The Scythe Maiden’s syrupy sweet voice still echoed within the tower as Nora raced up the staircase, reaching the very top of the spire.
Behind her roared the howling winds and a dizzying height, and below, Mills City’s rooftops shrank into toy-like tiles—if she were to jump from here, powerless as she was, she’d surely end as nothing more than a broken heap of blood.
“It seems the game is over.”
The maiden swung her chains, advancing step by step, the smile on her face making her look as terrifying as a demon.
No hesitation. No farewells. Driven by both survival instinct and a deeper, more resolute will, Nora arched backward, her teeth clenched, letting herself fall from the tower’s edge.
The maiden froze, as if unable to believe the woman before her would be so decisive, and rushed to the edge, peering down.
The wind instantly devoured all sound. The sense of falling gripped her heart like a vice; icy air slashed her cheeks like knives. She couldn’t breathe, could only regretfully close her eyes.
A teardrop slid from the corner of her eye. The last image flashing through her mind was Selis’s gentle smile.
I’m sorry… In the end, I still couldn’t fulfill my oath…
However, the bone-shattering impact she expected never arrived.
She fell into an embrace—cold, yet unyieldingly solid. The terror of plummeting was instantly dissolved by some powerful force, as if she had merely hopped down a single step.
At the same time, a familiar scent of lavender softly enveloped her.
Trembling, Nora opened her eyes.
What entered her sight was a finely contoured jaw, crystal tears dangling like gems, and a pair of deep black eyes, beautiful as a starry night, lowered and gazing at her.
Strands of black hair brushed her cheek, blown by the wind.
The one holding her—was Isavel.
Isavel cradled her steadily in her arms, suspended in midair beyond the tower’s peak. Her black dress whipped and fluttered in the wind, as if she were the Night Goddess descended upon the world.
“You were willing to give up your life so easily?”
Isavel’s voice retained her usual chill, now laced with a trace of mockery, but the arms holding Nora were unwaveringly strong.
Nora opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
The shock of surviving, the exhilaration of being rescued, the close-up beauty before her and the unexpected embrace—all crashed into her mind, leaving it blank.
Thump, thump, thump—
Her heart felt as though it had shattered every restraint, beating wildly, almost leaping from her chest and losing all control.
Leaning in Isavel’s embrace, she could feel the warmth of the other’s arms, see the ivory skin at her chest, count each flutter of those long lashes.
An icy Saintess, a warm embrace. Mortal danger, absolute safety. All these contradictions tangled together, making her dizzy and faint.
Her heart wasn’t just fluttering—no, it was as if a whole squad of Rose Knights, riding unicorns, was charging recklessly through her chest.
Isavel watched the red flush quickly spread across Nora’s pale face, observed her chest rise and fall with every hurried breath, and saw in those eyes—filled with disbelief and trembling—her own reflection.
At the corner of Isavel’s lips, a nearly imperceptible curve seemed to appear.
“Can you stand on your own?” she asked, voice as emotionless as ever.
Nora shook her head instinctively, then nodded hard, but in the end simply buried her burning face deeper into the crook of Isavel’s neck.
In this moment, she was no longer the high and mighty Honorary Duke, nor the legendary sword master—just a fragile girl betrayed by her own family.
Family Duty, Oath—none of that mattered now.
She knew only that this embrace, the one that had caught her, was her whole world now—her only world.
At the tower’s peak, the scythe-wielding maiden looked down at the pair hovering in midair, her sweet smile freezing instantly, replaced by cold, grave terror.
With the Oracle Maiden present, she dared not go through with assassinating the Mills Family’s heiress.
The mission had failed.
At that thought, she withdrew silently and vanished into the darkness.
Whoosh—!
Hair flying, the roar of wind echoed in her ears.
Once she calmed down, Nora realized Isavel was still carrying her, speeding toward Mills Academy’s Arena.
She wanted to extricate herself, but didn’t know how to say so.
Her face still flushed bright red, and in a daze, she felt this embrace was as warm as Selis’s.
Yet, as she touched her chest and felt her heart’s wild, irregular beats, she almost wanted to slap herself.
She realized she was moved by Isavel.
This simply should not be!
She clearly—clearly loved Selis! She was supposed to be a pure-hearted girl.
How could she fall for another woman after loving Selis?
Could it be… she was a scoundrel all along?!
…No, no! She was not a scoundrel!
Perhaps—perhaps Isavel and Selis were the same person?!
In order to deny being a scoundrel, Nora’s imagination soared wildly.
……
Before long, Isavel set her down.
Only after regaining her footing did Nora realize they were now atop the audience platform of the Arena.
Before she could react, Isavel’s cold voice sounded:
“Perez, Academy Head, do you have anything more to say?”
The moment Perez saw Nora, he trembled all over, hurried over to seize her hand, looked her over from head to toe, and then cautiously asked,
“Nora, are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
Facing her father, Nora’s feelings were complicated, but she didn’t blame him.
Anyone could see—the scythe maiden in the tower, the one who came to kill her, was certainly not sent by her father.
“That’s good, that’s good.”
Perez nodded shakily, then took two steps back, and before all present, knelt before Isavel.
“I, Perez of the Mills Family, admit my guilt. I ask for your punishment, Saintess.”
Seeing this, Nora bit her lip but remained silent. Beside her, Academy Head Avery sneered,
“Hmph, do you think this will save the Mills Family? Perez, you’re too naïve!”
