Chapter 15

Chapter 15
## Chapter 15

Murmurs could be heard among the servants.

Diella was hiding under the damaged platform, and Leigh, using his magic, was preparing a first-tier spell.

This was no longer a formal magic duel where etiquette and magical skill were exchanged; it had turned into a real fight. Chief Butler Delron swallowed hard as he watched.

Technically, the magic duel did not yet meet the requirements to be stopped. No one had crossed the boundaries and the protection circle had not been activated either.

But, could this still be considered a magic duel? Was it right not to intervene in a situation where the contenders faced each other emotionally?

Duke Duplain, watching from the balcony, gave no order. He simply contemplated the duel with a serious gaze.

Butler Delron considered the possibility of intervening on his own, but the determined expressions of the two combatants, gritting their teeth in battle, stopped him.

*Crash! Crack!*

Leigh ran between the ice pillars, organizing his thoughts. If he tried to break through the floor of the platform to pursue Diella, she would perceive the magic and launch her attack.

At that moment, Leigh would have to stop his spell or resort to defensive magic. The stalemate would continue.

In the midst of this mental struggle, Leigh realized something. Diella was prolonging this stalemate to exhaust his magical power.

Leigh, casting first-tier spells recklessly, and Diella, simply repeating basic magic.

Although their magical abilities were different, it was clear who would tire first.

—

*Hiss!*

Leigh jumped onto the platform.

Although his steps echoed below, Diella did not materialize her magic. As expected.

Diella only intervened when Leigh began to cast spells, which clearly provoked a war of attrition.

*Smart move! But… it’s nothing more than a little trick…!*

A magic duel is essentially a test of magical power, but in this situation, there was no need to stick to etiquette and rely solely on magic.

Leigh struck the platform wall and grabbed the flagpole at the edge.

The banner of the Duplain family fluttered on the mast. Without hesitation, Leigh kicked the base of the mast upward, the muscles in his arm bulging with veins.

Diella’s attacks only reached the top of the platform. If he went higher, she wouldn’t be able to reach an invisible target through it. From up there, even if he were bombarded with magic, Diella would not be able to respond.

However, there was a drawback. Clinging to the mast made it difficult to cast spells properly, reducing both his magic and his mobility.

If he used magic now to break the platform, he would become an easy target for Diella’s spells.

Perhaps Diella was counting on this. But Leigh went one step further.

Leigh untied his cape and wrapped it around the flagpole.

Then, he gathered his magic and imbued the base of the pole with the first-tier spell *Magic Arrow*.

*Bang!*

*Crack, crunch!*

The mast, struck hard at its base, was on the verge of falling. Ignoring the gasps of the servants, Leigh shifted his weight toward the platform, tightly gripping the mast covered with a cape. He directed the fall of the mast toward the platform.

Using the collapsed pole, he would shatter the platform. Without using magic to break it, Diella would not have time to react, and it would also create an entrance to the space below the platform where she was hiding.

At that moment, Leigh was confident in his victory. His determination would not waver even if the sky split in two.

—

*Crunch!*

*Bang!*

In this way, the mast crashed against the platform, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Leigh, about to fall, jumped to the side and rolled across the stage. Covered in dust, he ignored it and looked toward where the pole had struck.

One side of the wooden platform had collapsed. The geographical advantage that had protected Diella was gone.

Without hesitation, Leigh lunged into the debris.

*Crash!*

It was not difficult to predict the landing.

Although the ice pillars summoned by Diella surrounded him, Leigh quickly used magic to destroy them. Shaking his hands, he looked around to locate Diella.

Underneath the damaged platform.

Sunlight filtered occasionally through the cracks in the broken wood, but most of the place was dark despite the sunny day. He searched for Diella, but she was nowhere to be seen.

*‘…What? Did she get out?’*

As Leigh examined the area, he saw that the hole Diella had previously sealed with ice had opened again.

Beneath the hole lay remnants of ice pillars that appeared to have been trampled.

When Leigh showed signs of wanting to break through the platform and descend, Diella prepared to ascend instead.

*That… damn sly rat…!*

She had no intention of fighting on equal terms. If there was any difference in skill, she would use terrain and tactics to disorient her opponent.

That was the fighting style of a mercenary: living a life where one never knew when or where they might face a stronger enemy.

Above and below the platform. Their positions had reversed. Now, Diella was at the top of the platform and Leigh was below. The situation had taken a complete turn.

Leigh remained calm. As he had just proven, going up onto the platform and indirectly revealing his location was a major disadvantage. Now that he occupied the lower space, he had the upper hand—or at least, he was in no worse position.

He could go back up or locate Diella from below and strike her down in a single blow.

As soon as he heard her footsteps, a magic arrow shot toward them.

*Crack! Bang!*

The magic arrow impacted right beneath Diella’s feet, shattering the platform.

