The battle erupted in an instant.
Golden sword aura streaked across the stage, while blazing flames whipped through the air like a scorching gale.
The female staff member below the stage reacted swiftly. With a sharp click, she activated the magical barrier beside her, saving everyone present from being caught in the crossfire.
Even so, every pane of glass on the first floor of the student council building shattered in an instant from the shockwaves of their fight.
“This hardly counts as play rehearsal anymore, does it? Aren’t you going to stop them?”
The staff member turned to look at the female assistant.
“When women fight over jealousy, that’s what makes it interesting. What does a literary type like Feen know about plays? He can only write brain-dead Mary Sue scripts.”
The female assistant excitedly picked up a magical recording device, capturing the entire battle on film to use later as promotional material for the Imperial Capital.
A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “As long as the lead actress is here, it’s fine.”
“But the actor playing the young master has already left.”
As she said this, she aimed the camera at Shiya, who had arrived earlier and was standing with a cold expression. She filmed her from top to bottom, lingering on the graceful figure beneath that maid uniform.
Especially focusing on her face—a beauty so exquisite it seemed sculpted by the gods themselves, enough to make anyone who saw it for the first time feel their heart tremble.
If she hadn’t already been fought over by two major figures on stage, the female assistant would have long wanted to use her romantic expertise to steal the girl away.
Shiya crossed her arms, a rare note of irritation in her voice. “Haven’t you filmed enough? Please go stop them right now!”
Ever since those two had started fighting in earnest, they had both pushed her aside in tacit agreement and sternly told her not to come close.
It was utterly unreasonable!
The female assistant lowered the recording device with a smile, pointing upward. “Isn’t the outcome already decided up there?”
In just a few exchanges, the battle had already reached its climax.
A roaring flame dragon bared its vicious fangs and charged straight at Her Highness the Princess.
Elena retreated step by step. A flash of sword light—the brilliant golden aura sliced the dragon’s head clean off.
But the next moment, countless flaming feather crows spread their wings behind her, swooping down in a dive, blooming into clusters of blazing crimson lotuses.
Boom!
When the smoke cleared, Elena—half her clothes scorched—planted her sword on the ground, breathing unsteadily. She seemed to have completely fallen into a disadvantage.
A confident smile curled at the corner of Leonora’s lips. She hurled her staff, studded with red crystals, into the air.
From the staff at its center, a wave of fire two meters high surged downward, like a giant beast opening its jaws, ready to bite down fiercely on Elena.
Elena—nowhere to run!
Or was she?
But then she sheathed her golden holy sword and flipped back, landing on a third-floor window set into the scenic backdrop of the hall.
Just as the crimson wave crashed against the wall below, making the whole structure tremble with a deafening roar—
The princess lightly tapped the windowsill with her toe, then vaulted through the air, closing in on Leonora, who was a mage.
Leonora let out a dismissive snort. She clapped her palms together hard, and countless blazing golden spears burst from the ground. If Elena dared take even one more step closer, she would be skewered like a hedgehog in an instant.
“We’re old rivals. Who doesn’t know what moves the other will use and how to counter them?”
But this time, Elena didn’t dodge or evade.
Under the astonished gaze of the young lady, her light blue eyes suddenly turned into violet slit pupils.
At that moment, Her Highness the Princess activated her bloodline talent.
Suddenly, the sound of a heavy cold weapon slicing through air came from behind Leonora.
A chill shot down Leonora’s spine. Without hesitation, she waved her hand to send a barrage of blazing golden spears stabbing backward.
But all her attacks hit nothing.
In the space between heaven and earth, a warhorse in full barding neighed. A sharp halberd descended, aimed straight at Leonora’s head.
Turning to look, she saw a tall, imposing half-dragon standing proudly upright.
The scale armor covering his body writhed and undulated as if alive—with just a slight raise of his hand, he could release all of it at once, erasing every one of Leonora’s flame spears into nothingness.
A shadow, like the might of a demon god, fell over her.
In that split second, countless fire-type magical attacks flashed through Leonora’s mind, but not one could inflict even a scratch on the formidable foe before her.
She tried to activate the power within her own bloodline.
