Naturally, the wraith was not about to give Lucia time to reminisce.
Its pale, massive hands whipped up a fierce gust of wind, coming straight down toward her face.
Lucia didn't dodge or duck. A blazing white flame burst out from her side out of thin air, rising like a shield to meet the attack.
“Aaargh—!”
The instant it touched the flame, the wraith let out a screech so tragic it sounded twisted.
The sound pierced deep into her soul; Lucia's temples throbbed violently, and blinding pain blurred her vision.
Meanwhile, Roseliel, lying on the floor, had stopped moving altogether.
Lucia caught this out of the corner of her eye and instantly decided to end the battle swiftly.
She leaped back several steps with her sword to widen the distance, then rotated the blade so its tip pointed down.
At the same time, her left hand formed a spell gesture as she chanted softly under her breath, “In the name of the Goddess, rest in peace.”
The wraith seemed to sense the danger and lunged toward Lucia at full speed, but it was already too late.
The tip of Lucia's sword touched the floor. In that split second, a dazzling white light burst from beneath her feet, fanning outward to swallow the wraith's body whole.
“AAAAAAAHHH!”
The tragic screech echoed throughout the basement, yet this time, Lucia felt no pain in her head.
The wall of light served as protection as well, blocking the soul-shaking force within the wraith's screech.
The wraith slammed madly against the wall of light, sending ripples across its surface, yet the barrier remained rock-solid.
Its body shrank at a speed visible to the naked eye, compressing from over twice a person's height down to a tiny ball. Its screeches gradually faded, on the verge of dispersing completely.
“Don't you hurt Master!”
A shout suddenly erupted at the basement entrance, followed immediately by a dense jet of black mist swooping straight for Lucia's feet.
Lucia's heart tightened, forcing her to dodge to the side.
As her feet were forced half a step back, a gap opened in the wall of light.
Seizing that split-second opening, the wraith surged upward, shooting straight through the ceiling and disappearing into the ruins above.
Lucia whipped her head around. The newcomer was none other than Mona.
“What are you doing?!” Lucia snapped, losing her temper with Mona for once. “What does this have to do with Roseliel?! That was just a wraith!”
“I... I...” Clutching her staff, Mona was completely dazed, unable to process what had just happened.
Right before coming down, she had clearly sensed an aura belonging to Master undergoing agonizing torment, yet when she reached the bottom, there was nothing there.
Only now did she notice Roseliel lying on the ground. Judging from her position, she shouldn't have been hit by Lucia's attack.
Then... what was it that she had felt just now?
Could it be that despite all her talk of loyalty, she couldn't even distinguish her master's soul? That she had actually mistaken her noble master for a stray, lonely ghost?
Mona instantly spiraled into deep self-doubt.
How could someone like her deserve to live...
“Cough, cough.”
Two coughs interrupted her spiraling thoughts. It was Roseliel on the ground.
“Master!” Seeing this, Mona cast all other thoughts aside. She rushed to Roseliel's side, knelt down, and carefully gathered Roseliel's head into her hands, letting it rest on her lap.
Lucia rushed over as well, desperate to find out what had happened.
“Are you alright?!” the two asked in unison once more.
However, Mona's voice was filled with deep concern, whereas Lucia's was slightly colder.
“I'm... not dead yet, I suppose,” Roseliel said in a weak, faltering voice. “Don't mind me for now... look... cough, cough!”
She broke into a violent coughing fit again, streaks of blood trickling from the corners of her mouth.
Having endured multiple mental blasts from the wraith head-on, it was a miracle of resilience that she was even conscious.
“Look over there.”
Her trembling hand pointed toward a wooden desk in the corner of the basement.
Lucia lifted her foot to head over, but suddenly froze.
“Mona,” she began. “Could I trouble you to go check what's over there?”
Both Roseliel and Mona turned to look at her in utter confusion.
Lucia offered no explanation. She knelt down on one knee as a warm white light flared in her palm.
“I'll heal you first,” she said, looking at Roseliel. Her tone was unusually devoid of any accusation or scrutiny.
Seeing this, Mona opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing in the end and walked toward the desk.
Roseliel met Lucia's gaze.
This was the first time she had seen Lucia's eyes free of animosity and hatred.
Lucia's hand rested gently against Roseliel's chest. It felt pleasantly warm, reminding Roseliel of clutching a hot water bottle after crawling into bed on a cold winter night in her childhood.
Lucia's other hand covered Roseliel's forehead. A similar wave of warmth seeped in, instantly dispelling most of the echoing screeches in her mind.
“See? You... can be gentle when you want to...”
Roseliel's voice was barely a whisper, her tone half-teasing, half-wistful.
Lucia didn't respond to the tease. Her voice was much softer than before. “Don't talk for now. You're badly hurt.”
“That thing seemed to be sent by the Snake Cult to retrieve something. Did you kill it?”
“I'll tell you later.”
Roseliel tactfully held her tongue and quietly accepted Lucia's healing.
Lucia looked down at Roseliel lying before her. Golden curls were scattered across Mona's lap, and her porcelain-white skin held a faint glow beneath the light of the healing magic. Her small body was curled up, her delicate facial features resembling a porcelain doll freshly unboxed.
Quiet like this, Roseliel truly looked like a doll displayed deep inside a shop window—one alluring enough to captivate any young girl's heart.
Lucia's thoughts suddenly drifted back to a long time ago.
“Why do I have to attend a school like that? What the Church teaches is more than enough for me.”
That had been her complaint upon learning she was being arranged to attend Saint Uriel Academy.
Saint Uriel Academy was the largest aristocratic academy in the entire kingdom.
From the headmaster to the handymen, no one had any connection to the word “commoner”—and she was reportedly the sole outside student.
Most of her classmates had grown up together, possessing well-established social networks; many were even engaged to one another.
She had no desire to deal with those flashy, superficial nobles; she only wished to spend more time helping as many people as possible.
“Because you are different, Lucia.” Seraphin's tone had been gentle, yet it carried an undeniable weight.
“You are destined to become someone great. One day in the future, you will need their help.”
“I admit that the vast majority of nobles are decadent scions freeloading on their ancestors' fame. But among them, there are also young people with ideals and ambitions.
“If you leave them to live according to their families' arrangements, they will soon be assimilated by their environment, repeating the trajectories of their fathers for the rest of their lives, caught in an endless cycle.
“And you, Lucia.”
Seraphin's tone had grown a bit more serious.
“You are meant to break those so-called arrangements made by their families. You must let those young people whose blood still runs hot realize what they ought to do from the positions they hold.”
“You are meant to change more people.”
Because of those words, Lucia had ultimately agreed to enroll.
And she had indeed done so. Outside of her studies, she devoted a great deal of time to making friends with young people she believed “still had ideals.”
Some had indeed been moved by her, while others at least showed signs of swaying.
She thought she hadn't done too badly.
And then, she met Roseliel.
Rate on N.U.
