Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 162

These were the only years in Phee's long, long life where any semblance of vitality remained in her eyes.

The years spent grinding her teeth while researching advanced corpse resurrection magic because of that man who broke his promise after Kalimford's death.

Reaching for the solace of death while desperately trying to end this life—that effort was the closest thing to what she considered"meaningful work."

But Kalimford's confession shattered all that effort into nothingness, forcing Phee to blink repeatedly in disbelief.

"How... how could you..."

"No words can justify it. I..."

"Do you even realize, you who were so comfortably dead? Do you know how many years I devoted, clinging stubbornly to that single promise you made?!"

Phee clenched her teeth and grabbed Kalimford by the collar.

The barely revived man was dragged off the examination table, fresh blood trickling down his neck.

When Phee lifted her head, her eyes burned with hatred and resentment.

"You... you were humanity's hero. A man who kept even the smallest promise to a street urchin, who swore beneath the heavens to live righteously. How could you... to me of all people..."

"I told you... I had no choice. To secure your help when you saw the world as mere spectators and treated all people as enemies... there was no other way...! Without your assistance... far greater casualties would've been inevitable..."

"Shut up! I don't care about your excuses! You damn... damn bastard!"

- Thud! Crack!

Kalimford's newly revived body was frighteningly fragile.

Reduced to little more than skin and bones, he was kicked away by Phee, coughing violently as he failed to push himself up from the floor.

Phee stomped on his chest once more before gathering magic power to blast him away with a shockwave.

Kalimford crashed against the wall before tumbling across the floor again.

His ribs must have cracked—waves of agony surged through him as blood gushed from his mouth.

Even through the pain, Kalimford slowly raised himself and spoke:

"Your anger... is justified... Phee... *cough*... *cough*... I'm... sorry is all... I can say..."

"What... what gives you the right to talk?"

"Vent... your rage... as you deserve..."

"Haha... Right, the noble hero speaks. Think I won't?"

A blade of magic energy erupted from Phee's hand.

The rosevine-shaped sword stabbed through Kalimford's shoulder before being yanked out and slashed repeatedly.

Blood splattered across her dress hem. A single streak of crimson marked Phee's cheek.

Kalimford screamed in agony as more blood sprayed upward.

She kicked, stomped, and crushed him with magical pressure, engraving pain into every inch of his body.

The blood grew thicker, Kalimford's body becoming more mangled by the second.

"Hah... Hah..."

After prolonged brutal venting, Phee finally paused to catch her breath.

The blood-soaked underground laboratory contained only the barely breathing body of the once-great archmage.

Yet no matter how much she brutalized Kalimford's flesh, Phee's grief and rage remained unappeased.

Everything felt meaningless.

The shackles of life still coiled tightly around her limbs.

"Phee..."

Kalimford, drenched in blood and teetering on death's edge, spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

"What more could you possibly say now?"

"I know... it's shameful... and terribly selfish of me to ask but..."

The legendary archmage struggled to open his mouth with his emaciated body.

"Let me... live... just spare my life..."

Hearing this, Phee's eyes widened impossibly further.

After all this, he was begging for his life?

The hero who'd sacrificed himself honorably before Noir to save the world... now groveling for survival while being beaten bloody in this underground lab—what was his reason?

"Kill me... if you must... but... but..."

Tears streamed down Kalimford's battered face.

"I want... to see Sirine... just once..."

"—"

Phee was rendered speechless.

His only daughter, left in Melberot's care.

The child he couldn't attend to while saving the world.

Just one glimpse of Sirine—living and breathing in this world now freed from Noir—that was the last request of this archmage who'd given up everything.

Enough to reduce the man once revered by all to such pathetic desperation.

Paternal love. That's what it was.

Born as finite beings, humans feel boundless love for those who carry their bloodline.

Knowing death's respite awaits, they worry more and seek to protect what they'll leave behind.

This love stems from life's impermanence.

—Something Phee was never granted.

