Noble Lady Reformation Guide — Chapter 132: The Subjugation of Beltus (6)

Chapter 132: The Subjugation of Beltus (6)

“Young⁠ Master Robenalt, you’re⁠‌ doing well enough.”

“This‍‍‍ is excellent, Robenalt.”‌⁠

“You’re⁠‌⁠ doing well, Robenalt.”‍‍

Valerian,‍ the eldest son‌ of the Duplain‌⁠ family, could already‌‌‌ use 2-star magic by the time⁠ he reached adulthood,‌‍ and Linus, the‌ firstborn of the⁠‍⁠ Belmierd family, was widely trusted and‍‍ respected both inside‌ and outside the‍ mansion for his‌‍ unique and carefree‌‌‌ charisma.

However,⁠⁠ Robenalt, the eldest⁠ son of Beltus,‍ was neither exceptional‍ in magic nor‌ possessed of a charisma capable of‍⁠ leading others, and‍‌ despite his efforts, he had no⁠ clear achievements to his name.

That‍ didn’t mean he‍ was incompetent, but⁠ he was such a lukewarm existence‍‍‍ that it felt‌‌ pitiful to call him the firstborn‌‍ of the mighty‍‍‌ Beltus.

Because‍‌ of this, the‌ words Robenalt heard‌ most while growing‌ up were words⁠ of encouragement such‍ as, “You’re doing‍ well enough.”

“You’re⁠‌ doing well enough,‍ so don’t worry‍⁠ too much, Brother Robenalt.”

His⁠ younger sister, Denise,‌ was the same.⁠

Whenever⁠ Robenalt’s confidence wavered,‌ she would speak‍ naturally, as if‍‍ it were nothing,⁠ with a calm,‍‌ nonchalant look.

“You‍ don’t have to⁠ push yourself too⁠⁠‌ hard. You just‍‍ need to do⁠ your part, okay? Just your part.”‌‌

That’s‍‌ what Denise used⁠ to say.

Born‍ with Beltus blood,‌‌ receiving respect and care from everyone,‍ living their entire lives within this‍ glory—there was no⁠‌‍ need to strive‌ too much or‌⁠⁠ awaken unnecessary ambition.‍

One⁠⁠ just had to‌ be thankful for‌‌ being born into‍ a blessed environment⁠ and live peacefully,‌‍‍ just as they‌ were.

She‌⁠ seemed to have‌⁠‌ a sharp personality,⁠ but deep inside,⁠ she was full⁠⁠ of laziness.

Robenalt,⁠ who had partially‌‌ noticed that disposition,⁠ once found strange comfort in her words.

However,‌ Denise changed.

“Huff…‍ huff…”

Late at night, if‍ one walked through⁠⁠ the gardens of‍ the Beltus mansion,‍‌ it was easy⁠‍ to see Denise resting, exhausted after‌ training magic and‌‌ strengthening her body throughout the night.⁠⁠‍

She‍⁠ would read books‌‍ until late, save‍ her mealtime to⁠ practice exploration magic,‍‍‍ and still keep⁠ up with etiquette,‌‌⁠ manners, and social‍ activities. Without realizing‌ it, she had‌‌‍ drifted away from laziness.

She‍ still seemed to‍‌ think she was‍⁠ just trying to⁠ live comfortably, but‍‍⁠ from Robenalt’s perspective,‌‌ who watched her‌⁠ closely, that wasn’t‌ entirely true.

She had been influenced‍ by someone.

Born⁠‍ in the blessed‌⁠ environment of the‌ Beltus family, she‍‌ was slowly stepping⁠⁠ away from the‌ comfortable life of‌‍ simply moving according⁠‍⁠ to Grand Duke‍‌ Beltus’s orders.

Breaking‍ her shell, she‍ had begun to‌⁠‌ understand the harshness of the world‍⁠ where storms raged.‍

He‍ already knew she‍‍‍ was active in⁠‌‍ the social circles of Ebelstein and had taken on‌‌ a new mentor.‌

However,‍‍‌ he didn’t know⁠‌⁠ how decisive that‌ had been for‍‌ her life.

