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Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 62: Drop of Blood (8)

Chapter 62: Drop of Blood (8)

Diella,⁠‍ who had loved​‍⁠ to play since​‍‍ she was little,‍⁠ used to throw‍‍ a ball around‍⁠ by herself in‍ the central garden‌​ of the mansion​​ whenever she had⁠⁠‍ the chance.

When‍‌ Valerian, working in‍ his private study,​ saw her playing‍​‍ through the window,​⁠ he would sometimes‍‌ come down to⁠​‌ the garden to‌⁠ ask how she⁠⁠ was doing.

The‌​ girl, who would‌⁠ often chase the​⁠ ball as it‍⁠ rolled outside the‌​⁠ garden, sometimes grew⁠​ uneasy and stepped​​ back when she⁠ ran into her‌ older brother in‍​‍ a corner of⁠‍ the garden.

For‌ a child her‍‍⁠ age, that much‍‌ older brother was​ more intimidating or‌ uncomfortable than comforting—especially‍‍ in a noble‌⁠‍ environment, where formalities⁠​⁠ abound.

Valerian⁠⁠⁠ wasn’t unaware of⁠⁠‌ this, so he⁠ fully understood his‍ younger sister’s distant‍‌​ attitude, never opening⁠‌ her heart to‍ him. To Diella,‍⁠​ Valerian was nothing‌⁠⁠ more than a difficult-to-approach older brother.⁠⁠​

That’s⁠​ why, even when⁠​‌ Diella locked herself‍​ in the annex‍‍⁠ and behaved violently,‌‌⁠ he couldn’t bring‍⁠‍ himself to scold​​‍ her. It was‌ only recently, as⁠‌​ her debut approached,‌ that Diella began‍ to exchange a few words with‍ Valerian.

When‍​​ they passed each‍​‍ other in the‌​ hallway, she would​‌​ lower her head‍ and ask how​‌ he was, or⁠ during meals, she’d​⁠⁠ comment on the​‌‌ taste of the​‍⁠ food. Even that‌ was a significant‌​ step forward.

The‌⁠‌ turning point behind‌ all these changes⁠ was the visit⁠ of Dereck, the⁠ magic instructor, to‍ the Duplain mansion.⁠⁠

He‌⁠ changed Diella. Valerian‌‍ once again felt⁠ grateful for that‌ connection.

— Diella?

On‍ one occasion, Valerian​‌‌ saw her from‍‌ a distance, setting⁠⁠‌ up an easel⁠‍ and contemplating in‌⁠​ a corner of‌⁠ the garden.

Determined‍‌ to speak to​ his younger teenage​‍​ sister, Valerian approached‍‌ from behind and‌‍⁠ called her name,‌ causing Diella to‌ let out a hiccup. At that‍ moment, the brush​ slipped from her‍⁠​ hand and ruined​​‍ the painting she‍‍ was working on.‍‌‌

— I-I’m sorry, Diella.⁠‍‍

— N-no, brother.”

As⁠​ he approached the‍‌⁠ easel, he saw​ that Diella had​‍⁠ been painting her‌ former magic teacher,⁠‌‍ who had once‍ been a mercenary.​

The‌ portrait looked slightly⁠‍‌ idealized compared to⁠⁠⁠ the real person,‍⁠​ but Diella didn’t⁠‍‍ seem to notice.‍‍

— This is…

— Yes, I was‌⁠​ painting my former​‌ teacher. I heard‍‍​ he’d be attending⁠⁠‌ my debut ball.‌​ I thought of‍‍ giving this to⁠‍​ him as a gift…

When‍ Valerian silently observed‌ Diella’s expression, she​‌​ lowered her gaze,⁠ hiding her embarrassment.⁠‌ She seemed quite​⁠ flustered that her‌​‌ family had discovered‌⁠​ the painting she⁠‌​ intended to give‌‍ to someone special.‍‌‍

Unfortunately,​‌ the errant brushstroke‍⁠ had left a dark blue stain⁠ on the clothes⁠ of the man​⁠ in the portrait.‌​ Valerian looked at‌ her with regret,⁠⁠ as though the⁠ carefully painted watercolor⁠ had been ruined⁠​ because of him.‌⁠

— I’m sorry, Diella.‌‌⁠ I startled you…​ What will we‍‌ do with this​ precious painting…?

