Chapter: 207
Benedict absolutely hated to see Lucy stay amidst the gossip.
Everyone who knew him recognized him as a doting father. How could he possibly enjoy Lucy’s slander?
Benedict wished for Lucy not to join the party precisely because of this issue.
Lucy dismissed her father’s worries as the concerns of a timid, silly dad, but Benedict couldn’t shake off his discomfort.
Today was no different. From the moment he stepped in, he had to endure countless angry remarks.
Yet, the reason why Benedict endured all the insults was for his daughter.
He knew that if he intervened in the issues caused by Lucy’s karma, it would only further deepen the resentment.
He thought it was best for Lucy, the one facing the accusations with a smile, to take the brunt of the criticism without him stepping in to shatter her resolve.
But this time was different. This matter had nothing to do with Lucy.
The target named by Taboll was Lucy, but what he really wanted to insult was himself—Benedict Allen.
Long ago, back in his childhood, the grudges he built up were now directed at his daughter.
Where was the reason to endure this? Seeing Taboll looking at him made Benedict clench his fists.
He thought of smashing a few of that guy’s teeth to make sure he couldn’t talk properly for a while.
Yet, his thoughts couldn’t be executed.
[Benedict, wait.]
Just as he was about to move, a voice echoed in his head.
Telepathy.
A magic typically wielded by skilled wizards, conveying meanings through magical power instead of vocalization.
Following the strand of power directed at him, Benedict turned his head to spot the Ducal Lord Partlan on the platform.
‘Why is this happening?’
If it was that person, there was no need to move his lips.
Benedict’s thought was correct. The moment he mentally questioned, the answer came immediately.
[It would be troublesome if you intervened. The current critique might be subdued, but the suspicions about your daughter would remain unchanged, wouldn't they?]
‘That’s an unjust suspicion. If I force him to acknowledge it from his mouth…’
Feeling the fiery temper from his past being revived, Benedict suddenly felt strange about the Ducal Lord Partlan simply observing the situation.
Lucy was the champion of this festival. The Ducal Lord had personally invited her to celebrate.
Yet, she was currently buried under a mound of accusations, and Partlan was doing nothing.
With just one word from him, all the chaos would cease.
‘Did you purposely create this situation?’
Thinking back, it was indeed peculiar that Taboll had come to this place.
With Lady Partlan inviting Lucy, Benedict’s participation in the party was long since confirmed.
But then, suddenly inviting Taboll, who would cause trouble? Not even from the First Prince’s faction, and not particularly close to the Ducal Lord?
[I need to verify who my daughter trusts so deeply.]
‘Duke.’
The beast’s rage that once roamed the continent now shifts its direction.
This was something that would put immense pressure on Partlan as well. The Duke’s urgent explanations came through to Benedict’s mind.
[I didn’t mean to escalate things this way from the start. I never expected that guy would be this emotional.]
‘Are you telling me to trust him when looking at me?’
[Calm down. If the situation worsens further, I will intervene. Of course, there will be compensations for you and your daughter. There’s a reason for that too.]
‘I don’t need it.’
At this moment, cooperating with the Duke could yield many benefits.
Benedict knows that fact well.
However, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that could compare to the hardship Lucy was enduring right now.
He had no intention to stop.
[More than anything, speak. Isn’t your daughter smiling right now?]
Smiling? Lucy?
Benedict quickly turned his head to see his daughter standing in the heart of the accusations.
Amidst the weight of the slander, standing tall, Lucy was indeed smiling, just as Partlan described.
It was no pretense of indifference. It was a genuine smile, as though she found joy in the situation.
[Seems you're quite a figure, Benedict. Even more than you.]
Just as Benedict froze in that moment, someone else moved first.
A Divine Light blossomed from the ceiling of the party hall, filled with accusations aimed at Lucy.
It wasn’t extravagant but rather warm enough to captivate the eye and hard to look away from.
The accusers, enchanted by the divine light that fell like snow, began to shut their mouths one by one, and the party fell into tranquility.
<…I heard you were close, but that you would take action like this.>
Not long after the heated atmosphere calmed down, a voice echoed in the middle of the hall.
She didn’t amplify her voice with magic, nor did she use any other tools.
Her voice was solely hers, yet it pierced the ears of everyone present in the hall.
“Everyone.”
Soft, gentle, yet clear. A voice honed from countless public appearances.
“Calm down. Nothing has been confirmed as fact yet.”
No one. No one among those standing in the hall could rebut that voice.
Who could retort against the voice of the saintess with a sorrowful expression from the Jushin Church?
Though Phoebe was just a student at the academy, she was someone else entirely outside.
Her words bore authority, having become the face of the current Jushin Church after her numerous acts of kindness across various regions.
“Lady Allen?”
“What’s that? Sloppy Saintess.”
Thus, when the term “Sloppy Saintess” slipped from Lucy’s lips, many gasped, yet Phoebe merely smiled lightly.
“Please step forward.”
