Chapter: 207
Benedict absolutely hated that Lucy was being talked about behind her back.
Everyone who knew him acknowledged that he was a total daughter fool. How could he possibly enjoy hearing bad things about Lucy?
Indeed, the reason Benedict had wished Lucy wouldn’t attend the party was entirely due to this very issue.
Lucy dismissed his concerns as the worries of a foolish father, but Benedict couldn’t shake off the discomfort he felt.
It was the same today. Just from the moment he entered, he had to endure the countless angry words directed at Lucy.
Yet, despite all the insults, Benedict managed to hold his tongue for his daughter’s sake.
He understood that intervening in matters caused by Lucy’s karma would only deepen the contempt against him.
Since Lucy herself was handling all the criticism with a smile, he believed he shouldn’t shatter her resolve by stepping in.
However, this time was different. This incident had nothing to do with Lucy.
Though Tabol had pointed his finger at Lucy, what he really wanted to insult was Benedict Alrn himself.
Long ago, when Benedict was but a child, the grudges he had accumulated were now being directed at his daughter.
So why should he endure this? Benedict clenched his fists, looking at Tabol’s face.
He felt an urge to break a few teeth, rendering that jerk unable to speak for a while.
But then, his thoughts were interrupted.
[Benedict, hold on.]
Just as he was about to make a move, a voice echoed in his head.
Telepathy.
Usually, a skilled magician would know how to wield this—communicating through magical power instead of voice.
Following the thread of magic directed at him, Benedict turned to see Duke Partran standing at the podium.
‘Why is this happening?’
If it was the Duke, there was no need to speak.
Benedict’s thoughts were right. No sooner did he ask the question in his mind than he received an answer.
[It would be troublesome if you involve yourself. While the immediate criticisms may fade, the suspicions directed at your daughter will remain unchanged.]
‘That would be an unjust suspicion. If I force him to admit it…’
Feeling the old fiery temper resurfacing, Benedict suddenly realized something odd. Duke Partran was watching this situation unfold without intervening.
Lucy was the champion of this festival. The Duke had personally invited her to celebrate.
Yet here she was, being buried under a pile of criticism while the Duke did nothing.
His word alone could end this commotion.
‘Did you deliberately create this situation?’
Looking back, it was strange that Tabol found himself here at all.
With the Duke’s invitation to his daughter, it had been decided long ago that Benedict would attend the party.
And yet, at that moment, had they really invited Tabol, someone likely to cause trouble? He wasn’t even part of the First Prince’s faction!
[We need to check who my daughter truly trusts.]
‘Duke.’
The fury that had once barely held back now began to shift its direction.
This was a heavy burden for the Duke, too. His desperate excuses echoed in Benedict’s mind.
[I didn’t plan to let it escalate like this from the start. I didn’t expect that guy to get so emotional.]
‘So you’re telling me to trust you based on that?’
[Calm down. If this gets any worse, I will intervene. Of course, I’ll ensure appropriate rewards for you and your daughter. I have the justification for it.]
‘That’s unnecessary.’
In this moment, collaborating with the Duke could bring numerous benefits.
Benedict certainly wasn’t ignorant of that fact.
However, nothing—absolutely nothing—compared to the suffering Lucy was enduring right now.
Benedict had no intention of stopping.
[Above all, speak. Isn’t your daughter smiling at this very moment?]
Smiling? Lucy?
Benedict quickly turned his head to see his daughter standing in the midst of all those accusations.
Amidst the heavy weight of disdain, Lucy was holding her shoulders back confidently, smiling just as the Duke had said.
It wasn’t a forced smile for show. She genuinely seemed pleased with the whole situation.
[She’s quite a character, Benedict. Even more so than you.]
At that moment, as Benedict froze in surprise, someone else moved before he did.
Divine light began to shine from the ceiling of the party hall, which had been filled with resentment directed at Lucy.
It wasn’t glamorous, but it was warm enough that one couldn’t take their eyes off of it.
As the people who had been hurling insults succumbed to the charm of this divine light, one by one, they closed their mouths, and the party hall fell into silence.
[…I heard you were close, but did you really take action like this?]
Not long after the heated atmosphere had calmed, a voice resonated throughout the hall.
She didn’t amplify her voice with magic, nor did she use any other devices.
Her voice was purely her own, yet it pierced the ears of everyone present.
“Everyone.”
Soft and gentle, but clear. A voice honed from countless public speeches.
“Please calm down. Nothing has been confirmed as fact yet.”
No one—absolutely no one present—could challenge her words.
Who could argue with the sorrowful tone of the Saintess of the God Church?
While she was merely one student at the Academy, outside, she was a different matter altogether.
After performing countless good deeds across various regions, she had become the face of the God Church. Her words carried authority in and of themselves.
“Lady Alrn?”
“What is it, you pathetic Saintess?”
Thus, when Lucy shot back with “pathetic Saintess,” many gasped in surprise. But Phoebe merely smiled lightly.
“Please step forward.”
After confirming Lucy pushing through the crowd, Phoebe turned her head.
Though her face was still graced with a smile, it strangely held a cold edge.
