Calling it supporting evidence wasn't entirely accurate.
Because her disastrous performance was so consistent, it could practically be considered a reassuring, non-stop sequence of follow-up disasters.
First was basic spell construction.
Facing the final boss of exam questions—the basic elemental ball (which was actually just a confidence booster for students to practice on)—the Hero Irene summoned one hundred percent of her focus!
I swear, I wasn't even this serious when practicing my swordplay!
Unfortunately, the magic particles didn't give this future overpowered female protagonist any face at all. Until the class bell rang, she was still struggling bitterly with an exercise that was about as difficult as an elementary school math problem.
The next day's Rune Analysis class was also too painful to look at.
“Miss Irene... this is the first time I've ever seen a student as...”
The female professor pushed up her glasses and carefully chose her words.
“...as highly imaginative as you.”
“Is this some kind of lost ancient symbol?”
“...I copied it from the blackboard.”
“I see. It's... acceptable,” the professor squeezed out a few words with a strained expression. “At least... there's plenty of room for improvement.”
Imperial History class was even more of a joke.
Irene Durandal single-handedly managed to advance the history of the Bauhinia Empire by one thousand one hundred and thirty-two years.
A truly monumental feat for the ages.
As for the other classes... it could only be said that she performed with the same consistency.
Over the next few days, the freshmen gradually discovered a very terrifying thing.
At first, they were waiting. Waiting for when this White Garden student would suddenly show her hand.
After all, isn't that how it always went in novels?
Playing dumb and acting like a weakling in the early stages, waiting until everyone thought “this person is kind of useless,” only to suddenly pull out some peerless talent and laugh:
“Thirty years east, thirty years west, don't look down on a poor girl!”
And then slap the mocking extras hard across their faces.
A classic trope that everyone loved to see.
But the problem was... how many days had it been?
This white-haired dumpling really was just as useless as ever!
“Wait...”
One afternoon, several freshmen were sitting in the dining hall, watching a silvery-white figure quietly leave clutching two large portions of dinner. One of them finally couldn't help but lower his voice.
“Have you guys noticed...”
“...it seems like none of her classes have been normal lately?”
“Don't even get me started,” the person next to him said with a complicated expression.
“I saw her with my own eyes today in History of Magic class. She mixed up the first emperor and the third emperor.”
“That's nothing. I'm in the same Rune class as her.”
“The things she drew... the professor spent ten minutes comparing them to a two-hundred-year-old cultist scroll.”
The table fell silent, not knowing what to say. Finally, someone offered dryly:
“M-Maybe she's just... specialized in other areas?”
“...”
Everyone turned to look at him.
Buddy, just how lopsided does a person have to be to precisely avoid every single course at the Sacred Capital Magic Academy?
But even so, at this point, everything about Irene was still just “rumors.”
After all, no one knew what criteria the White Garden used for evaluation, nor had anyone seen Irene's true trump card.
Say she doesn't know magic? Her classroom performance certainly looked like it. Say she has no talent at all? No one dared to make such a bold claim.
The academy couldn't possibly be so bored that they would pick up a random white-haired dumpling from the street and pin a White Garden badge—which hadn't appeared in decades—onto her chest, right?
So whenever someone spoke too definitively, someone would always bring out the ultimate, all-powerful saving grace.
“What's the rush? The results of the four entry exams haven't been released yet.”
“The rankings will be posted this weekend. Won't we know then?”
After all, the four entry exams were different from classroom questions.
Basic Magical Theory, Imperial History, Elemental Theory, Rune Analysis... a total of four subjects that covered over ninety percent of a mage's essentials.
In class, one could argue they were nervous or unprepared. They could claim the professor just happened to ask about a topic they didn't know.
But for a formal exam with such a broad scope that all freshmen took together, it was impossible for all four subjects to target her specifically, right?
Thus, the words “wait for the weekend” gradually became the final fig leaf in this public discourse.
As the center of the whirlpool of rumors, Irene became much quieter than when she first entered the academy.
She no longer lingered in the classroom after class, nor did she look around while holding her tray at meal times. Whenever she occasionally heard her name in the hallways, she would subconsciously quicken her pace.
I... I won't give up!
In the dead of night, she would bury her head in her books under the light of a magic crystal lamp, studying like crazy, only to walk into the classroom the next day with dark circles like a panda, yawning constantly.
During his morning training, Lynn even saw the white-haired dumpling hanging upside down from a tree branch, blowing a bubble from her nose as she snored, while deftly swinging a longsword.
“666. 'I prefer to swing swords in my sleep.'” That somewhat comical scene left a deep impression on the young man's tender heart.
However... studying was the kind of thing where, just because you put on an “I'm working really hard” face, the knowledge wouldn't suddenly be touched by your sincerity and crawl into your brain on its own.
