Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 202

The news brought by Lady Freya of Count to Gremfort Palace was nothing short of a bolt from the blue.

The imperial palace, which had just concluded Emperor Gertrel's funeral rites and begun discussions about the next emperor's coronation, was plunged into utter chaos.

"Indeed. This is no time to squabble over territorial rights in Adbel or the White Wilderness. Land divisions can wait—we must first address the crisis in the east. The coronation... will have to be postponed."

In the deepest chamber of Gremfort Palace's Hall of Wisdom, Princess Rozelyn wiped her exhausted face as she sat at the center of the strategy meeting table.

The ornate marble table with gold trim had two figures seated at opposite ends: Damon, chairman of the central noble faction worshipped like royalty by capital aristocrats, and Kohlera, leader of the magic faction bureaucrats and scholars—a 6-Star Transformation Magic practitioner.

The three powers effectively dividing Gremfort Palace had reached a silent consensus to suspend all political infighting.

The news of an unidentified necromancer devouring entire eastern territories.

Even now, the casualties were undoubtedly spreading.

"Count Elvester's manor has been completely overrun, and cities within his domain... Rikadol, Trion, even outlying villages are being raided. Those fallen to necromancy rise again as corpses, swearing loyalty to their Queen."

Princess Rozelyn meticulously reviewed every report from her agents. Judging by the accounts, this calamitous mage appeared to surpass 5-Star... nearing 6-Star proficiency.

A 6-Star Necromancer.

The weight of those words made Kohlera's eyes gleam with renewed intensity.

Reaching the 7th Order required the power of 6-Star mages—a fact Kohlera knew well as she tirelessly worked to recruit every capable practitioner.

"Has Count Elvester's status been confirmed?"

Though friendly to the magic faction, Count Elvester also commanded respect from noble bureaucrats. His survival would dramatically shift eastern continental politics.

Princess Rozelyn hesitated before closing her eyes in response to Chairman Damon's question.

Silence fell over the assembly once more.

Count Elvester was the east's most renowned warrior and formidable mage. That even he had fallen to the necromancer meant he too now marched among the Queen's undead legions.

The horror of necromancy lay in its ability to turn slain enemies into loyal servants—a blasphemous power none could regard favorably.

"We must deploy the Imperial Guard immediately. Naturally, I shall personally oversee operations. Every magic advisor under my command will be mobilized without exception."

The head of the imperial magic faction, 6-Star Transformation Mage Kohlera, would take the field.

Yet too many variables remained.

Facing an unknown mage of such caliber risked catastrophic failure. Should powerful forces be defeated and converted... they'd only swell the enemy's ranks.

Rozelyn fell into deep contemplation.

Though urgent, reckless action might worsen the crisis. Perhaps gathering intelligence while assembling forces was wiser.

As she weighed these cautious judgments—

- Creak

The innermost chamber's doors opened to admit a figure with winter-cold eyes who brushed back flowing silver hair. His pristine light armor seemed incongruous with his aristocratic bearing.

Melberot, lord of the Duchy of Rochest, entered unannounced.

The hero who'd slain the Great Demon Noir now stood peerless in combat magic—the Empire's Sword in name, though he'd long withdrawn from battlefields to guard northern snowfields.

"..."

Melberot's arrival cast a pall over the chamber.

His appearance felt inevitable—Melberot being Gremfort Palace's final trump card. In martial prowess, not even Kohlera could rival him.

Debates raged about the"greatest"mage, but none disputed he was the"strongest."

A living legend.

"She cannot be killed."

Melberot cared little for palace politics. That this recluse had come signaled unprecedented danger.

He spoke plainly about Phee—his and Kalimford's covert ally against Noir. Few knew of her existence besides Melberot.

His dry tone carried subtle arrogance.

"Kalimford and I once faced her. She transcends death itself—no 6-Star mage can erase the sigils engraved upon her soul."

"You... know her?"

"Yes. I believed her long dead... Never imagined she'd resurface so violently. She wasn't one for such overt displays."

Having heard everything from Kalimford, Melberot carefully disclosed only select truths—admitting foreknowledge gained him nothing here.

"Her name changes with time. Currently... she goes by Phee."

"What do you mean she can't be killed?"

"Exactly that. Slay her repeatedly, she'll keep reviving, seeping back from darkness. That is a 6-Star necromancer's nature."

The weight of those words settled heavily.

"Thus we must resolve this without killing. For her, death is merely an escape."

Eternal youth through twisted means condemned her to endless cycles without rest.

"Sever limbs while preserving life, or erase memories entirely... Only by stripping her freedom can we prevail."

"I see."

Kohlera nodded—she too preferred capturing a 6-Star mage over destruction. Even the imprisoned regicide Marilyn was preserved behind magical barriers for her research into the 7th Order.

'Even now, this ominous old woman thinks only of magic.'

Rozelyn waved dismissively before sitting.

"Eastern territory militias and border garrisons have already mobilized. I'll deploy Rochest's private forces."

