Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 15: Imam (5)

Among the servants, murmurs could be heard.

Diella was hiding beneath the damaged platform, and Leigh, using his magic, was preparing a first-tier spell.

This was no longer a formal magic duel where etiquette and magical skill were exchanged; it had become a real fight. Chief Steward Delron swallowed hard as he watched.

Technically, the magical duel still didn’t meet the criteria for being stopped. No one had crossed the boundaries, and the protection circle hadn’t been triggered either.

But could this still be called a magical duel? Was it right not to intervene in a situation where the fighters were now emotionally battling each other?

No orders came from Duke Duplain, who was watching from the balcony. He simply watched the duel with a serious gaze.

Steward Delron considered intervening under his own authority, but the determined expressions of the two combatants, gritting their teeth in battle, stopped him.

Crash! Crack!

Leigh dashed between the ice pillars, organizing his thoughts. If he tried to break through the floor of the platform to chase Diella, she would sense the magic and launch her attack.

At that moment, Leigh would have to halt his spell or switch to defensive magic. The stalemate would continue.

Amid this mental tug-of-war, Leigh realized something. Diella was prolonging this stalemate to exhaust his magic power.

Leigh, recklessly casting first-tier spells, and Diella, merely repeating basic magic.

Though their magical abilities differed, it was clear who would tire first.

Swish!

Leigh jumped up onto the platform.

Even though his footsteps echoed below, Diella didn’t materialize her magic. As expected.

Diella only intervened when Leigh began casting, clearly forcing a war of attrition.

‘Smart move! But… it’s just a petty trick…!’

A magic duel is essentially a test of magical power, but in this situation, there was no need to stick to etiquette and rely only on magic.

Leigh struck the platform wall and grabbed the flagpole on the edge.

The Duplain family banner waved from the pole. Without hesitation, Leigh kicked the base of the pole upward, muscles in his arm bulging with veins.

Diella’s attacks only reached the top of the platform. If he went higher, she couldn’t strike an unseen target through the platform. From up there, even if bombarded by magic, Diella wouldn’t be able to respond.

However, there was a drawback. Clinging to the flagpole made proper spellcasting difficult, reducing both his magic and mobility.

If he used magic now to break the platform, he’d become an easy target for Diella’s spells.

Maybe Diella was counting on this. But Leigh went one step further.

Leigh untied his cloak and wrapped it around the flagpole.

Then, he gathered his magic and imbued the base of the pole with the first-tier spell Magic Arrow.

Bang!

Crack, creeaak!

The flagpole, struck hard at its base, almost toppled. Ignoring the gasps of the servants, Leigh shifted his weight toward the platform, gripping the cloaked pole. He was directing the fall of the pole toward the platform.

Using the collapsed pole, he would smash the platform to pieces. Without using magic to break it, Diella wouldn’t have time to react, and he’d also create an entrance to the space beneath the platform where she was hiding.

In this moment, Leigh was confident in his victory. His resolve wouldn’t waver even if the sky split in two.

Creeak!

Bang!

Thus, the flagpole crashed into the platform, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Leigh, on the verge of falling, leapt aside and rolled across the stage. Covered in dust, he ignored it and looked to where the pole had embedded itself.

One side of the wooden platform had collapsed. The geographical advantage that had protected Diella was now gone.

Without hesitation, Leigh dove into the rubble.

Crash!

It wasn’t difficult to anticipate the landing.

Though the ice pillars summoned by Diella surrounded him, Leigh quickly used magic to destroy them. Brushing off his hands, he looked around to locate Diella.

Beneath the damaged platform.

Sunlight occasionally filtered through cracks in the broken wood, but most of the area was dark despite the bright day. He looked for Diella, but she was nowhere in sight.

‘…What? Did she climb out?’

As Leigh examined the area, he saw the hole Diella had previously sealed with ice was open again.

Beneath the hole were remnants of ice pillars that looked like they had been stepped on.

When Leigh had shown signs of breaking through the platform and descending, Diella had prepared to ascend instead.

‘That… damn cunning rat…!’

She had no intention of fighting on equal footing. If there was a gap in skill, she would use terrain and tactics to disorient her opponent.

That was the fighting style of a mercenary—living a life where one never knew when or where they might face a stronger enemy.

Above and below the platform. Their positions had reversed. Now, Diella stood atop the platform, and Leigh was below. The situation had completely flipped.

Leigh stayed calm. As he had just experienced, climbing up onto the platform and indirectly revealing his location was a significant disadvantage. Now that he occupied the space beneath, he had the upper hand—or at least, no worse off.

He could either climb back up or locate Diella from below and bring her down with one strike.

As soon as he heard her footsteps, a magic arrow shot toward them.

Crack! Bang!

