Chapter 646: Under the Shadow of Victory

On the wind-swept wasteland, snow and storm buried the lanterns of Craftsmen's Street, yet did not quell the bustle behind the glass windows.

Inside the "Gears and Malt" restaurant, the aroma of roasted meat and beer filled the air, and the clamor nearly pulled down the swaying brass chandelier above.

Adventurers loudly recounted today's haul, while craftsmen complained about the wizards' endless quirks, interspersed with arguments among apprentices over rune patterns.

Though most refused to acknowledge the value of the Science School, over the past two years many apprentices had applied geometric principles to magical array design.

The craftsmen of Craftsmen's Street were no exception.

Because the thing truly worked well.

Generally, the mages of the Scholardom avoided stepping into craftsmen's kitchens—unless their lives were so destitute they couldn't even afford the lowest-tier meal in the mage tower.

But such a humiliating plight clearly would not befall Miss Castillion.

She sat here solely because someone had brought her here before.

Before leaving this snowfield, which held too many of her memories, she wished to taste once more the flavor of those days and share this memory with her dearest friend.

Ophelia sliced the sizzling sausage on her plate with the grace of someone carving a premium steak.

Ilana, meanwhile, dismantled the roasted pork knuckle with fork and knife; though her movements were quiet and elegant, the food on her plate stood in stark contrast to her own cold, reserved demeanor.

"The smoky flavor here is unique—I've never tasted anything like it in the Holy City."

"It's surprising, really. I thought you'd prefer more refined cuisine."

"Generally, yes—but sometimes I just want to change things up."

She speared a piece and put it in her mouth, her pale blue eyes narrowing slightly, as if recalling some pleasant memory.

After savoring the rich, savory juices, she swallowed and spoke in a melodious voice.

"Besides, this place was recommended to me by Prince Colin."

"Did you two eat together often?" Ilana looked at Ophelia in surprise, her cold eyes holding a faint, almost imperceptible envy.

"Not often—just occasionally."

Ophelia set down her knife and fork, took the napkin, and gently wiped her lips, her gaze softening.

"I often asked him questions—not just academic ones, but about life too… You know, here, being smart isn't enough. If you're not shrewd, clever mages will treat you like a fool. That prince, he gave me much help when I was still utterly clueless. Sometimes I even felt… he was like a father to me."

Ilana nodded silently, a gentle smile appearing on her face.

"Your bond is truly special."

For the mentor far to the south, Ilana felt nothing but reverence and gratitude. It was his book, "Advanced Mathematics," that opened for her a door to truth, and made her realize that transcendental power and soul rank were not the entirety of this world.

A soul is noble because of its contributions to this world—not because only noble souls are worthy of great deeds.

Yet precisely because this debt was so profound, her reserved nature made her feel perpetually in arrears, too shy to write and disturb him.

After all, that prince probably received countless letters every day.

"Of course."

Ophelia's lips curled slightly, her melodious voice tinged with delight as she lightly brushed her golden hair behind her shoulder with her index finger.

"After all, I'm his favorite student."

Not to boast.

She simply wished to share this joy with her dearest friend.

Ilana genuinely rejoiced for her, spearing a potato and fiddling with it on her plate, thinking how she wished she had even half of Ophelia's confidence.

Yet for the things she could never have, Ilana felt no great regret. After all, with Ophelia beside her, having Ophelia possess them was enough.

Yesterday, they had both passed Professor Hector's brutal examination. It was a victory for the Science School—and a turning point in their lives.

Ophelia had promised her they would each have their own independent laboratory in the Tower of the Archmage, with ample time and resources to test the Science School's hypotheses and continue spreading the light Professor Colin had left upon this snowfield.

If such a day ever came—if she could make the light of science shine upon this snowfield—it might finally repay the debt she owed Prince Colin for all his care.

Perhaps then, she too could be a little more confident than she was now…

But as Ilana thought this, Ophelia's words doused her dreams like a bucket of ice water.

"By the way, Ilana. I'm going back to the Holy City."

