Chapter 14
“Ingram!”
A voice filled with shock burst out from the direction of the Phillips family.
The startled members of the noble house all jumped to their feet. Those who hadn’t yet grasped what had happened could only stare wide-eyed at the sky.
Just now, the red-haired girl had only swung her sword—
and this was the result.
A fierce wind that burst forth from the blade Silia swung with force had struck Ingram head-on.
Whoooom—!
Like someone punched in the gut, Ingram’s body was blasted high into the air by the sword wind.
He was said to be among the top of his age group—one of the future elite swordsmen of the kingdom.
But—
“That’s… too high.”
He was so high up that falling would probably shatter his spine.
She was sure she hadn’t hit him that hard. Peering up, she saw he’d lost consciousness midair.
‘He passed out from that? Pathetic.’
“This is troublesome.”
The unconscious Ingram began plummeting toward the ground.
If he hit the ground like that, it would be a disaster. Silia sighed and prepared to catch him.
“Huh?”
From somewhere, a glowing magic circle appeared beneath him, catching his falling body.
It shone with bright golden light.
Then—poof!—the magic circle transformed into a huge, fluffy cushion.
Ingram landed right on top of it and bounced several times like a ragdoll. Even while unconscious, his face twisted like he might vomit. Someone shouted:
“…He’s down! Lord Ingram Phillips is defeated!”
“She’s a magic swordsman! A true magic swordsman—the kind that’s born once in a hundred years!”
Silia wanted to correct that. Not a hundred—maybe once in a thousand years.
That’s the kind of evaluation Illode had received.
Even his titles had been ridiculous—“The Transparent Sword Demon,” “The Swordmaster from Hell,” “The Angel Who Bore the Black Flame Dragon”…
“…What a lunatic.”
Even if others had given him those nicknames, the fact that he didn’t reject them said plenty. How thick-skinned could one man be?
She shivered, imagining people giving her those same epithets.
Meanwhile, the dueling grounds buzzed with excitement that refused to die down.
“My goodness!”
“What even happened just now? Did she use magic again?”
“But she only swung her sword!”
“Does anyone know her?”
Among the clamor, Julin muttered blankly,
“So it really works.”
He’d seen her use her power before, but seeing it full-force for the first time still stunned him. Beside him, Margaret couldn’t hide her shock either.
Even so, Julin noticed something odd about the reaction of Fleur, who had risen to her feet with clenched fists.
‘She’s… not surprised at all?’
His eyes narrowed.
Normally, someone like Margaret’s reaction would be expected. Fleur Diamant shouldn’t know what Silia was capable of. After all, during the monster hunt, Fleur had been unconscious the whole time. Silia had even admitted that, which was why people had easily credited Fleur for slaying the beast.
But that look on Fleur’s face now—
“You’re not surprised?”
“I believed in her.”
No, Julin thought. You already knew.
And he wasn’t wrong.
That moment when Fleur had been thrown against a wall by the monster—she hadn’t completely blacked out.
She had seen it.
The red hair blazing like fire, the flawless movement that left no room for waste, and the monster’s head sailing cleanly through the air.
Every second of that sight had sent chills down her spine. She couldn’t even name the feeling she’d had watching Silia stand there, sword in hand.
After much searching, she’d decided it must be awe.
Nothing else could make her heart pound like that.
When Ingram had been running his mouth earlier, Fleur had wanted to step forward—not because she doubted Silia, but because Silia shouldn’t have to listen to that garbage.
But if she stepped up in anger, it would only insult Silia. She couldn’t do that.
And as expected, Silia had proven herself—flawlessly.
“I guess you didn’t need my help after all.”
Her voice came out a little bitter. She’d been startled when rumors spread crediting her with the monster kill. But she’d accepted it—thinking maybe Silia had her reasons. She’d wanted to help, to stand beside her… even if someday Silia would outpace her.
“Silia.”
Fleur quietly called her name, but the heat in the stands still hadn’t cooled.