After confirming Lucy breaking through the crowd, Phoebe turned her head.
Her face still carried a lingering smile; however, strangely, that smile appeared cold.
“And Sir Captain of the Royal Knights?”
At the saintess’s call, Taboll was finally polite.
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
“Could you clarify the suspicions?”
“The Partlan Festival…”
“Just speak of the suspicions.”
Clearing his throat awkwardly at her soft yet firm voice, Taboll felt he had overstepped, then continued.
“First, about the possibility of utilizing an artifact.”
The stalls at the Partlan Festival attempt to disqualify as many participants as possible.
Even those renowned in their fields might struggle to succeed outside their area of expertise.
But not Lucy.
She triumphed even in fields where she should have struggled.
“There may be luck involved. Fields demanding exceptional physical ability? They could have secretly used buffs to enhance their capabilities and overcome the challenges. Yet, a first-year academy student succeeding in various technical fields too? Don’t you find it odd?”
While successes in a stall could rely on superior physical abilities, the gap between the impossible and possible is immense.
Even many seasoned participants fail to succeed.
“Evidence?”
As Taboll raised his voice with his argument, a voice from behind chimed in.
Who dared interrupt? Taboll narrowed his eyes, but once he recognized the face, he couldn’t help but wear an awkward smile.
Arthur Soladin.
Though he was far from the line of succession, he belonged to the royal family.
In this setting, he was one of the few individuals Taboll had to show respect to.
“Pardon?”
“Please provide evidence of using an artifact. Did you see her using it? Or did you confirm the artifact she used?”
“…”
“Did you raise your voice simply because a first-year student could not achieve such a feat?”
Arthur looked at Taboll disdainfully, then glanced briefly at Duke Partlan before standing.
“While I may be incomparable to my brother, I once heard the term genius applied to me. The Lucy Allen I saw at the academy is a monster. The very monster that revealed to me the limits of my talent.”
“However.”
“Even the one who is expected to become the pride of the kingdom, Lady Frey Kent, has never won against Lucy Allen.”
At Arthur’s words, eyes shifted here and there in the hall.
They were undoubtedly searching for Frey Kent, present at this gathering.
Even amidst the tense atmosphere, Frey, enjoying her meal leisurely, swallowed what was in her mouth and nodded.
“That’s right. Lucy is strong.”
Admiration erupted here and there at her calm voice.
Who is Frey Kent?
She’s a monster who has swept numerous tournaments across the continent with overwhelming skill.
If she were to grow, she’d surely earn the title of Sword Saint, yet she has never claimed victory even once!
Until now, it was merely a matter of rumor, but with Frey’s acknowledgment, it transitioned to fact, publicly proving the divine talent of Lucy Allen.
Thus, people’s perceptions shifted. From “Can that be true?” to “I guess it could be.”
The bloodline of the Allen family hidden for so long finally blossomed forth.
“But does that mean she lacks abilities in other areas besides physical prowess? Not at all. If that were the case, Lucy Allen wouldn’t consistently rank first at the academy.”
“…Your Highness, the Third Prince. What are you trying to convey?”
“To put it simply, it is unpleasant that you hastily summarize the talent of a genius that will be remembered in history. If so, would I be reduced to a fool eternally crushed beneath Lucy Allen?”
Taboll’s lips quivered at Arthur’s words.
This was partly because Arthur had come on strong but also because he understood the hidden implications.
If Lucy Allen’s talent was a lie, then those who lost to that false talent, specifically the First Prince, what would they become?
Could they bear the weight of disparaging him without evidence?
“However, that alone does not serve as proof. Other aspects may showcase her talents, yet magic, in relation to magic, is a different matter.”
“That part, I believe I can address.”
Yet another voice emerged from somewhere.
Joy Partlan.
Showing the talents fitting a noble of the Partlan family, she bore considerable magical expertise.
She seemed as if she had rushed in from somewhere, trying to catch her breath.
“Lady Allen possesses a deep understanding regarding magic.”
“…Really?”
“Are you implying you don’t believe me?”
The only visible expression from behind her fan was her eyes—cold, sharp, and calculating.
Could anyone dare deny Partlan’s words on Partlan’s territory?
Taboll’s mouth closed momentarily before opening again after a small pause.
“Understood. It’s possible that Lady Allen’s talents surpass my humble understanding. However, questions remain. The conclusion at the festival, the dungeon strategy. When Lady Allen faced His Highness the First Prince.”
Taboll spoke, insisting that Lucy’s response must have stemmed from foreknowledge of the dungeon.
As he raised the suspicions, those who witnessed the duel nodded in agreement.
Feeling energized, Taboll’s voice rose again.
“Lady Allen, may I ask? Did you know the dungeon before visiting the stalls?”
“Of course, I knew. Unlike trash knights like you.”
“…Huh?”
“Unlike you, who is incompetent yet full of pride, I’m a genius.”
From the silence that established itself in the party hall, laughter filled with mockery began to spread.
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