Clang—

Ilana's fork clattered onto her plate, a sharp, jarring sound.

"Back… to the Holy City?"

She forgot to pick up the fork, staring in shock at her closest friend—the companion who had just yesterday become a full apprentice.

"You mean… on leave?"

Instinct told her Ophelia wasn't speaking of leave. Slowly, she realized this was a farewell meal.

And Ophelia's next words confirmed her dread.

Ophelia took a deep breath and spoke calmly.

"No. I'm going home."

"But… why?"

"Hmm… You probably already guessed, don't you?"

Ophelia lowered her head, unwilling and afraid to meet those sincere eyes, fearing she might betray the secret hidden within her heart—and the suppressed resentment beneath.

She didn't want to leave either.

Had she been the girl she was two years ago, before the "Labyrinth Incident," she would have fought the mages to the end for justice.

But now she knew such stubbornness was meaningless. Challenging demons far stronger than herself would only let justice die pointlessly, and bury itself in the very grave meant for the devils.

So she followed Colin's plan—

Preserve strength, wait for the right moment.

Twirling her increasingly tangled hair around her finger, she spoke the "capricious" answer in a deliberately light tone, word by word.

"I came to the Scholardom to study, yes—but mostly to follow Mr. Colin's footsteps. My father said I'd give up. And now it seems… he once again saw clearly his immature daughter."

Ilana's lips trembled slightly.

"So… you're just giving up?"

"What else can I do?"

Ophelia lifted her head, wearing that helpless, bitter smile, perfectly concealing the terrifying revelation beneath a simple, naive expression.

"Two years have passed. He never returned. I've come to understand that some waits are destined to yield nothing. And lately, my father's health has worsened; family affairs are piling up. I'm a Castillion daughter—I can't keep indulging myself in this ivory tower forever."

Ilana opened her mouth to protest, but found no words. Her usually calm thoughts had tangled into a knot of wool.

Yesterday they had cheered in the classroom, dreaming of sailing across the ocean of truth. How could it all end today?

She looked into Ophelia's eyes—those azure eyes held a smile, yet seemed veiled in an impenetrable mist.

Though poor at socializing, Ilana's intuition told her what she heard was not the full truth.

Ophelia was not the type to surrender easily to setbacks—nor did she seem to have faced any.

Yet Ilana asked nothing.

As a friend, she had no right to question a noblewoman's familial duty—only to silently bless her.

Silence spread between them.

Long moments passed before Ilana found her voice, struggling to mask her anxiety, speaking softly.

"If you leave… what will happen to the Science School?"

This was the most practical question.

Though the Science School had gained visibility through the journal "Science" and numerous simple, useful "scientific tools," it still lacked recognition from the Scholardom's mainstream.

Worse—it was actively suppressed by Archmage candidate Uriel, and the Archmage himself tacitly permitted his arrogance.

Ilana had no doubt that without the Castillion family crest as a shield, Professor James Wall's laboratory would have been stripped away again long ago.

That was the Science School's last refuge.

Lose that, and these common-born apprentice mages and researchers would be devoured whole by Professor Uriel.

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm worried about."

Ophelia sighed and set down her knife and fork.

She glanced around, confirmed no one was watching their table, then pulled a pre-prepared letter from her inner pocket.

It was a thin envelope, sealed with the Castillion family's bronze seahorse crest, vivid even in the dim light.

She placed the letter on the table and slowly pushed it toward Ilana, speaking with unprecedented solemnity.

"…So don't stay here either."

Ilana froze.

"Me…?"

"Yes."

Ophelia's voice was low, yet unwavering.

"I know this request may seem selfish—but you're the friend I trust most. I can only entrust this to you… Please listen to me calmly."

"The Castillion family has no influence here. If I'm not present, no one can protect you. So… I want you to take Jamie, take Ram, and everyone else willing to follow you, and leave this place."

"This letter will guide you south. There, you'll continue your studies and your unfinished research."

Ilana stared at the letter, then up at Ophelia, her mind blank.