"If Lord Melberot leads, we gladly welcome imperial guard support for joint operations."

"Unnecessary. Immediate departure leaves no time to coordinate. Eastern and southwestern forces will engage independently. We lack time for unified maneuvers."

Melberot checked his bracer and tapped his sword hilt.

"Never thought I'd take the field again."

Closing his eyes, he recalled the necromancer's hateful glare at Kalimford.

A creature of shadows by nature, only Derek's influence could have driven her to such extremes. Regardless, they'd enlisted her aid against Noir—Melberot bore responsibility for her fractured psyche.

If this was karma's return, he would settle it.

Nodding, Melberot turned toward the doors.

"I depart first. Have the guard and palace troops follow. Eradication will require time—more hands prove beneficial."

"Lord Melberot."

Rozelyn's grave voice halted him as he crossed his arms.

The silver-haired lord half-turned.

"Many questions remain, but urgency stays my tongue."

"..."

"Yet I must ask—how do you propose capturing what cannot be killed? That monster would overwhelm us at full strength."

Melberot blinked slowly before responding to the stares boring into his back.

"I'll bring her back limbless if necessary."

"...I never took you for such imperial devotion."

"As you discern, this settles personal debts rather than loyalty."

Melberot strode out without another word.

Kalimford dominated his thoughts as boots echoed through palace halls.

The hero who'd sacrificed everything to slay Noir and save the empire now clung to life through Phee's necromancy.

To truly defeat her required battling until her boundless magic depleted.

Only when her ocean of power ran dry could Kalimford properly end his prolonged existence.

Capturing Phee meant preparing to bid farewell to his oldest friend.

Yet he hesitated not—this was nature's course.

Jaw clenched, Melberot marched on.

- Clatter, haha

Night had fallen over Ravenclaw Academy, yet lights still glowed from dormitory windows.

Newly assigned students stayed up socializing, gradually adapting to campus life before classes commenced in days.

Watching these beams from Amarilis House, the aged Grand Mage Kalimford pulled his robe tighter.

For young noblewomen cultivating social graces, war remained distant.

Though shocking news arrived from across the continent, their immediate concerns involved dormitory introductions and friendships.

Battlefield horrors were adults'burdens—parents hoped academic pursuits would occupy their children's minds.

They remained too young to comprehend peace's price.

"I'll be absent about a week."

At the room's inner table sat Derek Raidof Ravenclaw, the academy's founder who'd arranged these quarters.

His purpose was clear—to hunt Phee.

Should combat intensify and she be fully subdued... Kalimford's brief return to life might end.

Derek had come to deliver this warning.

"You said you cannot greatly assist against Lady Phee. I'll respect that decision."

Derek appeared ready for deployment.

He intended to swiftly resolve this catastrophe and return to his academic duties.

Kalimford flexed his bony fingers before chuckling dryly.

"This may be your last chance to see Lady Sirine. Spend time with her while I'm east."

"No need."

Kalimford gazed at Amarilis House, easily imagining Sirine enjoying student life there—neither top student nor dorm leader, but studying magic and making friends at her own pace.

With trustworthy leadership and her own determination, she'd flourish.

Closing his eyes, Kalimford smiled heavily and rose.

"I'll accompany you."

"..."

"That doubtful look. What's the issue? Sirine thrives here."

Memories surfaced of Sirine declaring her independence onstage, dress fluttering.

Leaving that vision behind, the aging hero went to settle ancient debts.

His journey's final chapter awaited.

- KABOOOM!

- WHOOSH!

-"Eastern forces annihilated! Damn it! We can't maintain formation! Retreat! Fall back!"

-"Where's Robert?! Supply units?! Sound the horns! Signal retreat!"

-"No Robert! There you are! Quickly sound the... Gah...!"

Comrades fell only to rise again, spilling blood before turning blades on former allies.

Thus perished the border garrisons and allied forces of Count Elvester's domain.

Upon the count's outer walls stood a lavender-haired girl surveying the carnage.

A colossal archlich scattered restless spirits across the battlefield while a skeletal dragon perched on spires, breathing frost.

The Queen of Death smiled upon her domain.

"Mobilizing border troops and allied squads means... expansion begins."

The once-idyllic county now overflowed with corpses.

"Then... soon..."

Phee hugged herself at the epicenter, grinning with euphoric abandon.

"Derek comes."

Her gleeful, unhinged laughter sent shivers through observing soldiers.

"Derek comes... to kill me..."

Storm clouds gathered overhead.

The necromancer's rapture painted her a perfect madwoman.

'Not a battlefield—a slaughterhouse.'

- Gallop, gallop!

After days of hard riding from the capital, Melberot reached Elvester's borders beneath darkened skies.

With only a dozen elite soldiers, he spurred his horse toward the count's manor.

- Gallop, gallop!

- WHOOSH! CRACKLE!

Corpse swarms fell to casual gestures without slowing his mount.

- Gallop, gallop!

Memories surfaced of Noir's northern rampage.

Karma from enlisting the necromancer's aid now returned to claim its due.