NOVEL NEXT Chapter 149: Crazy Bitch
Marcella's face remained utterly unreadable, her tone cool as frost. "Thus, Nova Virelan's actions fall well within the boundaries of law."
"Shameless."
The word came sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.
A second figure descended from the heavens, sky-green hair flowing as if carried by unseen winds. Her entire body shimmered faintly with emerald light, a rolling tide of elemental energy surrounding her like a living crown. She floated effortlessly beside Arabella and Duke Maximus Luminus, her very presence shifting the atmosphere.
Seraphina Faerelith.
Matriarch of the Faerelith household. The one the world called Queen of Spirits.
Unlike Arabella's taunting presence or Maximus's holy glow, Seraphina's aura was suffocating in its silence. She didn't waste words. She didn't need to. Her sharp eyes slid past Marcella and Nova without pause, locking instead onto her daughter... Sylva who still lay collapsed on the arena floor.
Sylva's chest heaved with shallow breaths, her body trembling faintly as if clawing free from some fresh trauma.
The three spirit guardians who had formed a protective barrier around her stiffened instantly under Seraphina's gaze. One by one, their heads lowered, their proud forms shrinking back as shame weighed them down. Even mighty spirits bent under her eyes, as though their very existence sought forgiveness.
At last, Arabella spoke. Her words, though calm, carried the sharpness of poisoned needles.
"Rather than rewriting rules to cover your arrogance," she said, her gaze flicking toward Nova, "why not teach this purple ball of fury to control herself? Perhaps improve her character before unleashing her on the empire?"
Her lip curled faintly, the insult precise and cutting. "Or is she always this temperamental? Always thrashing about as though she were… perpetually on her period?"
Arabella's smirked as if in delighted cruelty.
Arabella didn't stop. Her voice sharpened further. "No wonder the Virelans never marry outside their bloodline. Who could tolerate such an attitude? Give her to me for a year.. I will teach her how to behave. If she stays like this, who will marry her? Even her own brother seems to hate her now. Have you considered what that means for the next generation of your family? Or perhaps," her tone darkened, "…the so-called purity of your line is already cracking."
Her words lingered like poison in the air.
The effect was immediate.
Both Duke Maximus Luminus and Seraphina Faerelith turned their heads sharply toward Arabella, shock flickering across their usually unreadable faces. Even they.. were stunned that she had crossed that forbidden line.
Even Maximus face fell a little, his golden brows furrowing in amazement. He hadn't expected this level of venom. Everyone knew: to insult a Virelan's "purity" was to court annihilation.
Nova's head turned slowly. Her violet eyes locked directly onto Arabella's, cold and sharp enough to kill. Her expression betrayed nothing, her face carved into a mask of absolute stillness.
"I see."
Her head tilted slightly, her tone detached, devoid of any emotion. "Marcella."
"Yes, my lady," Marcella answered immediately, her voice crisp, as if she had been waiting.
"If she says one more word…" Nova's violet eyes never left Arabella's face. "…kill her."
Her command fell like a hammer, absolute and final.
Marcella's lips curved ever so slightly. Behind her glasses, her purple eyes flashed with dangerous light. She adjusted her stance, squaring herself toward Arabella. "As you wish." Her tone was polite, calm but the threat beneath it was suffocating.
Her posture loose, her smirk faint but daring. Please, she thought with amusement, say one more word. Cross that line. Give me the excuse.
Inside, Marcella felt a ripple of admiration. Nova never disappointed. She had no regard for "limits" or "political caution." She embodied what it meant to be a true Virelan. She was the same girl who had once cut off the Imperial Empress mid-speech because she disliked her tone. Wild, unrestrained, drunk on power and yet, utterly magnificent in her defiance.
Arabella, for once, said nothing.
And the silence that followed was heavier than any threat.
The three dukes turned, their gazes locked on Marcella, whose faint smirk and glinting violet eyes behind her glasses betrayed just enough satisfaction to unsettle them.
"Are you serious about this?" Maximus finally spoke, his voice sharper now, his golden aura flaring faintly. "Do you mean to start a war? Over a petty matter like this?"
He gestured broadly toward Sylva still lying on the ground. His tone hardened into open accusation.
"This isn't just a brawl between children. She didn't fight just anyone she beated the young heiress of the Faerelith family, and in front of the entire empire! And now, rather than upholding your role as enforcers of law and discipline, you are covering for her disgrace?"
His eyes burned into Marcella, then Nova. "Are you not afraid? That His Imperial Majesty himself will grow dissatisfied with the Virelans yet again?"
The words hit hard political accusations, not insults.
Marcella opened her mouth to answer, but Nova stepped forward before she could.
Her movements were unhurried, her chin lifted high, her sword sliding back into its sheath with a deliberate click. Her violet eyes fixed on Maximus, unflinching, unbending.
"Look." Her voice was calm, but it carried a razor's edge.
She tilted her head, regarding him as if he were no more significant than an insect buzzing too close.
"As much as I care about Selena, I couldn't care less about her father." Her eyes narrowed faintly, her lips curving into a faint, mocking smirk. "Or about you. Or anyone else standing here."
She raised a single hand, brushing a strand of violet hair from her face.
"So don't think that your daughter's friendship with me gives you the right to speak to me as if I owe you respect." Her voice grew sharper, crueler. "If you think those ties can help you and can talk in my matter? No they doesn't. I don't give a shit"
"No one here is an idiot."
Nova's voice cut through the tension like a blade, low but carrying to every corner of the arena. Her violet eyes swept across the three dukes, each word sharpened with disdain. "Are you really trying to play mind games with the Virelans?"
