The magic academy was peaceful, filled with the scent of learning. Yet, for most students, becoming a mage was the final goal here.

Further studies required applying as a magic researcher, assisting teachers in arcane experiments. But most would soon walk their own paths.

Noble children would receive private tutors. Each noble house had unique magic lineages—even secret spells whose power was known, but not their principles.

Wealthy families often sent kids to the military, chasing titles through battlefield glory. Ordinary families, who strained to afford tuition, hoped to build connections with elites and gain "life-changing" power.

Each held their own purposes, or dreams. The academy was such a place. Perhaps all world’s schools were much alike.

In Lilithia’s room, blood mist hung thick. Crimson liquid enveloped her, making her skin glow paler against the red.

A golden glow flickered faintly on her abdomen. Magic Arrays on her body accelerated blood conversion. Her mana surged like never before.

Then—she hit a limit!

Lilithia saw it: omnipresent mana, everywhere.

Unbidden, an eye-shaped Magic Array formed in her gaze. She understood—but her body ached faintly. This was her current boundary.

Blood splattered.

Lilithia cleansed the room with water magic.

Seeing mana defined a true mage. Only then did one truly begin magic. Before this, no one deserved the title.

How could mages study spells blind? By guesswork?

Now, they could finally test magic externally, not just within. Powerful experiments became possible. Otherwise, everything would explode instantly.

Lilithia shut off her mana vision. She felt slightly overconfident.

This was being a mage…

“Fireball!”

Even this common spell transformed with her breakthrough. Her fireball now swelled to head-size in midair—lethally potent.

Magic finally held real killing power.

Then…

“Blood Transmutation!”

A slender sword, half her height, materialized in her hand. She swung it—it felt better than imagined. Forged from her blood and mana, it held…

Immense potential!

She hatched a sneaky plan.

And intended to execute it immediately.

She’d craft a flexible metal sword shell, fill it with blood, then wield this Blood Transmutation blade. During duels…

Suddenly, her sword could bend! She’d control her blood mid-swing, instantly slaying opponents. Holding a physical sword, they’d never suspect magic!

“Hehe~”

The scheming otherworlder grinned happily.

What if a metal existed—highly flexible, molded into armor, etched with blood-drinking Magic Arrays, filled with blood inside?

Blood-drinking! Shape-shifting!

Too powerful.

Seriously, this was insanely overpowered!

Lilithia stunned herself with the idea. She’d hunt such metal immediately—but first, withdraw from the academy. She recalled no proper youth here anyway. Early graduation meant tuition refunds.

Lilithia suddenly realized she was nearly broke.

Breaking through had costs…

“Gold spent today returns tomorrow!”

Comforting herself, she packed her room.

Then—

“Lilithia!”

Fiore appeared. The sun had risen.

Something was off. He shouldn’t be here now. Logically, he’d arrive as she left the academy gates. What kind of protagonist skipped classic scenes?

Lilithia glared at Fiore. Her expression screamed: “Explain reasonably, or I’ll be furious.”

Fiore’s “Lilithia-language” skills were level six. He read her thoughts easily.

“I need your help with something!”

Lilithia blinked. His help? Sword Saint Fiore needed help? A blush spread as she imagined possibilities.

“Y-you finally… decided to become a man?”

“Huh? A man? What are you talking about?”

Fiore looked utterly confused.

Lilithia waved her hands. “N-nothing! My mistake! Just say what you need!”

Then she saw it—a girl stepping from behind Fiore.

A peer-aged girl.

Fiery red hair like Fiore’s, but unlike his gentle aura, she burned like raw flame, radiating scorching intensity.

Her attire… dark red, lavish gown. Lilithia recognized it. If memory served…

“This is Verutan Burton, child of the Tulip Queen.”

“!!!!”

Lilithia froze in shock.

She stared at Fiore with exaggerated disbelief.

“What are you plotting?! Smuggling the Empress’s heir here? Planning a coup? Do it alone! Don’t drag me in!”

“That’s not it.”

“How can you read my mind?!”

Lilithia was exasperated.

She never expected Fiore to bring a high-born princess here. What did this mean?

But Verutan spoke first, displeased: “This is your trusted battlefield ally? Just a girl my age?”

“Exactly, Brother Fiore! How could you?”

Lilithia seized the moment. “Even as a joke, this is absurd.”

She signaled Fiore to lean down, whispering in his ear:

“No trouble-making. One mistake, and I won’t have enough heads to chop off.”

Fiore gestured reassurance, whispering back:

“It’s fine. The Tulip Queen’s lifespan is ending. I’ll guard Verutan awhile. She’s the chosen successor—needs battlefield growth. You planned to enlist too, right? With her, you’ll be safest. She carries priceless assets.”

“Besides, bonding with a future Empress… Don’t worry. If she’s harmed, I’ll flee with you to another country.”

Lilithia’s jaw dropped.

A Sword Saint said that?

But… he was right. She had no reason to refuse. This brat seemed tsundere too… Tsunderes were great…

Lilithia and Fiore exchanged odd looks at Verutan.

“Hey! You two! What insolent stares! Stop looking at me like that!”

Lilithia straightened, smoothed her clothes, cleared her throat, and bowed deeply.

“My deepest apologies, Lady Verutan. Your sudden arrival overwhelmed this lowly one. Forgive my earlier rudeness.”

As Lilithia predicted, the girl crossed her arms, chin high, smiling smugly.

“Hmph. Since you admit fault, I’ll overlook your disrespect.”

“To be honest, honored Sword Saint, I’m humbled you’d trust me to fight beside you. But with you, I assume courage isn’t lacking.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Verutan radiated terrifying aura. “I’ll fight! I’ll tear enemies apart on battlefields! I’ll rule this nation! The old woman’s time is short. My siblings are weaklings—unfit to reign! I only hope she lives until I return from war… to hand me her crown. Then she can die.”

Lilithia whipped her head toward Fiore.

“Don’t avoid my gaze, you bastard!”

“Lilithia, her personality is terrible—but I know you can correct her!”

Correct?

Lilithia smiled suddenly. “If we’re comrades, shouldn’t we understand each other first? Verutan and I should spar.”

“True. A weak ally is just dead weight. Though, for the Sword Saint’s sake, I might tolerate you as a subordinate.”

Fiore whispered to Lilithia: “Do whatever. Just keep her alive. The Queen granted broad authority.”

Lilithia felt awkward. Counting past lives, she was over thirty. Bullying an eleven-year-old—even a prodigy heir—felt wrong.

But discipline was crucial for spoiled brats. She still believed: a firm hand forged good character.