The magic arrow hit just beneath Diella’s feet, shattering the platform.

At the same time, Diella, who had been standing above, was forced to fall.

Crack! Thud!

When Diella landed beneath the platform, another cloud of dust rose.

The thick dust made it hard to see, but her presence could be felt nearby. Leigh prepared three more magic arrows and fired them at Diella’s location.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The impact dispersed the dust, but the protection circle didn’t activate. He had missed.

Leigh quickly stood and ran, cursing under his breath. Before Diella could reposition and resume her hit-and-run tactics, he gathered his magic, determined to end it now.

And there she was, visible through the dust.

In that moment, Leigh’s pupils trembled.

Blood dripped down one side of the girl’s forehead—probably a wound from the fall.

She moved fine, so it wasn’t serious, but Leigh understood the significance of even a scratch on a noble lady’s body. Covered in dust, she shook her cloak, once again channeling magic. Her eyes were filled with venom.

Yes—venom. Since childhood, Leigh had seen that venom in Diella’s eyes—a relentless drive to achieve her goal by any means.

Sometimes it was in painting, sometimes in magic. The girl would push herself to death to reach something, but always ended up grasping at air. When sincerity bore no fruit, the extraordinary retaliation was an endless void.

And when she had nowhere to turn, that venom turned inward, tormenting the servants just to maintain her noble authority and hold on to her last sense of value.

As always, she would sit in the pavilion, eyes hollow, letting the days slip by meaninglessly.

Watching her, Leigh had always thought: that’s just who Diella was. But the direction of that venom was everything.

If guided properly, it could become wings on someone’s back.

Creak!

Defending herself with ice pillars, Diella looked exhausted. Unlike Leigh, summoning magic repeatedly was significantly more draining for her. She seemed to have reached her limit.

Unfortunately, Leigh wasn’t someone who showed mercy just because someone was bleeding.

As he approached, ready to launch his final magic arrow—

“Aargh!”

Diella grabbed a fistful of dirt from the ground and flung it into Leigh’s eyes. A tactic no noble would ever consider. As Leigh stumbled back, clutching his eyes, she kicked him in the stomach, sending his cloak flying.

Crash!

She tried to strike him with an ice pillar, but he, eyes red and teeth clenched, blocked the attack.

Swish! Thud! Thud!

Through the shattered ice pillars—destroyed by Leigh’s magic—Diella’s strained expression could be seen.

Leigh could clearly read her determination.

She wanted to win.

To win no matter what. To prove her worth through victory. Protecting her teacher or whatever came next was secondary. Right now, Diella simply wanted to win by any means. Her eyes blazed with a fierce desire for victory.

Could this really be the same girl—the one with cold, empty eyes who had once been locked in the pavilion?

Leigh swallowed hard and clenched his teeth. But that didn’t mean he could afford to lose.

Taking advantage of Leigh’s hesitation, Diella kicked the broken flagpole and climbed it. Her movements were nimble, befitting someone who once painted landscapes and roamed forests—but still, it was a futile struggle.

Every variable she had prepared was completely neutralized. Leigh followed, kicking off the pole and ascending the platform.

There, Diella waited, gathering the last of her magic.

“Think of it as a painting.”

Under the night sky, a white-haired former mercenary once said.

Gazing at the stars, dense as salt, he used the vast sky as a canvas, tracing lines with his finger.

As he drew constellations between the stars, magic had already begun forming at his fingertips.

The girl, her eyes full of starlight, watched the world, longing to capture it in her art.

She stood before a canvas, brush in hand, gazing into the forested night. As she painted the solitary moon above, it seemed she could see the magical essence in all things.

A warm night breeze. A lone zelkova tree in a grassy field.

Spring. Night. And stars.

If magic was the act of materializing one’s imagination into reality, how was it different from painting? Magic was her art, spells her brush, and a single painting was magic made manifest.

And so, the girl painted the world with a brush soaked in color.

Swish!

As her white-haired master had suggested, she drew a stroke of magic. She loved the moment she placed the first stroke on a blank canvas. The magic forming at her fingertips surrounded her body, and with a squeeze, it gathered at her fingertips and bloomed into a flower.

Leigh, preparing his magic on the platform, opened his eyes in surprise. Covered in dust, stripped of any noble dignity, and with a streak of blood across her eye that added fierceness to her gaze.

The servants, who had rushed to the stage thinking it was time to intervene, now froze in place.

Swish!

From the girl’s fingertips, the one-star spell Ice Lance was born. The frozen spear floated around her and then shot toward Leigh at an incredible speed.

The lance, too fast to follow with the eyes, filled Leigh’s vision.

“Argh!”

Leigh clenched his teeth and began his incantation. A one-star spell, launched so suddenly by Diella—someone he didn’t believe could break through his defense.

