Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 242

Positioned in the northwestern corner relative to Amaryllis House's central garden, Lavender Dormitory stands.

For a dormitory housing only four students, its structure is surprisingly spacious—likely because its future as an elite residence wasn't initially considered.

Consequently, Lavender Dormitory remains mostly vacant, with only occasional cleaning staff passing through its halls.

Pellin had accounted for this, coordinating with Delbritton to confirm multiple times when the building would be empty.

Her motive was obvious.

From the start, Pellin intended to provoke Sirine into reckless action.

'Complacency kills. A 4-Star mage going all out could sever limbs or claim lives with a single miscast spell.'

The corridors branching from Lavender's main hall stretch long and silent.

After leaping clear down one such passage, Pellin's first act was to slash her cumbersome dress hem with a dagger for mobility.

Beneath the tattered fabric, leather belts hugged her thighs—one securing a well-maintained throwing dagger that could double as a parrying weapon when reversed.

'But... to react this intensely to mere provocation. Battlefield inexperience makes noble girls so predictable.'

Smirking, Pellin sprinted down the corridor with practiced ease.

- CRASH! BOOM!

As Pellin burst through the shattered main hall doors, a vicious surge of mana erupted around her.

Tattered fabric fluttered while broken door fragments skittered across marble.

A 4-Star mage at the peak of fury.

Commoners would prostrate themselves in terror at such a sight. From 3-Star onward, only seasoned combatants could oppose mages—4-Star threats typically requiring entire squads to subdue.

- WHOOSH!

Yet Pellin's expression remained utterly composed.

Sirine's mana coiled again as her signature Transformation Magic activated—3-Star Acceleration layering over her form as she closed the corridor's length in one bound.

At this distance, a single strike meant death.

But Pellin had memorized Sirine's capabilities, Lavender's layout, and every usable environmental feature.

- THUD! CRACK!

With Acceleration active, Sirine moved less like a noblewoman and more like a feral beast.

Crimson eyes blazing, her billowing dress resembled monstrous wings mid-flight.

This overwhelming speed differential was anticipated.

Pellin dropped low, rolling to yank a hallway carpet taut across the floor.

"...?!"

- FWUMP! CRUNCH!

Acceleration's physics worked both ways. Sirine's petite frame excelled at agility but suffered greater inertia.

Pellin knew she'd approach—long-range spells couldn't guarantee instant suppression.

Entering the corridor, Pellin had already identified obstacles to hinder movement.

- BANG! CRASH!

As Sirine tumbled into the wall, Pellin sprang up fluidly.

Simultaneously, the yanked carpet unfurled midair to obscure Sirine's vision.

- RIP!

Yet Pellin's improvisation bought little time.

Sirine rose instantly, grinding her teeth as she incinerated the carpet barehanded.

No incantation. Not even preparatory motions.

She'd reached the realm of casting 1-Star magic without tells—an absurd achievement for her age.

'Worthy of being Derek's top disciple. Can't let my guard down.'

But Pellin had already vanished.

Kicking through the corridor's end door, she ascended Lavender's spiral staircase.

"All that grand talk just to scurry away like a rat!"

Sirine reactivated Acceleration in pursuit, teeth clenched.

Lavender's eastern spiral stairwell—a vast cylinder stretching to the rooftop.

From the ground floor, Pellin's spiraling ascent appeared almost leisurely.

Assuming she'd rely solely on evasion was a fatal miscalculation.

Enraged beyond reason, Sirine gathered mana for 3-Star magic.

Against a nimble foe, only battlefield-saturating spells guaranteed hits.

Mid-climb, Pellin swallowed dryly.

'She's truly unhinged...!'

Abandoning her attrition strategy, Pellin pivoted instantly.

- TWANG!

- THUNK!

"...!"

An arrow struck nearby.

Sirine froze, bewildered by the projectile from above.

No need to trace its origin—Pellin had produced a bow mid-ascent to disrupt spellcasting.