— Oh, no, brother.​⁠ It’s not a big deal.

With‍​ that, Diella continued​​ moving her brush⁠⁠ skillfully, layering various​⁠‍ colors over the‌​ stain. After several‌​ strokes and some‌ thoughtful touch-ups, the‍ mistake had blended‍⁠‌ naturally into the‍‌ shadows of the​​ painting.

Valerian‌ was impressed by⁠⁠ how quickly she‌‌‌ resolved it. He​ had always known⁠​‌ of Diella’s artistic⁠ talent, but seeing‍ it firsthand was⁠​ more astonishing than⁠‌​ he had imagined.‍

— A poorly made‍‍⁠ stroke can be​‌‌ covered with other​⁠ colors and fixed​‍ by adjusting the​ tones.

— But doesn’t it‌‍‌ feel different from‌⁠‌ what you initially⁠‍ planned? I thought‍⁠ the colors you​‍ wanted were brighter‌​ than these.

—It’s​​ fine. After thinking⁠ about it, if⁠‌‌ I draw it‌​‌ too bright and‍ cheerful, it doesn’t‍ match the image…⁠⁠ And it seems​‌⁠ like I painted⁠ it with too‌ much emotion… It’s​⁠ a little… you​​ know… like I’m‌⁠​ the only one‍​ feeling excited…

— ….

— And when you‌‍‍ layer and keep⁠​ painting like this,​ the direction changes,⁠ and a new​ painting emerges… That’s​ the magic of​ watercolor. That’s why⁠​ I like it.⁠⁠

Valerian⁠‌ didn’t know much‍‍ about art. But​ that little girl‍​ already seemed to‍‍​ have built her​⁠ own artistic world.‌​

— Hmm, I like‌‍ it. The arm’s⁠‍‌ a little thin,‍‌ but… it’s good⁠⁠ like that.

The⁠ young artist, arms​ crossed as she‌ observed the painting,‍⁠‌ finally smiled in‍⁠ satisfaction. She looked​ excited at the‌‌⁠ idea of giving‌ the portrait to​ Dereck.

On​‍ the canvas stood⁠​ the figure of​⁠ a tall man‌​​ with white hair,​‍‍ dressed as a mercenary. He was‍‌‌ the person who​ had influenced Diella’s‍⁠ life the most.​‍

That‍ girl, who once​‍ acted like a tyrant and made​​‍ all the servants​‌ tiptoe around her,⁠‍‍ only showed a gentle side when‌‌ it came to​​​ the man in‍ the painting.

Seeing⁠‌ her like that,‌‍ one could feel⁠‍​ that the little‍​‌ girl who used‍‍ to chase a ball around the‌ garden had grown⁠⁠ into a young‍‌​ lady.

Admiring‍‌ someone, developing a crush, wanting someone‍‍ close… Experiencing those​ feelings helps us​‍​ grow without realizing⁠‍ it.

Valerian⁠‌⁠ smiled softly and‌​​ looked at the‌ canvas.

The⁠​ man’s red eyes‍ in the painting‍ looked as if‌‍ they were burning‍ with fire.

***⁠

Dereck’s⁠ red eyes burned​‍ like flames.

Clang!​⁠

Valerian⁠​⁠ swung his staff​‌​ to block Dereck’s​⁠ sharp sword.

The‍‌ sword and staff​‌​ clashed, locking in‌⁠ a standoff, testing‌ each other’s strength.‍⁠

Dereck​‌ knew exactly what‌ that staff in‌​ Valerian’s hands was.‌‍ It was one​‌ of the most‍ noble relics of‌‌⁠ the White Zone,‍ a unique and⁠‍ rare weapon even‍ across the continent.​

Though​⁠ its value wasn’t⁠ initially recognized when‌ discovered, Dereck had​‍‌ memorized all the⁠​ famous artifacts.

It‍ was a treasure⁠ hidden in the​ labyrinth by the​ Five-Star Necromancer Rozin.‍‍

An⁠‌ object created to‌‍⁠ pass down his‌‌‍ necromantic knowledge to‍‍‌ future generations, and​‌ it possessed the‍ power to enchant​‌​ those who touched​‌​ it.