Hearing Kalimford's desperate plea only reinforced what was etched into Phee's heart.

They ultimately inhabited different worlds.

Within him lay humanity's sublimity—struggling earnestly within finite existence toward eventual rest.

Before that, he could discard all pride and plead with such heartbreaking sorrow because Kalimford was, at core, a"human"mage.

Unlike herself—unable to grasp death, flailing through endless years.

Even revived, his essence remained unchanged.

- Clang! Clank!

The blade fell from Phee's grip, clattering across the floor.

She realized it then. Life's shackles would bind her for eternity.

"Hah... Hah... Ugh..."

Something like nausea rose before subsiding.

Phee kicked Kalimford's face with all her strength one last time.

- Thwack!

His head snapped sideways, a bloody molar flying out to roll across the floor.

After beating him again while gasping for air... Phee finally gritted her teeth and spoke.

"Disappear."

"Phee..."

"Vanish from my sight. Whatever you do, if you or that precious Sirine ever appear before me again... I'll kill you both. I'll break every limb, cut off ears, gouge out eyes, and leave you writhing in agony until you bleed out."

"Phee... *cough*... *hah*..."

Kalimford struggled to rise, blood pouring from his mouth.

With one eye nearly swollen shut, he wiped at the blood with trembling hands.

"Get lost. You disgust me."

Attempts to stem the bleeding with magic only overloaded his freshly revived body.

With his frail form showing no trace of magic, Kalimford forced his eyes open and staggered toward the stairs leading out.

"Phee..."

"..."

"Thank... you..."

Hardly words for someone who'd beaten him bloody.

Yet Kalimford offered this polite farewell before leaning against the stone wall to climb step by step.

As the shuffling footsteps faded... Phee collapsed.

- Splash!

Kneeling on the floor, she stared blankly at the blood staining her hands and thighs.

Tears dripped onto them.

"Ugh... *hic*... *sob*..."

Phee bit her lower lip and clutched her trembling chest.

What had her life been for?

Mistaking glimpses of life's end, running excitedly alone through countless years... all for nothing.

Nothing had changed between centuries past and now.

She was doomed to remain forever a stranger in this world—lurking in shadows amidst rotting corpses and bloodstains, staring at the reincarnation brand etched into her soul... wandering through eternity's vast emptiness.

She felt lost.

Like sailing trackless seas without a map.

A blank canvas awaiting its first brushstroke.

A lone figure abandoned on endless snowy plains.

Phee's life was emptiness and futility incarnate.

Even her sole escape route had crumbled meaninglessly. Now everything felt pointless.

As Phee swayed while trying to stand—

- Clink! Clank!

Something fell from the examination table she'd grabbed, rolling through the blood puddle.

Peering at the blood-smeared object—it was the seal Baron Ravenclaw had given her when leaving his territory.

The Ravenclaw family crest engraved on the pendant reflected in her lavender eyes.

"..."

In that instant, Phee's eyes flashed wide.

Stumbling, she collapsed back into the blood, clutching the seal tightly with both hands.

"Right... of course..."

Her pupils seemed to spin unnaturally as her mind fixated on one man alone.

"Derek... There's Derek..."

Loss begets emptiness, emptiness begets longing, and longing births new obsession.

In her suffering and wandering, the girl found what felt like a new purpose within eternity's cycle.

If even Kalimford couldn't do it, she simply needed someone greater.

A man who dreamed of 7-star rank, possessing greater potential than any mage she'd seen.

Gifted like Kalimford in combat magic yet also versed in chaos and detection magic—a vessel of immense capacity.

Though currently weaker than her, even Phee acknowledged the scale of his potential.

"Yes... my disciple... whom I taught... my only disciple... who'll grant me rest... who'll lay me to rest... my disciple..."

A sinister red glow flickered in Phee's eyes. Anyone seeing that gaze would've gulped and stepped back.

"Among all I've met through eternity's reincarnation, the most luminous talent belongs to my disciple..."