The atmosphere shifted, the air itself feeling heavy under the pressure of her presence.
"The duel," Nova continued, her voice rising just enough for every noble to hear, "was with Razeal. That was all. The Dragonwevr family stepped in because it was their son fine. But the direct presence of a duke, coming here in person? Just for that? Bullshit."
The word rang like a slap. Nobles gasped, horrified.
"Let's say," Nova went on, tone dripping with mockery, "that Arabella only came here to babysit her precious son. But then you took Sylva as a substitute? Directly involving the Faerelith family. And then, you forced Selena into performing the blessing ceremony on her? That makes it direct involvement of the faerelith family too."
Her lips curled into a cold smirk. "Three duke households. All stepping in. Against one child. And now…" her gaze narrowed, unflinching, "the three of you standing here, in person, together. Tell me, isn't that already a direct declaration of war?"
Her words dropped like stones into a still pond, the ripples spreading outward. The murmurs in the stands broke into stunned silence.
The three dukes exchanged glances, their expressions carefully schooled. For the first time, none of them spoke immediately.
Finally, Maximus exhaled and spoke with calm, deliberate precision. "We acted as we did because we already knew the Virelans would cheat. As the rules of the duel of honor stand, your fighter lost. Therefore, the royal bloodline essence of the Virelans belongs to us. He is expelled from your family and no longer under its protection. This does not violate any law."
He paused, his gaze steady on Nova. "We were not wrong. And now, look at you. Look at your arrogance, your disregard for order. You've only proven us right."
His tone never rose; he didn't need to shout. Maximus Luminus, Duke of the Radiant House, spoke like one pointing out simple fact. To him, Nova was just a girl who couldn't control her emotions, blinded by power she hadn't earned. He and the others thought the same: any one of us could erase her with a single hand. Yet she stands there, acting untouchable.
But Nova… didn't give a damn.
"You know what?" she said suddenly, her voice sharp with contempt. She raised her hand, fingers outstretched. Slowly, deliberately, she pointed one by one.
First at Arabella.
Then at Maximus.
Finally at Seraphina.
"Fuck you. You. And you too."
Her hand dropped, and she tilted her head, an expression of absolute mockery twisting her lips. "Now what are you going to do about it? Go on. Let's see."
The silence that followed was suffocating. The entire coliseum froze, thousands of eyes locked on Nova as if the world itself had stopped turning.
Arabella's laugh broke the stillness, soft at first, then sharper. "Do you really think you can protect her, Marcella?" she said, voice taunting. "Maybe if it was only one of us. But three? Against us? Are you sure you can hold the line?"
Her crimson eyes flicked toward Marcella, daring her.
Marcella turned, meeting Arabella's gaze with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She adjusted her glasses, then.. deliberately removed them. She folded the square frames and slid them into her uniform coat pocket with measured calm.
Her violet eyes gleamed dangerously as she finally spoke.
"Not a single one of you will touch her."
Her voice was soft, almost polite, but her words rang with deadly finality. "That, I promise."
Both Arabella and Maximus flinched, their eyes twitching ever so slightly. They said nothing, but the silence between them was telling. A single wrong move now could ignite something far beyond their control.
It was Seraphina who finally broke it.
Her voice was cold, smooth as glass. "Ohh I am interested. You may be able to hold us back. But what about others?"
Her pale green eyes flashed, and the space itself seemed to warp. The temperature dropped sharply as if the world was being drowned in spirit energy.
In an instant, the arena was filled with them.. spirits.
Thousands of them, rank-eight, their ethereal forms appearing like a storm tearing through reality. They surrounded the arena, every angle, every space, their luminous bodies humming with restrained power. The pressure made the weaker nobles collapse to their knees, clutching their chests as the suffocating force pressed down on them.
The Queen of Spirits had spoken.
But Nova only chuckled, as if amused. Slowly, she reached into her coat and pulled out something small. A flute. Dark black and streaked with sinister purple veins, no longer than her finger.
She lifted it to her lips, her expression almost casual.
"Oh, you're quite mistaken if you think you can fuck with me," she said lightly. Then she shrugged. "War it is, then."
The three dukes froze the instant they saw the flute. Their composure cracked, their eyes widening with alarm.
"Wait" all three spoke at once, voices overlapping in rare unison.
But Nova didn't care.
She put the flute to her mouth and blew.
The sound was faint, almost eerie, a whisper of a note. It wasn't loud. It wasn't even music. Just a single haunting call.
And then
Speccccccc.
The air shattered with the sound of countless arrivals.
In an instant, the coliseum changed. From the walls, from the pillars, from the stands themselves, they appeared. From outside the arena, from rooftops and shadows, they poured forth, silent and absolute.
Men. Hundreds. No thousands tens of thousands.
Every inch of space filled, from the ground inside the coliseum to the terraces above where nobles sat, even spilling outside the walls.
Each one wore the same dark uniform black interwoven with royal purple. Their faces were covered, their weapons sheathed neatly behind their backs. On their chests gleamed the unmistakable crest of the Virelan family: a silver raven with a third eye, soaring above a shattered mirror.
The Virelan assassination unit.
The most feared blades of the empire, whispered about in dread, never seen en masse. And now they stood here, surrounding everything, silent and still, a wall of death awaiting command.
Arabella's expressions looked irritated, her voice low, almost involuntary. "…Crazy Bitch."
Her eyes flicked upward, to the assassins perched on the coliseum terraces, their hidden gazes all fixed directly on the three dukes.
Every noble present felt the chill sink into their bones. One word, one command, and the empire's most efficient killing machine would unleash hell.
The stage was set.
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