Princess’s Struggle for Survival

After giving the contestants a single day for brief rest, Elizabeth Academy of Magic quickly released the official list for the quarterfinals of this competition.

Perhaps there truly was a so-called goddess of luck who protected her favored prodigy, surrounded by six other Magnus among the eight remaining competitors, Lyra had the extraordinary fortune of being placed in a relatively easier match, facing only another Sorcerer of the same rank.

Meanwhile, the release of this list also marks that the entire Magic Exchange Tournament had entered its second half. An increasing number of spectators filled the audience seats, eager to witness the dazzling brilliance of the era's most gifted magicians. Those standing on the dueling platform, while basking in glory, also felt the immense pressure beneath countless watching eyes, something ordinary people could never fully understand.

Time passed quietly. With fortune on her side, Lyra triumphed over the peak tier Sorcerer, securing her ticket to the semifinals. On the other side, facing stronger opponents, Iris still displayed her usual strength, but no longer dominated as easily as she had during the group stages.

By this point, only the finest elite remains in the tournament. One must give their full attention, any single mistake could lead to elimination, ultimately causing them to miss the championship throne.

And just as the competitive atmosphere intensified within Elizabeth Academy of Magic, in the imperial capital of the Valeria Empire, Hibbort held intelligence reports handed to him by his subordinates, his back turned to the bookshelf and the room's windows, his stern face was expressionless.

In the Kingdom of Velys, the Pope, citing the Holy Light Church as the nation's official religion, had incited believers to launch a domestic faith unification campaign, condemning all heretics who deviated from the mainstream faith.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that, within the Kingdom of Velys, if someone publicly declared disbelief in the God of Light, specialized clergy would soon arrive at their doorstep for ideological re-education. The end result would either be the subject regaining faith, or losing all civil rights, no longer protected by law or scripture, and the consequences of the latter were obvious.

Oppressive rule brought bloody slaughter. This kind of ignorant and fanatical madness was unfolding in a neighboring nation. The Holy Light Church's ecclesiastical power had reached its historical peak, so dominant that even the royal authority, once controlling the nation's lifeline, struggled to resist.

It was foreseeable that these fanatics' next target would be the other human empire standing in the southeast of the kingdom. They will attempt to use the spread of righteousness as justification for war, disguising their vile and malicious acts of plunder.

Thinking of the Saintess currently residing in the Imperial City, Hibbort furrowed his brows, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest of his chair.

To legally enter the empire, Monica had sworn before the God of Light that she would never actively change another's beliefs in any form, nor violate any clauses previously written in her pledge.

In fact, beyond the oath, Monica had also entered a secret agreement with Hibbort, revealing part of the Holy Light Church's and the Kingdom of Velys's war objectives.

The former sought more believers to expand the Church of Light across the entire continent; the latter desired the vast majority of Valeria Empire's northern territories for barley cultivation and cattle-sheep farming.

War was inevitable. Knowing its underlying motives might seem insignificant, but it was not so. At least to Hibbort, this intelligence was of extraordinary value, the Church and the Kingdom were not aligned; different goals would inevitably lead to divergent military objectives, making coordination difficult.

Taking a sip of black tea, Hibbort set down the cup and inquired about the recent situation of Duke Charles.

"Your Majesty, Duke Charles is diligently training his soldiers. The weapons designed for actual combat have shown initial effectiveness."

Had war not been imminent, Hibbort would not have wished for magical weapons to develop too rapidly, while new technologies indeed injected fresh momentum into the empire, they also bred new conflicts.

Hibbort hoped to see steady development of equipment within his lifetime, resolving some potential issues through his strong political means and accumulating personal prestige.

Unfortunately, he no longer had enough time to wait for such technology to mature, nor the energy to mediate the contradictions and clashes brought by progress.

Everything seems too late. He could only grasp what he could do now, for the empire, and for Valeria.

"The scale of the Fearless-class cannot be replicated. We must settle for a lesser alternative..."

