How to Survive at the Academy - Chapter 161

Battle for the Ed Rothtaylor (1)

Though she was covered in dust, not a drop of blood was shed.

Her loose shirt and skirt were shredded here and there, becoming ragged, and the amount of magical power seemingly capable of overturning the world had significantly diminished.

Still, Lucy Mayrill refused to fall.

– Kwaaaah!

It was impossible to count just how many times the highest tier elemental magic was invoked.

Lightning struck down dozens of times from the sky, flames surged from the magic circle, and hundreds of ice spears embroidered the heavens, yet Mebuler was not subdued in the end.

If not for the concern of the surroundings, it would have been a firepower that required the redraw of maps. Lucy Mayrill’s magic transcended common sense to that extent.

Every time Lucy, floating in the night sky, swung her hand, Mebuler’s eyes followed her. The duel was to see who would run out of magical energy first.

Just how far could the might of a human reach? It was a wonder that such a powerful force lived within a being not meant to endure much beyond a century.

However, there was no need to see it through here.

Mebuler had lost its reason for descent.

The plan had been to descend into this world using the power of a sacrifice, but the intermediary, Crebin, had lost his life.

Even with Mebuler’s endless supply of magical power, it ended at the hands of Ed Rothtaylor.

“…?”

Suddenly, a giant magic circle appeared in the sky. It was neither the sacrifice circle conjured by Crebin nor the elemental circle by Lucy.

The circle produced by Mebuler was a transportation circle, leading out of the constraints of this world… to the dimension where Mebuler initially existed.

It was Mebuler’s decision to retreat. All because of one single mage.

“Where do you think you’re going…!”

Lucy gathered magical power in her hand once more, facing the retreating Mebuler. A circle of that level could easily be shattered if she focused her mind.

However, as her shoulders throbbed painfully… Lucy furrowed her brows.

She gazed down at the Rothtaylor estate with a vacant expression. It seemed that Crebin Rothtaylor had met his end, and the turmoil inside the manor appeared to be settling.

Servants and tentacles were all collapsed, powerless. The gremlins too retreated, and the Cathedral Knights and the Imperial Guards uniformly advanced into the estate grounds.

The situation was reaching its conclusion. Ultimately, Mebuler could not penetrate Lucy’s defenses until Crebin’s demise.

A mere human had blocked the path of a wicked god. The significance of this needed no explanation.

“Go ahead, leave.”

All of Mebuler’s eyes, seen through the magic circle, looked straight at Lucy. It seemed to declare a temporary retreat, but the fact remained that it was a defeat.

“Don’t even think of coming back.”

Lucy’s silver hair, shining under the starlight, fluttered against the night sky. Unable to tie it down as usual, her hair flew about wildly, making a lasting impression.

Lucy gazed up at Mebuler with a dazed expression, devoid of the joy of victory. It was a fight that had ended inconclusively, leaving her feeling unfulfilled.

Slowly, as the figure of Mebuler disappeared from the night sky, Lucy descended to the ground.

“She’s descending…!”

“She faced that monstrous beast… alone…!”

“How many top-tier spells she used… I couldn’t even count them… and she’s still unscathed?”

As she gently landed in the central garden, the soldiers instinctively made way.

Alone she stood against a wicked god and alone she descended to earth – like an angel of the divine.

The soldiers who entered the central garden were at a loss for words, simply gazing at Lucy’s form gently touching down.

She was someone who could, if she chose, bring utter devastation to the estate grounds with a single sweep of her hand.

That fact was just proven in battle. The perpetrators couldn’t find the words to address her.

Lucy, unbothered by their gazes, dusted off her tattered clothes.

She looked around quickly. To most, there were only soldiers with their eyes widened in shock, but if she closed her eyes and felt the magical energy, she could sense the familiar scent of grass somewhere far away.

With that, she straightened her clothes and bounced through the crowd. A path formed naturally wherever she went.

Finally, she found a golden-haired boy lying under the huge zelkova tree.

His body was covered in blood, unconscious, leaning against the tree as if he had been through much.

Around him were two soldiers performing emergency aid and, behind, a spirit master and a saintess watching over. Lucy glared at them briefly with piercing eyes, but then, with a huff of breath that said she couldn’t care less, she approached the boy.

“Ah, oh…!”

One of the soldiers performing first aid turned around and gasped in shock. The reaction was the same for the spirit master and the saintess beside him.

They began to speak to Lucy, but she brushed them off as if she were uninterested, gently pushing the soldier aside before placing her fingers close to the boy’s solar plexus.

He had suffered abrasions, burn wounds, contusions, lacerations, and fractures – a litany of ordeals, but it was the first time he had sustained injuries of this severity.