All⁠​ mages hunger for‍‌ power. This staff​ whispered desires for​​ growth into the​ ears of mages.⁠‌​

If⁠​‌ Valerian had been‍⁠ the first to‌​​ discover it and‍ bring it to‌‍⁠ the mansion, he‌⁠ wouldn’t have escaped‍​⁠ its temptation either.​

Whoosh!‌‍

A dark, ominous red⁠ magic began to​‌‍ gather around the⁠​⁠ staff.

Dereck‍‌⁠ clicked his tongue⁠ and leapt back.⁠⁠‌ He decided he‌ had to keep‍ his distance for⁠‍ now.

“Did⁠ you kill Duke‌⁠‍ Duplain?”

“Yes.‌‌ I killed him.​‍ If you murder‌​ a high-ranking mage‍⁠ and offer his​ soul in worship‌⁠‌ to the god‌‌ of corpses, you​​‍ can receive part​ of his power.”‍‌⁠

“…”⁠​⁠

“So‍⁠‌ I stabbed him‍‌​ in the heart‍‍‍ with a ceremonial​ dagger. It all⁠⁠‌ happened in an‍ instant. While he⁠‍‍ was signing some​ documents with a quill during this‍ year’s tax plan​​‌ briefing, I approached​ my father and‌ struck in a single blow.”

Duke‍‍ Duplain was a mage who had​‍‍ reached the level‍‍ of five stars.‍

However,​‍​ he would never⁠‍ have expected to​‍ be stabbed in⁠​⁠ the heart by⁠‌ his eldest son—his​ most trusted—right in‍ the center of⁠‍⁠ Duplain Mansion.

As‍‍​ always, he was‍ focused on reviewing‌ documents in his‍ office. All it⁠​​ took was to⁠⁠‌ walk up to⁠‍ him and stab‍⁠ him with a knife. The whole​ process lasted barely​ a second—almost absurd.‌

Trust⁠ is a heavy⁠⁠‍ weapon. If you​ give it to⁠ the wrong person,‍⁠​ you can lose‌‌‌ your life in⁠ an instant.

“It‌ was all my‍⁠ fault. Stupidly.”

Valerian‍‍ gently closed his⁠⁠ eyes. The memories‌​‍ of the past‌‌⁠ remained vivid before‌⁠​ him.

The⁠‍‌ deepest part of‌ the labyrinth, where⁠‍ many had been‍ injured and bled.‍​‌ The day he​​ first saw the‌‍​ staff he found‍ there.

The‌‌⁠ ominous sensation that​‍⁠ ran down his​ spine when he‍‍ held it for‌ the first time.‍⁠

That​‌ strange sense of​ lethargy that churned‍ in his chest.​‍‍ Even after returning‌‌‍ to the mansion,‍ he sometimes felt‍‍‍ a chill at‍‌⁠ the back of‍ his neck when‍​ falling asleep.

The⁠ sinister feeling he‌ had once dismissed​ as insignificant eventually​⁠ took over his‌ mind completely.

Like‌‌​ a disease with⁠ an incubation period,‌‍ it suddenly engulfed⁠ his consciousness, and⁠ the skull of‌​ a long-dead necromancer‍⁠​ perched on his‍​‌ shoulder and whispered‍ in his ear.‍​​

‘Power.‌ What is its‍‌ value?’

‘How‍‌ fleeting is death?’⁠

‘What‌‌‍ is the right‌ way to use​ someone’s life?’

‘Is‌ it truly taboo⁠ to rule over‌‌ soulless corpses?’

The​⁠ thoughts Rozin left​ behind whispered endlessly⁠⁠ in Valerian’s ears.⁠⁠

Constantly​ urging him to‍ consider what he‌‍‌ had to sacrifice‍ to become a great mage. In​​‌ a distant vision,‍ he glimpsed that‍ forbidden world of‌ taboos.

And​‍ when he came⁠‍‌ to, he found‍​ himself before the⁠‌ scene of Duke‍ Duplain slumped over‌ his office desk.‍​ Among the scrolls‌‍ and documents awaiting‌​​ his signature, a blotch of the​ old lord’s blood‌‌ spread across the‍‍ table.

