Chapter 645: Clarifying Boundaries and Triumph

The Waren Mountains had just welcomed their first snow of 1054, while far away in the northern wastelands, snowflakes as large as goose feathers had fallen countless times since early autumn.

Yet all of this was irrelevant to the mages inside the Mage Tower.

In the corridors of the Tower of Source Magic, two light footsteps echoed. The heated stone floors dispelled the chill in the air but did not diminish the solemnity of academia.

Ophelia walked ahead, her golden hair dancing lightly with each step, like a flame of gold burning in a hearth.

Unlike the shy girl she had been two years ago, the now eighteen-year-old had fully matured, growing into a graceful and elegant young woman.

At this very moment, she clutched in her hand an unfurled scroll—the promotion decree signed in person by Professor Hector.

Starting today—

She was now a formal magic apprentice!

"It's over, Ilana! We made it!"

"Yes, finally over."

Ilana held a thick notebook in her arms, her tone devoid of much emotion, though in her usually calm eyes, a few sparks of light now gleamed.

All her years of effort had finally paid off—she had actually completed her promotion to apprentice mage in her second year.

She believed her parents would be proud of her.

Ophelia halted her joyful steps, turned around, and could no longer hide the triumphant smile on her face.

"To be honest, when Professor Hector nodded just now, I couldn't believe it was real! That old stick-in-the-mud who always scowls actually smiled—I thought Prince Colin was just teasing me."

Ilana tilted her head slightly, unsure how Prince Colin had anything to do with this, but she followed along with Ophelia's train of thought.

"I think the professor didn't smile at all—he just twitched his mouth. Based on my observations, that was his involuntary physiological reaction to our 'function-model magic array,' which he couldn't refute but refused to acknowledge. Frankly, I don't understand why, given his good relationship with Prince Colin, he resists the prince's theories so fiercely."

Watching Ilana analyze earnestly, then sink into confused silence, Ophelia burst out laughing.

She could understand Hector's awkwardness—it was simply due to Professor Uriel Ackley, the current candidate Sage,'s hostility toward the scientific school.

But that didn't matter.

Who else, besides Hector, had severed ties with science?

As Prince Colin had said, the light of truth cannot be blocked! She believed that one day, all mages would see the radiance emanating from Prince Colin!

By the way, although Professor Hector publicly opposed scientific school activities, he treated scientific school students kindly in private.

Ophelia walked over and affectionately linked arms with her best friend.

"Whether it was a twitch or a smile, we passed! Starting today, we are official members of the Tower of the Grand Sage!"

"Hmm…" Realizing she had slipped back into her obsessive logic, Ilana's cheeks flushed slightly, and she finally stopped her irrelevant deductions.

Ophelia released her arm and gently smoothed her companion's messy bangs, her smile glowing with confidence.

"Get a good night's sleep tonight—tomorrow, heavier studies await us. Professor Hector said this is only the beginning."

"Mm. Good night, Ophelia."

"Good night."

Watching Ilana's figure vanish at the end of the corridor, Ophelia turned down another passage toward a separate dormitory wing.

As the younger daughter of Duke Castillion, her life at the Academy was neither extravagant nor shabby.

Since the day she entered the Academy, she had never had a roommate—only a personal maid to attend to her daily needs.

Pushing open the oak door, warm fragrance washed over her.

The fireplace blazed brightly, occasionally crackling and spitting out orange-red sparks.

The room's furnishings were exquisitely appointed: silk tapestries from the New Continent and furniture adorned with bronze seahorse crests silently proclaimed her status.

Eliphette stood beside the tea table, arranging snowdrop flowers in a vase. Seeing Ophelia skip in, her face softened into a gentle smile.

She wore a neatly tailored maid's uniform, appearing merely an ordinary servant—yet anyone who underestimated her had paid the price.

"Miss, you're back."

"Eliphette! Quick, get me writing paper!"

Ophelia kicked off her small leather boots and stepped barefoot onto the thick wool rug, spinning like a lark returning to its nest.

"I have incredible news for Prince Colin! I passed Hector's devilish exam on the first try! Heehee!"

Eliphette paused her work, gazing at her mistress's flushed, excited face, her eyes filled with tender indulgence.

"Congratulations, Miss. I believe not only Prince Colin, but Duke Castillion himself, if he knew, would be proud of you."

"He doesn't understand any of this! He'd only say, 'Why not learn magic at home? Why bother traveling all the way to the northern wastelands…'"

Ophelia muttered, striding to her desk and rummaging through a drawer for a stack of gilded letter paper, selecting one with a pattern that matched her mood.