At the same time, Diella, who was standing on top, was forced to fall.

*Crack! Thump!*

When Diella landed under the platform, another cloud of dust rose.

The thick dust made vision difficult, but her presence could be felt nearby. Leigh prepared three more magic arrows and fired them toward where Diella was.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

The impact dispersed the dust, but the protection circle did not activate. He had missed.

Leigh quickly stood up and began to run, cursing under his breath. Before Diella could reposition and resume her hit-and-run tactics, he gathered his magic, determined to end everything immediately.

And there she was, visible through the dust.

In that instant, Leigh’s pupils trembled.

Blood trickled down one side of the girl’s forehead; it was likely an injury from the fall.

She was moving normally, so it wasn’t serious, but Leigh understood the significance of even a scratch on a noble lady’s body. Covered in dust, she shook her cape, channeling magic once more. Her eyes were overflowing with poison.

Yes, poison. Since childhood, Leigh had seen that poison in Diella’s eyes: a relentless determination to achieve her goal by any means.

Sometimes it manifested in painting, sometimes in magic. The girl tried her hardest to reach something, but always ended up clutching at air. When sincerity bore no fruit, the extraordinary retaliation was an infinite void.

And when she had nowhere to turn, that poison turned inward, tormenting the servants only to maintain her noble authority and cling to her last sense of worth.

As always, she would sit in the pavilion, staring blankly, letting the days pass meaninglessly.

—

Observing her, Leigh had always thought: that was how Diella was. But the direction of that poison was everything.

If guided properly, it could become wings on someone’s back.

*Crunch!*

Diella, defending herself with ice pillars, looked exhausted. Unlike Leigh, repeatedly summoning magic exhausted her much more. She seemed to have reached her limit.

Unfortunately, Leigh was not one to show mercy just because someone was bleeding.

As he approached, ready to launch his last magic arrow…

“Aargh!”

Diella grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground and threw it into Leigh’s eyes. A tactic that no noble would ever consider. As Leigh stumbled back, clutching his eyes, she kicked him in the stomach, sending his cape flying.

*Crash!*

She tried to strike him with an ice pillar, but he, with red eyes and gritted teeth, blocked the attack.

*Thwack! Thump! Thump!*

Through the shattered ice pillars destroyed by Leigh’s magic, the expression of tension on Diella’s face could be seen.

Leigh could clearly read her determination.

She wanted to win.

To win at all costs. To prove her worth through victory. Protecting her teacher or whatever came next was secondary. At that moment, Diella simply wanted to win by any means. Her eyes shone with a fierce desire for victory.

Could it really be the same girl—the one with the cold, empty eyes who was once locked in the pavilion?

Leigh swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. But that didn’t mean he could afford to lose.

Taking advantage of Leigh’s hesitation, Diella kicked the broken mast and climbed it. Her movements were agile, typical of someone who once painted landscapes and roamed forests, but still, it was a futile struggle.

All the variables she had prepared were completely neutralized. Leigh followed her, propelling himself from the pole and climbing onto the platform.

There, Diella waited, gathering the last of her magic.

“Think of it as a painting.”

Under the night sky, an old white-haired mercenary once said.

Contemplating the stars, thick as salt, he used the vast sky as a canvas, tracing lines with his finger.

While drawing constellations among the stars, magic was already beginning to form at his fingertips.

The girl, her eyes full of starlight, observed the world, longing to capture it in her art.

She stood before a canvas, brush in hand, contemplating the forested night. As she painted the lonely moon above, she seemed to be able to perceive the magical essence in all things.

A warm night breeze. A lonely zelkova tree in a grass field.

Spring. Night. And stars.

If magic was the act of materializing imagination into reality, how was it different from painting? Magic was her art, spells her brush, and a single painting was magic made reality.

And so, the girl painted the world with a brush soaked in color.

*Whish!*

Just as her white-haired master had suggested, she traced a magic incantation. She loved the instant she left the first brushstroke on a blank canvas. The magic forming in her fingers enveloped her, and with a light squeeze, it concentrated in her fingers and bloomed into a flower.

Leigh, preparing his magic on the platform, opened his eyes in surprise. Covered in dust, stripped of all noble dignity, and with a bloodstain on her eye that added ferocity to her gaze.

The servants, who had rushed to the stage thinking it was time to intervene, froze.

*Whish!*

From the girl’s fingertips, a one-star spell was born: *Ice Spear*. The frozen spear floated around her and then launched toward Leigh at incredible speed.

The spear, too fast to be followed by the eye, filled Leigh’s field of vision.

“Argh!”

Leigh gritted his teeth and began his incantation. A one-star spell, launched so suddenly by Diella—someone he didn’t believe capable of piercing his defense.

It was unexpected, but all he had to do was block it and counterattack immediately. Diella had probably exhausted her last reserve of mana and had no defense left.