She had just told her family she'd become a full apprentice—yet Miss Castillion now wanted her to leave the Scholardom.

This…

Well.

If it was the Castillion family's request, her parents wouldn't object. After all, she was an imperial subject—and crudely put, everyone in the Empire knew this surname carried far more weight than any certificate from the Scholardom.

Still, she wasn't ready for this.

It felt as if her life's little boat, just setting sail, had been swept onto a different course by an invisible wind.

"The south…"

"Yes, downstream along the Flowing River, there is a place called Lei Ming City. You may not have heard of it, but it already possesses the soil needed for 'science.'"

Unlike the flustered Ilana, Ophelia's tone suggested she had arranged everything long before Ilana knew.

Ophelia's index finger lightly tapped the envelope, her sapphire eyes burning with a heat Ilana could not understand.

And this further confirmed her suspicion—

Ophelia had concealed part of the truth; her sudden decision was far more than the whim of a noblewoman.

"Can you… explain it more clearly to me?" Ilana asked seriously.

This was not for herself, but to convince the others in the laboratory.

"I'm sorry, but this is the last thing I can do for my friends," Ophelia replied, shaking her head and avoiding the question.

"I had Prince Colin build you a new mage tower in the south. It has no Void Realm, nor the grandeur of the Tower of the Sage, but it has ample funding, people who seek truth, and our respected mentor."

"But… this is too sudden. Can you give me some time?"

"Ilana." Ophelia interrupted her, suddenly gripping Ilana's right hand resting on the table—its scorching warmth melting the chill on Ilana's knuckles.

"I don't care how others choose, but I hope you'll listen to me. You're a genius. You shouldn't be buried in this increasingly fierce snowstorm."

"Go somewhere bathed in sunlight. Our mentor is waiting for you there."

…

The sunlit Colin Estate welcomed night amid noise; the candles on silver candelabras burned quietly, casting flickering shadows of the diners around the table.

Sensing a great battle was about to erupt, the fox-eared maid swiftly pushed the serving cart out of the dining room.

At that moment, a soft, delicate cry shattered the "truce" between the Padrich and Colin families.

"Sss…"

Mia, seated on the left side of the table, gently rolled up her lace cuff, revealing a pale, slender forearm.

There, on the snow-white skin, stood two neat, clear rows of teeth marks—with two tiny dots at the end.

They were evidence she had deliberately preserved.

Hehehe, my dearest, my dearest, that was your sister.

Isn't it reasonable to take off your clothes when apologizing?

"Qiqi, please check for me—am I going to get tetanus?" Mia asked, eyes glistening with tears, turning to her "best friend" with pitiful appeal.

Upon hearing Miss Padrich speak to her, Qiqi immediately snapped to attention, filled with delight, cradling the Demon King's hand as if it were a priceless treasure.

"Tetanus? What's that? Let me look for you."

"Mr. Colin told me—apparently wild animals carry all sorts of germs. Will my arm be scarred?"

"Germs? Scars?" Qiqi was baffled. She'd never heard of demons leaving scars from injuries, and what were these "germs"?

To her shame, she was the top student at the Demon King's Academy, yet before Miss Padrich, she felt like an uneducated slacker.

"It'll scar, won't it?" Mia repeated.

This time, Qiqi understood. She dramatically clapped a hand over her mouth, and the trivial wound instantly became a limb-severing disaster.

"Oh my heavens, Miss Ya! This wound is too deep! The attacker… he clearly wanted to devour you alive!"

Mia's face broke into a satisfied smile.

No wonder the citizens of Lei Ming City called her "Aloyse"—she was an excellent actress!

Qiqi chuckled helplessly while secretly apologizing to the opposite side of the table.

Across the table, Vivian held a cup of black tea, mimicking her brother's way of sipping; upon hearing Miss Padrich's provocation, her composure cracked, and she nearly crushed the cup.

But the little tyrant of the Demon Capital didn't trouble ordinary demons.

She simply glared fiercely at the culprit, Mia Padrich, her ruby eyes nearly blazing with fire.