It was unexpected, but all he had to do was block it and counterattack immediately. Diella had likely used up her last reserve of mana and had no defense left.

So Leigh lowered his stance and gathered mana. He focused all his thoughts on dodging the Ice Lance and firing a mana arrow at Diella.

Bang!

Once again, dust exploded across the stage, and in the center of it, a protective spell activated.

The appearance of the protection spell meant the duel was over. The followers and servants, who had been silently watching the rising dust, swallowed hard.

Everyone wondered about the result of this desperate fight.

Then… the dust slowly began to clear.

And the one whose protection spell had activated… was Diella.

Exhausted, she collapsed, clenching her teeth as her protection spell triggered.

Gasp… gasp…

Leigh rolled across the ground, having narrowly dodged the Ice Lance. Somehow, he had managed to fire his final shot at Diella.

Completely spent, Leigh struggled to rise. Soon after, tears began to stream from Diella’s eyes as she lay gasping on the floor.

It was Diella’s defeat.

“…”

And then, so overwhelmed by her loss, Diella began to sob uncontrollably. Leigh could only stare in astonishment.

*

‘She used a one-star spell…?’

The duel itself hadn’t lasted long. Only a few minutes.

But in that brief time, the stage had collapsed, dust had flown, and a fierce battle had erupted in an instant.

In the heavy atmosphere, during the sudden turn of events, Duke Duplain had not bothered to order a halt.

He had stopped himself with the intuition that he had to watch what would unfold.

“What is this…? What is going on…! Is this even reasonable?! So reckless and filthy…!”

“…”

Miriela, watching beside him, ground her teeth and exclaimed.

“No dignity, only dirt—and they call this a magic duel…!”

“…”

“I can’t just stand here and watch this anymore! That so-called magic tutor. Did he teach all of this to Diella? To a noble lady of our Duplain family, who must always remain dignified and aristocratic—he planted such nonsense in her?!”

Miriela rushed out onto the balcony, breathless, and the nearby servants hurried after her. She looked ready to grab Dereck by the collar and confront him then and there.

The Grand Duke Duplain did not let Miriela’s anger reach his ears.

Regardless of her words, he only watched Diella crying on the stage.

Raymond Oswald Duplain, head of House Duplain, had walked the battlefield since his youth.

As an imperial noble, he had fulfilled his duty in war and met many people before becoming head of House Duplain. Those born with noble blood and achievements often had shining eyes. But many did not.

Some smiled because their dreams came true and they succeeded, others cried because their dreams faded and they despaired. That was the world.

“…”

The dissonance he felt watching Diella, gritting her teeth and using every trick to defeat Leigh, was because the youngest daughter he knew had changed so much.

He remembered the girl who, after countless frustrations, had hidden away in the pavilion, staring at the wall with vacant eyes. Experiencing too much disappointment at too young an age often caused that. As time was often the best remedy, the Grand Duke of Duplain had tried to support her as best he could.

But that didn’t mean his heart as a father didn’t ache. He had brought Diella into the manor, hoping that someday the light would return to those hollow eyes.

He watched her wander, believing that eventually she would find her way back. That was all a father could do for a child who had lost their way.

But now the girl had resolve. In a duel where everyone expected her to lose, she fought with every means she had to win.

The tears she shed in frustration revealed a burning desire to compete and be recognized. It was unthinkable that she had once sat in a thorny room, staring at the wall with empty eyes.

Handling magic and learning a few ceremonial spells were things that could be done with time as she matured. Born of the Duplain line, it was only a matter of how fast or slow she progressed—but eventually, she would reach a certain level.

Therefore, Dereck’s early encouragement of magical manifestation might not be considered a great contribution in the long run.

But he had shown Diella that she could do it, and even in a duel where everyone foresaw her defeat, he gave her the chance to possibly win. He constantly reminded her that if she wanted something, she had to reach out and take it. That’s when the Duke realized:

What the boy Dereck had taught Diella wasn’t just magic. What Dereck had taught her was ambition. He had lit a fire in the girl’s heart.

In the dark slums, amid the filth, he had absorbed the ambition of a boy who reached for the starry sky.

That ambition now burned brightly in her eyes—even in the midst of battle—and was something that many never grasped, even through endless frustration.

The value of learning a few spells was nothing compared to it. The Duke knew well that this burning ambition, like molten lava, was one of the most important forces in shaping a person’s path in life.

“…”

The Duke watched calmly as Miriela, furious and gasping, descended toward the platform. His gaze narrowed, and shortly after, he furrowed his brow. Duke Duplain closed his eyes tightly. After a long silence, he finally opened them and called the head maid.

“Katarina.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“I must go to the stage as well.”

“Understood.”

With that, he descended the stairs from the main hall, each step heavy with meaning.

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