Seeing that Avery still showed no remorse, even displaying some defiance, Isavel crossed her arms and ordered:
“Perez, it seems many dissenting voices remain within your family. In that case, you have two weeks to cleanse your house of them.”
Cleanse?
Avery grew anxious and protested, “Saintess, he attempted to harm members of the Rose Knights!?”
To him, this clearly helped Perez.
Those on Avery’s side all opposed Perez. If they all died, the Mills Family would become Perez’s personal domain!
But Isavel cared nothing for his calculations. With a single sentence, she silenced Avery.
“He is guilty, and you are innocent? Academy Head.”
Staggering back a step, Avery sank into his seat, utterly disheartened.
What he did not expect was for his old rival Perez to kneel once again, this time pleading for mercy for them:
“My lady, please spare them. They are innocent and knew nothing of this affair…”
“Perez, you…”
Avery’s hand shook as he pointed at Perez, unable to fathom why he would help them, until Perez explained,
“No matter what, they are Mills Family too. As the Duke, it is my duty to protect them.”
Ruthless Perez—capable of such mercy?
Avery found it absurd.
Isavel glanced at Perez, coldly saying, “So, you mean to challenge the authority of the Oracle Hall?”
“I dare not. I promise, from this day on, the Mills Family will withdraw from the world. I will step down as Duke and leave the family, offering generous compensation in hopes that the Saintess will spare them.”
“Father…”
After saying this, Perez, kneeling on the ground, seemed to age ten years in an instant. Nora looked at him, her chest aching with sorrow.
In her mind, her father, Duke Perez of Mills, had always seemed astute and inscrutable, always in control.
But now, he looked like a truly old man, begging for his people to be spared.
She felt sorry for him, but did not blame Isavel.
All this, her father had brought upon himself.
She had tried to persuade him, but he did not listen.
This outcome, bitter as it was, was of his own making. Maybe only after such a loss could he change his ways.
“You need not step down, nor leave the Mills Family. You are still the Duke. But from now on, there will be no ties between the Mills Family and Nora.”
“Yes.”
Perez answered without hesitation.
Severing the Mills Family’s connection to Nora—this, even without Saintess Isavel’s demand, was something he would have done.
By now, he no longer believed himself a worthy father, nor that his family deserved to keep Nora.
She should be like a bird, soaring toward a wider sky, not shackled by something called Family Duty, spending her life trapped in a filthy, cramped old nest.
Nora said nothing, remaining silent.
“As for you…”
Isavel turned to Avery, and the Academy Head—who moments ago mocked Perez—now only shrugged and said indifferently,
“Kill me or torture me, as you wish.”
“Take him away. He’ll be executed tomorrow.”
Several maids from the Oracle Hall appeared behind Avery, shackled him with Magical Shackles, and led him away from the audience platform.
Along with him, they also took away the fake “Nora.”
“My lady, please! I—I was forced!”
Unlike Avery, this “Nora” screamed in terror, but the maids ignored her, quickly disappearing from the crowd’s view.
At this moment, the entire audience was silent.
Though they didn’t know every detail, the Mills Family Duke’s kneeling and the Academy Head’s arrest made it clear—change was coming to Mills City.
All eyes turned toward the center of the Arena. Isavel seated herself again at the main seat and said coolly, “The Academy Tournament, it seems, has come to an end.”
“No, no, no! You—you must have used some underhanded trick!”
By now, Grem, soul lost, had snapped back to reality. His bloodshot eyes showed he could not accept what was happening.
At Mills Academy, he was the undisputed Magic Star, idolized by many. He could not accept that, standing at his peak, he’d been so easily defeated by the Rose Knights!
He was supposed to challenge the genius from Galwin Magic Academy—how could he lose to the Rose Knights?!
“Grem.” Isavel’s voice was as final as judgment. “If we’re talking about tricks, weren’t you the one using them? You relied on Mills Academy’s resources, on your family’s backing.”
“Not only that, you broke the rules in secret, colluded with other teams before the match, and even drugged the Rose Knights’ food, all in an attempt to win through these means.”
“Grem, you’re the one who used underhanded tricks!”
Isavel’s words broke the silence in the stands, and now everyone understood what had happened—why the Duke and the Academy Head were brought low.
So Mills Academy had resorted to such despicable means to win!
Even the Rose Knights themselves only learned the truth now.
They looked at Grem with growing loathing, and their respect for the Oracle Maiden only deepened.
So, in ways they hadn’t known, the Saintess had borne all this for them.
“Look behind you. Do your supporters dare utter a word for you now?”
Grem looked around. All he saw in the stands was scorn and fury, and even his allies on the platform were powerless to save themselves. He was now utterly alone, abandoned by all.
Isavel’s black dress fluttered as she stepped forward to the platform’s edge, towering like a queen overlooking the world.
“So, tell me—stripped of your auras and schemes, Grem, what do you have left?”
Within the Arena, even the wind seemed to halt.
Every ounce of pressure converged on Grem alone. He fell to his knees in disgrace, all pride crushed, his future plunged into darkness.
Now, the despair he faced was no longer magical restraint—it was a total collapse, both psychological and in terms of his future.
He was not a genius, not a Magic Star, but a petty, contemptible man.
After Grem’s team’s defeat, the Rose Knights claimed final victory and seized the Heart of Magic.
Meanwhile, the Vice Dean, locked away in the dungeons beneath the Arena, learned of this news and was driven mad with rage.
Slash—!
His head was lopped off, blood painting the walls of the dungeon.
With his death, the Academy Tournament came to a conclusive end.