"The craftsmen who previously participated in the airship construction have reached their destination. Professor Elandor will inspect upon concluding the Magic Exchange Tournament."

"The transport vessel's framework is taking shape, but according to Duke Charles, even with massive labor input, it will still require half a year to complete."

Half a year wasn't problematic. Based on Kingdom of Velys's military deployments, they likely wouldn't launch a surprise attack while he remains physically strong.

The silver spoon stir gently in the cup, swirling the tea into a vortex.

"Keep monitoring the border situation. Relay any updates from Duke Charles immediately." Hibbort murmured, his appetite diminishing with each metallic clink of spoon against cup.

"Additionally, continue surveillance on Monica and Iris. Ensure their movements and every action remains under observation."

The subordinate standing below the steps nodded slightly.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

After a brief silence, Hibbort folded his hands on the desk and spoke slowly.

"How are the two princes faring?"

During the period of the Magic Exchange Tournament, both Lucas and Alistair had stayed in the capital. As a father and an emperor urgently needing heirs, Hibbort frequently ordered reports on the status of these two disappointing sons.

"Your Majesty, the Crown Prince has recently been negotiating a business deal regarding distribution channels. The person handling talks with him is Lina Velmont of the Velmont family. Currently, the likelihood of them reaching an agreement is extremely slim."

"Furthermore, the Crown Prince frequently visits the residence of Marquis Beth, and stayed overnight there the night before last."

Hearing this name, Hibbort frowned, his expression faintly displeased.

Marquis Beth was thirty-five, once married, but due to excellent care, retained a beautiful and charming appearance, indeed possessing the allure of a mature woman. He hadn't expected Lucas to become her bed companion. As a member of the imperial bloodline, such private indiscretions were unacceptable.

After a moment of silence, Hibbort asked, "And Alistair? What is he doing?"

"Your Majesty, the Second Prince has recently kept a low profile, interacting only with Gerrik."

Gerrik was the youngest son of Duke Thomas, and the close relationship between Duke Thomas and Alistair was obvious to all. In Hibbort's opinion, the latter had likely promised the former lavish rewards once he ascended the throne, something that would make everyone envious.

Worthless...

Seeing the Emperor's tightly furrowed brows, the reporting man wisely fell silent, only slowly raising his head again when the other spoke.

"...And what of the Third Princess?" Hibbort asked.

"The Third Princess spends her days reading in the library of Elizabeth Academy of Magic. In the afternoons, she takes tea with noble ladies. In the evenings, she arrives punctually at the training tower to practice her mental focus."

"Recently, she was somewhat close to Miss Monica, but later, there was no visible interaction between them."

"..."

After hearing the report, Hibbort closed his eyes, remaining silent for a long time.

"...Your Majesty, your tea is getting cold."

"You may leave."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Footsteps gradually faded, ending with the sound of a door closing, a full stop to the entire rhythm.

Hibbort opened his eyes, gazing at a recent issue of the Empire Weekly, which used a panoramic image of the Fearless as promotional material. His pupils were deep and calm, the gaze they projected as if hidden beneath an abyss.

A few minutes later, Hibbort flipped open this issue of the Empire Weekly, one he had read many times before. Beneath the tan parchment paper lay another document with clear handwriting.

A sales report from the Honeysuckle Merchant Guild on magical potion ingredients, and the various uses of each ingredient.

.................

If Lyra had been favored by the goddess of luck in the quarterfinals, avoiding direct confrontation with Magnus, then in the semifinals, there was no way to avoid clashing with Early Tier Magnus .

"My opponent is... Sentos Apulios..."

Looking at the latest competition list on the training table, Lyra murmured quietly, her hands resting on her thighs.

Sentos, an early tier Magnus, possessed one-quarter merfolk bloodline. He could chant the Siren's Song, disrupting opponents' spellcasting. Even without intentional release, it possesses strong hypnotic and suggestive abilities.

