I Will Step In

The maid, wielding her short sword, charged forward with imposing momentum to meet the black-robed figures.

The five black-robed figures opposite her were clearly caught off guard. As their leader hesitated for a brief moment, the maid's blade was already three inches from his chest. He parried in a rush, their blades clashing and sending a shower of sparks flying.

Only then did the other two from the Wayne family snap out of it, drawing their swords to join the fray.

Out of aristocratic etiquette, most mages trained in ornamental swordsmanship, but Miss Margaret's swordsmanship was clearly not just for show.

Her strikes had no flashy flourishes; every thrust was aimed directly at vital spots, like a veteran who had crawled through mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

The black-robed figures were no slackers either. Their cooperation was highly disciplined—two pinned Margaret down, while the other three dealt with the Wayne family's other two mages. Their dark longswords exuded an unsettling aura.

Within just a few short minutes, the two sides had already clashed for over a dozen exchanges.

Erich stood by the window, watching intently. His predecessor's memories of Margaret were virtually nonexistent, meaning she hadn't been worth noticing in his eyes. But now, it seemed this woman hid herself deeper than anyone else. He didn't even notice that Irene, standing beside him, was already trembling too hard to speak.

The battle raged on. The head maid seemed to grow more courageous as she fought, but Erich gradually noticed a problem: her breathing was growing heavy. A weapon like a rapier demanded extreme wrist strength and footwork, and the general physical fitness of mages... to put it bluntly, being able to fight standing for ten minutes was already considered exceptionally gifted.

The opponents had clearly noticed this as well.

They began to deliberately wear her down. The other two from the Wayne family were already struggling to hold on; one of them had the web of his thumb split open, nearly dropping his sword.

Ten minutes passed.

Margaret's footsteps began to slow, and her once-sharp thrusts grew sluggish. Sweat drenched her forehead, and her glasses slipped askew, but she didn't even have the leeway to adjust them.

One of the black-robed figures seized an opening and swept his longsword across.

Margaret barely managed to block it, but this time, she lost her footing. That bizarre, dark aura crept along the blade, tearing at her physical strength like countless invisible hands. She stumbled back several paces, her legs giving out, and collapsed to the ground.

“Miss Margaret!” the two from the Wayne family cried out, trying to come to her rescue, but they were pinned down by their respective opponents.

Then, a hand steadied Margaret's shoulder. Margaret turned her head and saw Irene's pale face.

Wait! Erich whipped his head around. The slender figure who had been standing behind him just moments ago was gone. He had been so engrossed in the fight that he hadn't noticed when Irene had slipped out.

He turned his head back toward the window, locking eyes with Irene. The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced only by a sense of resignation.

Irene helped Margaret steady herself, then took a step forward, shielding her and the other two from the Wayne family behind her. She shouted at the black-robed figures, “Your target is me, right? I'll go with you. Don't hurt the innocent.”

The passengers inside the train carriages watched this scene through the windows; no one made a sound.

Irene suddenly felt like crying. She remembered the night she had slipped out of the Order's headquarters with On Reincarnation, the sheer exhaustion and misery of her journey, and Erich's punchable expression when they fought over the book. They had only known each other for a few days, but that dimwitted guy was the first person she had ever gotten along with so well.

If only she could reach Radiant City, if only she could enter the academy, she would be temporarily safe. She still had so many things to do.

The Silent Order was rotten to the core. Those people had long since abandoned their doctrines. She needed to find the senior members at the academy, expose them, and steer the Order back onto the right path.

Now, it was all over.

Irene drew her staff.

Her hands were trembling, but her staff still pointed forward. She began to chant. Her mana struggled to coalesce within the gray barrier, fragile as a candle flickering in the wind.

“Stop chanting,” one of the black-robed figures said coldly. “You know very well that within this barrier, your magic is useless.”

Irene ignored his words, tearfully finishing the final syllable.

A faint white light shot out from the tip of her staff, but before it could travel far, it dissolved completely within the gray barrier. Nothing happened.

The black-robed figures walked toward her.

Margaret wanted to pull this naive child back behind her, but her physical strength had been entirely drained. She mobilized the last trace of mana within her body, attempting to cast a signal spell toward the sky. If even a sliver of mana could break through the barrier, it might be detected by the patrol mages at the station.

But one of the black-robed figures anticipated this. He threw his longsword directly at her, the dark blade hurtling straight toward Margaret's head.

The two from the Wayne family desperately tried to rush over, but the distance was too great. Irene screamed and reached out, but she couldn't reach in time. Everyone could only watch as the sword closed in, inch by inch.

Margaret closed her eyes.

A dazzling flash of sword light slashed from the direction of the train, striking the dark longsword with absolute precision. The longsword snapped in two, and the severed halves of the blade grazed Margaret's cheek before plunging into the ground.

Under everyone's gaze, Erich, who had delivered that strike, flicked his wrist. His longsword danced in a beautiful flourish in the air before being sheathed with a steady click.

He advanced slowly, pausing with every step, his gait oozing supreme arrogance. He walked past the head maid on the ground, past the two Wayne family members who had just been tagging along, and finally stopped right beside Irene.

“Don't go stealing all the spotlight for yourself, Irene.”

Facing the five black-robed figures, Erich unsheathed his longsword once more.