Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 154: The Youngest Disciple (6)

When the workers who had finished their shift left and only the construction site with the civil works remained, a strange atmosphere formed as one walked through the place.

The setting sun stretched the shadows and, in a world dyed red, only the half-built buildings remained.

As he walked there with Aiselin to check the progress, Dereck suddenly noticed that the temperature had dropped a little.

“It’s cold. You should go inside.”

“No, we’re almost done. There are quite a few deficient details in the finishes of the auditorium. Since the budget is a bit tight, I think it would be better to reinforce the quality even if that means reducing the scale of the inner courtyard a little.”

Aiselin, letting out visible breaths of vapor with every exhale, still said everything she needed to say with consistency.

Dereck watched her in silence and narrowed his eyes slightly.

Although it wasn’t unusual for him to look at her like that, whenever he did it always felt a bit uncomfortable, so Aiselin showed a somewhat embarrassed expression.

“D-… do you have something to tell me?”

“No. Nothing in particular—just that, upon entering and leaving the Duplain territory again after so long, I suppose I’m getting a bit sentimental.”

Hearing something like that come from Dereck’s mouth—someone who was far from an emotional person—Aiselin couldn’t help but tilt her head in confusion.

Dereck lightly shook his white hair and began walking, leaving the area where the wooden frames filled the construction site.

The creaking of the beams echoed in the empty space.

“I thought Lady Aiselin has also changed a lot since the first time I saw you.”

“Now that you mention it—when you brought me to the territory the first time, that’s when we met. How much you struggled looking for a master for Diella…”

“It’s been quite a while. And to think that back then I didn’t imagine we would see each other for so long.”

Before meeting Aiselin, Dereck had been nothing more than a low-class mercenary from the outskirts, with no contact with nobles whatsoever.

Since then many years had passed, and both he and Aiselin had gone through great changes in their lives.

Dereck had kept rising without rest, never settling, always dreaming of greater heights.

Aiselin had fallen all the way down, only to push herself back up again.

When someone has experienced both the ground and the clouds, the ups and downs of life feel natural.

Becoming accustomed to trials can be something good. But when one looks only upward, sometimes something is forgotten.

“I thought we’ve come very far. Simply seeing you, that thought came to me.”

“…?”

Aiselin looked at him, tilting her head.

She couldn’t add anything about the life of the boy who had ascended fighting from the very bottom.

However, Dereck felt a strange affinity with her. Aiselin was the opposite of him—expressive, elegant, noble, refined—and yet, at their core, they were similar.

Both possessed the attitude held only by those who, after being thrown to the bottom, know how to roll up their sleeves and rise on their own. That grit. That will.

Seeing her, Dereck remembered the hard, cold chunks of bread he used to eat in a corner of the poor district.

As they left the auditorium site, they saw the sun sinking into the western sky.

By the length of the shadows, night was near.

Thinking it would be better to return to the mansion before it got dark, Dereck looked at Aiselin, gently closed his eyes, and added.

“The Ravenclaw family is beginning to be mentioned among the high nobility of the center of the continent. I have reached the rank of 4 stars myself, we are about to establish the academy, and in the society of Ebelstein I’m already quite recognized. Compared to when I first saw you, I have risen a lot.”

“Well, the truth is that even back then I thought you were someone extraordinary. Do you remember when we were in the carriage and you showed me different ways of using magic? I had a feeling then. That you would rise, one way or another.”

“When one rises, there comes a moment when one has to look back.”

Dereck wanted to reach the highest and brightest star in the night sky.

When someone rises that much, their gaze gets fixed upwards and no longer wants to move.

But there always comes a moment when one must walk again the path that led them there.

“And thinking about it, I realize that my journey began the moment I came into contact with the Duplain family.”

“…”

“That’s why, I suppose it was impossible for me to just stand by and watch the decline of the Duplain family. Though of course, I don’t intend to go around saying it.”

Aiselin watched him in silence as he spoke, looking at the darkening sky.

That cold, tearless mercenary rarely showed sentimentality.

Hearing him say those things in front of her made her happy, but she also felt there was a deeper meaning hidden there.

“I wanted to thank you for being the reason I was able to enter the world of the nobility. That’s all.”

“…”

That Dereck expressed gratitude out of courtesy was common. But under the light of dusk, his words carried a different weight, one unrelated to noble formalities.

Aiselin wondered how to respond, but ended up simply smiling. Then she lifted her gaze toward the same sky he was looking at.

From the east, a dark tone was beginning to cover the red in the sky. Darkness symbolizes fear and terror, but when the light of the moon gently mixes in, sometimes it feels surprisingly comforting.

The presence of a source of light can make even the darkness feel warm.