The‌ old man, still​ clinging to life…⁠‍ trembled as he​ lifted his gaze​‌‌ toward his son.​‍

And‍⁠​ with lips barely‍ moving, he seemed‌​ to say something.⁠ Valerian clearly heard‌​​ his last words,⁠ but didn’t fully​‌⁠ understand them.

When​ he finally regained​‌ full consciousness, all​ that remained before​ him was a cold, lifeless corpse.​

It‍ was his father’s​​⁠ body.

“T-this…‍​ what…?”

With‌ trembling hands, he⁠​ covered his face.‌ His fingers were‍‍‌ soaked in dark‍ red blood.

He⁠ couldn’t even scream.‌​​ The muffled sound‍‍​ struggling to escape‌​ his throat failed‌​ to form words.‌​‍ He still hadn’t‌​‍ processed what had​‌ happened.

Thud!⁠‌‍

At⁠​⁠ that moment, someone‍ entered the office,‍‍‍ pushing the door‌ open.

There⁠​ weren’t many who⁠​⁠ could enter without​ even knocking. When‍⁠ he looked up,‍⁠⁠ he saw an​⁠ elderly sorceress in⁠‍​ splendid royal attire.⁠‌

It‍‌ was Kohella, the​⁠ royal family’s chief​​ magical advisor, a six-star transformation mage.‌​

She​​‌ had arrived at‍‌‌ Duke Duplain’s request‍⁠‍ to evaluate the‍ staff. However, what‍‌ she found upon​‍ entering with her⁠​⁠ two assistants was‌⁠​ a horrifying murder‍‌⁠ scene.

Valerian,‍⁠ trembling and covered‍ in blood, clutching⁠⁠‍ the staff. And​ the Duke, lifeless,⁠‌ lying motionless.

For​ a moment, her‌ eyes widened in‍ shock, but she‌‍ quickly narrowed them​​‌ coldly as she⁠ grasped the situation.‌​

She‍ closed the door,‌‍‌ locked it swiftly,⁠‌​ and approached with‍‌​ determined steps. She⁠‌‍ knelt before the⁠‍ seated Valerian and​‌ said.

“Do⁠​​ not be alarmed,​ Prince Valerian. I believe I understand‍​ what has occurred.”⁠

“T-this…‍‍‍ I… I mean…”⁠⁠⁠

“It’s‍ fine. Magic equipment​‍ imbued with thoughts‌ sometimes causes these​ kinds of incidents.⁠​ Now that this⁠‌ has happened, I can speak freely.‍ I don’t harbor​ great hostility toward‍⁠ the field of‌‌ magic persecuted for‌ being taboo. In‍‍ fact, I believe‌ it should be​⁠‌ actively studied.”

Even​ in that situation,​‌​ Kohella’s calm tone⁠​ made her seem​‍‌ like a monster⁠‍​ disguised as an​‍ old woman.

And​‍ her words were‍​‍ highly unusual. For‌⁠ a royal magical‌⁠ advisor to support​​ the forbidden was⁠⁠‌ enough to make​ any court official’s‍‌‌ eyes widen.

“So⁠⁠ don’t worry too‌ much. Even though⁠ Prince Valerian made​⁠ a mistake under‌‌‌ the influence of‍ hypnosis, it can​⁠ still be remedied.”⁠‌​

“W-what…⁠⁠‌ did you say…?”‍

“I⁠‍​ will use my‌‌​ transformation magic to⁠ preserve the Duke’s​ body. Meanwhile, you‍‌ must prepare to‌‌ cast the five-star‌ necromancy spell: ‘Resurrection.’”⁠

If​⁠ he sacrificed the‌‍‌ Duke’s body, Valerian’s‍‍‍ rank as a necromancer would increase​ considerably.

Of‌​ course, he wouldn’t‌‌‌ become as powerful‍‍‍ as the Duke,⁠ but he could‍‌ reach a level​‌​ equivalent to a four-star mage. If‍‍‍ he pushed further⁠ and sacrificed other​‌ mages, he might​‌‌ even be able⁠ to revive the‌ Duke.

