Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 137

A rain of monsters falls.

The horde spewed forth by the roaring demonic figures, combined with the corpses raised by the Arch Lich, numbered in the hundreds.

Each individual monster was weak enough to be easily exterminated, but once they formed an army, even veteran mercenaries could only click their tongues and flee.

Yet those gathered here were all warriors.

From the veteran strike force led by the hero Rodea to the most skilled private soldiers of Count Belmiere's family and the Velderun Mercenary Group members who'd spent their lives slaying monster tribes—they were all fighters who knew how to draw their blades even against this onslaught.

With determined expressions, they resolved to end this before Beltus Manor became a breeding ground for monsters.

The blood of corpse goblins spread through the night air, bat demons'wings were torn apart, and the fangs of trolls wielding broken spears were shattered.

Yet the tide of monsters showed no signs of weakening. Faced with this absurd numerical advantage, Rodea could only click her tongue.

'An Arch Lich and high-ranking demons... There's a limit to how long we can keep slaughtering these small fry...!'

Dodging the axe swing of a charging goblin corpse, she bisected its neck with a Holy Blood Sword strike.

Looking up at the second-floor balcony of the main hall, she spotted Derek drawing his sword under the moonlight.

'We must help Baron Ravenclaw eliminate the source of these monsters. Subduing the Duke is the priority, but...!'

The Duke was a 5th-Class mage—not someone Derek could handle alone.

Yet to reach him, they first needed to kill the Arch Lich controlling the main hall's first floor.

That horrifying high-ranking monster seemed determined to prevent anyone from approaching Derek, commanding all soldiers on the first floor.

Breaking through wouldn't be easy. This abomination could summon countless corpses while casting formidable high-level magic.

'First... that Arch Lich...!'

As Rodea swung her Holy Blood Sword and charged toward the Arch Lich—

- Whoosh

On the second-floor balcony, veins bulged in the Duke's eyes as crimson magic power surged forth.

Despite being injected with an overwhelming amount of necromantic magic, this ruler astonishingly struggled to control it.

It seemed even a 5th-Class mage could barely manage the traces of madness Phee had deliberately infused.

Yet his condition was far from normal.

Coughing blood, trembling fingertips, drool dripping—fighting this necromantic madness was no easy feat.

"Huff... Hack... Huff..."

"..."

"You... You planned this... Ruined my mansion... Reduced me to this..."

Derek maintained his cold combat stance without lengthy reply.

"I don't know what you mean."

"That... necromancer... Surely had... another purpose... Beyond killing me... Cough... Huff..."

Everything had happened the moment he drew his sword to kill Derek.

Though he lacked concrete evidence, the timing was too perfect. He was certain Derek was involved somehow.

Derek feigned ignorance.

Yet his chilling gaze suggested otherwise. The Duke gnashed his teeth at Derek's expression.

"You... damn bastard..."

"..."

"You'll regret provoking me... Even in this state... Even if falsely accused... I'll drag you to hell with me..."

The Duke had manipulated countless people as chess pieces, eliminated those deemed unnecessary, framed rivals into ruin, and ruled with bloodstained hands.

Yet Derek felt no urge to morally condemn him or speak righteous words.

After spending time among nobility, he understood.

No one in power was completely clean. All had blood on their hands, committed dirty deeds, and sometimes turned away from justice.

Derek too had bloodied his hands since his mercenary days—no saint himself.

Such was the world. Perhaps the Duke had simply struggled to climb higher in this muddy world.

Of course, those wronged by him would grind their teeth in fury, but ultimately he was just another man chasing ambition by any means.

Being born of noble blood and gazing at the stars with ambition—

That might seem romantic, but shouldn't one consider the consequences?

"You're rambling. Your Grace."

The Duke's pupils dilated at Derek's glowing eyes.

Now that he thought about it, Derek had never condemned the Duke's atrocities or cruelty.

