Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 15

Whispers spread among the servants.

Diela burrowing beneath the shattered platform, Raeg channeling mana to manifest 1st Grade Magic.

This was no longer the ceremonial exchange of magical prowess—it had devolved into outright combat.

Head Butler Dellon swallowed dryly as he watched.

Technically, none of the duel's end conditions had been met. No one had crossed the boundary walls, and the protective barrier hadn't activated.

But could this still be called a magic duel? Just two people fighting emotionally without restraint—shouldn't someone intervene?

Yet no orders came from the Grand Duke observing from the balcony. He simply watched with intense focus.

Dellon considered stopping it under his authority, but the sheer determination in both combatants'eyes held him back.

- Crack! Thud!

Raeg dashed between ice pillars, analyzing the situation.

Every time he tried to break through the platform floor to reach Diela, she'd sense his mana and bombard him.

This forced Raeg to either abort his incantation or divert magic to defense. A stalemate was inevitable.

Then realization struck.

Diela was prolonging this deadlock to exhaust Raeg's mana.

Raeg spamming 1st Grade Magic versus Diela using basic mana manipulation.

Even accounting for skill differences, the outcome was obvious.

- Tap tap tap!

Raeg sprinted across the platform's surface.

Though his footsteps echoed below, Diela didn't react. Just as suspected.

She only disrupted his spellcasting moments—forcing a battle of attrition.

'Clever! But still just a cheap trick...!'

Magic duels tested skill, but with things this far gone, formalities were pointless.

Raeg vaulted onto the platform's outer railing, grabbing the flagpole bearing the Duplein crest.

Veins bulged in his muscular arms as he climbed.

Diela's attacks only reached the platform's surface. From this height, she couldn't target what she couldn't see.

But hanging from the pole limited Raeg's mobility and chanting ability.

Even if he destroyed the platform now, he'd become an easy target.

Diela had likely planned for this too.

Raeg went one step beyond.

- Shhk!

Unfastening his cloak, he wrapped it around the flagpole.

Channeling mana, he fired a 1st Grade"Mana Arrow"into the pole's base.

- Kwaang!

- Creak... snap!

The damaged pole began toppling.

Ignoring the servants'gasps, Raeg yanked the cloak-wrapped pole toward the platform.

Let the falling flagpole smash through.

Destroying the platform physically would deny Diela reaction time while creating his entry point.

On equal footing, Raeg couldn't lose.

That premise was unshakable.

- Craaack!

- Boom!

Dust billowed as the pole crashed through the platform.

Raeg rolled clear, ignoring the dirt covering him, and assessed the damage.

A section of wooden planks had collapsed—Diela's geographical advantage gone.

Without hesitation, Raeg leaped through the gap.

- Thud!

He anticipated the ambush.

Diela's ice pillars came crashing down, but Raeg shattered them with a burst of mana. Wiping his hands, he scanned for her.

The platform's underside.

Sunlight streamed through broken planks, but most areas remained shadowed despite midday. No sign of Diela.

'...Did she escape?'

Raeg spotted the ice-sealed hole from earlier—now reopened.

Frozen footholds showed Diela had climbed out.

She'd anticipated Raeg's breakthrough and repositioned.

'Damn rat...!'

She refused to fight fairly. When outmatched, she exploited terrain and tactics.

A mercenary's approach—adapting to survive against stronger foes.

Positions reversed: Diela now held the high ground while Raeg was trapped below.

Raeg stayed calm. The elevated position was more vulnerable—he'd proven that.

Now he just needed to climb back up or land one decisive strike.

Tracking Diela's footsteps, Raeg fired a mana arrow.

- Kwa-gak! Boom!

The shot shattered the platform where she stood.

Simultaneously, Diela—who'd been moving above—was forcibly brought down.

- Crash! Thud!

More dust billowed as Diela hit the ground.

Though visibility was poor, Raeg sensed her presence and fired three more arrows.

- Boom! Crash! Bang!

The blasts cleared some dust, but no protective barrier activated—all misses.

Raeg clicked his tongue and repositioned. Before Diela could set another trap, he gathered mana for a finishing blow.

The dust cleared, revealing Diela.

Raeg's pupils contracted.

A trail of blood ran down the girl's forehead—likely from the fall.

Not serious given her movements, but Raeg knew what even minor injuries meant for noble ladies.

Her dust-covered robe fluttered as she channeled mana again.

Her eyes burned with venom.

Yes—venom.

The same relentless drive Raeg had seen since childhood—that would stop at nothing to achieve its goal.

Sometimes painting, sometimes magic. The girl gave everything, yet accomplished nothing. Facing endless failure after pouring her soul into efforts.

The servants'pitying looks. Noble whispers that she was only lucky to be born a Duplein.

The cold truth—her bloodline was all she had left to flaunt.

That venom, with nowhere else to go, had turned toward tormenting servants.

Then sitting vacant-eyed in the annex, wasting time.