At that moment, Eliphette suddenly remembered something and withdrew a letter from her bosom. The envelope bore no elaborate wax seal—only a simple, powerful signature.

"By the way, Miss, the courier just delivered an urgent letter. I saw the sender's name was—"

Before Eliphette could finish saying "Colin," a shadow darted forward and snatched the letter, followed by a startled cry.

"It's Colin's reply! Saint Sis above, Eliphette, why didn't you hand it to me sooner?! Do you know how long I've waited for this?!"

"I… handed it to you the moment you walked in."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

Seeing Ophelia blink innocently, Eliphette sighed helplessly and went to collect the scattered letter paper and quill her mistress had carelessly dropped.

At this moment, Ophelia had no attention left for such trivial etiquette.

Without changing her clothes, she flung herself onto the soft bed in her bedroom, rolled once in the velvet quilt while clutching the envelope, then inhaled deeply of its intoxicating scent.

It was the crisp fragrance of cedar—

No wonder it was Prince Colin! His taste remained as refined as ever!

Ophelia's face wore a dazed expression, her soft golden hair spread across the red bedsheet like a rare winter sunbeam.

Eliphette pretended not to notice her mistress's antics, skillfully closing the bedroom door and returning to arranging the snowdrops on the table.

Ophelia rolled onto her stomach, steadied her racing heartbeat, and carefully slit the wax seal with her fingernail.

The letter unfolded.

Familiar handwriting met her eyes.

"Dear Miss Ophelia Castillion, I have something important to tell you—how have you been lately…"

Ophelia frowned slightly, a flicker of suspicion crossing her face. Colin rarely addressed her by her full name in the body of his letters—could this be written by a servant?

Yet the elegant, fluid script was undeniably Prince Colin's own hand.

Confused, she continued reading. But as she progressed, her confusion did not lessen—it deepened into an unsettling dissonance.

Five full pages: the first two were filled with tedious observations about the Academy's weather, mechanical inquiries about her diet and health, even discussions of mathematics.

This was extremely unusual.

Ophelia's gaze swept rapidly across the letter, finally settling on several oddly repeated phrases.

"As I stated on page thirteen, first line of my first book…"

First book?

Was it…

"Advanced Mathematics"?

This strange phrasing caught Ophelia's attention—she immediately realized this was no ordinary letter, but a key to unlock a labyrinthine treasure chest!

She snapped the letter shut, barefoot, and dashed to the bookshelf.

On the most prominent shelf sat a thick volume with slightly curled pages—the very book Prince Colin had left at the Academy: "Advanced Mathematics."

This book was regarded as heretical by a host of mages led by Uriel, but to Miss Castillion, it was the most precious treasure on earth.

She carried it back to the desk, swiftly opened the cover, and, cross-referencing the coordinates hidden in the letter, copied the formulas onto blank paper, decoding Prince Colin's puzzle step by step.

Minutes passed; letters leapt onto the page, forming fluent words under her pen.

Yet the instant she completed the final sequence, the warm air in the room froze as if pierced by invisible cold, sending a chill through her fingertips.

"The Academy has abandoned the faith of the Holy Light."

"Collection of live experimental data in the Waren Mountains is complete. The Soul School's demons are bringing their profane factories back to the Academy one by one."

Lyans.

Corpses.

And children.

Each horrifying word, like a bloodied dagger, tore the sacred, serene veil of the Academy into shreds.

She seemed to see the innocent victims screaming on operating tables, and the butchers disguised as scholars.

And they were the very scholars who passed her daily!

Ophelia forgot to breathe, her face turning as white as snow, her fingers trembling as she reassembled the decoded letters according to Prince Colin's formula.

It was a warning.

Or rather—a warning.

"Do not investigate."

"Do not be curious."

"It is an abyss without bottom. Do you remember what we saw in the labyrinth? Arist Thorne's profanities are but fleas on an elephant compared to the true demons—he never touched the core clues. I only saw them after arriving at the frontier."

Ophelia bit her lip hard, continuing calculations on the paper using the "incantation" Prince Colin had taught them all.

It was an incantation known only to students of the Colin School.

When the final translated passage was painstakingly reconstructed on the paper, she began to taste blood between her lips.

"I need you to do two things."

"First, protect yourself. Return immediately to the Holy City and warn Duke Andre Castillion of the profanations occurring at the Empire's frontier."

"Second matter: Under the guise of academic exchange, take as many members of the Science School as possible—James Wally, Ilana, Jamie, Ram, and others. If they refuse to leave, do not force them; under the condition of preserving yourself, take only those you can."