Moreover, he had strained his magical power to extremes, causing complete disarray in his internal magical flow, and the recoil had sent his temperature soaring. Watching the scene was enough to break the heart, but the only thing Lucy could do right away was to channel her magic to untangle the twisted flow of his energy.

After adjusting the magic flow for a while, Lucy leaned against the zelkova tree and sat down beside Ed.

They were both a total mess. While Lucy still had control over her body, she was completely exhausted.

With her head resting on Ed’s shoulder, she let out a deep sigh. Due to the exhaustion from overusing her magic, she began to feel drowsy… and her eyes started to close.

“Bring my hat… from the central estate…”

She said quietly, and then silently closed her eyes. Soft breathing sounds followed.

The watching soldiers and the two girls lost words in their astonishment.

It was clear; at this moment, no one could touch Lucy.

She was the hero of the great massacre, having turned back a wicked god single-handedly.

*

“What did you say?”

Princess Pheonia doubted her ears.

“Are you saying that it was Persica who forced Prince Rindon to renounce his claim to the throne? I don’t know exactly how she pressured Prince Rindon, but since she’s gone to such lengths, it’s clear she must be hungering for the throne.”

Over an hour had passed since the chaos at the Rothtaylor social gathering.

Word came that a separate detachment from the royal family was on its way, which meant the incident would soon be under the jurisdiction of the royal family for resolution.

Currently, only a few members of the Cathedral Knights and the Imperial Guard were controlling the scene.

They were handling the fire, securing survivors, and administering emergency aid to the wounded as they awaited proper medical support.

Second Princess Persica had always been holed up in the library, engrossed in her books. Consequently, rumors circulated among the courtiers that she harboured interest not in power, but in wisdom.

“If we just sit idly by, you know, Persica will devour us. Both you and me.”

“… But as I’ve told you, I have no interest in royal authority.”

“That’s not what’s important, Pheonia. The problem is that we’re positioned to challenge the throne whenever we so desire.”

They were in a tent set up by the Cathedral Knights right in front of the estate, a temporary rest area prepared for the royal family.

Princess Sella had summoned Pheonia to discuss the situation, exploiting the tense moment as the incident wound down.

“So I had planned to bolster my position a bit… but who knew it would come to this?”

“Have you been at this estate all along, sister?”

“That’s right. But how on earth did you gallop across these far lands to the Rothtaylor domain in just one night?”

“That is…”

Pheonia averted her eyes. Sensing something meaningful in her hesitation, Sella allowed herself a knowing smile, then swiftly returned to her stern demeanor.

“Are you worried about Ed Rothtaylor? The seal on the letter seemed to suggest you trust him considerably.”

“There was something I needed to confirm.”

“Either way, it’s unlikely our father will be pleased. To rush off to these distant lands, unreported and on horseback.”

“That’s my responsibility.”

“Well, that’s a relief to hear.”

Sella toyed with the rim of her teacup before finally flinging the handle, spinning the cup as she continued.

“Pheonia. Nonetheless, you need to understand we’re currently in an extremely serious predicament.”

“That’s true… there are many casualties at the moment…”

“For a long time, the Rothtaylor family was a voice at the center of royal power and now it’s been brought to ruin. This incident will likely go down as the ‘Rothtaylor Mansion Massacre’ in the annals of our historian scribes. We are living through a moment of history. You need to be aware of that.”

“What are you getting at, sister Sella?”

“My point is that we must do our duties well.”

Sella’s eyes grew stern, and Pheonia felt unease at the intensity. Still, she remained seated, listening quietly to what was to be said.

“Who but us, who will inherit royal authority, is fit to deal with such a disaster?”

“Indeed, the only person able to speak equally to the Cathedral Knights, the Imperial Guards, and various noble families gathered at this estate is probably us, so close to the royal power.”

“That’s right. Whoever’s resolving the matter needs to have the authority to lead. Ideally, I would have taken charge, but I hadn’t anticipated you being here at the scene as well.”

Princess Sella gave a meaningful smile as she spoke to Pheonia.

“What about this, then? How about the two of us take charge and properly manage the situation to keep Persica’s influence in check before she decides to move?”

“But, I don’t want…”

“Your disinterest doesn’t mean others will assume the same. Especially Persica, who’s likely to actively challenge you.”

Pheonia hesitated at Sella’s words. She understood Persica was ambitious, yet doubted whether she would go so far as to stab her in the back.

“And let’s face it, it’s our duty, as potential rulers, before any concerns of royal rivalry come into play.”

“That’s… correct.”

