Sefina slowly turned her head, a trace of uncontrollable astonishment flashing across her ice-blue eyes.
Beneath the moonlight, quietly standing not far behind her, was none other than the Headmaster of Oselenka Magic Academy—
Rofilia!
This is trouble.
When did she arrive? Sefina hadn’t sensed a trace of her presence.
Was it because the commotion of the battle below had distracted her perception, or was the Headmaster’s aura simply this well concealed?
At this moment, Sefina’s pupils quivered slightly, but the will she had tempered through years of dancing on the edge of danger forced her to suppress the surging waves within her heart.
“Headmaster Rofilia.”
Sefina spoke, her voice passing through the disguise of “Holmes,” coming out cold and calm, without a hint of emotional fluctuation—just as if she had chanced upon an acquaintance.
On the surface, Sefina remained calm as ever, but her mind was racing, her ice-blue eyes subtly scanning her surroundings, searching for any possible path or opportunity to escape.
Confronting this headmaster, whose strength was unfathomable, head-on would be anything but wise.
Rofilia stood there quietly, the night breeze stirring her deep crimson hair, which contrasted sharply with Sefina’s long, silvery-white hair.
A faint, enigmatic curve appeared at the corner of her lips, and her deep purple eyes seemed able to pierce the heart.
“It seems Miss Holmes knows something about me as well.” Rofilia’s voice was gentle, yet carried an invisible pressure.
Sefina gave no response to this almost meaningless remark, maintaining her silence as the mana within her body quietly circulated, ready at any moment to respond to a sudden turn of events, or to unleash a lightning-fast strike in an attempt to break through.
However, Rofilia did not seem eager to make a move; she was more like a confident hunter, savoring the anticipation before devouring her captured prey.
She continued in that steady tone:
“Holmes, the renowned detective whose name is rising on the Western Continent, famous for your astonishing insight and for solving many difficult cases. You even served as a private tutor for several princes and nobles there—learned and deeply respected.” Rofilia spoke evenly.
But in the next moment, her tone suddenly sharpened, her gaze stabbing at Sefina like an icy dagger:
“Yet now, you are a wanted criminal, pursued by an alliance of several nations from that continent. The charges—stealing state secrets and treason.”
At the final words, the last layer of warmth in Rofilia’s eyes vanished, leaving only pure coldness and scrutiny.
Sefina’s heart grew cold; as expected, the other party had her “public identity” completely figured out.
She snorted coldly, neither admitting nor denying these accusations, replying in an equally icy tone:
“Headmaster Rofilia, you are truly well-informed to know me so well.”
Rofilia only gave a faint snort to this sarcastic remark, neither confirming nor denying it.
She then stopped beating around the bush, cutting straight to the point, her voice turning sharp and direct:
“So tell me, Miss under the wanted notice, what exactly are you doing sneaking into my Oselenka? Is it just to evade pursuit, or… is there something else you’re after?”
The clouds in the night sky seemed to thicken, further obscuring the moonlight, and the atmosphere atop the mountain grew even more stifling.
Sefina remained silent. Just as Rofilia had predicted, there was no way she would answer this question head-on.
Any explanation now would be feeble and powerless—and might expose even more information.
Seeing Sefina refuse to speak, Rofilia did not become angry. Instead, it was as if she was beginning her own chain of deductions.
Her gaze swept across the battlefield below, now nearing its end, and her voice analyzed calmly:
“That mob down there, and that leader skilled in summoning… judging by your reaction, they’re not your allies. Two separate forces, interested in the same thing, on the same night? Quite a coincidence.”
She paused briefly, her gaze locking back onto Sefina as she continued:
“Originally, I planned to personally meet that leader and see just who he was. Unfortunately, on the way, I was entangled for a while by a man wearing a tall top hat, moving with strange and elusive steps.”
There was a hint of coldness in Rofilia’s words; that brief clash had clearly not been a pleasant experience.
A man in a top hat…
The brows beneath Sefina’s mask knit together.
It was the adjutant!
So it really was him!
He must have personally intervened to block Rofilia, in order to create a chance for the Seventh Seat to seize the “magical artifact.”
This alone spoke volumes about how much the organization valued that magical artifact—and also confirmed Rofilia’s strength.
“As for you, Miss Holmes.” Rofilia’s gaze pressed down on Sefina, almost palpable.
“I am very curious. Did you just happen to be here, or… did you know this was a trap and came to watch the show on purpose? Or perhaps—you have an even more complicated motive?”
Her reasoning advanced step by step toward the truth, probing for a crack in Sefina’s defenses.
Sefina still said nothing, but her inner vigilance was raised to the limit. Rofilia’s insight far exceeded her expectations.
“If you refuse to speak…” Rofilia sighed softly, the sigh sounding especially clear atop the silent peak.
Then, her entire aura suddenly changed. The gentle demeanor vanished, and an overwhelming pressure of mana as vast as a mountain began to spread, thickening the very air.
“In that case, I’ll have to… invite you back myself and question you slowly.”
Almost the moment the words left her lips, Sefina moved as well.
The two seemed to act in perfect synchrony, or perhaps both were driven to finally bare their fangs. In almost the same instant, two flashes of light, and their magic wands were in their hands!
In Sefina’s hand was a staff of pure ice-blue, topped with a crystal core like frozen mana, exuding a biting chill that matched her current image perfectly.
Rofilia’s wand, by contrast, was older and simpler, its shaft a dark red like dormant lava, its head set with a deep purple gemstone—mysterious and profound.
The two stood less than a dozen meters apart, wands raised toward each other. Neither launched an attack at once, but the clash of invisible auras had already begun.
At the mountaintop, the tension between the two was stretched to the limit, practically sizzling.
In the air, the cold made the magical elements restless and agitated.
Sefina’s ice-blue eyes were as sharp as blades, her whole body taut, mana surging within her as she sought out a flaw in her opponent’s aura.
She knew full well: facing Rofilia, she would have to go all out—otherwise, she might be defeated on the spot and dragged back for interrogation.
Though the difference between Seventh Rank and Eighth Rank seemed only a single step, Sefina knew all too well just how great that gap was.
The leap from Third to Fourth Rank was a significant watershed for most mages; many less talented students would get stuck at Third Rank.
From Sixth Rank onward, every rank became another chasm.
Rofilia, in turn, appeared far more composed as she faced Sefina.
She seemed to be waiting for her opponent to show a weakness first, or perhaps weighing how to subdue her at the lowest possible cost. There was not a trace of tension.
Moonlight occasionally slipped through the clouds, illuminating the two figures locked in their standoff—the atmosphere wound so tight, it was nearly at the breaking point.
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