"Professor Uriel's exclusion of the Science School is your greatest advantage—you can carry out this plan without arousing suspicion from anyone."

"The Thundering City University has been completed; there is a mage tower belonging to you. Now, I trust only you."

Ophelia's breath halted for an instant.

Only you.

These words were like a scalding current, instantly smashing through her inner fears and coldness, restoring a faint flush to her pale cheeks.

At the moment when the storm was about to break, Mr. Colin, ever composed and capable in handling all affairs, entrusted his back to the most reliable Miss Ophelia Castillion.

She was the person he trusted most.

Ophelia closed her eyes, forcing her wildly pounding heart to calm, while suppressing the upward curve of her lips.

When she opened them again, those sapphire eyes held no trace of panic—only an unfathomable calm.

She snapped her fingers; a flame ignited at her slender white fingertips, then, guided by magic, landed on the manuscript on the desk.

The manuscript curled in the fire, finally turning to ash.

Then, Ophelia refolded the "boring" greeting letter just as she always did, placing it alongside her collection of Colin's handwritten notes.

Having finished, she turned, re-shelved the "Advanced Mathematics," and called out toward the door.

"Aelfrit."

The bedroom door opened softly; Aelfrit stood at the threshold, bowing respectfully.

"Miss, what are your orders?"

"I miss home."

Ophelia walked to the window, gazing at the swirling snowstorm outside, her tone carrying the particular petulance of a noble girl.

She lightly brushed a strand of hair from her shoulder, as if imprinting that rebellious expression onto the icy glass.

"This place is freezing. The professors always scowl. Colin always brushes me off. I've had enough—write to Father and tell him to send a griffin carriage to fetch me."

Not all nobles complete every course at the Academic Dominion; after all, they rarely need the diploma.

Yet Aelfrit still felt surprised.

She could sense that her mistress had poured immense heart and passion into the Science School—even just an hour ago, she had cheered with joy at becoming a full apprentice.

How suddenly… had her interest vanished?

Still, Aelfrit asked no further questions.

As a guard bound for generations to the Castillion family, she knew precisely which words to speak and which tasks to execute without inquiry.

She bowed her head, placed her right hand over her chest, and executed a standard knight's salute toward the young lady who, in an instant, seemed to have grown much older.

"As you command, Your Highness. I shall arrange it at once."

"Go." Ophelia nodded, then added, "Also, visit Ilana for me. Tell her I miss her—have lunch with her tomorrow at noon."

Aelfrit bowed.

"Yes."

…

Meanwhile, far from the Tower of the Arch-Sage, in the Tower of Souls, Professor Aumon Sird sat in his laboratory, facing a copied handwritten letter.

As usual, he held the azure magical crystal ocular in his palm, letting its brilliant blue light scan line after line of text.

Within mere breaths, tens of thousands of words had been rearranged and recombined over a thousand times within his ocular.

Yet the result surprised him.

The letter mentioned none of the Soul School's ongoing research—it was, as always, merely a greeting to Miss Castillion.

This man was exceptionally skilled at leveraging every available resource; maintaining ties with the Castillion family was perfectly normal.

But what truly intrigued him was that Mr. Colin, suspected of killing Ma Lusi, had said not a word about the clues he held.

Aumon Sird's lips slowly curled into a wry smile.

"Interesting."

The azure magical crystal ocular drifted back into Aumon's eye socket, clicking softly into place.

Who would have thought that while Prince Colin refused "holy water" with his words, his body remained quite obedient… just like those secular monarchs.

No mortal can escape interest in that "liquid deity," for the immortality Saint Sis failed to deliver, holy water grants effortlessly.

Even more—

That was merely its most basic ability.

He tossed the letter into the fireplace, leaned back in his high-backed chair, interlaced his fingers, and murmured in a leisurely tone.

"... Let me wait and see."

When will our Prince, unable to resist temptation, reach out to his "enemy" himself?

…

Howling snowstorms had whitened the mountain peaks of the northern wastelands, while downstream along the Flowing River, the forests still blazed with autumn red.

At noon, the air was cool; as a long whistle pierced the clear sky, thick white smoke rolled down like a falling cloud, obscuring half the platform.

The iron behemoth slowed gradually—the "Prince's Train," arriving from the Earl of Spinor's domain, finally returned home, bearing news of victory and glory.

The roaring crowd instantly drowned out all other sounds.

Flowers hurled from every direction converged into a colorful rain midair, showering down upon the heroes as they stepped from the carriages.