“And you, Commander of the Royal Knights?”
At the Saintess’ call, Tabol finally showed a hint of deference.
“Yes, your Saintess.”
“Could you please explain the suspicions?”
“The Partran Festival…”
“Only the suspicions, please.”
With a soft yet firm voice, Tabol cleared his throat, admitting he had been rude, and continued his statement.
“Firstly, there’s the possibility she used an artifact.”
The stalls of the Partran Festival aim to eliminate as many participants as possible.
Even those who are currently renowned can’t guarantee success if they challenge areas outside their expertise.
Yet Lucy was different.
She continuously emerged victorious, even in fields where she shouldn’t perform well.
“There could be luck involved. When it comes to physically demanding fields, one can argue everyone’s utilizing buffs to enhance themselves. However, for her, a freshman, to win in fields requiring various technical skills? Isn’t that strange?”
While events at the stalls could theoretically allow someone with great physical prowess to win,
The gap between possibility and impossible was indeed vast.
Even those actively working in the field can fail before the right combination comes together, yet a first-year student shiny-eyed and idealistic would dare to try it?
“What’s your evidence?”
Just as Tabol raised his voice to present his claim, a voice emerged from behind.
Who dares to interrupt? Tabol squinted, but upon recognizing the voice, he couldn’t help but wear an awkward smile.
Arthur Soladin.
Though leagues away from royalty, he was still a member of the royal family.
He was one of the few here Tabol had to treat with respect.
“Yes?”
“What’s your evidence regarding her use of an artifact? Did you see her use it? Or did you confirm what artifact she was using?”
“…”
“Did you raise your voice just because you assumed a first-year student couldn’t accomplish such a feat?”
Arthur, looking at Tabol as if he were foolish, slightly flicked his eyes toward Duke Partran before rising from his seat.
“Though not in the same league as my brother, speaking as someone who was once called a genius, I say Lucy Alrn is a monster. A monster who revealed to me the walls of talent.”
“However.”
“Even the future pride of the kingdom, Frey Kent, has never beaten Lucy Alrn.”
Arthur’s words caused various stares to shift around.
They were undoubtedly searching for the very Frey Kent that was also present in the hall.
Calmly enjoying his meal amidst the charged atmosphere, Frey met the gazes directed at him and nodded, swallowing what was in his mouth.
“Yeah. Lucy is strong.”
Murmurs of admiration spread where her indifferent voice reverberated.
Who is Frey Kent?
He’s a monster who has consistently won many tournaments across the continent with overwhelming skill.
If he were to grow, he could surely claim the title of Sword Saint. The mere fact Frey had never won a single time against her was astounding!
Until now, what was merely rumor transformed into fact with Frey’s acknowledgment. Lucy Alrn’s divine talent was being proven in public.
As a result, public opinion began to shift. From “Can that be true?” to “Maybe it could be” instead.
The bloodline of the Alrn family had concealed their talents for so long but had finally bloomed.
“Does that mean aside from her physical prowess, she lacks in other areas? Not at all. Otherwise, there’s no way Lucy Alrn could always place first at the Academy.”
“…Third Prince, may I ask what you’re trying to say?”
“Simply put, I find it disrespectful that you label her extraordinary talents as less than they are. Isn’t that why you are left feeling like a worthless individual always crushed by Lucy Alrn?”
At Arthur’s statement, Tabol struggled to form words.
It was as if the Third Prince was not only reprimanding Tabol but also unveiling the hidden motives behind his accusations.
“If Lucy Alrn’s abilities were false, then what does that make those defeated by those ‘false’ abilities? Specifically, where does that leave you, the First Prince?”
“However, there are still parts that cannot be substantiated. While her talent can be acknowledged, magic—areas related to magic can never be.”
“I think I might be able to speak on that.”
Once again, a voice emerged from another place.
It was Joy Partran.
As expected from the young lady of the Partran family, she had exceptional magical talent.
She appeared as though she had rushed to the matter, her breaths coming in steady but ragged bursts.
“Lady Alrn possesses deep insight regarding magic.”
“Really?”
“Are you suggesting you don’t believe me?”
From behind the fan obscuring her face emerged only her eyes—sharp, cold, and calculating.
Who would dare go against a statement from the Partran territory?
Once again, Tabol’s mouth closed and opened after a tiny pause.
“I understand. Perhaps Lady Alrn’s talent indeed surpasses my limited understanding. But still, doubts remain. Regarding the festival’s conclusion. In the dungeon conquest. When Lady Alrn faced the First Prince…”
Tabol spoke. No matter how he looked at it, Lucy’s answer couldn’t possibly have come without prior knowledge of the dungeon.
As he raised his suspicions, those who had witnessed the duel between the First Prince and Lucy nodded along.
Fueled by this, Tabol’s voice rose once more.
“Lady Alrn. May I ask you a question? Did you know about that dungeon before you visited the stalls?”
“Of course. Unlike you, weakling Knight.”
“…Huh?”
“I’m a genius; unlike you, who is incompetent with only pride.”
In the silence gripping the party hall, laughter began to spread as the insult landed.
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