Raeg had often thought: This is Diela's limit.

But venom's direction matters most.

Properly guided, it could become wings.

- Crackle

Diela shielded herself with ice pillars, clearly exhausted.

Unlike Raeg, even a few spells drained her. She'd hit her limit.

Pity, but Raeg wouldn't hold back over some blood.

As he approached for the final strike—

- Swish!

"Gah!"

Diela grabbed dirt and flung it at Raeg's eyes. An unthinkably vulgar move for nobility.

As Raeg stumbled back, she kicked his abdomen with her cloak.

- Crack!

Her follow-up ice pillar attack was blocked by Raeg through gritted teeth.

- Shatter!

Through the broken ice, Raeg saw Diela's snarling face.

Her intent was unmistakable.

She wanted to win.

By any means necessary. To prove her worth.

Protecting her master was secondary.

Right now, Diela just wanted victory. Her eyes blazed with competitive fire.

Was this really the same girl who'd sat hollow-eyed in the annex?

Raeg swallowed hard. But he couldn't throw the match.

Diela scrambled up the broken flagpole. Nimble from childhood forest excursions, but futile now.

All her strategies had been countered. Raeg followed her up.

At the top waited Diela, scraping together her last dregs of mana.

"Imagine you're painting a stroke."

The white-haired mercenary-turned-teacher had said under the stars.

Finger tracing constellations across the night sky's canvas, mana naturally gathering at his fingertips.

The girl who loved painting empty skies now saw the world through star-filled eyes.

Magic was no different from art—both shaping imagination into reality.

Mana her paint, incantations her brush, each spell a masterpiece.

So she painted.

- Whoosh!

Just one stroke, as instructed.

Mana swirling from her fingertips blossomed into...

1st Grade Magic:"Ice Spear."

Frozen lances hovered before shooting toward Raeg at unbelievable speeds.

"Guh!"

Raeg gritted his teeth and cast.

He'd assumed Diela lacked firepower to breach his defenses. This sudden 1st Grade Magic shocked him.

If he blocked and counterattacked now, Diela—completely drained—would be helpless.

Crouching, Raeg gathered mana. Dodging the spears while preparing his final arrow.

- Boom!

Dust erupted as a protective barrier activated.

The duel was over.

Servants and retainers held their breaths, awaiting the outcome.

As the dust settled...

- Hum

The barrier had formed around... Diela.

Collapsed from exhaustion, she gnashed her teeth at the defensive magic.

"Hah... hah..."

Raeg had barely dodged the ice spear and landed his final shot.

Completely spent, he struggled to stand.

Tears welled in Diela's eyes as the loss sank in.

Diela had lost.

"..."

The defeated girl began sobbing uncontrollably.

Raeg could only stare in shock.

'She used 1st Grade Magic...?'

The duel itself was brief—mere minutes.

Yet in that time, the platform collapsed, dust flew, and brutal combat ensued.

The Grand Duke hadn't intervened, trusting his instincts to let events unfold.

"This... this is outrageous! How undignified! How vulgar!"

"..."

Miriela beside him seethed.

"No decorum, just filth—this isn't a magic duel!"

"..."

"I won't stand for this! That so-called magic teacher—was this what he taught Diela? Our noble Duplein heiress?!"

Miriela stormed off, servants scrambling after her, clearly intent on confronting Derek.

The Grand Duke barely registered her anger.

All he saw was Diela crying on the platform.

Raymond Oswald Duplein, having grown up on battlefields, had seen countless people.

Those born to nobility who achieved much usually shone brightly. But many didn't.

Some realized dreams and laughed; others, having lost them, wept. Such was life.

"..."

The unfamiliar sight of Diela—fighting tooth and nail to win—contrasted sharply with his memories.

The hollow-eyed girl who'd sat blankly in the annex after endless failures.

Too young for so much defeat. He'd hoped time would heal her, keeping her at the mansion.

Yet as a father, it pained him.

Waiting, believing she'd find her way back.

All parents of lost children could do was wait.

But now fire burned in the girl.

In a duel everyone predicted she'd lose, she'd fought relentlessly.

Tears of frustration fell from eyes blazing with desire—to win, to prove herself.

A far cry from the vacant stare in the thorn-covered annex.

Learning some spells was trivial with time—any Duplein could manage eventually.

So Derek's real gift wasn't early magic manifestation.

He'd shown Diela she could succeed. Given hope where none saw any.

Taught her to reach for what she wanted.

The Grand Duke realized:

Derek hadn't taught magic.

—He'd taught ambition. Planted fire in that small chest.

The same ambition that made the boy gaze at stars from gutters—now absorbed by the girl following him.

That molten ambition, more valuable than any spell, determined life's trajectory.

"..."

Watching Miriela storm off, the Grand Duke's eyes narrowed.

After a long pause, he called:

"Katarina."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I'll go down too."

"Understood."

His heavy footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.