If she remembered correctly, this was the strongest opponent she had faced since entering the tournament.

On the other side of the table, Astrid, who had just set down a glass bottle, crossed her black-stockinged legs. Her diamond-encrusted black stilettos lightly tapped the ground, producing a bright, pleasant sound.

"The semifinals will be held a day from now. You fight Sentos in the morning, Iris fights her opponent in the afternoon. The winners will face each other in the final three days later."

"In other words, excluding tonight, there are only five days left until the champion is revealed."

For over a week, Astrid had been training with Lyra. Under her nightly high-intensity ancient magic bombardments, Lyra's combat ability had significantly improved, and her reaction speed to various magic types had increased considerably.

"Five days... I wonder if the training volume is enough..."

Hearing Astrid's words, Lyra unconsciously got caught up in the thought. Seeing the faintly smiling eyes of the other, she quickly realized her mistake.

"No, no, what five days? The decision match is the day after tomorrow..."

If she lost to Sentos, she wouldn't just miss the championship, she wouldn't even qualify to step onto the final dueling stage.

Looking at Lyra across the table, Astrid gently swayed her legs and offered timely reassurance.

"There's no need to be so nervous. Train well tonight, get a good night's sleep tomorrow, and enter the match fully refreshed."

"Your current strength is by no means inadequate."

In their nightly sparring, Astrid had the clearest sense of Lyra's progress. The ancient magic she unleashed were all in complete forms, each strike possessing power one tier above standard spells.

Yet Lyra's speed in dodging her attacks grew faster and faster, her control over mental energy expenditure more refined, with noticeably reduced consumption. She might very well stand a chance against him.

Hearing Astrid's reassurance, Lyra relaxed slightly, speaking softly.

"But... I'm still a certain distance away from a..."

The recent intensive training had vaguely made Lyra feel she was nearing a breakthrough, especially since her mental energy's quality was almost at its threshold. Another half-month of training should suffice.

However, according to Astrid, advancing from Sorcerer to Magnus required not only sufficient mental energy quality, but also profound understanding of magic. Lyra had never reached that realm, so naturally she wasn't sure if she truly understood. But compared to her peers, with Astrid, an expert in ancient language, as her mentor, she believed her magical knowledge was more than sufficient.

Thinking, Lyra opened her small notebook, containing records of the top four contestants' commonly used spells and partial summaries.

"Sentos excels in water magic. His overall combat style leans toward controlling the battlefield. He builds favorable terrain with field magic and gains advantage through weakening songs."

"From previous observations, Sentos's opponents seemed mired in mud when facing him, unable to exert full strength."

"This is likely also a talent from his merfolk bloodline, using sound to influence others' states."

Listening to Lyra's clear, pleasant voice echoing in the room, Astrid brushed her hair aside and spoke softly.

"Using sound to affect others... indeed a fascinating ability."

"No wonder he was so popular with girls at the banquet."

Lyra blinked, looking at Astrid with slight confusion.

"The banquet?"

"Mm, the welcoming banquet hosted by Father. As a guest from the Pan-Human Alliance, Sentos naturally participated."

Finishing her words, Astrid suddenly recalled something and casually added,

"He even flirted with me back then. He did seem quite elegant, with a certain exotic noble charm."

F... flirted?

As the words left Astrid's lips, Lyra instinctively pressed her lips together, her sky-blue eyes lowered, silently staring at the name written in the book.

After a few seconds, she still couldn't suppress her curiosity and whispered,

"S-so... it was just a little flirting?"

"He seemed to have invited me to dance as well."

It had been too long ago, and nothing particularly noteworthy, so Astrid naturally hadn't remembered it clearly.

Seeing the little maid's head lowered, her ears drooping as if her spirit had sagged along with it, Astrid roughly guessed what Lyra was thinking, and let out a soft chuckle.

"Though of course, I definitely didn't accept."

Somehow, if she didn't clarify this, it might affect Lyra's state in the match two days later.