He⁠‌⁠ only felt curious about what she had seen.

Whish!⁠‍

With those thoughts, Robenalt‍‍‍ blinked for an⁠ instant.

The white-haired mercenary who⁠⁠ had burst into⁠‍‍ the command room‌⁠‍ and defeated the⁠⁠ servants in moments took advantage of‍ that brief distraction.‍

Jumping⁠‍ like a bird,‌ he drove his‍‍ leg into Robenalt’s‌‌ stomach.

Thud!⁠‍‌

The‍‍ sensation of the‌⁠ boot sinking into his abdomen was vividly burned into‍‌ his memory.

Robenalt’s eyes widened, and‍‌‌ he shut them⁠ tightly at the‍⁠ pain that followed.⁠

Dereck⁠⁠ turned his body‍‍‌ and kicked Robenalt’s⁠ side with his‍⁠ back leg.

Pain‌ exploded simultaneously in⁠‌ his stomach, side,‌‌‍ and chest, which‌⁠ had already been‌‌ hit by magic.⁠ The dizziness was⁠‍ so intense that‌‌‌ Robenalt couldn’t help‍ but gag.

This⁠‌⁠ was completely different⁠⁠‌ from the honorable‌‍ duels held in⁠ the Beltus magic⁠ training grounds, where‍ both opponents respected‌ each other.

Dereck‍⁠ Lydorf Ravenclaw, Baron.‍

The‍‌‍ attacks he used⁠‌ showed no consideration‌⁠ for noble dignity‍‍ or etiquette. And‌ that was only⁠⁠⁠ natural.

The‌⁠ central garden and‍‌ the grounds were‍‌ ablaze, and the‌ buildings were beginning⁠ to collapse.

This‍‌ place was, without⁠⁠⁠ a doubt, the‌‍ heart of the‍‍ battlefield.

What⁠‍ etiquette or dignity‍‌ could exist in‍‌ such a battle?⁠‍‌

This‌ was completely different‌⁠ from the beautiful⁠ and luxurious training‍⁠ grounds where Robenalt⁠ had practiced all‍ his life.

“…”⁠

Dereck⁠ brushed the dust‍‍‍ off his boots‌‌ and began checking‍ the scattered documents‌‍ around the command‍⁠ room.

To‍⁠ him, Robenalt was‍‍ no longer someone⁠‍ who required caution.‍‌‌

Just‌‌ as he had‌ effortlessly taken down‌‍ those servants, Robenalt⁠ was merely another‌ easy prey he⁠ could crush with⁠‌‍ a single move.‌

“Ugh…⁠⁠ ah…”

However,‍‌ Robenalt grabbed the‍‍ edge of the‌ fallen desk and‌‌ stood up.

As‌ he watched Dereck‌‌ search the room,‌‌ he felt as though an indescribable‌‌ aura was emanating‍ from the man’s‍ body.

“You‍ came to disable‌ the tower’s protective⁠ magic…”

“…”‍

“I’m⁠ sorry, but… that‍ won’t happen… Not‌ while I still have my eyes‍ open…”

Whoosh!⁠‌‍

Finally,‌‌‌ a first-level spell, Ice Spear, was conjured.

Its‍‌ size wasn’t large,‍⁠ and its magical⁠ power was so‌‌ weak that Dereck‍ could clearly see⁠‌‌ its trajectory and‍⁠ strength.

It‍ was so ordinary⁠ and insignificant that‍‌⁠ Dereck thought the‌ magic Diella had⁠ first learned was stronger.

The‌ ice spears Robenalt‍ launched with clenched‌ teeth flew toward⁠ Dereck, but he‍‌⁠ didn’t even bother‍ to dodge.

Crash!‍

Whoosh!‍

With⁠‌ a single swing‌‍ of his fist,⁠ Dereck shattered Robenalt’s‍ weak magic.

