Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 126

-'Have you ever seen a Family Head-level mage fight seriously?'

Phee was so carefree and self-indulgent that Derek sometimes doubted whether she was truly a 6th-Class mage. Though she occasionally gave him chills with her piercing gaze that struck at his weak points, preventing him from taking her lightly... Phee herself seemed to feel disrespected, often grumbling about it.

She'd explode in anger, demanding he revere his heavenly master more, yet apparently lacked self-awareness about her own unreliable behavior.

As Ravenclaw Training Institute's first semester schedule wrapped up and most noblewomen began returning to their territories for vacation, Phee showed no intention of going back to Tigris Barony. Instead, she lounged on Derek's office sofa, smugly munching on financiers and Mont Blanc pastries brought by servants.

-'Ironically, those who reach Family Head status rarely need to demonstrate magical might. The paradox of rulership is that true power becomes unnecessary.'

-'Have you personally witnessed it, Master?'

-'Of course. In the southwestern continent, the power players were Duplein, Belmierd, and Beltus... The Grand Duke of Duplein could levitate his entire estate if he wished, and I've heard Border Count Belmierd once sank three or four warships in an instant.'

5th-Class mages were essentially living weapons—though their high social standing usually prevented them from showing their full power.

-'Every Family Head earned their seat. Even Border Count Belmierd, still just a peak 4th-Class mage, shows potential beyond imagination.'

-'...'

-'Meeting freaks like Melberot and Drest skews your perspective. Never forget—each Family Head is equivalent to an army.'*Munch munch*'Slurp...'

Phee's pastry-muffled lecture lacked any gravitas. She even demanded Derek never fire their new patissier without her permission—clearly, from a 6th-Class archmage's perspective, Family Heads were merely"decent mages."

Derek studied her with mixed feelings before sighing.

-'Grand Duke Beltus is a 5th-Class summoner—capable of conjuring high-ranking spirits, legendary creatures, and even historical artifacts from lore.'

-'Exactly. Annoyingly formidable—even I might take a hit if careless. Despite his power-hungry facade, he's just a stubborn old coot. Count yourself blessed to have an open-minded master like me.'

-'Asking me to face such an opponent seems unrealistic.'

-'Oh? You think I'd demand the impossible?'

Phee narrowed her eyes with an enchanting smile.

-'Underestimate him and you'll die.'

-'You say that so casually.'

-'Tsk tsk. Don't undervalue my judgment. I see exactly what kind of mage you are.'

Watching her nibble pastries like a rodent contrasted sharply with her piercing gaze.

-'Fools pity your slum upbringing, unaware it was heaven-sent. Had you been born a coddled noble, you'd never have reached these heights.'

Derek anticipated her point—Phee seemed to share a unique understanding with him.

-'Power corrupts. You'd be a fattened pig by now. Your talents only bloomed in life-or-death struggles.'

-'...'

-'So crawl back into mortal danger. How fortunate that your heavenly master specializes in death.'

-'And if I die?'

-'A shame.'

-'...'

-'But survive, and you'll surpass expectations.'

Ignoring crumbs on her cheeks, Phee's gleaming eyes locked onto Derek.

-'Far beyond what you imagine.'

- Whoosh!

Sinister mana erupted from Denise's luggage, coalescing into a massive form. The ominous energy alone signaled something extraordinary.

When Denise approached to investigate, a magical explosion hurled her against the wall.

- CRASH! BOOM!

- FWOOOSH!

"Aah! Aaah...!"

Her petite frame slammed into bookshelves, toppling volumes onto her. As she stared bewildered at the luggage, crimson-black mana expanded ominously.

Though anyone would panic, Denise swallowed dryly and regained composure—she always kept calm in crises.

She needed to call servants immediately. This was no solo situation.

As she pushed books aside and rose, a withered hand emerged from the mana vortex.

"Wh...what...?"

While Denise gaped, the terrifying entity revealed itself—

An Arch Lich.

Among magical creatures, these corpse mages from the White Wilderness's deepest labyrinths were the vilest. Their presence transforms areas into deadly dungeons.

The skeletal figure, draped in tattered cloth and jewelry, floated up wielding a massive staff. Its chilling aura raised goosebumps—death incarnate had arrived.

The lich exhaled frozen breath, surveying the opulent mansion. With a separate spire for magic and ideal hilltop location, this would make a perfect lair.

Imprinted in its instincts by the 6th-Class necromancer who summoned it was one command:

Nest here.

5th-Class Necromancy:"Arrival of the Dead"

None knew the true nature of Phee, who casually summoned such horrors. Only the result remained—gathering vengeful spirits as corpses sprouted from the floor.

Denise hesitated no longer.

- BOOM!

She blasted through the door with combat magic. Though terrified, she retained enough sense to flee. Tripping on the threshold, she scrambled up and dashed down the hall.

Startled servants cried out:

"Lady Denise! You mustn't damage the—"

"Inside...! Look inside...!"

Clutching her bleeding knee, she turned to run—then grabbed a paralyzed servant's collar:

"What are you doing?! R-run, quickly!"

As she dragged them out, a flood of spirits poured from the room—the disaster had begun.

"We must march on Beltus Ducal Territory immediately. Gather every available soldier."

At dawn, Derek stood firm before Countess Rodea. He'd come to her first because she never hesitated against necromancy—the same woman who'd once stormed Belmierd's gates at rumors of undead.

"I received your letter. I suspected Beltus was involved in necromancy."

Her favorable gaze acknowledged Derek's proven skill against undead. But as a ruler, she couldn't act rashly.

"Yet mobilizing troops requires caution. Charging into Beltus Territory on your word alone would be reckless."

Derek expected this. He needed to present both urgency and justification.

"A 5th-Class or higher undead creature may appear in Beltus Mansion—a necromantic entity."

"...Is this true?"

In Rodea's lavish reception hall, the armored countess radiated authority disproportionate to her small frame. The massive Holy Blood Sword at her waist seemed impossibly large for her.

"Such creatures only answer high-level necromancy. Could Beltus truly...?"

"Delay risks catastrophe. We must act fast."

"...Do you stand by this claim?"

"I stake Ravenclaw Barony's honor on it."

A noble's sworn word couldn't be ignored, yet remained hard to fully trust. The countess weighed the risks.

"Even if true, how would you know? Beltus is cunning—he wouldn't expose himself to some frontier baron."

"My experience against necromancers speaks for itself, as when we captured Leonard. And... I didn't uncover this alone."

Derek's grave expression deepened.

"Beltus tightly controls his territory, but not all obey blindly. Someone exposed everything to me."

"You know Beltus's authority better than most."

"Yet a whistleblower came forward despite the risk."

Derek couldn't leave Beltus unchallenged—the duke would crush him politically. But he also couldn't let his student suffer collateral damage.

Thus, he'd devised a solution.

"Lady Denise. She came to Ravenclaw Barony and revealed Beltus's darkness."

Everyone knew Denise was Derek's longtime student. Countess Rodea recognized their close bond in social circles.

"If high-level necromancy is researched, disaster looms. Her detection magic expertise and insider knowledge predicted this."

When Beltus fell, someone favorable to Derek should inherit power. The choice was clear.

"..."

The countess's expression grew graver. Mobilizing troops based on false claims would be Derek's responsibility—but failing to act before catastrophe struck? That blame would be far worse.

Risk versus reward. The scales tipped decisively.

Countess Rodea's legendary decisiveness made her choice inevitable.