The‌ five-star necromancy spell‍ ‘Resurrection’ is a magic that can‌‍ revive a recently‌ deceased human by⁠ sacrificing many corpses.⁠​‍

However,‌ the higher the​​‍ rank of the‍ person to be​‌ revived, the more⁠⁠ sacrifices are required.‌⁠‌ To undo the‌‌ death of Grand‌ Duke Duplain, an⁠​‌ absurd number of‍ high-level mage corpses‍‍ would be needed.⁠‍

First,​​‍ his own rank‍ had to be‌ raised, and then⁠ the necessary bodies‌⁠‍ gathered for the‍‌‌ Grand Duke’s resurrection.‍‍‌ And not just⁠‌‍ any corpses, but‌‌ those of high-level⁠​‌ mages.

That⁠​​ would require a massive massacre. It​‌ wasn’t a thought‌‌ a sane mind‍‌‌ could entertain.

Valerian‌‌⁠ looked at Kohella‌‍ with trembling eyes.‌‍ In the old‌ mage’s gaze shone​ a twisted academic‌‍​ zeal and dangerous‌ curiosity. It was⁠ a chance to‌‍‍ demonstrate a five-star‍‌‍ spell within forbidden​ necromancy.

That​ boundless curiosity, having​‌​ crossed the line‌​‌ into madness, proved‍ that this mage‍⁠ was no longer‌ in her right​‍ mind.

Even‍ so, Valerian, already​‍ cornered to the⁠ limit, couldn’t reject​‌​ the whisper.

‘Prince​​⁠ Valerian, please harden‍ your heart.’

Suddenly,‍​‌ the smell of‍ blood emanating from‍⁠ the corpse anchored⁠⁠‍ him to reality.‌

Valerian​‌ shuddered completely, feeling​‌ nauseated. After dry⁠ heaving, he tried‍‍‌ to rise, supporting‌‍​ himself on the⁠​‌ desk with trembling⁠‌ hands.

The‍ staff in his⁠ hand seemed to​‍ whisper something. He⁠ couldn’t understand the‍​ exact words, but‌⁠ he clearly felt‌‌ its intention to⁠ devour him again.‍‍⁠ That uncontrollable power⁠​ would remain unleashed.‌​⁠

In‍‌​ the midst of​ that torrent of​⁠‍ madness, Valerian repeated⁠‌ endlessly in his⁠‍‍ mind:

‘I‌​ must gather up‍‍ my mistakes.’

Even‍‍ as his entire‌‌ consciousness was swept​⁠⁠ away, that blind​⁠ goal was etched‍ into his instincts‍‍‍ and would not​‌ fade.

In‌​‌ the murky current​‍ of necromantic power​ surrounding him, his‌‍ reason dissolved. Seeing​⁠ the vast necromantic​ energy radiating from​ the staff, Kohella’s‍​ eyes sparkled like⁠ stars.

In‍‌ that chaos, Valerian‍​ murmured again and⁠ again:

“I​‍​ must gather my​ mistakes.”

***‌​‍

Bang!‌‍

The⁠ crimson magic that​‌‌ had gathered in‌‌ the grand main⁠ hall suddenly aimed​ at Dereck. He‍‍⁠ quickly dove under‍​⁠ the banquet table.‌

Whoosh!⁠

Rolling‍​‌ across the floor⁠‍⁠ and emerging on​ the other side,⁠​ a grotesque arm⁠ made of flesh‍⁠ burst from the‍​⁠ wall and grabbed‌‍​ Dereck’s head.

Just‌​ as it was‍‍‌ about to crush⁠ it, Dereck sliced‍⁠​ the wrist with⁠ a swift sword​⁠‌ strike.

Slash!⁠‍⁠

As‌ the severed arm​‌ rolled across the⁠⁠ floor, more arms⁠‌‌ began climbing up⁠‍​ the walls. It​⁠ looked like the​ entire mansion had‌ been consumed by‍‌‌ necromantic power.

Dereck’s​ judgment was swift.‍ He conjured a fireball and blew​ out the outer​ wall of the​ hall.

Bang!​⁠ Crash!

