Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 161

"I'd like to meet all of Derek's disciples if possible, but visiting them directly would just make things awkward. I know my place, so I'll just enjoy the social scene before leaving. I'm curious how much Evelstain's high society has changed."

"The Ravenclaw Academy construction is nearly complete. Will you be visiting there as well?"

"Of course. Didn't you secure land in Duplein Territory? With luck, I might even meet Lady Diela in person."

"Well... about that..."

What kind of person was Diela?

Rumors claimed only Aiselin and Derek could control her in this world.

Surely she wouldn't bare fangs at Katia, but an uneasy feeling lingered nonetheless.

"Speaking of Lady Diela... might I also meet Lady Aiselin? Derek. As your mentor... more than your disciples, I most want to meet Lady Aiselin."

"Lady Aiselin?"

"You've often written about her in letters. How much you've benefited from her as a business partner. Lady Aiselin was already renowned in Evelstain for her noble conduct and profound wisdom... I'm curious how much she's matured by now."

Having endured nobility's worst excesses, Katia wasn't one to idolize refined ladies.

With Freya—most respected in eastern high society—as her disciple, she had no reason to covet Aiselin.

Yet Katia's eyes burned as she stepped closer, fixing Derek with an intense gaze.

"We once discussed your life partner."

"..."

"Let me be blunt. If Lady Aiselin retains her former virtues, there's no better lifelong companion. Derek. If you haven't decided yet, I'll have to push you. Women know women best. Trust your mentor's judgment."

"N-no... Mentor..."

"...Well, no need to rush ahead. First, I'll observe for myself... Let's visit Duplein Territory to inspect Ravenclaw Academy's progress. Can you introduce me?"

Though Katia spoke calmly, an irresistible force radiated from her.

This woman burned with icy intensity—when she insisted, even Derek had to nod.

She'd never tolerate Derek marrying some nobody.

Her doting demeanor resembled any loving parent's... though to Freya watching nearby, it seemed rather embarrassing.

Seeing the usually dignified Katia act this way was rare, leaving Freya no choice but to watch wistfully.

Thus Derek had no choice but to accompany Katia to Duplein Manor.

He could only pray Raeg, Diela, and Aiselin wouldn't be too startled.

"M-my apologies. The young lady of House Renuel has arrived personally..."

"..."

After being scolded by Countess Rodea and ordered to bring gifts to salvage her image, Tricia arrived at Ravenclaw Barony.

Though already disheartened, she steeled herself and haughtily demanded entry at the main gate...

"Baron Ravenclaw has departed for Duplein Manor with Lady Katia."

"...When?"

"J-just recently..."

Tricia sighed dramatically at the sky.

Nothing ever went smoothly for her.

The girl occasionally wandered cemeteries.

Strolling among countless tombstones brought death palpably close.

Drizzle fell as damp wind brushed her nose.

Shaking rainwater from her dress hem left her hands damp with regret.

Death's rest felt simultaneously near and far.

The Cycle's Brand on her soul showed no signs of fading.

Gazing at the overcast sky without an umbrella, distant memories surfaced before fading again.

Those innocent days before she knew necromancy.

Something forgotten in those unreachable memories.

Why had she studied necromancy in the first place?

The continent's foremost necromancer. Death's handmaiden.

A living calamity whose mere existence terrified thousands.

Now devoid of ambition or purpose.

Nothing to protect—any fledgling attachments inevitably eroded by time.

Life burns brightly, but no flame lasts forever.

She was mere ashes after complete combustion.

Phee often mocked herself this way among countless graves.

How long had she endured this ashen existence?

- Whoosh!

Then finally, warmth returned to Phee's frozen heart.

Necrotic energy flooded the underground laboratory.

Despite its size, the Tigris estate's basement grew stifling with death magic.

Advanced Corpse Resurrection—Phee's lifelong masterpiece.

Reviving the dead was never easy.

Especially when the deceased was a powerful mage—the spell's difficulty increased exponentially.

Even elite 5th-Class necromancers would exhaust themselves reviving a single 3rd-Class mage.

Resurrecting a 6th-Class mage? Only Phee could attempt such madness after decades of preparation.

A 5th-Class mage's corpse as vessel, a supreme 6th-Class necromancer as caster, and decades of effort converged to manifest this impossible miracle.

Upon the bloodstained laboratory table, necrotic energies swirled violently.

Phee's lavender hair fluttered wildly as her dress whipped about.

Despite unleashing impossible amounts of death magic without tiring, Phee now panted heavily.

How long since she'd last felt magical exhaustion?

Sweat beaded her brow, her breathing grew ragged—yet her face twisted into a smile.

How many centuries since she'd last felt exhilaration?

No liquor could compare to this overwhelming euphoria flooding her mind.

Death approaches.

The legendary archmage and imperial hero—Kalimford arrives.

The Dawn War hero who died slaying the Archfiend Noir threatening to consume the northern territories.

Kalimford—who could grant Phee eternal rest—would finally fulfill his promise.

