Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 39

[Acquired Magic List]

✦ Combat Magic

★☆☆☆☆☆ Mana Arrow

★☆☆☆☆☆ Shockwave

★☆☆☆☆☆ Ice Spear

★☆☆☆☆☆ Fire Arrow

★☆☆☆☆☆ Power Manifestation

★★☆☆☆☆ Fireball

★★☆☆☆☆ Shadow Bind

★★☆☆☆☆ Large-scale Barrier

✦ Transformation Magic

★☆☆☆☆☆ Light Creation

★☆☆☆☆☆ Attribute Imbue

★★☆☆☆☆ Earth Wall

★★☆☆☆☆ Crystallization

✦ Confusion Magic

★☆☆☆☆☆ Soundproof

★☆☆☆☆☆ Illusion - Small Animal

★★☆☆☆☆ Auditory Hallucination

★★☆☆☆☆ Disorientation

✦ Summoning Magic

★☆☆☆☆☆ Summon - Guide Fairy

✦ Detection Magic

★☆☆☆☆☆ Direction Sense

★★☆☆☆☆ Vision

★★☆☆☆☆ Magic Detection

★★☆☆☆☆ Lifeform Detection

Derek learned the basics of combat magic from an old beggar.

And proper confusion magic from a fallen noblewoman named Katia.

A teacher's influence is undeniable. Though Derek continued self-study afterward, most achievements centered around combat and confusion magic.

He never neglected transformation, detection, or summoning magic. Yet no matter how hard he tried, inevitable plateaus formed.

"You've grasped detection magic completely now."

How long had he been immersed in magic within this dark cave?

Drest Wolftail spoke those rare words of praise one day. The old man seldom commented on Derek's progress first.

"...It still feels incomplete."

"The rest is for you to master alone."

Hearing this, Derek felt strangely disappointed.

Opportunities to learn directly from a 6-Star detection mage were rare. Having come this far, he wanted to absorb everything possible.

Yet he knew self-reflection mattered as much as good teachers for magical mastery.

"If enlightenment came from sitting in caves, the world's great mages would all be recluses."

"I've heard many actually are."

"...Regardless, my role here is done."

Derek raised his palm, repeatedly clenching and unclenching it.

Closing his eyes, he sensed mana flow again.

Observing Drest's mana manipulation, he'd endlessly tried gauging that vast energy.

Gathering mana before his eyes, he exhaled it outward like breath.

Parts of his body burned while others froze. The contrasting sensations collided, transforming into pure mana.

He'd felt similar in labyrinths before.

That strange dissonance when magic output resists control. The signature struggle when entering a new tier.

Imitating Drest's mana usage while mastering detection spells, he'd frequently experienced this sensation.

Reaching for heights beyond his current level—those days repeated endlessly.

Countless repetitions later, he wrestled the rampaging mana into submission.

Finally, he concentrated mana at his fingertips.

"..."

Compelled, Derek placed his hand on the cold stone floor and released mana as instinct dictated.

- WHOOOOSH!

Despite pouring his all into the release, nothing visibly changed.

"..."

Just as disappointment welled up—

- CRUMBLE, BOOM.

- CRACKKKKKK!

Tremors spread through the cavern.

Not enough to collapse the entire cave, but sufficient to overturn this vast clearing.

The shaking intensified. Stalactites shattered. Walls cracked.

- BOOM! CRACKKKKK!

Before Derek could process events, Drest erected a barrier and telekinetically shoved him toward the exit.

- RUMBLEEE! BOOM!

Raspa Cave entrance.

Derek sat stunned before the collapsed cave mouth, hands trembling from the mana release.

Drest stood arms-crossed behind him, chuckling dryly.

Though nearing adulthood, Derek's magic had demolished the cave entrance.

"Huff... Huff..."

Sweating profusely, Derek steadied his shaking hands and stood.

As he processed the tremors'meaning—

[New Magic Acquired]

3-Star Combat Magic'Tectonic Shift'

Derek gulped.

To find a commoner mage this young mastering 3-Star magic, one would need history books.

The wrinkled old mage placed a hand on Derek's shoulder as usual.

"As I said, nothing more to teach at this point."

Stars shone brightly.

Adelbert, who first conceived star rankings, allegedly drew inspiration from these very stars.

By the campfire at the collapsed cave mouth, Derek lay gazing at the night sky with Drest.

Dumbfounded, Derek stared at his palm.

He'd just upheaved the surrounding terrain. 3-Star magic.

Among nobles, 3-Star mages earned recognition as"senior mages"—those with substantial mastery.

Commoner 3-Star mages commanded respect even from nobles, having devoted lifetimes to magic.

But none as young as Derek. Whether nobles would show such respect remained doubtful.

The living proof sat across the fire—Drest Wolftail.

"As I've said, commoner mages need extraordinary talent to survive."

"..."

The words held no emotion, yet carried lifetimes of weight.

Having lived as a commoner mage, Drest sacrificed endlessly to survive and humble nobles.

"Overwhelm them completely. Only unreachable heights earn true awe. Those within grasp inevitably get pulled down—human nature."

"How overwhelming must one be?"

Even at Derek's age, 3-Star magic would astonish most mages.

Yet Drest simply closed his eyes.

Against the world, one must either dominate utterly or fail spectacularly.

Drest's clouded gaze held centuries of sediment as he studied Derek.

Seeing the blossoming mage, he seemed to recall something from long ago.

"Judge that yourself."