"Long live Campbell!"

"Victory!!!"

"May heaven bless Campbell!"

News of territorial expansion had flown back to Thundering City a day earlier; now every citizen knew their realm had extended northward by 150,000 square kilometers.

Years ago, these people—who had never left Thundering County—would never have reacted so passionately to news of territorial gains.

But today was different.

They were all masters of the realm; even beggars in refugee camps puffed out their chests with pride at the glittering glory.

The sacred Kingdom of Campbell had not only conquered lands unclaimed by any king, but had also rescued the Holy Light faithful from the claws of foreign barbarians!

Edward no longer needed the Radiance of Praise to adorn his crown—his prestige now far surpassed his father's.

Not far behind Edward, in military uniform, Laman gazed at the falling flowers, momentarily imagining last winter.

Back then, he was a corporal; now he was a distinguished major, commanding the training battalion of the First Mountain Regiment of Campbell.

He touched his chest medal, smiled faintly, and waved to the cheering civilians like the other honored officers.

He still remembered he was a carpenter.

Yet now it seemed his talents extended far beyond that—surely his father watching among the crowd would be proud of his achievements today…

Sir Dickbin's face also bore a look of disbelief.

He never imagined that as a Laine man, he too would stand beside Edward, receiving the cheers and applause of Thundering City's citizens.

At that moment, he noticed the faces of other Laine soldiers nearby, glowing with flushed pride.

The people they had saved stood right among the crowd.

Though once conscripted by their lords in the Kingdom of Laine, they had never before felt such pride in their identity…

Nor was it only humans who felt pride—vampires mingled among the crowd as well.

At this moment, Vivian stood smiling on the platform, waving to the cheering citizens alongside her Hospital Knights.

Kukuku… being adored feels wonderful.

No wonder my elder brother never tires of it!

Vivian's smile grew bolder, yet because her face was so adorable, no one sensed the "mischievous malice" behind it.

Not just adorable.

But also "fashionable."

To catch the Demon Lord's eye, she had radically altered her black robe with white trim: the once loose, bulky garment was cinched at the waist, the trailing hem shortened to the knees, revealing a pair of delicate short boots.

Such heretical alterations in Roland City would have earned her a beating from Bishop Claude; in Thundering City, they merely made the priests' noses twitch.

"Long live Lady Vivian!"

"Ooooh!"

Among the crowd, dragon-blooded voices shouted.

Soon after, some young citizens joined in, offering blessings to this benevolent Miss Colin.

Vivian narrowed her crimson eyes, wearing a shy smile, yet her lips curved with unmistakable satisfaction.

Louder!

Even those starving prisoners had enough to eat—surely you haven't eaten either?!

At the crowd's edge, an elderly priest trembled with rage, his beard shaking.

He pointed at Vivian's clearly noncompliant hem, fingers quivering, muttering words like "desecration" and "moral decay."

Yet the young acolyte beside him blushed quietly.

He silently confessed to Saint Sis, yet could not deny—

Compared to the dull gray robes in church, this "Saint Doctor" looked far more warm and lovable.

Unlike the blushing acolyte, the young maidens in the crowd blushed and whispered among themselves.

So white silk isn't just for men? Women wear it quite nicely too?

The Demon Lord would never guess that Vivian had corrected Thundering City's "corrupt customs".

Perhaps soon, the Baron Geth, whose white socks the Demon Lord would have slain him for wearing, would no longer parade about in that eyesore.

Following Aileen, Luo Yan stepped calmly out of the carriage.

He did not immerse himself in the cheers like Vivian; instead, his gaze swept past the throng of heads toward the square's edge.

In just over three months, the city had changed its skin so thoroughly he barely recognized it.

Red-brick, green-tiled buildings sprouted like bamboo shoots after rain, while colorful signs and posters continued multiplying.

What caught his eye most was a four-story building, its polished glass gleaming in the sunlight, a massive copper plaque hanging on its facade.

The plaque bore a line of gilded characters—

【Hollis Department Store】

Surprised, Luo Yan couldn't help but smile.

He hadn't expected the natives of Lei Ming City to be so insightful—they'd leapfrogged retail straight to mid-Industrial Revolution levels without any guidance.

To be fair, even Shengcheng probably didn't have Mr. Hollis's style.

But the key was productivity had risen—and the people living here had grown more valuable along with it.

Just as Luo Yan marveled at the city's thriving prosperity, needing no intervention from him, a sweet floral scent suddenly drifted into his nose.