"Tch…"

Vivian slammed her teacup down with a scornful laugh.

"That's a lesson for thieves! Who told you to shamelessly wrinkle your brother's clothes in public? And who are you calling a wild animal?!"

The more she thought about it, the angrier she grew. She turned to Snowette standing behind her and pointed furiously at her mouth.

"Snowette, bring my mouthwash! I accidentally bit into a piece of fox meat that wasn't deodorized—blech, blech, blech! It's about to suffocate me!"

Snowette glanced awkwardly at her mistress, then at Mia Padrich across the table—clearly no one to mess with—and reluctantly offered a napkin.

"Miss, please mind your noble bearing…"

"Bearing is for people, not for food-stealing foxes!"

Vivian refused to yield an inch.

Luo Yan sighed, set down his teacup, and felt this meal had been more exhausting than a battle in the Wan Ren Mountains.

Edward gave him a sympathetic glance. It seemed being too handsome wasn't always a blessing.

Still, he had to admit: Prince Colin had brought this on himself. Refusing unwanted kindness was a gentleman's essential lesson.

Unfortunately, Edward didn't know that indecisiveness was precisely "Roksey Colin's" character trait—Colin was merely staying true to his role.

Just as the conflict was about to escalate into a second war, the silent Heroine finally couldn't hold back any longer.

It wasn't that she couldn't bear the explosive atmosphere—she simply felt she should contribute her own strength to the household's peace.

Besides, she had real business to attend to.

"Prince Colin."

Eileen took a deep breath, her gaze steady on the visibly uneasy Colin.

"The air here… is too stifling. About the ideas we discussed on the front lines—I'd like to move to the study for a detailed talk. Would you be available?"

This suggestion was a lifeline.

Luo Yan rose instantly, moving as if he'd been waiting for this moment.

"As you wish. I, too, have thoughts I wish to discuss at length with you."

…

The war between the Padrich and Colin families still raged, neither demon noticing the Demon King had been stolen away by the Heroine.

The second-floor study felt like another world.

The oak door inscribed with mystical script blocked out the noise below; the hearth's flames danced softly, casting warm glows over the walls lined with books.

Eileen sat stiffly on the velvet sofa.

Luo Yan merely lifted his index finger, and the teapot on the cabinet floated up, pouring two cups of warm black tea.

Holding the tea Luo Yan had poured himself, the delicate fragrance lingering at her nose finally eased Eileen's tense nerves.

She opened the conversation in casual tones.

"Your home is truly lively."

Luo Yan offered a helpless smile.

"Forgive the spectacle."

"No… I think liveliness is nice," Eileen smiled shyly, her fingertip lightly rubbing the cup's rim. "To be honest, I prefer your home's atmosphere to the solemnity of Campbell Castle. Whether it's the food here or the hearth… it all feels warm."

Realizing how ambiguous that sounded, Eileen's cheeks flushed crimson the moment she spoke—she hurriedly tried to explain she didn't mean it that way.

Worried she'd dig herself deeper until she wanted to crawl into a crack in the floor, Luo Yan gently took over the topic.

"It's my honor to make you feel at home—it shows the Colin family hasn't neglected its honored guest."

Hearing Colin's words, Eileen quietly exhaled—but a strange unease stirred in her heart.

"You think so…?"

What she truly wanted to ask was another question.

Just a guest?

Hearing the unspoken meaning, Luo Yan paused briefly, then gave the answer he deemed most fitting.

"Partly, but not entirely."

Eileen lifted her head in surprise.

¤C〇

"For example?"

Luo Yan spoke gently.

"To me, you are not merely a guest."

That snow-white face instantly blushed crimson; steam seemed to rise from between her silver strands… though of course, it was only the tea's vapor.

Without further teasing the adorable Heroine, the evil yet elegant Demon King shifted tone, steering the warmth toward business.

"So… your 'real business' earlier was just to confirm this?"

Hearing "real business," Eileen instantly shed her shyness, adopting a serious expression.

"No… of course not."