What‌‌‌ was most terrifying was that Robenalt‍⁠ hadn’t even been‍ able to perceive⁠ the shape of the magic arrows⁠‍ Dereck had manifested.‌⁠

The‌ speed of his‌ casting and the‌‌ precision of his⁠‌⁠ interception completely surpassed⁠ his magical senses.‌⁠

Dereck‍‌‍ jumped down from‍ the desk and‍‍ charged at Robenalt.

Robenalt‍ squinted and lowered‍⁠ his stance, but‌‌⁠ Dereck anticipated the⁠⁠ movement and kicked⁠ his side again.‍

Crash!‌‍ Bang!

Robenalt slammed into the⁠ desk beside him.⁠

Even⁠ so, he clenched‌‌‌ his teeth, stood⁠‌ up, and grabbed‍ Dereck’s leg.

The‌ grinding of his‍‌ teeth was audible.‍

Dereck⁠‍ looked down at‌ him and spoke‌ calmly.

“The‌ protective magic seems⁠ to be controlled‍ from the top⁠‌ of the tower. There are no‍‌ objects within the‌⁠ command room containing magical energy…”

“Ugh…‍‌ grr…”

Robenalt⁠ endured the excruciating‍ pain and soon began to ignite‌ flames from his⁠ fingers.

He‍‌ wasn’t giving up‍‍‌ yet.

When Dereck stepped back‍ to create distance, Robenalt quickly stood‍ and ran toward the broken inner‍‌ wall.

Then‍⁠ he pulled out‌‍ the tower’s control⁠ magic stone and‌‍ began resonating with⁠‍‌ it.

‘I‍ can’t stop him‌ with my strength‍ alone… I must‍⁠ use every means‍ I have…!’

With⁠⁠ only a few⁠‌ exchanges of blows,⁠‌⁠ he had realized‌‌ it immediately—

That‍⁠ Dereck was not‍ someone he could stop by himself.‌‍‌

Gritting‍ his teeth, he‍‌‌ ran toward the‍‌‌ top of the‍ tower, thinking he⁠ had to find⁠ some method.

‘If‍⁠‌ I divert part‌‍ of the tower’s‌⁠ protection for personal⁠⁠⁠ defense… I might‌ match his firepower…’

Who‍‍ could deny it?‍

Dereck‌‍‌ was a completely⁠⁠ superior being.

Although‌⁠‍ they didn’t seem⁠⁠ far apart in‌ age, Dereck was⁠‌ already aiming for‌⁠‌ the level of‍ a 4-star mage.‍‍‌

In‍‍‍ magical mastery, combat experience, in everything,⁠ Dereck stood above⁠‍‍ Robenalt.

Where⁠‍ did that difference‌ come from?

It‍‌‍ needed no explanation—it⁠ was a difference‌ of talent.

When he thought that,‌‍ Robenalt clenched his‍ fist. It was‌ no longer time‌‌ to grieve over‍‌‍ it.

But‍ the enemy he⁠ had to face‍‌ felt like an‍‌⁠ insurmountable wall.

From⁠ Robenalt’s perspective, who‍ had to defend‌‍‌ this tower at‌⁠ all costs, the‌ existence of the⁠‌ intruder Dereck was an absolute disaster.‍

But⁠‍ would he surrender?‌‍ He shook his head.

Most⁠‌ of the trials⁠‌ in Robenalt’s life‌ had been things considered impossible to‌ overcome.

Tap, tap!

Looking‌ down, he saw‌ Dereck leaving the command room and climbing the spiral‍ staircase after him.‍

The‍⁠ speed was so⁠ great that he would soon catch‌‍ up.

Robenalt‌ clenched his teeth‍ and threw down⁠ all the cabinets‍⁠ he found in‍‌ his way along the stairs.

The‌ cabinets rolled down⁠ the luxurious carpet,‍ but all were‍⁠‌ split in half⁠‌‍ by Dereck’s magic‍ arrows.

The⁠‍ power was so overwhelming that Robenalt‌ realized the magic‌ he’d seen in‌ the command room‌ had only been⁠‍⁠ a glimpse.