Whoosh!​

It‍​⁠ was raining outside.⁠‍ When a part​ of the wall​‍‌ was destroyed and‍⁠​ the stained glass​ shattered, the pouring‌ rain swept into‌‌‍ the grand hall.‌‌‍

Swoosh!​​​

The‍‍⁠ meticulously prepared banquet⁠​ and the guests’​ luxurious attire were​⁠​ instantly soaked, but⁠‌ there was no⁠‍ time to worry‌ about that.

Just​​ then, Dereck stood​ up to face‍‌‌ Valerian.

Valerian‍‍ was already right⁠‍ in front of⁠​ him.

Whack!‌ Bang!

Valerian⁠‌ kicked Dereck hard.‌ He was sent‍‌​ flying and crashed​ into the debris​ of the exterior⁠‌ wall.

Thud!⁠ Rumble!

A cloud of dust‍⁠ rose, but the‌ howling wind and⁠⁠ rain quickly cleared‌ the view.

Dereck⁠‍ caught his breath,​⁠‍ leaning against the‌‍ collapsed remains of‍‌ the wall. Rainwater​‌ drenched his body.‌ Droplets streamed from‍‍​ his hair onto⁠ the floor.

He‌​⁠ ran both hands⁠‌ over his face‌ as if washing​‍ it, then swept‌⁠ back his bangs.‍‌‍

His‌ now fully visible‍ face looked even⁠ more defined.

‘Yeah…’​‍‌

Dereck‌‍​ was already high-level,‌ but due to⁠ his origins as⁠ a commoner and‌ his position as​⁠ an instructor, he⁠‌ had rarely displayed​‍ his full power.​‍​ There hadn’t been‌ many chances.

‘His​‍ level is quite‍ high. He’s no⁠‌‍ opponent to take​⁠‌ lightly.’

Against​⁠​ an enemy wielding‌ power equivalent to‌‍‍ four stars, he‍​ couldn’t afford to‌⁠ let his guard​⁠ down.

When​ a bolt of⁠‌‌ lightning lit the⁠​​ sky, Dereck fixed‍​‌ his gaze on⁠ Valerian.

That‌​​ man, drenched in⁠‍ rain and staring‌‌ at him, looked‌⁠⁠ like a wolf‌‌ about to pounce.‌‍

The⁠ moment Valerian furrowed​‌‍ his brow, Dereck⁠⁠‌ vanished from sight.‍

Swish!‍

You​ had to react⁠ to sound, not‍ sight. Valerian unsheathed‌​ his sword and​⁠‌ swung left.

Dereck’s​⁠​ dagger, held in⁠ a reverse grip,​ was already headed​⁠ for that spot.‌​

Clang!‍‍‍

One‍‌⁠ hand held the⁠​ staff, the other‌⁠⁠ a sword. Valerian​​⁠ wore solid armor.⁠​

Dereck,‍‍‍ on the other‍‍ hand, wore light‍‍ clothing and carried⁠​ only a few‍​‍ blades. No one‍‍ comes to a ball prepared for⁠‍ war.

Yet,⁠ there was something‌ special about his‌‌⁠ attacks.

Whether‍​‌ by physical force​​ or raw magic,​​‌ Dereck’s power was⁠​‍ hard to comprehend.⁠‍⁠

Crack,‌⁠ Thud!

Instead‌ of pressing forward,​ Dereck rolled across‌⁠⁠ the floor, picked‍​‌ up a stone,‍‍⁠ and hurled it​ at Valerian’s head.‍‍

Valerian​​​ dodged swiftly, tilting​‍ his head, but‌ then a spoon‌ and fork from⁠‍ the table flew‍​ at him. As‌⁠ he deflected them‌ with magic, Dereck‌ used the moment‌‍​ to close the‍​‌ distance.

He‍‍ was within striking⁠​ range.

