Chapter 34: The Headmaster’s Decision

  The door to the headmaster’s office slammed open as the instructor rushed inside, breathing heavily. His grip on the report and maps was tight, his pulse still racing from the sprint across the academy grounds.

  “Headmaster, you need to pull the official records,” he said immediately. “The Abyssal Valley Annihilation. You need to compare Jessica Moran’s solution with the imperial military reports. We figured it out.”

  The headmaster, unbothered, barely glanced up.

  “...Jessica?”

  The instructor froze.

  He had expected shock, disbelief—anything except that.

  “...You knew?” he asked, voice uncertain.

  The headmaster sighed, finally setting his pen down and folding his hands together.

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  ___

  The instructor didn’t immediately answer.

  Because now that he was thinking about it—really thinking about it—the signs had been there from the beginning.

  A girl with no magical sensitivity who could track a buried relic’s mana signature.

  A girl who survived an expedition that should have killed her, reportedly ‘struggling to pull her sword free’ after every kill, meaning she had to fight off entire waves of monsters while unarmed.

  A girl whose ability with a blade was ‘instinctive’ and yet already surpassing trained duelists.

  A girl whose survival, if accurately reported, meant she would have had to be a tactical genius just to avoid being overrun.

  The headmaster had assumed the reports had been exaggerated.

  But maybe—

  Maybe they hadn’t.

  And then there were other things.

  The headmaster exhaled, shaking the thoughts away. He wouldn’t say it aloud. But Jessica Moran was a problem.

  A manageable one, for now.

  ___

  The instructor forced himself to refocus. “What do we do with this information?” he asked finally.

  The headmaster leaned back in his chair.

  “That depends on whether you want to give her more tests.”

  The instructor stiffened.

  “There are other unsolved battles from that era,” the headmaster continued, watching him carefully. “Twenty years of engagements where even the highest levels of military intelligence have no answers. Battles where we only know how we lost, not the details of how. The demons kept their mouths shut.”

  He tapped the table lightly with his fingertips.

  “If you test her further, she will solve them. That is inevitable.”

  The instructor opened his mouth to protest—but paused.

  Because he knew it was true.

  Jessica’s answer wasn’t a fluke.

  She had logically unraveled one of the most frustrating gaps in human military history.

  If they kept testing her, she would do it again.

  And again.

  The instructor swallowed. “You want to use her to reconstruct the missing war records?”

  The headmaster smiled faintly. “I want nothing. But you’re the one debating it, aren’t you?”

  The instructor frowned.

  “That would... elevate her beyond just a student.”

  “It would.”

  “And the Moran family—”

  “Would receive the credit.”

  Silence.

  The instructor finally understood.

  ___

  The Moran family had been unofficially suppressed for decades.

  It was never declared outright, but it was understood.

  The Morans should, by all rights, be a Count family, not a Baron family.

  But that wasn’t allowed to happen.

  For reasons only the Emperor himself knew, the Moran name was kept stagnant—respected but politically stagnant, never allowed to rise.

  And now...

  Now they were facing a decision.

  If they continued testing Jessica, they would be giving her credit for every unsolved battle she solved.

  And the headmaster would not allow her work to be claimed by anyone else.

  Her name would be attached to all of it.

  Which meant—so would the Moran family.

  If they pushed this further, they would be directly opposing the Emperor’s suppression of their influence.

  ___

  The headmaster’s gaze was calm, but sharp.

  “Choose carefully.”

  The instructor exhaled.

  He understood.

  This wasn’t about a student solving a tactical puzzle.

  This was about whether they wanted to push against an unspoken imperial decree.

  Because if Jessica kept proving herself at this level—

  She wouldn’t be a Baron’s daughter for much longer.

  ___

  Meanwhile, in the imperial court, First Prince Alistair von Aurelius sat in his private study, reviewing the latest reports.

  A military officer stood before him, his expression tense.

  “Your Highness,” the man said, “the calculations were correct.”

  Alistair exhaled through his nose. “Exactly correct?”

  The officer hesitated, then shook his head. “Not exactly.”

  Alistair narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

  “...Her calculations might have been more precise than what was originally used.”

  Silence.

  Alistair leaned forward.