A chill ran down‍⁠⁠ Robenalt’s arm.

His‌‌ legs trembled, and‍ cold sweat ran‌ down his forehead.‌

It‍⁠ felt as if⁠ a massive beast⁠⁠ was chasing him.‌‍

For⁠ someone as timid,‍ small-spirited, and unskilled‍⁠ as he was,‍‍‌ enduring it was⁠⁠‌ a colossal trial.

Was‍ this what it‍ felt like to‌ be chased by‍ a lion on⁠ the plains? It‍‍ wasn’t hard to‌ imagine being caught‌‍‌ and devoured.

Even‌⁠ so, Robenalt had‌ an innate trait—an‍⁠⁠ unusual resistance to‍‌ fear.

He‌‌ grabbed the ceremonial‍ sword hanging on‌ the wall and‌ imbued it with‌⁠ the transformation magic‌⁠ Attribute Conversion.

Flames‌ burst from the blade, leaving trails⁠ with each swing,‌‌ and the heat⁠‌‌ rose.

Robenalt⁠ turned and swung‍‌‌ his sword toward‍‌‍ Dereck, who was‌‌ climbing the stairs.‍‌‍

Claaang!‍‍

Dereck,⁠⁠ who drew his⁠ sword at a speed impossible to‌ see, blocked the⁠ attack with ease.‍‍

The‍ tip of Dereck’s⁠ sword didn’t even‌‍‍ move, but the‌‍ tip of Robenalt’s‌ flaming sword trembled‌ uncontrollably.

The‍ overwhelming pain and‍⁠ the fear in‍ his heart—he couldn’t⁠⁠ tell which one‍ was making his‍ hand shake.

“T-the,‍⁠ the master who‌‌ taught Denise… I heard it was‌ you…”

“…”⁠

“At⁠‍ least back then…‍‌ our families had a friendly relationship…”‍

Robenalt‌‍ knew it well.⁠‍ It was the‍⁠ Beltus family who⁠‍ had first bared⁠⁠⁠ their fangs against‍⁠ Baron Dereck.

The‍ Duke of Beltus’s‍ ambition was so⁠‍ excessive that he‌ didn’t want any‌‌‍ new power to‍‍‍ arise. Thus, at⁠ the end of⁠ that greed, they‌ had touched someone⁠ they should never‌‌ have touched.

He⁠‍ probably hadn’t thought⁠‌ much of it.⁠⁠ He had always‍‍ trampled and crushed‍ countless people, bringing‍ about their ruin or death as⁠ if it were⁠⁠⁠ the most natural‍⁠‌ thing in the⁠ world. The result‌‍‌ was now before‍ his eyes.

The⁠‌⁠ judgment of Duke‍ Beltus had been wrong, and Robenalt,‍ who had followed‍‍‍ the will of⁠ his family like‌‌ a puppet, had‌ not stopped that‍ decision. He was‌ someone used to‍ moving exactly as⁠ he was told.

The‍‌ price for that was Dereck’s enmity.

Aware‌⁠‍ of this, Robenalt⁠ spoke firmly, though‍ his fingers trembled.‍

“If⁠ you don’t kill‍ me… you’ll never⁠ move forward…”

“Do‌⁠ you think I can’t kill you?”‌

He⁠‌ held his breath⁠ at those words.‌

Before the sword—beyond it,‍‌⁠ the man’s eyes⁠‍ carried genuine killing⁠ intent.

He‍ was someone who⁠ had been drenched‍⁠ in blood countless times.

If⁠ he swung his‍‍ sword with resolve,‍‍ Robenalt’s head would‍‍⁠ surely fall.

Even‍ amidst the overwhelming‍ fear, Robenalt clenched his teeth and⁠ swung his sword⁠⁠⁠ once more.

Hwaak!‍ Hwaak!

Flaming‍ trails tried to‍‍ engulf the area,‌⁠ but they couldn’t⁠ touch Dereck’s body,‌‌⁠ who stepped back‍ precisely, dodging the‍‌ blade.