When Aiselin had been sunk in her own darkness, she must have been able to lift her head and smile because that light accompanied her from behind.

Dereck’s white hair, though it didn’t literally shine, reflected the moonlight and emitted a soft glow.

The moon shines thanks to the light of the sun; Dereck is not much different.

Aiselin smiled upon seeing that and watched the tiny crystals that were beginning to fall from the sky.

“It’s snowing. Tomorrow will be a little warmer.”

The wooden skeletons of the place, solitary and gloomy, began to slowly be covered with snow.

It was a warm winter.

***

It is a cold winter that cuts the breath. If you let your guard down, it was clear you would freeze to death.

Fwaaah!

The place where Siern reigned seemed to turn into the icy snow plains of the north.

Siern’s magic, having already reached the level of 3 stars in conversion magic, had reached a level capable of freezing all the air around her.

Three-star magic, Freezing.

The hair whipping around due to the magic covered her face, making it impossible to see her expression clearly.

The figure of the young woman, steady even within the wind that lashed about, was as if that wild era in which she stood barefoot on the frozen steppe was being recreated.

Between the strands of wind-tossed hair you could see a pair of eyes so cold they sent chills down the spine. The moment you met that gaze, it felt as if your whole body became frozen solid.

If that sensation had to be defined with a single word, it would be killing intent.

Crackle! Crackle!!

The dueling field was not only completely frozen by the freezing magic, but even the protective barriers surrounding it became iced over.

The magical shockwave extended beyond the stands, affecting the entire field the stained-glass windows of the outer walls and even the chandeliers on the ceiling were completely frozen.

“Hiiiiiiiik—!”

Trisha’s feet were also stuck to the ground, frozen. The freezing wave was already climbing up to her thighs, preventing her from moving her body.

Not even ten seconds had passed since the battle began.

It was the exact moment to surrender.

By looking into the eyes of that girl, the youngest disciple of the Ravenclaw lineage, anyone could tell.

That small girl with a short stature knew perfectly well how to kill someone.

And she had absolutely no problem doing it.

The extreme fear crawled over her skin.

This was not a moment to be discussing whether she could or couldn’t enter as a disciple of the Ravenclaw lineage.

Diella, Ellen, Denise, Siern—believing she could stand shoulder to shoulder with those figures that shone like constellations had been an act of arrogance.

If the price for that arrogance was her life, it wasn’t worth it at all.

It was time to cancel the deal and run away.

Fwiiiiing!

“Ugh… Lady Siern…!”

Ellen, who was watching from the stands, frowned as she endured the magical pressure. If it looked like something was truly about to go wrong, she planned to intervene immediately; her body was already half-lifted.

Diella, sitting on the other side, also tensed in her seat as she brushed aside the hair the wind was blowing.

The other young noble ladies were already being protected by their escorts.

Even someone with no knowledge of magic could understand.

That creature was no longer on a level that young nobles who were barely learning magic could face.

She was someone who needed to be restrained by a high-rank veteran mage to prevent serious damage.

The fear peeled the skin as if tearing it layer by layer.

In the midst of that horrifying sensation, Trisha thought.

This is definitely it.

When she was about to declare her surrender, she saw a fist of an old man piercing through the darkness.

A fist that stopped right in front of her.

Completely firm, not showing a single moment of weakness.

A familiar illusion.

Hutton’s fist had never lost strength. He had lived clenching his fists against the world, never letting go.

And now, that fist extended toward the young Trisha seemed to still be there.

Behind the fist, her father’s voice seemed to be heard.

‘Even if the entire world plays on top of your head, never give in, Trisha.’

Was it even reasonable to enter as a disciple in the Ravenclaw lineage, where figures like Diella, Ellen, and Siern clashed and competed?

She knew well that, without a special talent, an average person among geniuses would only end up shattered.

Even so, Trisha’s lips would not open.

And the sound that finally rose through her throat was—

The chant of a fire spell.

Fwaaah!

Combat magic of 1 star, Fire Arrow.

The only level-1 spell she had managed to master after shutting herself in her room for months, she used it to melt the ice holding her legs.

Crunch!

“Kyaaah!”

She barely controlled it; she still couldn’t adjust her magic properly. The power was greater than she expected and she ended up burning her own thigh.

But even so, she recovered her freedom to move.

Crackle!

¡Fwack!

Trisha tried to run, but slipped violently on the ice-covered floor. She stepped on her own dress and a tearing sound echoed.

“Kyaah..! Huff… huff…”

At least now she was far from Siern.

Three-star spells consumed a tremendous amount of mana. Even Siern would need a few seconds to prepare the next one.

It was her chance to think of something.

Fwaaah.

Conversion magic of 3 stars, Acceleration.