“Right. That’s why… we need to maintain order at the estate, reward those who deserve it and punish those who merit it.”

Sella seemed to have been planning this for a while, as she smoothly continued her speech.

“The tiny mage who stopped that monster and the spirit master who protected the guests should be honored by the royal family. I’ll suggest directly to our father that while we may not offer titles, at the very least…

At the very least, it seems possible to bestow them with the honor and wealth they deserve.

“I agree. The hardships they’ve endured should be duly recognized. They did, after all, save many lives.”

“Yes, it’s truly pitiful for someone with such power to remain unseen and live as a commoner. If only we could grant them even a small title, like that of a border baronet…”

Sella cocked her head thoughtfully for a moment.

“Well, that spirit user might be one thing… But the mage doesn’t seem interested in gold, treasures, or titles.”

“People like that are always difficult to read.”

“Indeed. Especially geniuses. But we must still reward the two of them, and also consider punishment for those who are guilty.”

Their discussion moved swiftly. Phoenia sensed what was coming next was Sella’s main point.

“All descendants of the Rothtaylor family involved in the plot should be strung up on the gallows.”

“…”

“You look troubled, Phoenia.”

Phoenia was mentally prepared and remained largely unflustered.

“Ed Rothtaylor did not partake in Crebin Rothtaylor’s schemes. In fact, he stood up against him and eventually ended him.”

Her calm voice was laced with resolve, making a profound impression on Sella.

“I saw it clearly with my own eyes.”

“What you saw was just the aftermath of everything, wasn’t it?”

“Even before that, I had my own suspicions. Ed Rothtaylor was aware of the darkness within the Rothtaylor family from the start. His enrollment in Sylvania was an attempt to escape it.”

“It’s not good to speak as if your speculation is the whole truth, Phoenia.”

As Phoenia narrowed her eyes, Sella smiled more leisurely.

“If I were Ed Rothtaylor, facing a sorceress who could alone confront even a great evil deity, or a spirit user who battled various monsters solo, I would have thought of betraying Crebin first. With such a reckless plan bound to fail, I would instead betray him midway and act as though I was noble from the start.”

“So, you mean he turned his back on Crebin when it seemed the plan would fail?”

“Yes. If he could take Crebin’s life with his own hands, he could appear as a hero who fought against injustice, unaffected by the family’s disgrace.”

Phoenia’s expression grew progressively stern, but Sella’s relaxed demeanor remained unchanged.

In a deep, steady voice, Phoenia spoke up.

“But you know that’s not true, Sella.”

Her words struck at the heart of the matter.

“Aren’t Yenika Faelover and Lucy Mayrill thoroughly Ed Rothtaylor’s people? If you saw how they stood against Crebin, wouldn’t you know?”

Phoenia’s challenging tone made it clear she was not pleased.

“Poor things, they’re just being played by the cruel Ed Rothtaylor. Initially brought to the manor as a sacrifice for Mebuler, but when they seemed strong enough to overpower Crebin… it was like they were noble from the very start.”

(Zip!)

Sella couldn’t finish her sentence because her head had snapped around.

It happened in an instant; even Sella herself was left just staring blankly at Phoenia.

The sudden loud noise startled the soldiers inside the tent. Phoenia had smacked Sella.

Sella met the eyes of a soldier and shook her head. He nodded, sweating, and stepped back outside, leaving the tense atmosphere inside the tent.

“Phoenia, have you lost your mind?”

“I see Sella’s intentions. And I understand why you’d interpret Ed Rothtaylor’s actions so maliciously.”

Another pause.

Then, Sella opened her eyes and spoke.

“When swaying the masses, there is always a need for a scapegoat to take on all sins and burn at the stake.”

“So Ed Rothtaylor should be that person?”

“I told you. It’s best when dealing with matters cleanly and without lingering issues. The image of Ed Rothtaylor burning at the stake will send a clear message that all is well resolved.”

“…”

Princess Phoenia Elias Clorel, the Princess of Compassion.

She had never stood in opposition to any power claimant, merely fulfilling her duty in her role as the third princess.

Now, she glared straight at Sella, defiance written all over her face.

“How despicable.”

“Politics is like that. You’re not yet fully an adult.”

“Do you think the others who support him will just stand by? Yenika Faelover and Lucy Mayrill will surely take his side.”

“All we need to do is get him to the royal court. Things will happen quickly then. The forces supporting me in the court are considerable. There, we can also lever the royal authority and mobilize powerful military forces and loyal vassals.

Adding to this the weight of your word, Phoenia, will make the process even smoother. Discrediting the two witnesses won’t be hard. They will just become victims who were deceived.

“

Phoenia glanced at Sella, trembling.