Valerian‌‍ attempted to cast​​ the two-star necromancy⁠ spell “Soul Absorption,”‍ but Dereck’s figure‌‍⁠ vanished like smoke.‌⁠‌ It was an⁠‍ illusion. Valerian’s spell,​⁠ with no target,​‌ slashed only air.​

Whoosh!‌

Valerian​⁠ turned his head⁠‍ to locate him,‌ but Dereck was‍‌ already behind, tearing‍⁠‍ off a tablecloth.‍

Food‌ spilled, dishes shattered.‍‍⁠ The wall collapsed,​⁠‌ and the wind‌ and rain howled.‌‍​

When​​ Dereck threw the‌​ cloth, it opened​⁠ in the wind,​‍‌ obscuring Valerian’s view.⁠​

As‍⁠⁠ Valerian sliced it‌ away, a magic‍⁠ arrow struck his⁠ armor from a blind spot.

Bang!​⁠​

“Ugh…!”‍‌‌

He‍ lost his balance‌ and staggered back.‍ Dereck didn’t miss​​​ the chance. He‍‍ lowered his stance​‌​ and slid under‌ the flapping cloth,‍‍‌ gathering mana.

Was⁠‌‍ it illusion or‍​ reality?

When​⁠​ Valerian tried to​⁠ confirm, he found​ his feet stuck⁠‌‍ to the floor.‌‍

It‌​ was the two-star‍⁠​ combat spell “Shadow‌​‍ Bind.” Dereck already⁠‌‌ mastered multiple two-star​ spells simultaneously.

Flash!‌​‍

Realizing⁠‌ he was bound,⁠​ Valerian knew it⁠ wasn’t an illusion.⁠ He raised his⁠ gauntleted arm to⁠ block the attack.​

When⁠​⁠ Dereck’s blade struck‌‍‍ the armor, it​​​ vanished again like‍‌ smoke.

‘Even‍​ the bind was‌‍⁠ a distraction…?’

Valerian’s‌ eyes widened in​ surprise, still on⁠⁠ guard. Dereck was⁠‍‍ already behind him.‍

Whoosh!​

Dereck⁠ was a master​‍ of duels. The​ psychological warfare he⁠​ practiced as a vagabond was more⁠ effective than that‌‌‌ of any noble​‍⁠ trained in formal​‌ combat.

When‍ Valerian turned to‍‍‍ locate him, Dereck‍ already had him‌ by the nape.‌​ A brutal electric‌ shock surged through​​‌ his body from⁠‌‌ Dereck’s hand.

Crackle!⁠​‍

A blow like that​ could knock someone‍‍⁠ unconscious instantly. Valerian’s​⁠ vision flickered as​⁠⁠ if the whole‌​‍ world blinked.

Clang!‌‌‌

Just​ before collapsing, he⁠ recovered consciousness through‍‍ sheer willpower and​‌ slashed at Dereck.⁠‌

But‍ Dereck had already‍ stepped back.

Slash!‍

Swoosh!‌

The‍‌ distance opened once⁠‍ more.

Valerian‌​ panted, and Dereck,‍ covered in cuts,⁠ faced him again.‍‍‍ Both were soaked‌​ by the rain⁠‍ still pouring through‍​ the shattered wall.‌

“Huff…‍‍‍ Huff…”

After⁠⁠‍ absorbing all the‍​ necromantic power, Valerian⁠‌ could wield high-level⁠​ magic.

He⁠ thought he could‍‌⁠ easily crush Dereck,‍‍ who was barely‍​ halfway through the‍ second star, maybe‍⁠‌ brushing three.

But‌‌‌ that was a miscalculation. In pure‌⁠⁠ magical duels, the​ stronger power usually‌​ wins.

But​ Dereck’s strength wasn’t‍ limited to magic.‍ Before being a man with magical⁠‍​ talent, he was‌ a mercenary.

Years⁠ of combat had‌​‍ taught him to​ use magic not‌ as an ornament,⁠⁠ but as a combat tool. Combined‍​ with the unpredictable‌ style of the​ Wild Academy, his‍ moves were impossible​​ to predict.

And‍​ he hadn’t even‍‍ used three-star magic​‍​ yet.

‘…’‌‍

He‌‍ was facing a superior mage with⁠ still-maturing potential. Valerian​‍ couldn’t believe it.‍

This​‍⁠ was the era‌‍ of nobles. Those⁠ with magical talent‌​‌ belonged to high⁠​‍ society, speaking of‌ dignity and formality.​‌

It⁠⁠⁠ was unthinkable for⁠‍ someone from the⁠‌ bottom to rise‌‌ by sheer will⁠ and talent.

