Chapter 9: Magic Training
The morning air at St. Freya Academy carried a faint chill.
Ailiya stood alone on the vast magic training field, a dedicated area for students to practice spells, its floor lined with special stone slabs that absorbed stray mana, and its walls etched with intricate defensive runes.
Before her lay an open copy of Basic Spellcraft Introduction borrowed from the library, but her heart was more tangled than the book’s incantations.
Damn it… I don’t get any of this!
Aside from water and fire spells etched into her soul for baking and cleaning kitchen tools, she knew nothing about offensive or defensive magic.
The spells in the book looked like gibberish to her.
This world’s mages were divided into clear ranks.
At the lowest, first-tier apprentices could barely manipulate elements for daily tasks.
Second-tier squires could cast simple defensive and offensive spells.
Third-tier mages could reliably construct and unleash moderately powerful magic—the minimum standard for St. Freya’s entrance practical exam.
Above that were fourth-tier elites and the legendary fifth-tier masters.
And she, Ailiya Winston, was pathetically stuck at first-tier apprentice level, barely scraping the surface.
Learn third-tier magic in a week? That’s like asking an elementary kid who knows basic arithmetic to solve calculus! Is Liliane a demon?!
She took a deep breath, faced the dummy target, mimicked the book’s stance, and shouted with all her might: “Flame Arrow!”
…
A breeze ruffled her maid uniform’s skirt, but nothing else happened.
As despair sank in, a sharp, mocking voice came from nearby.
“Well, look who’s here? Isn’t this Lady Liliane’s new pet? What, practicing your dog barks?”
Ailiya turned to see Isabella with her two lackeys, all in lavish uniforms, arms crossed, faces dripping with undisguised scorn.
“A commoner without a trace of mana fluctuation dreaming of passing the entrance exam? What a joke.”
Charlotte, the black-haired one, snickered behind her fan.
“Don’t say that, Charlotte,” Beatrice, with chestnut hair, dramatically pinched her nose. “Maybe she’s performing some secret ritual we don’t understand.”
To show off, Isabella didn’t even draw her wand, just elegantly raised a hand and softly chanted.
A bright butterfly formed of pure light materialized at her fingertips, dancing gracefully before striking the distant target with a crisp bang.
A standard third-tier spell, “Dance of the Light Butterfly.”
Wow! That’s amazing!
Ailiya’s eyes sparkled.
So that’s how you cast it? The butterfly’s wings are pure mana, with a stable energy node at the core…
Are they here to demonstrate for me? Capital nobles are so kind!
Isabella saw Ailiya’s eager, grateful look and felt like she’d punched cotton.
The expected shame, jealousy, or embarrassment didn’t appear.
This idiot… does she think I’m teaching her?!
The feeling of being treated like a fool sent Isabella’s anger flaring.
“You moron! Can’t you tell we’re mocking you?!” Her face flushed with rage. “I can’t fathom why Lady Liliane picked a brain-dead dunce like you as her personal maid!”
“Oh, that,” Ailiya answered honestly. “My parents owed the Winter family a lot of money, so I was sold to pay the debt.”
“No way!”
Isabella retorted without thinking, pointing at Ailiya like she’d uncovered a grand conspiracy.
“With Lady Liliane’s temperament, she’d have thrown your whole family into the northern mines to feed crystal worms for defaulting on a debt! There’s no way she’d let them flee overnight, leaving just you!”
She grew more animated, as if she’d seen through everything.
“You must have some dirt on Lady Liliane! You used dirty tricks to blackmail her into getting into St. Freya! I won’t let a schemer like you succeed!”
Ailiya was stunned by this wild imagination.
Dirt? What dirt could I have? Maybe she found the knight novels I hid under my bed?
Wait, those are mine…
Curious, she asked:
“Um… I know Lady Liliane’s family is rich, but you’re nobles too. Why do you… idolize her so much?”
The question lit a fuse in Isabella.
“What do you know!”
She ranted like a zealot defending a sacred faith, listing Liliane’s virtues.
“Lady Liliane is the most brilliant genius in a century! She’s elegant, beautiful, powerful, mysterious! She cast fourth-tier magic wandlessly at fifteen! Her thesis was published on the front page of Royal Magic Weekly! She rides horses more dashing than any prince!”
Really? All I remember is her threatening to feed me to bugs…
Ailiya was baffled.
To her, no matter how much Isabella hyped Liliane, their relationship was just debtor and creditor, master and maid.
That nasty-tempered girl probably saw it the same way, right?
Ignoring Isabella’s fervent speech, Ailiya turned back to the target, resuming her futile “Flame Arrow” practice.
Isabella kept vowing to make Ailiya see Liliane’s greatness.
Charlotte whispered: “Isabella, isn’t our goal to get her away from Lady Liliane?”
Just then, a lively figure arrived at the training field.
“Morning, Ailiya! Practicing here too?”
It was Aurora.
Isabella turned her venom on her: “Another delusional upstart.”
But Aurora didn’t spare her a glance.
She walked to Ailiya, chuckling at her strained expression, then casually waved a hand.
A magic shield, ten times more intricate than Isabella’s butterfly, formed with layered runes, followed by an ice wall rising to encase it.
A flawless fourth-tier composite spell, blending offense and defense.
The training field fell silent, all practicing students staring in disbelief.
“Don’t mind her,” Aurora said to Ailiya. “She’s just obsessed with Liliane, so she’s hostile to anyone near her.”
“Do you know me?” Isabella frowned, displeased.
“Of course.” Aurora turned, flashing a mysterious smile.
“Isabella, heiress of the De Colbe family. You secretly altered your course selections to be in Liliane’s class. You spent a fortune importing her favorite limited-edition ink from a neighboring kingdom. You’re also the president of her secret fan club—”
“Shut up!”
Isabella, red-faced, lunged to cover Aurora’s mouth, hissing in shock and anger:
“How… how do you know all this?!”
Aurora whispered in her ear: “Because my love for Lady Liliane might just rival yours.”
That sparked Isabella’s competitive fire.
The two girls launched into a showdown of “secret Liliane knowledge.”
“What’s Lady Liliane’s favorite tea?”
“Morning Dew Estate, half a spoon of honey, no milk.”
“What’s the material of her favorite quill?”
“Gryphon tail feather, specifically the third from the left wing of an adult male.”
…
After several rounds, Isabella was horrified to find her prized knowledge crumbling before Aurora.
She staggered back, collapsing to the ground, pointing at Aurora in despair.
“Who… who are you?!”
Aurora, hands on hips, grinned victoriously:
“Relax, there’s no hierarchy between us. As Liliane’s supporters, we’re comrades!”
She extended a hand to Isabella.
“Comrades…”
Isabella mulled over the unfamiliar term, her expression shifting.
Finally, she regained her haughty composure, smoothed her slightly disheveled skirt, lifted her chin, and grasped Aurora’s hand with her lace-gloved one.
“Hmph, I’ll grudgingly accept you as my comrade.”
Nearby, Ailiya stared blankly.
…What are these people even doing?