Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 104

"I'd already heard about Countess Rodea's legendary exploits on Rodentz Island during the last gathering. Wielding the Holy Blood Sword, she supposedly cut down dozens of necromancers daily while scouring vast underground hideouts."

As Elente finished her explanation, Border Count Belmierd sitting at his desk with folded arms grew increasingly solemn.

"They say she returned to camp each sunset drenched in necromancers'blood, appearing like the Grim Reaper herself. Having pursued necromancers across Rodentz Island her whole life, she could apparently distinguish their dark magic just from faint residual energy."

Though necromantic schools vary, none from Rodentz Island could escape her discernment.

The Border Count closed his eyes tightly.

If Leonard had truly used pilgrimage as pretext to study necromancy, this spelled disaster for House Belmierd.

Daughter and son now pointed fingers, each accusing the other of necromantic practice.

As mediator, the Border Count's headache was inevitable... yet ultimately, decisive action would be required.

Even cherished flesh must sometimes be amputated.

Today, he must sever either daughter or son. This grave reality weighed heavily upon him.

"Father."

Elente addressed the downcast Border Count shouldering this burden, herself enduring the household's collective suspicion.

"You've lived as a battlefield commander since youth, leading armies, commanding heaven and earth as a sovereign."

"..."

"I admired that life. Grasping power, claiming victory, receiving adulation—it seemed sublime and magnificent. To me, the most glorious ideal was living as you have."

This was no flattery.

The Border Count knew Elente better than anyone—even cornered, she'd never stoop to cheap sycophancy.

"Yet my image of your life surely differs from reality. Reaching Belmierd's pinnacle, you must have endured countless trials and falls. Betrayals, losing comrades like family, unmet ambitions, stolen achievements, slander, collapsing under rivals'schemes."

Fiddling with her dress hem, she spoke softly as if having realized something new.

Even amidst this hell where all branded her a witch, she'd matured beyond the starry-eyed girl blindly reaching for power, now discussing life's vicissitudes.

The Border Count's eyes trembled briefly seeing this.

The girl he'd imagined suffering alone in confinement had clearly met someone who broadened her perspective. She'd learned, grown.

This was true mentorship.

With newfound composure, Elente whispered:

"That too is life's fabric."

Closing her eyes before continuing, she seemed to envision countless souls each navigating their own turbulent paths.

Then resolutely, she reopened them.

-'Father. I won't demand immediate trust. But amidst your tireless efforts for me, there's one thing I must express.'

Leonard's screams echoed through the basement.

As the white-haired mercenary summoned magic arrows to subdue him, Leonard swiftly produced a small flask and shattered it on the floor. Smoke billowed from the broken glass, quickly filling the cramped laboratory.

Derek covered his nose with a sleeve, conjuring wind magic to clear his vision.

When sight returned, corpses reanimated by Leonard's necromancy lurched toward him with grotesque movements.

-'As a foolish, inadequate daughter, I still have much to learn. My sole fortune was encountering... a true mentor worthy of the title.'

Derek's blade bisected the undead horde instantly.

But Leonard exploited this momentary distraction, blasting through the wooden door with a 1-Star combat spell shockwave before fleeing upstairs.

After swiftly neutralizing the corpses, Derek pursued without hesitation.

Cursing, Leonard glanced back at Derek ascending the stairs.

Those predatory eyes glowing with murderous intent—merely meeting their gaze made his skin crawl.

Before such a beast, prey can only run.

-'A good mentor walks ahead. When life feels like a maze during wandering times... seeing someone stride forward helps find one's way.'

Leonard tumbled across Elente's floor after barely escaping the basement.

As light replaced darkness and warm sunlight filled the room, Derek emerged from the stairway.

Leonard scrambled for the door, but Derek seized his collar and hurled him against the wall.

The crash of impact mingled with Leonard's groans as his swollen face rendered him barely coherent.

Approaching footsteps made Leonard tremble violently.

Fine, you win. I'll give whatever you want. Just don't hand me to that Grim Reaper Countess Rodea. Help me escape this estate and I'll repay you—money, restoring Elente's honor, anything.

Despite his desperate bargaining, Derek kicked his face without listening.