Dereck‍‌ drew his staff,‌ Footsteps, from his‍ belt. It was‍‍ a high-grade staff⁠ directly granted by‍⁠ the royal family⁠⁠ for his merits⁠ during the Duplain⁠ disaster.

Robenalt, who understood transformation magic well, immediately⁠⁠ recognized the extraordinary‍ nature of the‍ magic weapon.

A sword in one⁠‌ hand and a staff in the‌ other.

It‌⁠⁠ seemed like an‌‍ unbalanced combination, but Dereck was already‍⁠‍ so accustomed to‌ it. He lowered‌ his stance, twisted‍ his body, and‍ evaded all of‍‌ Robenalt’s attacks.

Soon,‌‌⁠ a magical aura‍ surrounded the staff.⁠ Robenalt instinctively understood—if‌‌‍ he allowed that‍ magic to strike,‍‍ he would surely⁠ die.

From‌ here on, the⁠‌ battle had to‌‍⁠ be to the‌ death. Knowing that,⁠ Robenalt gathered magic⁠ in his fingers⁠‌ and clenched his‌ teeth.

“Haaa!”⁠⁠

With⁠ a scream full‌ of determination, he charged at Dereck.

Boom!‌‍‌ Whoosh!

But⁠ the scream was‍‌ only a feint.⁠

From‌ the top of‍⁠ the tower, ominous⁠ magic began to⁠⁠ stir.

A portion of the‍‌ magic that should‌ have been used‌‌ solely to protect‍ the mansion was‌ drawn toward the‍ spiral staircase through⁠ the magic stone⁠ in Robenalt’s possession.⁠‌

Robenalt‌‍‌ knew he could‌⁠ never defeat Dereck⁠ in a head-on clash of skill.‍ He was fully aware that he⁠ was the weaker‍⁠ one.

The‍‌ weak must fight‌‍ with the logic‌‌ of the weak.‌ Without using every⁠‍ possible means, he could never stop‌⁠ Dereck.

Clang!‌‌ Clang! Whoosh!

Despite⁠‍ the burning pain⁠ in his body,‍‍ he swung his‍⁠ sword, hiding the⁠‌ magical disturbance surging⁠‍ at the top‍‍ of the tower‍ from Dereck’s perception.‍

If‍‍ he could redirect‍‍⁠ the tower’s bombardment‍‌ toward himself, he‍‍ might create a situation where both⁠ would end up‍ gravely injured.

So,‌‌ he shouted until‌‌⁠ his throat tore‌⁠⁠ and charged at‍‌‍ Dereck, wrapped in⁠ bright flames.

Even though his movements‌ seemed clumsy and‌ his magic weak⁠‌‍ in Dereck’s eyes,‌‌ as long as‌ he could draw‌ his attention, it‌ was enough.

Clang!⁠ Whoosh!

Thud!⁠

However,‌ Robenalt fell in‌ less than three⁠ seconds.

Dereck⁠ blocked a strike,‌⁠‌ sidestepped, and kicked‌ his solar plexus‍ with his opposite‍‍ leg.

When⁠ he regained consciousness,‌ he was lying⁠ on the staircase,⁠‍ his sword scattered‍ on the ground.‍

Panting, he looked up‌⁠ to see Dereck⁠ gazing down coldly⁠ at him.

Dereck‍⁠ tore the magic‍‍‍ stone from Robenalt’s‌‍ chest and dispelled‌ all the magic‌‌ gathered within it.‍

The‍ magic atop the‌ tower began to‌⁠ fade. Dereck had‌⁠‍ seen through Robenalt’s final move.

“…”‌

Dereck‌ looked at the fallen Robenalt for‌‌ a moment, then⁠ began climbing the‌⁠⁠ stairs again.

Even‍‌‌ with the stone,⁠ he still had‌ to reach the‌‍ top to deactivate⁠ the protection spell.

Tap.

But‌‌ Robenalt, trembling and‌ gasping for air,⁠⁠ grabbed Dereck’s ankle⁠ tightly.

