“It was me who left without permission. It has nothing to do with her. If anyone is to be punished, punish me.”
Meilin stepped forward, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on Isavel, without a trace of fear.
Leanna, who had been about to step forward, retreated at the sight.
Meilin’s courage truly shocked her.
At the same time, knowing Saintess Isavel as she did, Leanna was certain that pleading for them now would only make the Saintess angrier.
On the other side, Isavel naturally noticed Meilin’s stare. She tapped her index finger lightly against her lips and feigned confusion.
“Huh? But she’s a Saintess, yet she doesn’t even help me train you all and always causes me trouble. If I let her off so easily, wouldn’t she just become even more unruly?”
“How about this—why don’t you take the punishment for her instead?”
Without any hesitation, Meilin agreed.
“Fine, as long as you don’t punish her.”
As if she had been expecting this moment all along, Isavel raised her hand, and a black longsword-shaped whip, formed by condensed magic, appeared in her grip.
Perhaps because the magic was so overwhelming, the whip’s body crackled like electricity, continuously buzzing. Just looking at it gave one goosebumps.
Meilin instinctively swallowed hard, a surge of fear welling up inside her. But soon, that fear was replaced by compassion and courage.
She hadn’t been mistaken—the Punishment Scars on Saintess Silis’ back were the work of Isavel.
That detestable woman!
“Just three lashes, alright?”
With a dazzling smile, Isavel struck Meilin’s back with the whip.
With a sharp crack, Meilin’s clothing at her back was torn open, revealing pale skin split open and bleeding. The force was so powerful she couldn’t maintain her stance and sank onto one knee.
“Huff—”
Gasping for air, Meilin lowered her head, panting heavily.
Even a single lash caused intense pain that broke out in cold sweat on her forehead. Her delicate body trembled violently, seemingly unable to bear the agony.
So… this was the pain Saintess Silis had endured?
Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes tightly and clenched her fists.
Soon, the second and third lashes fell.
After the third strike, Meilin collapsed onto the ground, her consciousness fading, and blood from her wounds soaked her clothes.
At that moment, she was sure that if there was a fourth lash, she absolutely wouldn’t survive.
And the Punishment Scars on Saintess Silis’ back… were far more than just four lashes.
So quietly, in a place they couldn’t see, she had endured so much?
Thankfully, this time, Meilin had borne it in her place.
Thinking this, she moved her fingers slightly and struggled to speak with all her remaining strength: “…Is this… enough?”
“Of course. You’ve taken her punishment. Now, it’s time for your punishment.”
Isavel stood over her, looking down with a radiant smile. Leanna and Aelia exchanged shocked glances at Isavel’s words.
“Lady Isavel, this…”
“Shh.”
Isavel put a finger to her lips, silencing Leanna’s attempt to speak.
“Don’t you dare plead for her. She fled the Temporary Encampment of the Rose Knights without permission, which is a capital offense. But I couldn’t bear to let her die like that, so I mercifully gave her a chance.”
“If any of you plead for her, I won’t let her off.”
At her words, everyone fell silent. Leanna lowered her gaze, filled with guilt.
Despite her trembling body, Meilin chose to stand. She raised her head to Isavel, her eyes burning with the same stubbornness as before.
“Speak. Whatever punishment it is, I’ll accept it.”
“I’ve heard the second floor of the Hecate Monster Dungeon is overrun with beasts. Why don’t you go hunt them? If you survive just one full day, I’ll let you go.”
At such a punishment, the girls all held their breath.
Hunting beasts on the second floor?
They feared it would be Meilin being hunted by the beasts.
They knew the beasts on the second floor of the Hecate Monster Dungeon were all low-level, but their numbers were overwhelming. Not even a Level 10, or even Level 15 Knight, could guarantee survival there.
Meilin stood little chance.
“Alright.”
What surprised them was that Meilin agreed without the slightest hesitation.
“Then start now.”
With a wave of her hand, teleportation magic whisked Meilin off to the second floor of the Monster Catacomb. After that, the training ground fell into a deathly silence.
Isavel could sense the suppressed anger simmering within those quiet girls.
Perhaps because they didn’t want to witness the death of a comrade, or because they refused to admit defeat, they were filled with both fear and fury toward her.
From now on, to survive, they would fight desperately to grow stronger, wasting not a moment.
This was exactly what she wanted.
“Everyone saw that, right? Is there anything that can’t be discussed properly with me? Running off like that has serious consequences. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
With those words, Isavel let out a light laugh, dragging the long black hem of her dress as she disappeared before the girls. Only after she left did the girls finally breathe again.
Especially Leanna, who looked in the direction Isavel had gone, her face full of resentment.
……
Oracle Hall, Saint’s Rest Chamber.
Isavel sat on the sofa, her gaze fixed on a magical projection screen before her.
On the screen, Meilin was locked in fierce combat.
Beasts from the second floor of the dungeon kept coming at her relentlessly, and Meilin’s eyes were bloodshot from battle.
Her longsword and tattered clothing were soaked through with blood, and around her lay piles of slain beasts.
Six hours had passed since she entered the dungeon.
Normally, with only Level 10 magic, Meilin should have died from exhaustion by now, but in fact, whenever she reached her limit, the Punishment Scars on her back glowed faintly, replenishing her drained energy.
Not only that, but when the beasts overwhelmed her, some bizarrely turned on their own companions, helping to ease the pressure on her and giving her moments to catch her breath.
Of course, Meilin herself was unaware of this.
Under these circumstances, she survived for twelve hours.
When she was finally teleported out of the dungeon, a surge of joy flooded her heart.
But before she could be happy for more than a few seconds, a wave of drowsiness overcame her, and she collapsed into sleep.
Her Level 10 magic, forged through this hellish ordeal, had broken through to Level 11.
In the Saint’s Rest Chamber, Isavel rubbed her temples, her face equally exhausted.
Twelve hours of remotely controlling the beasts—despite her Level 99 magic—had left her drained, even a bit nauseous.
Beside her, her personal maid Renia took a shawl and draped it over her, speaking with concern:
“Mistress, even if you do this, they won’t thank you.”
“I know. But I’ve never sought their thanks.”
Wrapping the shawl tighter, weariness pulled Isavel’s eyes closed, and soon she was fast asleep, leaning back against the sofa.
Watching her tired face, Renia’s heart ached all the more.
As Isavel’s closest companion, how could she not know what her mistress had done?
The guise of a villainess was just a means to push the Knights to grow quickly.
If it could save the world, she was even willing to let everyone misunderstand her.
Her mistress was always like this—silently giving, asking for nothing in return.
To Renia, her mistress was the most perfect person in the world.
But the more perfect someone was, the lonelier they became.
If she could, Renia wished her mistress were just an ordinary noble lady, enjoying a peaceful and beautiful life.
Not the Saintess who would save the world.
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