“Think carefully, Phoenia. If Persica takes action, whether or not you have an interest in royal authority, you will not be safe. To survive from such high places, one must choose sides wisely.”

“…”

“The next few hours are as good as gold. If we can just somehow get the unconscious man to the royal court, everything afterward can proceed swiftly. He won’t even have the chance to respond.”

Sella spoke continuously, but Phoenia did not respond.

“We have sufficient justification. Aren’t we responsible for managing the aftermath? I understand you entrusted a lot in Ed Rothtaylor, but…”

Sella spoke decisively.

“If you keep holding onto a card meant to be thrown away, eventually it will trip you up. Think about it from the perspective of the greater good.”

Phoenia quietly placed her hand on the table and stood up. Her cold eyes bore down on Sella.

“Do not lay a finger on Ed Rothtaylor.”

“I thought this might be your stance… But to stick to it even after such talk…”

Sella’s words were tinged with frustration, but Phoenia saw her as nothing more than a monster blinded by power.

It wasn’t always this wretched. What could have happened between Persica and her while Phoenia was in Sylvania to make her so determined to counteract?

“Listen. Whoever handles the man who’s currently unconscious is a really important matter. He’ll be a significant figure in resolving this catastrophe, regardless of… whatever happens. If he has any political sense, he might become an even more bothersome individual.”

“…”

“Whether he becomes a hero or a traitor, how he is utilized will hold significant political value. The fallen descendant of the Rothtaylor and a man at the center of it all, even without getting involved in a power struggle, could well be a political tool.”

Sella recognized the truth in her own words, but Phoenia couldn’t look at her favorably.

“Legion Commander Magnus and investor Roland are also heading to this Rothtaylor estate. Do you think the Northern Great Legion and Elte Corporation would just stand by in such a drool-worthy situation? We have to make the first move.”

This is a precious chance to exert influence in the royal court. The collapse of the continent’s most powerful noble family will reshuffle the royal power structure, and where one stands in that chaos is crucial.

Ed Rothtaylor holds sway enough to significantly influence the fight for position.

“The royal power structure is our responsibility as princesses. Isn’t it, Phoenia? Or are you planning to hand the reins over to the Northern Great Legion or the Elte Corporation?”

“I regret to inform you that I have no interest in royal power structures~.”

At that moment, a girl entered through the tent’s entrance.

Instantly, Phoenia and Sella’s eyes were drawn to her. Who would dare interrupt the conversation between two princesses?

There aren’t many in the empire bold enough to act so presumptuously as a commoner.

However, once the princesses saw the face of the newcomer, their expressions froze.

“Oh my, I apologize for the intrusion. But, you see, I’m far more concerned with padding my purse with a few more gold coins than with reshuffling royal power.”

Lortelle Keheln, the acting head of Elte Corporation and one of the empire’s wealthiest individuals.

With auburn hair cascading down and adorned in a lovely dress, she entered the tent with a fox-like grin.

“You are…”

Recognizing Lortelle, Sella inclined her head in greeting, and Lortelle took a seat by the negotiation table.

Having overhead some of the conversation from outside, Lortelle brought up a chilling subject for Phoenia.

“So… I heard something about someone being strung up on the stake…”

*The central garden of the mansion was packed with soldiers keeping the site secure.

The initially frantic atmosphere had calmed down somewhat with some control established.

A few imperial guards were canvassing the scene for basic testimony while the cathedral knights guarded the vicinity of the Holy Maiden.

Holy Maiden Clarice stayed near the oak tree where Ed Rothtaylor was resting as if she would not leave, so the knights stayed mostly around that area too.

While under the protection of the knights and contemplating the state of affairs, Clarice looked pensively toward the oak where Lucy and Ed leaned, asleep.

“Hmm…”

Clarice mostly lacked what one would call political sense, having lived her life revered as a holy being atop the sacred throne.

Yet, the saying goes – even a mountain hermit knows worldly affairs after three years. In the aftermath of such a major incident, various factions were scrambling, analyzing the situation for their own gains.

At the heart of it all undoubtedly lay Ed Rothtaylor, currently unconscious and undergoing treatment.

In the midst of all this political intrigue, he should have been clear-headed, yet there he was, unconscious, possibly becoming a political pawn or being exploited for someone else’s rise to power without his consent.

Perhaps it would be better to take him to the sacred city first for treatment and then slowly sort things out with time on their side.

Fortunately, it was the holiday season – ample time existed for rest and recovery.

However, she would have to observe the situation on the ground further—a decision about where to take him was pivotal.

All the forces gathered in this mansion seemed to be watching intently, cautiously gauging the atmosphere.