He‌‍ was already too exhausted to stand,⁠‍ and he knew‌‍ the gap between‍ his skills and‍‌‌ Dereck’s was insurmountable.‍‍⁠

Even‍⁠‌ so, he didn’t⁠ release Dereck’s ankle,‍ determined to delay⁠ him just a little longer.

Dereck‍‌ looked down at him once more.⁠‍

It‍ wouldn’t be difficult‍ to shake off‌⁠ that weak hand.⁠‌ A single movement of his foot‍ would suffice to⁠‌ make him let go.

But‌‍ there was firm⁠ resolve in Robenalt’s‍ trembling arm.

Dereck‍ stared at him,⁠‍‌ puzzled.

“Why⁠ go this far?”‍

“I was ordered to‌⁠ hold this spire…‌⁠ and I must‍⁠‍ fulfill that order…”

“Is⁠ that reason enough‌‌⁠ to go to‍‌ such an extreme?”‌‌

“I‍ must… for my‍ worth to be⁠ acknowledged…”

Robenalt⁠⁠ jerked his head‌ up. Though he‌ seemed young, his‌ determination was that‌ of a seasoned⁠‍ general.

“Duplain, Belmierd, Beltus… they‍‌ were all names of glorious families,⁠ but their systems‌ of succession were⁠‍ completely different, weren’t they?”

“…”‍⁠

“I‍ am nothing compared⁠ to Prince Valerian‌ of Duplain or‍‌ Prince Linus of‌‍ Belmierd. I have‍⁠ no talent, no⁠ innate grace, no⁠ spirit. So to⁠‌ survive, I must⁠ follow my family’s will, work to prove my worth,⁠‍‌ and fulfill my‌ duties to the‍ utmost… Even though‌ I wear fine⁠ clothes, I am⁠⁠ nothing but a mediocre commoner.”

Robenalt understood this all⁠ too well.

The⁠ gap between him‌‌ and Dereck was‌‌ as vast as‍‍ the distance between heaven and earth,‌‌ and even knowing‍ this, the outcome‍‌ wouldn’t change.

“If‍‍‌ you want to pity me, go‍‍ ahead. In every great noble house,‌ there are always‍ pathetic people like⁠ me… One more⁠‌ person looking at⁠‌ me with compassion⁠ won’t change a thing.”

Grand⁠⁠ Duke Beltus was⁠ cold and merciless,‌‌ capable of sacrificing⁠⁠ even his own‍ family.

Born‍ as a talentless‌‌ heir, Robenalt could⁠ only crawl and⁠ lower his head‍‍‍ to survive.

That‌ was the survival‌⁠‌ method of the‌‌ young man called‌⁠ Robenalt.

“I’ve⁠⁠ heard much about‍‌ you from Denise.⁠ You were born and raised in⁠⁠⁠ the depths of‍ the slums, overcame‍‍ that environment, and⁠ achieved great things.‍ Denise, who is⁠‌⁠ indifferent to everything, had never shown‌‍‍ respect for anyone.‌ You must have⁠ been a truly admirable teacher to‍‌ my sister…”

“…”⁠

“But‌‍⁠ just as people‍ like you exist…‍‍ people like me‍ exist too. Born‌⁠ into a noble‍‍ family, raised with‌‌ respect, yet struggling‍‍ to maintain our⁠⁠ position despite achieving‌⁠ nothing… Even if‍ I work hard‌‌‍ and push myself,‌ nothing changes… But‍ what can I do?”

With‍‍ even more strength,⁠‌ he tightened his‌⁠ grip on Dereck’s⁠ ankle.

Robenalt⁠⁠ and Dereck were‌ complete opposites—not only⁠ in magical ability.‌

A genius who had bloomed from the‍‌⁠ filth of the‌ slums and a mediocrity born into‌‌‍ splendor.

A glorious birth does not guarantee talent.

“What‌ else can I do but fight‌‍ and struggle? So…‍‍⁠ as long as⁠ I’m here… with‍‌⁠ my eyes open…⁠ you will never…⁠‍ pass…”

Then,‌ flames burst once‍‍‌ more from Robenalt’s body.