That‌​⁠ was the norm.‌​ But the world​​⁠ is vast, and‍⁠ time is long.⁠⁠

Over‍ the years, sometimes,​‍‍ people like him‌‍‌ are born.

Swoosh!‌⁠

Under‌ the torrential rain,‌​ Dereck’s red eyes⁠​ glowed ominously. Valerian⁠⁠​ sensed it instinctively.‌

If‍‍ he let his⁠‌⁠ guard down, he’d‍⁠‍ die in a single blow.

Valerian‍ briefly closed his​‌ eyes, then opened‌ them, gripping his‍ sword’s hilt tightly.‍‍

***⁠​‍

Beyond‍‌ the rain, the‌‌‍ outer wall of‌‍ Duplain Mansion had‌⁠ collapsed.

Diella,​ who had been‍‌​ silently staring out‍ the carriage window,​⁠ opened her eyes⁠ wide. The coachman⁠‌ and servant with​‌‌ her were equally‍‍⁠ stunned.

The‌ mansion, which should⁠⁠‌ have been bustling​‌​ with the sounds‍⁠⁠ of a grand​‍⁠ ball, was eerily‍ quiet, with only​ corpse-like monsters roaming⁠ near the garden.‍

The⁠ coachman shouted something​‍ and tried to​​ turn the horses⁠​‌ around. They neighed‌⁠ and reared, spinning,⁠ while the maid⁠⁠ began to tremble‌​ and sweat profusely.​‌

In​ the chaos, Diella’s‍‍‌ gaze remained fixed‌ on the half-destroyed‌‌‍ Duplain Mansion.

It‍ felt as if‌ all the sounds​​⁠ in the world‌‍ had vanished, leaving​‍ only a hollow⁠​‍ sensation echoing in​‌⁠ her ears.

Finally,‍ Diella snapped out‌​​ of it and‍⁠​ shouted at the‍‌‍ coachman to head‍ straight for the‍ mansion.

The​‌‌ coachman, hearing the​‍ command, looked terrified.‍‍​

***‌‍

Thud!​‍ Thud! Thud!

A noise like something⁠ pounding echoed.

“Ugh,‌⁠ ugh…”

Aiselin⁠ awoke in a room deep within‍ the guest quarters.‌ It was the⁠⁠ safest place amid‍‌‍ the chaos.

She‍ had been knocked‌⁠ unconscious by a sudden attack from⁠⁠ the head maid.‍‌‌ Despite the confusion,‍‍​ Aiselin managed to‌⁠⁠ sit up with⁠​‌ difficulty.

She⁠‍ quickly realized something​​ was terribly wrong‍⁠⁠ in the mansion.‌​ The ball should⁠⁠ be in full​ swing, but there⁠⁠ was no sign‍‍‌ of anyone.

“W-what…?⁠⁠ Why am I…‌‌ here…? My body​‍ seems… fine…”

Bang!⁠

Bang!‍⁠⁠ Bang! Bang!

Before‍‌‍ Aiselin could gather⁠‌⁠ her thoughts, the⁠​​ door began shaking​‌‍ from forceful pounding.‍

Startled,⁠‍‌ Aiselin swallowed hard‌⁠‌ and looked for⁠ a place to‍⁠ hide in the‌⁠‍ room. But the​ small waiting room⁠⁠ offered little space.​

As​​‍ she tried to⁠ rise to do​‌‍ something, a surge⁠⁠‌ of magic flared,‌ and the doorknob​​ broke as the‍​ door burst open.​‍​

Boom,‍‍ bang!

“Eek!”⁠​⁠

Aiselin⁠​‌ immediately gathered her‌ magic, ready to‍⁠‍ confront whoever had⁠ broken in.

However,⁠​ the person who‍ entered was a familiar girl.

“Ah…​‌ L-Lady Ellen?”

A girl with loose‍⁠ red hair.

Ellen‍‍⁠ of House Belmierd⁠‌ scanned the room,‍ entered quickly, and​‌ shut the door​⁠ again.

“I​​⁠ finally found a survivor.”

Even⁠‍‌ in such chaos,‍‌​ her calm demeanor⁠ was extraordinary.

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