A sickening crack preceded blood and a white molar spraying across the floor.

Grasping his swelling face, Leonard begged for mercy, but Derek spoke calmly. From the start, he'd said he wouldn't kill Leonard—just beat him near death.

Trembling, Leonard pleaded—beat him senseless if needed, just spare him from Countess Rodea.

All necromancers who witnessed Countess Rodea's Rodentz Island campaign shared this dread.

Having lost both parents to necromancers, she'd flayed the blasphemers alive in spectacular vengeance.

Those who saw the massacre firsthand knew what her grasp entailed. Death by Derek's hands seemed preferable.

Yet Derek repeated—he had no intention of killing Leonard.

Gritting his teeth, Leonard shoved Derek away with sudden strength.

As Derek staggered, Leonard smashed through the window.

- Crash!

The shattering glass echoed through the manor, reaching the study where Elente and the Border Count conferred.

"...?"

"The one who became my life's touchstone is whom I consider a true mentor."

Though chaos erupted outside, Elente continued unfazed, eyes serenely closed.

"As I said, meeting a worthy mentor taught me how to find my way after stumbling. Hitting rock bottom reveals true allies—this situation proves it."

"..."

"Father. I'm unsure if this is the right moment... but please hear me calmly."

- Boom! Crash!

Noise erupted from the central garden as Leonard fled with Derek in lethal pursuit.

While Elente spoke with closed eyes, their chase reached its climax.

Leonard dashed toward the main hall after landing, Derek close behind.

Servants froze mid-task, bewildered by the spectacle.

Leonard shouted at their paralysis—Stop that madman assaulting me!

But the cleaning staff merely trembled in confusion.

Leonard's staggering gait betrayed his concussed state—vision blurring and swaying from Derek's blows.

Yet he kept running, kicking over furniture and toppling cabinets to hinder pursuit—all demolished by Derek's spells.

Physically outmatched and magically inferior, Leonard's only hope was cheating with forbidden arts.

As Derek's grip closed on his collar, Leonard slashed at the restraining hand desperately.

Unfazed, Derek dragged him upright in the trampled garden's center.

"Shall we end this?"

Those calm eyes surveyed Leonard dispassionately.

"Ghk... hk... kh..."

Finally, Leonard understood.

Derek hadn't failed to catch him in the basement—he'd allowed escape.

Using acceleration magic from the start would have prevented this spectacle.

Instead, he'd fed Leonard hope of escape, making him exhaust every trick trying to flee.

Why? The answer was obvious.

"N-necromancy...! Young Master Leonard... used necromancy...!"

"C-call the Border Count...! The head butler too...!"

"Aaaah! Aaaaaah!"

Surveying the manor's escalating chaos through bloodied lips, Leonard bit down hard.

Everything felt orchestrated by Derek's design.

"Quite the commotion outside, Father."

Elente remarked calmly.

What could be happening during their private talk?

Though she couldn't possibly know, Elente remained composed as ever.

Smiling, smoothing her crimson locks, radiating bewitching confidence.

Even amidst universal hatred, she carried herself with unshakable poise.

Witnessing this, the Border Count spoke:

"Well then, Elente. What was this final matter?"

"...Don't misunderstand. As I said, I'm an ordinary woman who dreamed of power, faced unbeatable rivals, hit rock bottom losing all trust."

Her warm tone carried profound meaning.

The Border Count sensed something momentous coming.

"Yet every step held purpose. Because I met good people."

"..."

"Yes. Whenever trials came, who stood by me? Always Baron Ravenclaw. What more need be said? I've come to trust him completely—a steadfast lifelong ally."

The Border Count nodded slowly.

"I agree he's remarkable. Many seek his counsel, though such a lone wolf would never swear fealty."

"True. But Father, I'm not suggesting him as an advisor."

"...? Then what?"

Meeting his gaze, Elente hesitated.

Blushing slightly, fidgeting with her fingers—uncharacteristically girlish for the noble rose who commanded respect from lofty heights.

The dissonance was startling.

Watching this transformation, the Border Count's expression gradually stiffened.

Beads of sweat formed on his neck.