How'd she procure weapons in a noblewomen's dormitory? The mystery paled against immediate concerns—escaping the killzone took priority.

Proper defensive spells could negate interruptions, allowing large-scale magic.

- SWISH!

Pellin emerged on the upper landing, bow drawn.

'Can't permit spellcasting. 3-Star+ magic would leave no escape routes.'

Delbritton had prepared the longbow—prearranged in a display case along this route.

The oversized weapon dwarfed Pellin's frame, its draw weight daunting even for seasoned archers.

Yet she handled it effortlessly, surveying Sirine below through stained glass sunlight.

Tattered dress, hair hastily tied back—Pellin embodied veteran mercenary poise.

She'd claimed the high ground deliberately.

Sirine realized—this was Pellin's designed battleground.

Two choices remained:

Overwhelm with large-scale magic, or chase using Acceleration.

The former risked continuous arrow disruption; the latter felt like playing into Pellin's hands.

'Pathetic tricks. Overwhelming force renders them meaningless.'

Sirine's fury intensified at Pellin's confidence.

Defensive spells would negate arrows—then the tables would turn completely.

But Pellin hadn't overlooked this.

- TWANG!

- WHOOSH!

Her next move defied expectations.

Pellin vaulted over the railing into open air.

"Wha—?!"

Midair somersault, torso twisting as she drew and fired.

No random shot—the arrow struck beside her first projectile, hitting a small pouch tied to its shaft.

- BOOM! CRACK!

Inconceivable precision.

Upside-down, mid-rotation, she'd hit a pouch containing gunpowder and pepper dust.

A second arrow's flint coating ignited the mixture.

This transcended combat—it was performance art.

- KABOOM! WHOOSH!

The stairwell's base vanished in a choking cloud.

- THUD! CRASH!

Pellin rolled down opposite stairs, wincing at a lumbar impact but rising instantly.

Sirine coughed violently in the haze.

"Hack! *cough*! Is this... spices? Pepper?!"

Almost playful—had it been poison, she'd be dead.

Tears streaming, Sirine focused anew.

- WHOOSH!

A 1-Star wind spell could clear this instantly.

As vision returned—

- FWIP!

Pellin stood point-blank.

"...?!"

She'd abandoned the high ground.

But how? The descent defied physics—until Sirine spotted thin wires strung between railings.

Pellin tripped Sirine, pinning her with a dagger at her throat.

"Huff... huff..."

"'Sky threads'—braided serpent sinew. First time seeing them?"

"Ghk...!"

The nearly invisible web crisscrossing the stairwell became apparent.

Pellin had turned the architecture into her domain mid-combat.

- CRACK!

A knee drove into Sirine's solar plexus, ending resistance.

"...Gasp... gasp..."

Countess Pellin Lydoff Ravenclaw's rumors never mentioned such combat prowess.

She wielded zero magic.

But her skills—honed alongside Derek—proved formidable.

Yet this wasn't Sirine's first exposure to such tactics.

-'Fwoooosh!'

Memories surfaced of a white-haired mercenary in snowfields.

Pellin's style mirrored Derek's practical combat—minus his Confusion and Transformation Magic flourishes.

A degraded replica, yet adapted brilliantly without magic.

In raw power, Sirine surpassed Pellin overwhelmingly.

Properly deployed, 4-Star magic could obliterate Pellin instantly.

But lifelong nobility lacked battlefield improvisation.

- THUD!

Dust-covered Pellin grinned through tattered fabric.

"Gasp... gasp...! Ngh...!"

"What's wrong? Frustrated?"

"Want another lesson?"

- WHOOSH!

Sirine gritted her teeth, summoning mana anew.

Defeat remained unacceptable.

"Greetings... Lord Melberot."

"..."

Explosions echoed from Lavender Dormitory.

Melberot observed the disturbance from his guest quarters, expression inscrutable.

"The dormitory seems chaotic. You seek me now?"

"Yes. We must speak."

Derek's arrival with Aiselin prompted a slow nod from Melberot.

His demeanor suggested settled conclusions.