Rising stiffly, he added:

"Where are you going?"

"Need some air."

"..."

Dusting his robe, Drest vanished into the night-shrouded forest.

To some, that darkness might seem endless void.

In his twilight years, the world's greatest commoner mage bore no majestic aura.

Just a shriveled old man in tattered robes, eating peasant food.

Living quietly. Dying quietly.

Derek knew. Drest's end wouldn't match his legend.

After wandering reminiscing, he'd sense death approaching and return to a ruined village near Count Zeblon's territory.

Entering some abandoned house, sitting on some broken chair, resting his chin.

Closing his eyes. Never reopening them.

That was his way.

"Night air's still cold, Master. Stay by the fire longer."

Drest paused thoughtfully before responding blankly as ever.

"I'm fine."

"..."

"Beware Kochella."

With that cryptic warning, he dissolved into darkness.

He never returned.

Left alone, Derek poked the crackling fire.

As always, he ended up solitary.

The old beggar. Katia. Drest. All left eventually. Such was life.

Derek returned to his Commercial District residence in Evelstain after long absence.

He washed, laundered mercenary gear, polished rusted blades, oiled leathers.

Cleaned the dusty room, discarded spoiled food.

Washed bedding, placed scented candles.

Repaired the worn door, replaced old furniture.

Trimmed shaggy hair, shaved.

Stored Katia's spellbook deep in a drawer—beyond needing it now.

Finally dressed, he reviewed accumulated letters.

From the mercenary group. The three great families. Evelstain officials. Prospective employers. Many sought him during his absence.

Finished organizing, he stepped outside into sunlight. The bakery's aroma remained unchanged.

Evelstain—the city of countless faces.

His hometown.

"We've heard from that Derek. He requests an audience with Duke Beltus. How shall we proceed?"

Head Butler Clayven found the notion absurd—a mere commoner seeking ducal audience.

Yet as an acclaimed magic instructor, Derek held some privilege. Established tutors occasionally addressed high nobility.

Indeed, Derek had previously corresponded with House Beltus regarding terms.

"Finished his training, has he?"

Derek had humbled Duke Duplein's arrogance by not returning as predicted. Duke Beltus swelled with satisfaction.

Choosing Beltus over Duplein or Belmierd pleased him immensely.

"Denise needs instruction—her progress has stagnated. With his reputation, results are assured."

"Rumors praise his exceptional results with both houses."

"Good. Since Denise recruited him, she should meet him first. Pressing territorial matters demand my attention."

The Duke began drafting letters to Evelstain, satisfaction dripping from his quill.

Relieved by his demeanor, the butler relaxed.

"The instructor visits the estate today."

"Eep...!"

As usual holed up in her room, Lady Denise swallowed dryly.

Returned from the main estate, she'd been analyzing why Derek would choose her over Aiselin or Elente.

After considering countless theories, she concluded this might be retaliation.

She'd tried manipulating him while feigning magical passion—an insult to true mages.

No commoner would dare grudge a Beltus daughter. But Derek was no ordinary commoner—coveted by all three great families.

Realizing her precarious position, Denise panicked.

'If I achieve nothing after acquiring the instructor who reformed Lady Diela, earned Lady Elente's respect, and even rejected Lady Aiselin...?'

However lowborn, his accomplishments commanded respect.

Failure would reflect solely on her.

She hadn't anticipated this trap, yet escape proved impossible.

"Bella... I just want to lie here... Can't we cancel...?"

"You know that's impossible... The Duke won't allow it..."

Splashing water on her face repeatedly, Denise finally rose. Moping solved nothing.

"Greetings. It's been a while."

Evelstain Noble District, Lady Denise's estate.

Servants ushered Derek down the corridor.

Cloak flowing, he bowed with characteristic bluntness.

Yet Denise gaped in shock.

This was their first proper meeting since the cave. Though she'd first seen him at the dueling grounds, that memory had blurred during recruitment efforts.

The Derek in her mind was that disheveled cave-dwelling eccentric.

This polished figure nearly made her question his identity.

"D-Derek... was it...?"

"Yes. Thank you for the cave supplies. They helped greatly."

"You... know etiquette...?"

"Pardon?"

"..."

However lax Derek's sense of status, behavior differed between cave depths and noble estates.

Common sense, yet Denise struggled processing the transformation.

'No time for shock! I must uncover his motives.'

The cave hermit. Surely his magic had advanced.

Channeling mana, Denise activated her specialty—detection magic—to gauge his strength.

"..."

But Derek's mana remained imperceptible.

Either too weak or deliberately concealed. The latter required surpassing his detection skills.

Clearly, he operated on another level.

Denise gulped.

"Y-you've traveled far. I hear you'll instruct me now?"

"Indeed."

Brushing off his hands, Derek smiled faintly.

"I heard you harbor great disillusionment with magic."

"..."

"Frankly, isn't that insulting? Judging magic without proper understanding insults the art itself. Especially coming from someone who's devoted his life to it."

"Fine. Maybe I was hasty. I apologize. Satisfied?"

"Gratitude for the honest apology. But what a tragedy—living with such disdain for this magnificent art. That cannot stand."

Meeting Derek's gaze, Denise saw something indescribable.

Bottomless sincerity? Or madness beyond it?

'Eep...'

She realized—she'd provoked someone she shouldn't have.

Common sense dictated assessing targets before provoking them. But noble-commoner divides often obscured such basics.

Regrettably, spilled milk cannot be gathered.