists moved forward with specialized devices—crystal vials that pulsed with amber light as they extracted the lingering life energy from the freshly deceased guards. "Every sacrifice feeds our purpose."

Twenty meters further, they encountered a sealed barrier—a heavy metal door secured with both mechanical locks and energy-based seals.

"This junction connects to the estate's foundation level," Myrith observed, consulting a detailed schematic etched into a scroll of human skin. "Beyond lies our access route to the Frost Chamber."

An adept stepped forward, placing a small disc against the door's energy seal. The device pulsed once, creating a targeted field that temporarily disabled the energy-based security system. The mechanical locks proved no challenge for the specialized tools the team carried.

"We've reached optimal position," Myrith announced as they entered a wider chamber directly beneath the central wing of the estate. "The Frost Chamber lies exactly forty-three meters above us. Prepare the primary array for activation."

The adept carrying the main Null Array—a crystalline disc inscribed with impossibly complex runes—placed it against the ceiling of the chamber. The device adhered to the stone surface, then seemed to melt partially into it, becoming embedded in the very structure of the estate.

"Primary array positioned," the adept confirmed. "Second phase ready for activation on your command."

Myrith surveyed the chamber with clinical precision. "Our intelligence suggests sixteen guards stationed throughout this sector, all still capable of mana enhancement. Once we activate the second phase, we have precisely sixty-six minutes before the array burns out." Her scarred face revealed nothing of the momentous nature of their task. "We move with absolute precision. No hesitation. No mercy."

She raised her ritual-scarred hand. "Activate the Null Array. Second phase commences now."

The disc flared with blinding amber light, then settled into a pulsing rhythm. Unlike the first phase that had merely disrupted energy communications, this activation would sever the connection between practitioners and their mana cores—rendering the estate's defenders incapable of energy enhancement for exactly sixty-six minutes.

"Advance to extraction point," Myrith commanded. "The Worthy One awaits."

* * *

Alexandra moved through the corridors of the Lionhart Estate, her senses heightened by years of White Lion training. The disruption of energy communications—a system failure that had begun twenty minutes earlier—had prompted a switch to physical signal methods. Colored markers at key junctions indicated status updates, replaced periodically by runner messengers.

It was an old system, rarely used in modern times, but one that all White Lion operatives learned as contingency protocol. As she approached the Frost Chamber's outer perimeter, eight guards maintained formation, communicating through practiced hand signals.

"Lady Alexandra," the senior guard acknowledged with a bow. "Access remains restricted by the Emperor's direct order."

"I'm aware," she replied. "But my father designated me as medical observer for tonight's procedure. Has Researcher Thale arrived?"

"No, my lady. With energy communications down, we've had no updates from the laboratory section for the past fifteen minutes. We maintain position until further orders."

Alexandra nodded, studying the corridor behind them. Something felt wrong—a subtle disturbance in the air currents that suggested movement where there should be none.

"Double your alertness," she instructed the guards. "We may have breach conditions approaching from maintenance level."

The senior guard frowned. "Our detection arrays would have—"

"The arrays rely on energy communication to relay warnings," Alexandra cut him off. "We can only trust what we see and hear now."

As the guards adjusted their positions, a strange sensation washed over Alexandra—a sudden emptiness where her connection to her mana core should exist. She attempted to channel energy into her blade, a technique she had performed thousands of times, but nothing happened. The familiar flow of power simply wasn't there.

"Something's wrong," she stated sharply, seeing the confusion spreading across the guards' faces as they experienced the same phenomenon. "Mana access has been severed."

The senior guard's expression shifted from confusion to alarm. "That's impossible—"

"Prepare for physical combat only," Alexandra interrupted, drawing her sword. "Whatever's coming, we face it without mana enhancement."

She circled to the corridor's blind side, her footsteps deliberately silent. Years of specialized training had honed her physical abilities beyond standard Lionhart protocols. Even without mana enhancement, she detected what others might miss—microscopic dust disturbances, the faintest alteration in air temperature, the subtle scent of foreign materials.

Someone was approaching the Frost Chamber through the service passage. Someone who shouldn't be there.

Alexandra pressed herself against the wall beside the hidden access panel, her blade ready. Whatever came through would meet resistance it hadn't anticipated in its calculations.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

* * *

Roman felt it the moment it happened—a sudden severance of the connection between his consciousness and his mana core. Where the familiar cold energy had flowed through his meridians for decades, there was now only emptiness—a void where his power should exist.

He attempted to summon a simple ice formation, a technique so fundamental he could perform it without thought. Nothing. The pathways that had channeled his legendary power were somehow blocked, as if they no longer existed.

Beside him, Melo stiffened imperceptibly. "Emperor, my mana connection is... gone."

"As is mine," Roman confirmed, his legendary composure unshaken despite this unprecedented development. "It seems our enemy has deployed technology beyond what intelligence suggested possible."

His hand moved to the sword at his hip—a blade he hadn't relied upon exclusively in decades. "How appropriate that our enemies force us back to fundamentals."

Melo drew his own weapon—a slender blade of midnight black that seemed to drink in the ambient light. "The Frost Chamber?"

"Now," Roman confirmed, already moving with purposeful strides toward the central wing. "We face opponents who have planned this moment for years, perhaps decades. They've compromised our communications, neutralized our mana advantage, and created the perfect distraction to divide our forces."

As they moved through the corridors with deadly purpose, guards rushed past in coordinated patterns—physical combat formations trained for scenarios where mana enhancement failed. Even deprived of their energy abilities, the Lionhart guards maintained discipline and purpose.

"Emperor!" called a messenger, rushing toward them with urgency. "Captain Thorne reports movement detected in the eastern service tunnels. Multiple intruders approaching the central wing."

Roman's eyes narrowed. "Their target is confirmed. The Frost Chamber."

As they quickened their pace, the Ice Monarch's expression hardened into something rarely seen outside the battlefield. For centuries, the Lionhart family had maintained their position through superior energy techniques, political maneuvering, and careful information control.

Now, reduced to pure physical combat, Roman would demonstrate why the Ice Monarch inspired fear even without his legendary mana abilities. His swordsmanship alone had claimed more lives than most soldiers witnessed in a lifetime of warfare.

"We may already be too late," Melo observed as they approached the central wing.

"Then we ensure no intruder leaves alive," Roman replied, his voice colder than the ice he could no longer summon.

*

*

*

The first hint of movement was almost imperceptible—a shadow within shadow. Then the access panel slid open with unnatural silence, and death emerged from the darkness.