  “More precise?”

  The officer nodded. “Yes. The original plan worked, but even in demonic war records, the strategy was listed as risky—a desperate measure that had the slimmest chance of succeeding. But the way Moran outlined it...”

  He hesitated.

  “If the demons had placed their collapses in her exact locations, they might have had fewer casualties while executing the same maneuver. It is... unnerving.”

  Alistair sat back in his chair, fingers tapping against the wooden desk.

  Jessica hadn’t just matched the strategy.

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  She had optimized it.

  If the demons found out that a human noble girl had recreated their general’s tactics and improved upon them, they would not be pleased.

  Alistair exhaled, standing up.

  “Has the courier left?”

  The officer shook his head. “No, Your Highness. They were awaiting your final confirmation.”

  Alistair nodded.

  “Send them immediately. Now.”

  The officer didn’t question it. He simply saluted and left.

  Alistair watched him go, then turned back to his papers.

  This would not go unnoticed.

  By sending the report before the demons could confirm it, he was instigating something.

  They would have to respond.

  And when they did—

  Alistair would be ready.

  ___

  Jessica had no idea what was happening behind closed doors.

  She was completely unaware that her tactical exercise had escalated into a political maneuver between humans and demons.

  She had no interest in the imperial court, noble suppression, or the future of her family’s political standing.

  Right now, she was just focused on preparing for her combat evaluation.

  She had one goal: Don’t get annihilated by Edgar’s Thunder Magic.

  That was all she cared about.

  But the world was moving against her now.

  And she didn’t even know it yet.

  [End of Chapter]

  Chapter 35: A Piss-Poor Defense

  The first clash of wooden swords was unbalanced from the start.

  Lucien was ten years old. The girl in front of him was younger—small, pale, and visibly struggling.

  She barely blocked his strikes. When she tried to counter, it was always the same thing—a stab. No swings, no slashes.

  And her defense?

  Nonexistent.

  Lucien easily disarmed her again, knocking her wooden sword from her hands. She stumbled back, eyes flicking to where her weapon had fallen in the dirt.

  He smirked. “That’s six times now. You getting tired yet?”

  The girl huffed, cheeks puffing up slightly. “You’re taller than me.”

  “That’s not an excuse,” Lucien said, crossing his arms. “You don’t even block. You just—” He flicked his wooden sword in demonstration. “Stab. Stab. Stab.”

  She narrowed her red eyes at him. “Stabbing is effective.”

  “Not if you die first.”

  The girl pouted harder, then shook her arms out dramatically. “Fine. One more.”

  Lucien shrugged. “If you want to lose again.”

  She picked up her sword and got back into stance.

  Lucien moved first—faster than before, not going easy this time. His wooden blade arced toward her shoulder, and for a second, he could see the way she froze.

  No proper block. Piss-poor defense.

  But then—

  She flickered.

  It was barely anything. A three-inch shift to the side, so minor it might’ve been a trick of the eye.

  But her sword darted forward—fast and sharp.

  Lucien barely had time to twist away before the tip of her wooden blade grazed his sleeve.

  They separated.

  Lucien stared.

  The girl huffed, shifting her stance again, looking determined. “Again.”

  Lucien exhaled sharply through his nose. Then, unexpectedly, he grinned.

  “Oh,” he said. “That was new.”

  ___

  The sparring match ended with her losing again.

  She had landed two hits, but Lucien had disarmed her four more times.

  She sat on the training yard steps, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the sky as she caught her breath.

  Lucien dropped down beside her, stretching his arms behind his head.

  “You mad?”

  The girl scoffed. “Why would I be mad?”

  “Because I beat you.”

  “You always beat me.”

  Lucien smirked. “And yet, you keep coming back for more.”

  She rested her chin on her knees. “Someday, I’ll win.”

  Lucien let out a short laugh. “You’re delusional.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “No, I’m determined.”

  Lucien rolled his eyes, looking up at the sky.

  She always did this. Lost, then sat there like she was planning something.

  He didn’t mind it, though.

  It was... nice.

  He had a lot of people around him. A lot of people trying to impress him.

  But she didn’t try to impress him.

  She just fought him.

  Over and over.

  Even if she lost every single time.