Cradling the seal lovingly, Phee smiled amidst the blood dripping down her face.

Yet recalling her disciple—lord of Ravenclaw Territory—something gave her pause.

She remembered Derek's delighted expression upon hearing his former teacher was coming.

Hugging the seal tightly, Phee bowed her head.

"My disciple... can't let anyone take him... He's... my disciple..."

In the bloodstained darkness of the underground lab, the crimson glow of a 6-star necromancer's eyes flickered ominously.

"..."

"Is something wrong, Master?"

"No... just a sudden chill. Must be getting colder."

Katia glanced briefly at the plains behind them before shaking her head sharply.

Shaking off the ominous feeling, she turned her attention back to the academy construction site in Duplein Territory.

The scale was impressive—just surveying it would take considerable time.

"To complete such large-scale construction so quickly. I'd heard rumors of Duplein's decline, but that's clearly outdated. With capable retainers, any family can rise again."

"...The retainers didn't lead this project."

"...?"

"Well... Lady Aiselin spearheaded it."

Lately, whenever practical matters arose, Aiselin dove in with unmatched enthusiasm to establish systems.

Truthfully, Derek's involvement in the academy construction amounted to occasional check-ins—was this really acceptable?

Even freeloading had limits, yet whenever Derek tried handling actual work, Aiselin would panic:

-'Derek! You have mountains of responsibilities already! Don't worry about these details! I'll roll up my sleeves and manage everything!'

Her eyes practically sparkled as if terrified someone might steal her workload.

Consequently, Derek worried she might work herself to death, but...

"Lady Aiselin truly lives up to her reputation—multitalented and thoughtful."

Katia instead smiled approvingly.

Noble ladies typically cultivated dignity and refinement, often becoming out-of-touch or arrogant.

Yet hearing how Aiselin handled such dirty, complex work firsthand raised Katia's esteem.

Derek couldn't deny Aiselin was practically flawless when examined closely.

"Then Lady Aiselin must be supervising here. Evelstain's social circles say her mere presence radiates floral elegance, that sitting beside her elevates one's grace... I worry this old master might be an eyesore. Is my attire presentable...?"

"No need for such formality, Master. Lady Aiselin doesn't judge people that way."

"Still, one doesn't casually approach the Rosea Salon's treasure, likened to a bouquet. If time permits, I should at least tidy up..."

- CRASH! BOOM!

Suddenly, a collapsing sound came from the construction site.

Derek, Katia, and Freya hurried toward the source.

- Rumble, whoosh

Amidst dust clouds, they saw rubble from what appeared to be rocks.

The calm servants and workers suggested it wasn't serious—likely just clearing boulders during foundation work.

Judging by the dust, the rocks were sizable, but proper demolition would finish quickly.

As Derek sighed in relief:

"See? I told you! Robin! Breaking the lower foundation with pickaxes while using defensive magic for safety is most efficient! I applied what I read in Lord Raven's books!"

"Wow... Lady Aiselin... truly remarkable. In all my construction years, this method's new. Magic certainly boosts efficiency."

"Now we just need pickaxes to finish the eastern section's foundation!"

"..."

Coughing while dusting off her dress, the familiar-looking girl exchanged technical advice with seasoned workers.

Her cheerful smile while shouldering a heavy pickaxe was striking.

Wiping dirt from her pretty frilled dress created a surreal contrast. Starlight practically sparkled in her vibrant eyes.

Then she spotted Derek.

"Oh! Derek! You're here! As you can see, the auditorium... foundation... work is..."

Her delighted expression faltered as she noticed the guests behind him.

At first assuming ordinary visitors... their appearances grew increasingly familiar upon closer inspection.

Someone Derek had mentioned before...

"...."

- Thud

The pickaxe slipped from Aiselin's frozen fingers.

"O-oh my... w-we have guests..."

Though pale with shock, her reflexes to maintain ladylike decorum were impressive.

But attempting dignity now was rather pointless...