Leaning back, Luo Yan crossed his index fingers over his knee, his face expressing readiness to listen.

Eileen set down her cup, leaned forward slightly, and continued.

"This war revealed a fatal weakness. Though we've achieved remarkable progress in industrial production, when facing supernatural threats—especially organized magical assaults like those of the Scholar League—we have almost no countermeasure."

Eileen recalled the brutal battle on the front lines, especially the Lein Camp vaporized under the Scholar League's combined spell—still sending chills down her spine today.

The Campbell Duchy had some Steel-grade and even Silver-grade mages, but on the battlefield, they mostly fought individually, functioning as mobile artillery to supplement the main cannons.

Whether in range, suppression power, or magical defense… they were vastly inferior to the Scholar League.

"That's indeed a problem," Luo Yan nodded. "I recall we discussed this when the war first began."

"Yes, my brother and I have also discussed this issue—the idea you proposed for a Mage's Guild."

As she spoke these words, Erin's tone carried a hint of gratitude.

"We all agree it is a brilliant concept. The Campbell Duchy needs its own institution to select, test, and promote mages—we cannot send our boys and girls to those cannibalistic demons, hoping for standards and kindness these mages simply do not possess."

Luo Yan smiled faintly.

"I'm glad you value my suggestion so highly. I truly believe you have the capability to make this happen."

The notion that noble souls are often reborn into noble families is not entirely accurate. Like Newton's equations, it only holds under classical conditions; it fails under extreme circumstances such as intense gravitational fields or near-light speeds.

The Twilight Province offers real examples: Count Theron Gard of Quemubao has a soul rank lower than his strongest knight.

For instance, kidnapping a destitute noblewoman and selling her to rat-people caves for breeding produces offspring whose souls are no different from ordinary people's—this is recorded in Ma Lusi's private experimental logs.

Likewise, some bastards' souls begin with only slightly higher base stats than ordinary people—Ma Lusi himself is an example.

Rather than soul rebirth following some mechanism tied to belief systems, it is better understood as the joint effect of matching mechanisms and the soul's own volition.

In plain terms: the higher a soul's rank, the more information it receives during rebirth—essentially rebirthing with its eyes open.

They instinctively gravitate toward lands most aligned with their spiritual state, whether through extreme love or hatred, even if separated by vast physical distances. Moreover, they seek embryos that resonate powerfully with their souls, completing soul implantation—this step determines the family.

What kind of life script they receive afterward is another matter entirely.

According to the Soul School's theory, only those "fireflies" drifting for the first time from the "Sea of Consciousness" in the stars are blindly stuffed into flesh-and-blood bodies, truly beginning from zero.

This is precisely why Ma Lusi called the Campbell Duchy a pure land—his words were not baseless fantasy.

The number of transcendent beings born on this land must be greater than elsewhere, just as the Saint City's concentration of transcendent beings far exceeds other regions.

This is not merely because people in these two places are wealthier, able to afford priests' holy water and prayers, and more likely to have their corpses collected after death—it is also because a rich material world drives the development of spiritual civilization, naturally raising the proportion of normal souls.

Therefore, Luo Yan strongly recommends that the people here build their own Mage Tower, deciding for themselves how to shape their souls.

Erin looked earnestly at Prince Colin across from her, a faint look of difficulty on her face.

"My brother has approved the plan to establish the Mage's Guild and pledged maximum financial support. But there is one practical problem—we lack people."

After all, the Campbell Duchy is a land of knights; knights are as numerous as grass, but mages are exceedingly rare, and even those few are drained by the Mage Towers of the Academic Alliance.

Occasionally, a few self-taught adventurers appear, but their magic is rarely systematic—they've merely picked up a few tricks from others.

Erin raised her head, her emerald eyes fixed directly on Colin, filled with hope and a touch of shy pleading.

"Colin, you have teaching experience in the Academic Alliance. Your knowledge is vast, and you yourself are a powerful mage."

"I want… I beg you to become the first Grandmaster of the Mage's Guild—to forge for our duchy a shield capable of resisting magic!"