  Lucien smirked. “You should work on your defense.”

  The girl tilted her head toward him. “Why?”

  Lucien shot her a flat look. “Because you don’t have one?”

  She grinned. “That’s what the flicker’s for.”

  Lucien shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Yeah. Piss-poor defense.”

  The girl smirked slightly, as if she took that as a compliment.

  Lucien sighed, tilting his head back, closing his eyes.

  This was nice.

  ___

  Lucien opened his eyes.

  His room was quiet, the soft glow of the early morning sky filtering in through the curtains.

  For a moment, the dream lingered.

  A sparring match. A girl with white hair and red eyes. A three-inch flicker.

  Her grin.

  Lucien exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead.

  Why had that felt so... real?

  He sat up, stretching. It was just a dream. Nothing more.

  And yet...

  Something about it made his chest feel tight.

  Lucien stood, moving to the window, looking out into the courtyard below.

  And froze.

  Jessica Moran was standing outside.

  Alone.

  Training.

  She flickered forward, sword stabbing at an invisible opponent.

  A precise movement. Sharper than in the dream.

  But exactly the same.

  Lucien’s breath hitched.

  He whispered before he even realized it—

  “...A piss-poor defense.”

  It felt like he had said it before.

  ___

  Jessica took a slow breath.

  Her legs were already burning.

  A foot and a half. That was the furthest she could go without strain.

  But she needed more.

  She reset her stance.

  Breathed in.

  Then—

  She flickered again.

  The instant she reappeared, her calves screamed in protest.

  Jessica gritted her teeth, shifting her weight, trying not to collapse.

  Two feet.

  That was progress.

  But it still wasn’t enough.

  Jessica exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from her brow.

  She adjusted her grip on her sword, rolling her shoulders.

  One more time.

  She’d get one more attempt in before—

  “...You should work on your defense.”

  Jessica stiffened.

  She turned, finding Lucien standing a short distance away, arms crossed, watching her.

  His expression was unreadable.

  Jessica narrowed her eyes. “Were you spying on me?”

  Lucien smirked slightly. “You call this spying? You’re right in the open.”

  Jessica huffed. “Fine. Lurking.”

  Lucien didn’t answer immediately. His red eyes flicked toward her stance.

  Then, finally, he sighed.

  “I was passing by. Saw you training. Just...” He tilted his head slightly.

  “...You really only stab, huh?”

  Jessica raised an eyebrow. “It’s efficient.”

  Lucien huffed out a quiet laugh.

  Jessica didn’t know why, but something about his reaction felt off.

  Not mocking.

  Not condescending.

  Just... familiar.

  Lucien studied her for a moment longer.

  Then, as if coming to some internal decision, he simply muttered,

  “Piss-poor defense.”

  Jessica blinked.

  Something about the way he said it—like it wasn’t the first time—made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  But before she could question it, Lucien turned away, waving a hand dismissively.

  “Try not to cripple yourself before the match,” he said as he walked off.

  Jessica scowled. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  Lucien smirked but didn’t turn back.

  Jessica huffed, rolling her shoulders.

  Then she reset her stance.

  Breathed in.

  And tried again.

  Chapter 36: The Demon King’s Outrage

  The massive black gates of the Demon Kingdom of Vael’Theron loomed under the blood-red sky as the griffin descended.

  The dark elf courier gripped the sealed message tightly.

  He had carried many messages between kingdoms before—political alliances, war declarations, trade negotiations.

  But nothing like this.

  Nothing so absurd.

  When his griffin landed on the palace grounds, the demon guards barely spared him a glance before motioning him forward.

  The message had already been anticipated.

  And within minutes, he was led into the royal chamber.

  ___

  At the far end of the great hall, seated upon an obsidian throne, was Demon King Malghar of Vael’Theron.

  His towering frame was wreathed in a heavy cloak of deep crimson, his golden eyes sharp beneath the weight of his horns. His presence radiated power, authority, and unshaken certainty.

  The throne room was filled with the highest-ranking nobles, warlords, and scholars—a gathering that would normally take days to organize.

  But this?

  This was urgent.

  King Malghar had already been informed of the message’s contents.

  Now, he wanted to hear it with his own ears.