Amidst this subtle atmosphere, a new piece of news suddenly spread within the Regal Department.
At first, it was just an inconspicuous:
“Have you heard?”
“Irene Durandal... doesn't seem to be a noble.”
If this sentence had appeared in the Knight Department, probably no one would have cared.
The rough, burly men of the Knight Department didn't care about any of that; they only cared about whether you could take a beating, whether you could chop someone down, and whether you would treat them to a meal after a duel.
If it were in the Arcane Department, those mage brothers would probably just push up their glasses and give a perfunctory, “Oh,” before returning to the formula they hadn't been able to solve for three days.
But this happened to be the Regal Department, a place where they practically wished the very air smelled of family trees.
The freshmen here might not know what Grom lectured about yesterday, but they most likely knew the marriage alliances within three generations of the empire's great nobles.
They could be utterly crushed by Siss in a magic theory exam, but they would absolutely never mistake a surname carrying the title of Count at a ball.
Bloodline, family, status.
From the moment they were born, these things were carved into their perception over and over again. Thus, when the words “Durandal is not a noble” spread, the initial reaction wasn't even disgust, but rather...
“Is that true?”
“There's no such surname in the imperial nobility registry?”
“No.”
“What about minor nobles on the border?”
“Can't find any either.”
“Abroad?”
“At least none of the neighboring countries have it.”
“...”
Thus, the three terms “unable to use magic,” “commoner origin,” and “White Garden Chief” began to quietly creep among the freshmen like three intertwined vines.
Yet, even by Friday night, some still clung to that final defense.
“Stop blindly hating on Goddess Irene.”
“The rankings will be posted tomorrow. Once the results of the four entry exams are out, everything will naturally become clear.”
The weekend arrived as scheduled.
In the early morning, the central plaza of the Sacred Capital Academy was unusually livelier than the dining hall at mealtime. The area beneath the massive magic projection steles was already packed with freshmen.
“What's there to be nervous about? It's just a ranking.” Someone chuckled with his hands in his pockets, then turned around.
“May the Goddess of Holy Light bless me not to fall out of the top five hundred.”
“?”
“Aren't you not nervous?”
“I'm just respecting religious beliefs.”
“Then why did you even pull out the emblem of the Earth Mother?”
“Multi-deity alliance. Surely one of them will trigger a guarantee.”
Among this group of students waiting for their execution, many didn't focus entirely on themselves. They were also waiting for another name.
Irene Durandal.
“Buzz—!”
Accompanied by a low hum of magic, the four projection steles lit up simultaneously, and dense text rapidly spread down from the top.
After a brief silence, the plaza instantly exploded like a pan of boiling oil.
“Holy crap! One hundred and ninety-seven!”
“Hahaha, I'm not in last place!”
“Why are you laughing at three hundred-something?”
“What do you know! At the Sacred Capital Academy, surviving is victory!”
“Where's Lynn?”
“At the very front! Look at the top!”
“$%& (Bauhinia Empire swear word), what kind of monster is that?!”
【First Place: Lynn von Reinhardt: 399 points】
【Second Place: Anna Via: 387 points】
【Third Place: Veronica Pera: 385 points】
【Fourth Place: Ruby...】
The gilded characters lined up the rankings. Cheers, wails, and the sharp screeches of various unidentified creatures mingled together.
At the same time, some gazes traveled all the way down from the middle of the list. Past five hundred, seven hundred, eight hundred, nine hundred...
“Still haven't seen her.”
“Is she really that far down?”
“Keep looking.”
Their eyes slid bit by bit to the very bottom, and then...
Froze in place.
【Rank 2079: Irene Durandal】
Beside the name, the White Garden badge symbolizing her status sat quietly, appearing exceptionally glaring.
“...Dead last?”
Something that had only been floating beneath the surface a few days ago finally rose completely at this moment.
Someone drew out their voice and squawked, “No way... Is this really the White Garden? Even I could do better than that!”
“Look! There she is!”
Following the man's squawk, countless eyes swiveled in unison, landing on that small, white-haired back.
The white-haired girl kept her head lowered, her silvery-white hair obscuring her large, blinking eyes. Her expression was hidden in the shadows.
Disdain, ridicule, mockery... countless mixed malice violently surged in through the perception of the 【Eyes of Insight】, as if trying to completely swallow that small figure.
“Listen~ Listen~”
“Look at these foolish and weak people who cling only to appearances~”
A soft, bewitching whisper sounded in her ear.
“Stop it, Pandora...”
That thin back trembled.
In a daze, it seemed as if threads of rumors were sticking to the girl's back like spider silk, slowly weaving into an airtight web.
Unable to breathe, unable to move.
And at this moment, the hunter finally reeled in the net greedily, revealing to its prey...
【Fangs】
Rate on N.U.
