Hearing about the practical combat test, that little schemer must be panicking right now. After all, real combat relied on innate talent and bloodline—no amount of pretending to be a diligent student would help.

She could act studious in front of teachers all she wanted, but when it came to actual fighting, her true colors would show.

Soon, every first-year vocation student, all the instructors, even upperclassmen would gather to watch. Under the entire academy’s gaze, she’d be utterly humiliated, making a complete fool of herself. She’d become the school’s laughingstock overnight.

Aerin sneered at Tilisha sitting in the front row, listening attentively as always.

Aerin didn’t know the specifics of Tilisha’s Domain or Divine Right, but she was certain they couldn’t be impressive.

In truth, she overestimated Tilisha. Not only had Tilisha not awakened yet—she couldn’t even properly manifest her Domain.

After the female instructor dismissed class, students streamed out of the classroom. These young Divine Maidens brimmed with confidence, chattering animatedly to peers about their ambitions and how gloriously they’d crush opponents in battle.

These untested newcomers treated reverence lightly. Their arrogant words alone revealed their restless pride.

Tilisha walked at the end of the crowd. An outcast, she had no friends in class, no one to share common ground with—not even a single person to exchange words with.

That was fine. She preferred quiet. Yet it was precisely this that made her the target of cold violence from every classmate.

No one liked freaks or mongrels. Beyond her striking platinum hair and snow-pale skin, that scar marring her face left nothing worthy of attention.

Catching fragments of their chatter ahead, Tilisha silently agreed with Calis’s view.

These stubborn stones would eventually be polished. The weak would shatter; the strong would have their edges worn smooth. Everywhere followed the law of survival—Divine Maidens simply had more choices.

But Tilisha cared less about how many would survive the grinding. She worried about what to do next.

The rookie Divine Maiden tournament was more exhibition than competition, with no rankings—just data collection for archives.

But combat was combat. An opponent would be assigned. Tilisha couldn’t escape.

The orc she’d "defeated" before? Just a low-tier Demonfolk. And only after gulping down multiple alchemical potions.

Actually, that wasn’t right. Tilisha hadn’t even landed the killing blow—the orc had practically killed itself. She’d merely finished it off.

If that orc had been smarter—just slightly above average—the outcome might’ve been a Gold Elf enslaved to an orc tribe.

The thought made her shudder. It wouldn’t just be a lifetime of torment. Even after outliving generations of orcs—sons, grandsons, great-grandsons... descendants stretching endlessly—who knew how long she’d remain their plaything?

By the time rescuers finally breached the tribe’s gates, she’d be long broken...

Tilisha tightened the wing-shaped headphones over her ears.

Better hide her Elf identity. Not just to evade the obsessive Elven Empress—Gold Elves had vanished centuries ago. Exposure would bring endless trouble, especially at Coleman Academy, founded by Elves.

And personally? Tilisha despised Elven arrogance.

So... what now?

She slowed her steps, opening the Golden Chalice Butterfly interface. The countdown to her Divine Maiden Transformation read:

Ten days.

The tournament began tomorrow. She wouldn’t make it.

Tilisha considered alternatives. A solution came quickly.

"I’ll just throw the fight," she muttered firmly.

No other options existed. She couldn’t suddenly shout "My fate is mine to command!" mid-match and unlock hidden power.

Relying on Divine Maiden Transformation was already a gamble. Without it? Hopeless.

Glancing at her own slender arms and legs, Tilisha sighed. Unless a miracle happened, she’d be making quite the spectacle tomorrow.

***

Meanwhile—

"Watching that mongrel humiliated before everyone would be satisfying," Aerin murmured to herself on the path back to her dorm after parting with her lackeys. "Pity I won’t be the one delivering it."

"Why not?"

"Hm?" Aerin turned. A sharply dressed, handsome man stood beside her, an unreadable smile playing on his lips.

Pointed ears...

She recognized him.

"Professor Flanard?" Her tone turned respectful. She knew this half-Elf held significant influence.

"At your service." Flanard stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back, smile deepening. "You’re Aerin Kadifen, correct?"

"An honor that you remember me, Professor."

"Skip the flattery. I didn’t seek you out for empty praise."

"You... sought me?" Aerin frowned. What could this barely-acknowledged professor want?

"Indeed. Weren’t you just lamenting how you couldn’t be the star of that ‘show’?"

"Professor, it’s nothing worth—"

"No need to hide it from me. There’s a freshman in your class named Tilisha, isn’t there?"

"...Yes."

"You have a grudge. You want to teach this disrespectful mongrel Divine Maiden a lesson during the tournament. Correct?"

"You seem well-informed."

"Naturally. Nothing in this academy escapes my notice." Flanard’s chuckle held no warmth. "You want to personally crush her in the Divine Maiden tournament. Admit it."

Aerin met his gaze. No words were needed.

"Excellent. I’ll give you that chance." Flanard’s smile turned icy.

"You mean to...?"

"Precisely. I’ll arrange for you two to be paired together."

"And in return..." His eyes glinted. "You’ll shatter that mongrel’s delusions of grandeur. Crush her spirit completely. Understood?"