Derek's drawn blade wasn't motivated by moral judgment.

Something far more primal.

If you point a blade at others, be prepared to face one yourself.

That was Derek's sole principle.

"You wanted to grasp the southwestern continent, then make your name across the entire land, didn't you?"

"..."

"Did you truly believe such ambition would face no opposition?"

Just as Derek once reached for the sky, yearning for the possibly nonexistent 7th-Class magic... This man too had strived to climb toward the starry heavens.

Derek cared nothing for the cruel methods employed along the way.

If their paths crossed with only room for one, Derek wouldn't be the one to step aside.

Derek drew his sword and charged at the Duke.

- Whoosh!

Burning humanoid spirits rose around the Duke.

Each spirit clad in high-grade armor was a product of 4th-Class summoning magic.

- Crack! Bang!

Yet before they could draw swords, all were encased in frost.

3rd-Class Combat Magic:"Freeze."The memory surfaced of when he'd instantly mastered this spell that took Sirine nearly a lifetime to learn.

- Crunch! Crack!

Instantly, all furnishings around the balcony froze solid, the Duke's feet trapped in ice anchored to the floor.

But the Duke unleashed 2nd-Class Combat Magic"Rupture,"shattering the ice as he backflipped away, channeling more magic.

Four blades erupted from the ground aiming to impale Derek, who rolled across the ice to evade.

- Crash! Snap!

The emerging swords shattered the frozen floor.

The Duke seized the opening to unleash new magic. Though nearly depleted of his own power, he struggled to utilize the necromantic magic forcibly injected by Phee.

The Duke was on an entirely different level from any mage Derek had faced.

Holding back or underestimating him would mean instant death.

He had to go all out.

Scraping the bottom of his reserves, exchanging blows with single-minded determination to kill.

A moment's lapse in focus would see his throat pierced.

The razor-sharp sensation of walking a tightrope over lava spread through his body, goosebumps rising along his spine, every hair standing on end.

Death was close.

Ironically, the nearer death loomed, the more vividly life was felt.

- Crash! Snap!

- Boom! Bang!

The Duke began summoning all manner of weapons.

Steel swords, barbed spears, golden arrows, curved blades, maces and daggers—too many to count, a storm of armaments engulfing the area.

Before Derek could cast defensive magic, wounds began appearing on his body. The attacks came too fast to react to, but Derek smashed through a nearby wall to create cover.

"You... damn bastard..."

"..."

"You'll regret making me angry... Though I look like this now... My innate nobility and scale of ambition far surpass yours... I... am chosen by this era to rise higher..."

Madness and ambition. The fiery glow in the Duke's eyes burned with increasingly ominous energy.

- Boom!

The wall Derek hid behind led to a VIP bedroom.

A colossal demonic fist that seemed to blot out the sky came crashing down toward the bedroom.

- Crunch! Boom!

This mansion belonged to the Duke—he knew every structural detail.

The summoned entities moved at his will, even the demons and monsters all under his influence.

By any measure, this was the Duke's territory—a kingdom in all but name.

5th-Class magic level, the battlefield entirely his domain.

Facing the Duke one-on-one here was sheer folly.

Yet Derek's expression remained unchanged as he leaped from the room.

- Crash! Snap!

Rolling across the floor, he sprinted down the corridor.

The spacious second-floor hall allowed optimal deployment of summoned creatures.

To gain advantage, their usage must be restricted.

Luring him into confined spaces was key.

"Playing... clever... Hack... Huff...!"

As the Duke gave chase, necromantic agony wracked his mind again.

Nose bleeding, veins bulging further. Clinging to consciousness through searing pain.

He was destined for greater heights—not to fall here meaninglessly.

With this conviction, he flew down the corridor using levitation magic.

- Whoosh!

Magic gathered in his hand as he grasped the 5th-Class magical weapon"Light of the Empire."

Though an inferior replica to the original, its power was undeniably war-machine level.