Through the crowd, a striking pink figure hurried forward, clutching a bouquet of flowers taller than her head.

"Darling!"

Before Luo Yan could react, Miss Yaya Mitiya—the woman who had recently stirred up all the turmoil in Lei Ming City—used the moment of offering flowers to crash firmly into his arms.

Though she didn't wish to disrupt the Demon Lord's plans, Aileen's expression had made her teeth itch; in that instant, she forgot all composure and grand strategy.

Thus, amid swirling petals and fragrant air, a warm, bold kiss landed squarely on Luo Yan's cheek—

In the name of Miss Yaya Mitiya!

In an instant, the air around them seemed to freeze; even the Lei Ming citizens standing nearby forgot to cheer.

Not only the citizens, but also Aileen, who had been waving to the cheering crowd, froze in place.

Her bright smile grew strained; a strange sourness rose in her chest, like swallowing a lemon whole.

That was supposed to be her princess…

Just a minute ago, she'd been fluttering with excitement at the thought of accepting the crowd's cheers alongside Mr. Colin.

Yet Aileen was a generous person.

Especially when she quickly recalled she had no right to blame Colin—she herself had once, in front of him, thought of someone else…

A thousand tangled emotions wove together; finally, Aileen convinced herself, took a deep breath, and suppressed the childish jealousy in her heart.

It was just a cheek.

She'd kissed his lips already—did she even have grounds to be upset?

Besides, Miss Mitiya must have been waiting anxiously behind; her longing was only human.

She had to show the grace of a hero.

As long as Prince Colin was happy…

Aileen forced a smile back onto her face, though it looked stiff.

Yet someone refused to endure it—a shrill cry shattered all decorum and restraint.

"Let go of Vivian's brother! You… you wicked woman! In broad daylight, where is the honor of the Pa—Mitiya family?!"

Vivian hissed like a protective kitten, gripping Meya's arms tightly, trying to peel her off Luo Yan like a stubborn sticker.

All elegance, all sanctity, cast aside without a second thought.

But she still held back.

Otherwise, with her strength to drag a train, she could've flung this brazen succubus to the tip of the Clock Tower in an instant.

Yet Vivian's "decorum" earned no decency from Meya.

Instead of letting go, she pressed herself deeper into the man's arms, glaring fiercely at Vivian.

"Hehehe, little Vivian, it's just a hug—don't be so stingy. I didn't even eat your brother."

Serena Padrich—

Your daughter has thrown all caution to the wind!

The kiss that had landed on his cheek had likely drained every ounce of courage from Miss Padrich.

Hearing the self-destructive pleading in her cooing tone, Luo Yan felt no romantic flutter—only a pang of pity for Miss Meya.

Perhaps he really was a scoundrel.

"Who's your sister? Let go! Let go right now!"

"No! Bite me—ah! You're actually biting?!"

The chaotic atmosphere diluted the ceremony's solemnity.

The citizens gathered around the carriage first stared, then burst into warm, loud laughter—even Edward chuckled, though his smile carried a hint of sympathy for his sister.

Teresa, too, looked at Aileen with pity, still smiling that magnanimous smile.

The people of Lei Ming City loved knightly novels.

Scandals involving the powerful didn't diminish their dignity—they only made Prince Colin seem more relatable, more human.

Many young, beautiful girls blushed, surprised that the man destined to wed Princess Aileen could also be so charmingly rakish.

Didn't this mean…

That they still had a chance?!

Beside Baron Gus, his daughter and wife both blushed involuntarily.

Only the Demon Lord, bathed in countless stares, clenched his toes, barely restraining the urge to flash away to the distant continent of Jana.

"Enough… stop it. People are watching."

One hand restrained Vivian, the other held Meya.

Like an exasperated father, he half-dragged, half-pulled the two troublemakers through the crowd and into the carriage waiting by the roadside.

The carriage door was about to close.

A pale hand pressed against the frame.

Aileen, holding up her skirt, blushing, slipped inside swiftly and sat down beside Prince Colin's empty seat.

Meeting Colin's slightly surprised gaze, the silver-haired princess smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes drifting to the window, yet her voice was resolute.

"I think… it's better if I come along too."

She trusted Prince Colin's character utterly—no doubt about that.

But Miss Yaya was too enthusiastic, and Prince Colin was a gentleman who couldn't refuse.

If she didn't keep an eye on things, something regrettable might happen—after all, Miss Yaya didn't seem like a rational adult…

Aileen convinced herself again, repeating it firmly.

She was not without confidence.

Just in case.