So Leigh lowered his guard and gathered mana. He focused all his thoughts on dodging the *Ice Spear* and firing a mana arrow at Diella.

*Bang!*

Once again, a cloud of dust rose over the stage and, in the center, a protective spell activated.

The appearance of the protection spell meant the duel was over. The followers and servants, who had been silently watching the rising dust, swallowed hard.

Everyone wondered what the outcome of this desperate struggle would be.

Then… the dust began to dissipate slowly.

*Ugh.*

And the one whose protection spell had been activated… was Diella.

Exhausted, she collapsed, gritting her teeth as her protection spell activated.

*Gasp… gasp…*

Leigh rolled on the ground, having narrowly dodged the *Ice Spear*. Somehow, he had managed to fire his last shot against Diella.

Completely exhausted, Leigh struggled to stand up. Shortly after, tears began to well up in Diella’s eyes as she lay gasping on the ground.

It was Diella’s defeat.

“…”

And then, overwhelmed by her loss, Diella broke into inconsolable tears. Leigh could only look at her in shock.

***

*‘Did she use a one-star spell…?’*

The duel itself didn’t last long. Only a few minutes.

But in that brief instant, the stage collapsed, dust rose, and a fierce battle broke out in the blink of an eye.

Amidst the tense atmosphere and the sudden turn of events, Duke Duplain didn’t even bother to order a stop.

He had stopped out of the intuition that he had to observe what was going to happen.

“What is this…? What is happening…? Is this even reasonable? How reckless and disgusting…!”

“…”

Miriela, who was watching beside him, gritted her teeth and exclaimed.

“No dignity, only dirt, and they call this a magic duel…!”

“…”

“I can’t stand here and watch this! That so-called magic tutor. Did he teach Diella all this? To a noble lady of our Duplain family, who must always remain dignified and aristocratic? Did he instill such nonsense in her?!”

Miriela ran out onto the balcony, breathless, and the servants nearby followed her hurriedly. She seemed ready to grab Dereck by the collar and confront him right there.

Grand Duke Duplain did not let Miriela’s anger reach his ears.

Without caring about her words, he only watched Diella crying on the stage.

Raymond Oswald Duplain, head of the House of Duplain, had traversed the battlefields since his youth.

As an imperial noble, he had fulfilled his duty in the war and met many people before becoming head of the House of Duplain. Those born with noble blood and achievements often had bright eyes. But many did not.

Some smiled because their dreams had come true and they had succeeded; others cried because their dreams had vanished and they had fallen into despair. That was how the world was.

“…”

The dissonance he felt seeing Diella, gritting her teeth and using every trick possible to defeat Leigh, was because the youngest daughter he knew had changed a lot.

He remembered the girl who, after countless frustrations, had hidden in the pavilion, staring blankly at the wall. Experiencing too many disappointments at such a young age usually caused that. Since time was often the best remedy, the Grand Duke of Duplain had tried to support her as best he could.

But that didn’t mean his fatherly heart didn’t ache. He had brought Diella to the mansion in the hope that one day light would shine again in those empty eyes.

He watched her wander aimlessly, believing that in time she would find her way back. That was all a father could do for a daughter who had lost her way.

But now the girl was determined. In a duel where everyone expected her to lose, she fought with every means at her disposal to win.

The tears she shed in frustration revealed a burning desire to compete and be recognized. It was unthinkable that she had ever sat in a room full of thorns, staring blankly at the wall.

Mastering magic and learning a few ceremonial spells were things she could achieve in time as she matured. Born into the Duplain lineage, everything depended on the speed or slowness of her progress; but eventually, she would reach a certain level.

Therefore, Dereck’s initial encouragement of magical manifestation might not be considered a great contribution in the long run.

But he had shown Diella that she could do it, and even in a duel where everyone predicted her defeat, he gave her the chance to win. He constantly reminded her that if she wanted something, she had to go for it. It was then that the Duke realized:

What the boy Dereck had taught Diella was not just magic. What Dereck had taught her was ambition. He had lit a flame in the girl’s heart.

In the dark slums, amidst the filth, she had absorbed the ambition of a child who longed to reach the starry sky.

That ambition now shone brightly in her eyes, even in the middle of battle, and it was something many never managed to understand, even through endless frustration.

Learning a few spells was nothing compared to that. The Duke knew well that this burning ambition, like molten lava, was one of the most important forces shaping the course of a person’s life.

“…”

The Duke watched serenely as Miriela, furious and panting, descended toward the platform. He narrowed his eyes and, shortly after, frowned. Duke Duplain closed his eyes tightly. After a long silence, he finally opened them and called for the head maid.

“Katarina.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“I must go up onto the stage as well.”

“Understood.”

With that, he descended the stairs of the main hall, each step heavy with meaning.