A direct hit from the Duke's magic meant certain death.

As if to prove this, the magic radiating from the staff far surpassed previous levels.

- Tap, snap!

Derek rolled across the floor and sprinted down the corridor.

The expansive second-floor hall allowed optimal summon deployment.

Constraining their usage required confined spaces.

Derek's arm trembled. His pupils dilated further.

The Duke's lips curled at Derek's reaction.

"What? Only now realizing the gap between us?"

An existence two whole tiers higher.

However freakishly talented Derek might be... he couldn't reach a fully matured 5th-Class mage.

Having realized this, the Duke raised his voice at Derek's stunned expression.

"Cough, hack... Huff... You... can't even... reach my toes... Die here..."

Greater magic emanated from his staff.

3rd-Class Summoning Magic: Stone-shelled turtles, shadow spirits, magic crows, flame wolves... Too many to count.

Yet the Duke didn't deploy them directly.

Channeling even greater magic, he fused the summons together.

Summon fusion magic.

Unrecorded in any spellbook, unheard of in any lore.

Phee had said:

To reach 4th-Class and beyond, one must transcend established systems and touch their unique domain.

If you've followed set paths until now, from 4th-Class onward you must pioneer magic itself.

True to this, the Duke's magic brimmed with unpredictable variables.

Derek's arm trembled harder.

The Duke bared bloodstained teeth at Derek's reaction. A chilling smile.

"No wonder you're afraid. Finally understanding your impudence."

- Boom!

Without pause, another demonic fist descended from above.

Derek had to fight while accounting for both the Duke and his countless summons.

Processing speed beyond human limits was required. Though Derek somehow avoided fatal blows.

Starlight filtered through holes in the ceiling.

The fused summon's twisted joints pulsed with elemental energies.

A wolf-human hybrid. As it breathed fire, Derek—focused on dodging the demon fist—took a direct hit.

- Crunch! Crack!

Superhuman reflexes wrapped him in protective magic, barely avoiding death.

Yet his shoulder burned as if aflame, his entire body aching as if bones were broken.

Moonlight through the shattered ceiling illuminated Derek's battered form embedded in the wall.

Buried in debris, gasping for breath—by all appearances mortally wounded.

"Keh, keheh... Hah..."

Necromantic madness again encroached on the Duke. Drooling yet enduring, the archmage glared.

"Yes. Finally feeling what suits your level. Terrified, fearing death... Heh... Hahaha... How does facing death feel...?"

The Duke had faced many upstart nobles like Derek.

All initially met him with bold defiance, but eventually trembled in terror when crushed.

Derek was no different.

The Duke took great pleasure in trampling youthful arrogance.

Seeing Derek buried in rubble, arm trembling, eyes wide—it pleased him.

Then:

"How... exhilarating..."

But Derek's trembling stemmed not from fear.

Madness takes many forms.

Derek was no exception.

"What...?"

- Rustle, snap.

Though typically stoic, Derek wasn't incapable of smiling.

He smiled when appropriate.

As nobility required. Occasionally flashing dignified smiles, he was already a mature noble.

But Derek's current smile wasn't polite.

Something far more primal.

The Duke's eyes widened in pain.

Facing a superior being, staring down death... Derek was exhilarated.

The trembling of one witnessing higher magic.

Not fear, but the catharsis of touching new realms.

The Duke wasn't the only madman present.

Unprecedented magic application. Unprecedented summoning. Unprecedented magical weapons. Unprecedented summons.

Stuck at the 3rd-Class wall, when everything had grown dull... this encounter.

The genius's skin absorbed it all.

Slowly rising, Derek's mind wasn't gripped by fear, but the thrill of discovery.

He spoke:

"Fascinating... your magic application... I think I understand... How exciting... Truly exciting..."

Witnessing this talent absorbing everything like a sponge, fear gripped the other party.

The Duke suddenly realized:

This man must die here.