Seeing Siern move with a speed that seemed to skip the flow of time, the young noble ladies in the stands gaped.

Moving lightly, like a rabbit hopping through the snow, but several times faster.

Trisha barely blinked, and when she opened her eyes, Siern’s face was already right in front of hers.

In her entire life, only two people had managed to counter that speed.

Her father, Melverot.

And her master, Dereck.

Facing acceleration magic felt like the enemy was jumping through space itself.

Trisha had barely blinked, and she already felt Siern’s breath on her face.

There was no way to react.

Siern’s magic and Trisha’s were from different worlds.

And the killing intent in those eyes was still there.

Only one image remained death.

Just when Trisha felt her breath stop—

Fwaaah!

Whack!

At the instant the 1-star ice spear struck Trisha’s forehead, the previously prepared protective barrier activated.

It was a defensive spell that nullified fatal damage and decided the result of the duel.

Whaam!

The spear that would have blown off Trisha’s head vanished, and all the barriers around the field also faded.

The duel was over.

The winner—Siern.

It didn’t last even a minute.

“No good.”

Siern murmured something incomprehensible while flicking the edge of her dress. She looked coldly at Trisha lying on the floor, and then turned around to leave.

The result was obvious.

There was no miracle where Trisha could defeat Siern.

‘No good.’

The phrase Siern murmured with cold eyes.

What did it mean?

That Trisha couldn’t beat her?

Anyone could interpret it that way.

But Trisha, who had been closer than anyone to Siern at that instant, understood its exact meaning.

“Huff… huff… huff… ku-heok… cough! cough! kuh-heok!”

Unwanted tears gathered. She felt her chest trembling as she lay on the frozen field.

The spear that pierced her forehead at the end had not been thrown trusting the barrier.

Siern, as always, had delivered an instinctive strike with the clear intention to kill.

Only the barrier had prevented death.

That’s why Siern’s “No good” carried a terrifying meaning.

The wild girl still saw the duel as a fight to the death.

She had attacked to kill.

She had tried to kill.

She simply hadn’t succeeded.

If that last blow had been strong enough to ignore the barrier— Trisha’s head would have flown.

The fear of returning from the brink of death made her entire body tremble.

Seeing Siern leave the field with total calm, as if she had never shown killing intent—

It made her vision shake.

Ellen let out a deep sigh.

Diella also sighed and stood up.

In the end, this was all, they thought.

Although none of them could defeat Siern, they at least expected to see some attempt at resistance.

But Trisha couldn’t even do that.

She couldn’t land a single counterattack.

It was normal.

Trisha was someone ordinary.

Siern was a genius blessed by the heavens.

A natural result.

One simply had to accept it.

“Well, the result is decided, so I’ll take care of the scheduling for the next meeting he—”

“Once more.”

Trisha spoke, stopping Siern just when she yawned and left the field.

Her mouth moved before her thoughts.

“What?”

“L-Lady Diella didn’t say anything about limits… right…?”

Trisha’s appearance was miserable. Torn dress, burned thigh, cold sweat and tears on her face, her throat trembling, her skin bristling.

But even so, she forced an arrogant smile.

Because that was how she had been taught to live.

“A moment ago I was just a little surprised… Yes… That’s right. Lady Siern’s magic is… unimaginable. But…! If we do it again, it will be different!”

Siern glanced at Diella in the stands.

Diella frowned, crossed her arms, and finally nodded.

Seeing that, Siern let out a long sigh.

Bang!

The next duel ended in fifteen seconds.

Siern’s combat magic, Shockwave, was too strong for Trisha.

Bang!

Crack!

Thud!

The third duel also ended with Trisha flying through the air.

In the fourth, simply by squeezing the air with mana, Siern made Trisha’s legs give out.

The fifth, sixth, seventh.

Bang!

Fwaaak!

Boom!

Boom!

Bang!

Rumble!

By the time the eleventh duel came, many young noble ladies had already left.

Whoosh, fwoosh.

Through the rising dust, Trisha appeared in tatters.

Even Siern was sweating a little.

Even so, Trisha stood up however she could, eyes bloodshot.

She no longer had the strength to speak long.

“Again.”

The ferocity in that gaze resembled none of the other disciples’.

There were people who, even knowing that smashing their head against a steel wall would only break it, did it their whole lives.

Stubborn, foolish people.

Boom, bang!

The sun set, and night fell over Elfontaine Hall.

In the thirty-seventh duel, the moonlight entered between the stained-glass windows.

Crack!

Bang!

Boom!

Trisha, destroyed, stood up again and looked at Siern with eyes full of ferocity.

At that moment, only two people remained in the stands—Diella and Ellen.

“…”

A line of sweat ran down both of their cheeks.

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