His⁠ transformation magic was‌ basic, but his⁠‍ resolve to keep⁠ fighting even with‍‌ a shattered body⁠‌‍ was admirable.

Robenalt‍ grabbed his flame-wrapped⁠ sword, rolled to‍‍⁠ his feet, and⁠ charged once again⁠ up the stairs.

With⁠‌‌ a sword in⁠⁠ one hand and‍ a staff in‌‍ the other, the‌ blade blazed with fire magic, and⁠ the staff gleamed‌‍ with ice magic.‌

His‌‍ platinum hair was⁠ in disarray, blood dripped from his‍‍ mouth, and his‌ swollen face looked pitiful.

He‍ looked more like⁠ a beaten wretch‌‌ than a noble.‌ Compared to Valerian⁠‌‍ or Linus, it⁠‍‌ was hard to⁠‌⁠ believe this man‌‌ was the heir⁠ of that great family.

But‌ even with that‌‌⁠ pathetic face, he‍‍ was serious in his own way.‍‍

“They‌‍‌ say you’re the⁠ most famous instructor‌ in Ebelstein. That⁠‌ you can turn‍⁠ any fierce young‍‍ lady into an‍‌ elegant one and‍ teach the mysteries‍ of magic even⁠‌ to a mediocre‌⁠ student.”

“I’m not that great.‍⁠‍ The rumors exaggerate.”‌‌

“We’ll see. Fine. I admit it. You’re‌ stronger and more talented than I am. So what?”⁠‌

Robenalt‌‌⁠ raised his voice‍ and spoke clearly.‍⁠⁠

“I…‍ will fulfill my‌ duty! If stopping⁠⁠ you… is my‌‍‍ duty…! Even if‌ my bones are⁠ crushed and my‍‌ body burns…! I’ll⁠ stop you…! That’s‍‌ all…! Just that…!”⁠

Being‌‌ born as Beltus’s‌ heir and fulfilling‍⁠ a noble’s duties—he‍‍ took that weight‍‍ more seriously than‌‌ anyone.

His‌ fingers trembled, but‍‌‌ he did not‌ retreat. His will to face his‌⁠ fear was admirable.⁠‍

That‌ was why Dereck‌ looked at him‌ and said,

“Truly,‌ Young Master Robenalt,‍⁠ your determination is‌ outstanding. Out of‍‌ respect for that…”⁠⁠

Robenalt⁠ flinched.

Everyone⁠‍ could see that Dereck was overwhelmingly‌‍ strong. Knowing that,‌⁠ any word he spoke made him⁠‍ tense up.

“…R-respect?”‍

“…”‌

Could it be possible‍‍ that he would‍ turn and leave?

A faint hope flickered⁠ somewhere in his‌‌ mind, but—

“…Without‍ holding back, I’ll⁠ also go all out.”

“……”‌

“The⁠ respect I can show to Young⁠ Master Robenalt, who⁠ burns with conviction,‍‌ is to consider‌‍ him a worthy‌‌ opponent.”

As⁠‌ he said that,⁠ Dereck began to‌ focus all his‌‌‍ magical power into‌ his fingers.

A whirlwind erupted around⁠⁠‍ him, and the‌⁠ nearby cabinets flew⁠ away, falling down the stairwell.

The‍⁠ pressure of his‍‌ magic was palpable.‌

A 3-star-level magic was⁠ coming.

It‌⁠ was high-level magic‍ that even talented‍ nobles took years‍ to learn.

Whoosh

Dereck’s‍⁠ magic swirled through‍⁠ the staircase, and the Footsteps staff⁠ began to shine.‍ If you tried‌ to block or⁠ deflect it clumsily,‌‍ you would die for sure. It‍‌ was magic that⁠‌ had to be‌‍ avoided at all‍ costs.

“…”

Robenalt⁠ began to regret‌‌⁠ having said such a pretentious line.‍‌⁠

He‌‌ wanted to kill the version of‌ himself from fifteen‍‍‌ seconds ago.