As the necromantic storm intensified, blinding light engulfed the laboratory.

- Boom! Crash!

- Whoosh!

The world seemed to shudder momentarily.

An existence defying providence and death itself began stirring.

Grand Duke Beltus's corpse gradually transformed into the young archmage's form.

Bones twisted, muscles reconstituted—a sight that would nauseate the uninitiated.

- Crack! Snap! Pop!

Grotesque sounds filled the laboratory.

Gradually, the raging magic subsided.

Amid toppled equipment and bloodstains... the corpse on the table opened its eyes beneath tattered cloth.

- Twitch!

Then... the corpse's arm moved.

Clearly rejuvenated, though patchy skin and emaciation betrayed the spell's incompleteness.

Yet life flickered in those wide, gleaming eyes.

"Ghk! Cough...!"

The forcibly revived body expelled a choking breath.

After prolonged disorientation, the man stared in disbelief.

"This... this place..."

"..."

Recognizing the voice, Phee bared her teeth in a ghastly smile.

Her decades-long resurrection spell had successfully summoned Kalimford back.

"Hah... ghah... My skin... burns..."

"Welcome back to the living, Kalimford. You're fortunate. Without my power overcoming death itself, you'd wander eternally in darkness."

"I... yes... I died... that's right..."

The revived Kalimford trembled while examining his skeletal hands.

Though unbelievable, he'd truly returned.

His last memory was charging Noir's heart.

Channeling every ounce of magic to slay the northern Archfiend.

Nothing remained beyond that point.

Only fragmented memories—apologizing to wife Feria and friend Melberot before confronting Noir.

And Sirine—his unborn daughter—entrusting her to Melberot with tearful farewells.

Sirine, barely conceived in Feria's womb.

Remembering this, Kalimford pushed himself upright from the table.

"You're... Layna... Layna, right?"

"Layna... what nostalgia. I no longer use that name. As always through the ages, I've changed. Now I'm Phee."

"I see... You... revived me. Layna... no, Phee... Phee was it..."

"Indeed. Won't you bow your head in gratitude? Not that I revived you without purpose."

Kalimford shuddered incredulously before suddenly widening his eyes.

"Noir...! What became of Archfiend Noir? Did my final strike reach it? That unimaginably powerful monster... how..."

"Well, to answer formally... that absurd monster died by your hand. Peace returned to the north, and you became the empire's hero."

"Truly... truly dead? Noir is finally...?"

"Yes. The calamity that turned the north into a graveyard is gone. History remembers it as the'Dawn War'now."

"I see... So Noir perished... truly... truly a relief..."

Kalimford trembled violently while gripping the table, tears falling freely.

He remained someone who'd lived through the Dawn War.

Who still remembered the skies choked with Noir's malevolence.

Thus, news of Noir's defeat and imperial victory moved him to genuine tears.

"The sacrifices of all who died helping me reach Noir... weren't in vain... Damn it... truly... truly fortunate... their deaths held meaning after all..."

Phee let Kalimford weep undisturbed.

"How fortunate... The empire regained peace... My lifelong efforts were rewarded..."

"Yes, congratulations. Well done."

Phee offered hollow praise.

This was Kalimford's nature.

A hero straight from history books—one who devoted everything to humanity and empire.

Phee knew this well.

Thus she waited patiently as Kalimford continued crying.

The shock of resurrection.

The relief of imperial peace.

She gave him minutes to weather this emotional storm.

As Kalimford's breathing steadied, Phee bared her teeth again.

"Now then... you haven't forgotten our'promise,'have you Kalimford?"

"...Promise?"

"Indeed. Why else would I endure such hardship to revive you? I care nothing for imperial heroes'tales. Your life or death means nothing to me."

Phee approached the shivering, rag-clad man with gleaming eyes.

"You claimed you could kill me. Kalimford, 6th-Class combat mage, empire's hero."

"..."

"Yes. You promised—help unravel Noir's necromancy, and you'd grant me eternal rest. I've endured this tedious existence solely for that vow. Now... fulfill your promise. Realize my lifelong wish."

Her voice trembled with excitement.

Phee laughed wildly before declaring to this imperial hero:

"Now. Do your duty, Kalimford."

"Layna... no, Phee..."

Help counter Noir's necromancy, and I'll burn away your Cycle's Brand for eternal rest.

The empire's hero Kalimford had sworn this with steadfast eyes.

That paragon of justice who always spoke truthfully had promised Phee this.

The sole light sustaining her through endless suffering.

After ages of tedium and pain, she'd finally reached that light—

"That... was a lie."

Something shattered in Phee's mind.

"...What?"

"I... can't burn away your Cycle's Brand. My power is insufficient. I'm truly... truly sorry..."

"..."

"Layna... no, Phee..."

Kalimford hung his head apologetically.

His final confession after centuries of silence.

"It was necessary... Had Noir remained, it would have consumed the entire empire..."

Phee froze completely.

As if massive chains wrapped around her, life's shackles dragged her back to reality.

There never was an escape.

From the very beginning.