People shouted and cheered over each other—
“Everyone quiet!”
“Eek!”
All the spectators except for the royal box fell silent at once.
Someone had darted forward and cast a spell. A tall, slender figure in a violet robe.
The audience, suddenly struck mute by a silence spell, protested with hand gestures.
“Just wait a sec! I’ll undo it soon! I just have something to say first!”
The robed figure raised a hand high.
At the same time, Riemann, seated in the delegation area for the Magic Tower, shot to his feet in horror. The violet hood slowly fell back—
—and a strangled cry burst from Riemann’s mouth.
“Stop! You mustn’t!”
“What do you mean, mustn’t? I must!”
“Tower Master!”
A radiant beauty with golden hair tied carelessly up and golden eyes gleaming with mischief pointed straight at Silia and declared in a clear, ringing voice:
“Give that girl to us!”
“She’s done it again! The Tower Master’s done it!” someone from the Magic Tower cried.
Silia turned to look, startled.
‘…The Tower Master?’
The current Tower Master—Acla.
A renowned mage rumored to be over a hundred years old, though she looked barely thirty. A commoner by birth, she had risen to the position purely by her overwhelming skill during an era when nobles and freemen were sharply divided.
She was also said to be the only human capable of conversing with Norrmungand, the ancient guardian dragon of the kingdom.
Silia had heard of her in her previous life—a great archmage who had fought in the Monster War before falling into a coma after casting an immense spell.
Meeting her in person, however—
‘…She’s kind of a nutcase.’
As if to prove Silia’s thought, Riemann screamed again.
“Tower Master! Please, maintain your dignity!”
“Why should I? The Tower needs—uh—researchers! Princess, we really need new talent! That kid belongs with us more than in the Academy’s magic division! We could teach her so much more!”
“……”
Silia’s headache was immediate. She’d wanted rumors to spread, yes—but not like this.
Looking toward Princess Marcella, she saw the princess’s cheeks flushed pink, her eyes shining with admiration. It was cute—if a bit overwhelming.
…Though the person beside her was even more excited.
‘Could you not wave so obviously?’
Even without seeing his face, Silia could tell. That ridiculous arm-waving could only belong to one person—her page, Crondel.
As he and the princess openly gushed, the surrounding nobles caught their excitement and began looking at Silia with glowing eyes.
‘…Fine. I’ll just accept the hype for now.’
With a weary expression, Silia turned away from Crondel’s exaggerated thumbs-up. In the distance, she saw the Phillips family carrying off Ingram.
He didn’t look too badly hurt—physically, anyway. His pride was another matter.
“Serves him right.”
She hadn’t exposed their cheating because she knew they’d just wriggle out of it. If they’d been bold enough to try something like this, they probably already had a plan to cover it up.
‘Better to keep that as leverage for later.’
If she ever lost her power again, having a noble house’s secret to hold over them might come in handy. She needed every possible advantage before passing her strength on.
While she was still calculating in her head, someone from the Academy’s swordsmanship division stood up. She recognized him immediately.
Ozka Hasfield—once hailed as the kingdom’s greatest swordmaster before Illode.
He’d died before the Monster War, caught up in political strife, but his reputation remained legendary.
Now, that same authority on swordsmanship spoke up to check the Tower Master.
“Tower Master, that girl took the exam to become a swordswoman. As a magic swordsman, she still falls under our field. The sword division holds priority—so claiming her outright seems improper.”
“There are plenty of swordsmen, though! We’re short on magicians! Do you know how desperate we are? Just give us one! Please?”
“Well, I—”
Even this argument alone served as proof of Silia’s extraordinary skill as a swordswoman.
Then Princess Marcella raised a hand, palm out—asking for silence.
Both Ozka and Acla stopped talking immediately, though Acla still gazed at the princess with bright, sparkling eyes.
“You both make fair points,” Marcella said, smiling. “But in the end, the most important opinion is hers.”
“……”
“So then…”
The princess’s eyes gleamed.
“Let’s leave the decision to the person herself.”