  The dark elf courier knelt before the throne, holding out the sealed imperial message.

  A nearby attendant took it, stepping forward to deliver it to Malghar’s waiting hand.

  The Demon King’s golden eyes scanned the contents.

  And then—

  The parchment crumpled under his grip.

  Silence.

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

  “...They claim to have solved what?”

  His voice was calm.

  Too calm.

  The nobles standing near him tensed.

  “The Abyssal Valley Annihilation, Your Majesty.”

  A stillness descended upon the court.

  Then—

  The King let out a low, dangerous laugh.

  The sound sent a chill through the room.

  A slow, deliberate chuckle that was not amused at all.

  “They solved Lilith’s battle?” The King’s voice was quiet, but it was not gentle.

  The courier swallowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Malghar’s fingers tapped against the armrest of his throne, his gaze like a predator sizing up prey.

  The nobility did not dare speak.

  Because they knew.

  If the humans had simply sent a message about the magic-nullifying relic, the demons would have ignored it.

  That was irrelevant.

  They had no reason to go to the human kingdom just because they found some ancient artifact.

  But this?

  Claiming to have solved a battle that was considered sacred?

  No.

  That could not be ignored.

  ___

  A voice broke the silence.

  “Summon Duke Vaelora.”

  The order came from Malghar himself.

  The tension thickened.

  To send a Duke from Lilith’s bloodline meant they were treating this not just as an insult—but as a threat.

  It took only minutes before Duke Adrien Vaelora entered the grand chamber, his long coat brushing against the polished obsidian floor.

  He was tall, commanding, his golden-red eyes narrowing as he approached the throne.

  Lilith’s tactical records were more than just documents.

  They were sealed relics of their history.

  No one outside the highest ranks of the demon military was allowed to view them.

  And now, the humans claimed to have solved one.

  Duke Vaelora’s fingers tightened around the edge of the war table.

  “That is what they claim,” he said evenly.

  The King’s eyes darkened. “Verify it. Personally.”

  The Duke gave a slow, deliberate nod. “As you command.”

  ___

  As the Duke turned to leave, the dark elf courier hesitated.

  “Your Grace, I was also ordered to deliver a second message,” the courier said carefully. “One that was to be handed to the envoy directly if there was any doubt.”

  The Duke held out his hand, and the courier passed him the second sealed parchment.

  The first had been formal, respectful, and diplomatic.

  This one?

  It was mocking.

  A deliberate insult.

  A way to humiliate the Kingdom of Vael’Theron further.

  As the Duke unfolded the letter, his eyes scanned the contents.

  His grip tightened immediately.

  A backwater Baron’s daughter.

  A magic cripple.

  A girl prone to occasional bouts of insanity.

  The words were written to diminish her.

  To make the demons laugh at the absurdity of it.

  A nobody.

  A noble girl so irrelevant she was barely worth acknowledging.

  But one phrase stood out to him.

  A phrase that should not have mattered.

  But it did.

  No magic.

  His expression went still.

  The chamber watched him carefully.

  Then—slowly—Duke Vaelora set the parchment down.

  For the first time, his golden-red eyes showed something besides cold indifference.

  “...No magic?” he repeated, his voice quieter than before.

  The words were meant to be an insult.

  But to him—

  To his family—

  It meant something else entirely.

  And yet, he did not speak.

  He did not explain why.

  Instead, he simply announced his decision.

  “I will be taking my children with me.”

  A murmur ran through the court.

  But no one dared question it.

  Because they understood.

  It had been 2,000 years since a descendant of Lilith’s bloodline had set foot in the academy she founded.

  That academy was now under human control.

  But for once—

  They had a reason to return.

  And it was because of a nobody noble girl who should have never been worth their time.

  Duke Vaelora turned, his coat sweeping behind him as he strode toward the exit.

  The Demon King’s voice stopped him at the doorway.

  “If this is true,” Malghar said, his tone slow, deliberate.

  “If a magicless human girl has truly solved one of our greatest victories...”

  His golden-red gaze gleamed in the dim torchlight.

  “Then we will have to decide what to do with her.”

  Duke Vaelora said nothing.

  But his silence spoke volumes.

  [End of Chapter]