Yet as the noble young lady of the Celestine family—the Duke’s daughter who had inherited her father’s powerful magical talent—she pitifully possessed no such bloodline talent at all.
In the end, the halberd did not split open Leonora’s skull. Instead, as a gentle breeze passed, it gradually dissipated.
But a dazzling golden holy sword had already been quietly placed against her neck.
The victor was decided.
“Don’t come near Shiya anymore.”
Elena’s voice was as cold as an ice spike, piercing straight through Leonora’s heart along with her dignity.
“You can neither give her the right guidance in life nor protect her.”
Leonora lowered her head.
Elena was right. She couldn’t give Shiya even a shred of security.
A useless person like herself, what right did she have to like anyone…
Her nose stung. Even breathing became agonizingly difficult.
If Elena had been a little more attentive at that moment and lifted Leonora’s chin,
she would have noticed that this perpetually proud young lady was actually crying.
But whatever Leonora felt inside, Elena didn’t care at all.
She tossed her golden hair, turned around, and pressed her hand down on the girl who had finally, panting, managed to climb back onto the stage.
“Shiya, I’m badly hurt.”
Her Highness the Princess’s breath was weak, no longer bearing the dashing grace of her sword-wielding moments.
Blood from her palm slowly seeped into the girl’s slender shoulder line and the delicate lace trim of her maid uniform.
Shiya’s steps faltered.
For a brief moment, a flicker of worry passed through her eyes, but she quickly freed herself from the princess’s arm.
“Sister Elena, if you’re hurt, go find a healer quickly.”
Then, without stopping, she ran toward Leonora, who was slowly kneeling on one knee.
Sensing a slender shadow fall over her, Leonora lifted her head. A teardrop that had been hanging at the corner of her eye slid down her cheek. Immediately, the young lady turned her face away.
“Did you come here just to see me humiliated?”
In response, the girl let out a sigh.
Then Shiya reached out both hands to cup her face, forcing the stubborn young lady to meet her gaze.
“Crybaby.”
Shiya teased, but her tone was incredibly soft and gentle.
Just as Leonora bit her lower lip and was about to shove this annoying person away—
Shiya leaned in. Her pure white hair gently brushed against Leonora’s face, carrying a faint, heart-racing tickle.
Then she produced a clean handkerchief and wiped away all the mess on this little crying cat’s face.
“I lost.”
At that moment, the ever-proud young lady dropped all her defenses before the girl.
She even rubbed her cheek against Shiya’s palm.
“I thought it was something serious.”
Shiya smiled softly, brushing aside a few stray strands of hair from her forehead.
Knowing the content of that game well, Shiya understood that compared to Elena—who possessed both a bloodline talent and a holy sword—Leonora had far too many shortcomings.
“The young lady was never going to beat Her Highness the Princess anyway, was she?”
But the young lady’s eyes immediately reddened. She smacked Shiya’s arm away and turned to flee.
All that remained was the faint, almost imperceptible fragrance of bitter winter plum blossoms, lingering from the maple-red hair that had brushed past her nose,
along with a random insult.
“Idiot! Big idiot!”
For a moment, Shiya, whose social sense had suddenly vanished, stood frozen in place. She scratched her snow-white hair, utterly confused.
Behind her, silently watching the two interact so intimately, Elena’s light blue eyes briefly transformed into violet slit pupils filled with desire—then vanished just as quickly.
She didn’t understand. She was the victor, and she was injured. Why had Shiya rushed to comfort that Duke’s daughter first?
Just then, an anxious female student council member hurried up to her.
“This is terrible, Your Highness Elena. Minister Konstan has publicly announced that he will no longer support your candidacy for crown princess.”
Karlen, who had arrived right behind her, immediately scolded her: “Stop talking, Nodi.”
But that girl had no intention of shutting up. She pointed at Shiya not far away.
The man shot a furtive glance at Elena’s grim expression.
“It’s all because of her. The rumor has already spread all over the Imperial Capital that you like women.”
The girl suddenly turned around.
Frowning with irritation, she stared at Elena, Karlen, and the other girl—her expression filled with impatience.