Benedict never liked it when Lucy was the subject of gossip.
Everyone who knew him acknowledged that he was a doting father. How could he enjoy the disparagement of Lucy?
It was one of the main reasons Benedict hoped that Lucy wouldn’t participate in the party.
Lucy brushed off Benedict's concerns as the overprotectiveness of a timid father, but Benedict couldn't shake off his discomfort.
Today was no different. From the moment they entered, he struggled to contain his anger at the flood of insults directed at her.
Despite this, Benedict endured all the humiliation for the sake of his daughter.
He knew that if he stepped in regarding Lucy’s past misdeeds, it would only deepen the resentment toward her.
With Lucy herself smiling and enduring all the criticism, he believed he shouldn’t shatter her resolve by stepping in.
However, this situation was different. This matter had nothing to do with Lucy.
Although Tabol had pointed the finger at Lucy, what he wanted to insult was Benedict Alrn himself.
Many years ago, during Benedict’s childhood, the grudges he had built up were now directed at his daughter.
What reason did he have to endure this? Benedict clenched his fists as he looked at Tabol’s face, which was fixed on him.
He thought about smashing a few of his teeth to ensure that the bastard couldn’t speak properly for a while.
However, his thoughts were interrupted.
<Benedict. Wait.>
Just as he was about to move, a voice echoed in his mind.
Telepathy.
A form of magic that an exceptionally skilled magician would typically know how to use. It conveyed meaning through magical power instead of words.
Following the thread of magic directed at him, Benedict turned to see Duke Partlan standing on the stage.
‘Why?’
If it were that man, there was no need for him to move his lips.
Benedict's intuition was correct. As soon as he thought to ask, the answer came back to him.
<If you intervene, it will be troublesome. The immediate criticisms may fade, but the suspicions directed at your daughter will remain, won’t they?>
‘That’s an unjust suspicion. If he admits it through his own mouth...’
As he felt his past fiery temperament re-emerging, Benedict suddenly felt a strange discomfort at Duke Partlan’s passive observation of this situation.
Lucy was the winner of this festival. She was the one Duke Partlan had invited to congratulate personally.
Yet she was being buried under countless insults, and the duke wasn’t taking any action.
One word from him could end all this commotion.
‘Did you intentionally create this situation?’
Upon reflection, it was peculiar that Tabol was even standing here.
Benedict’s participation in the party had long been confirmed due to Lucy being invited by the Duke’s daughter.
Yet, seeing Benedict, they invited Tabol, someone likely to cause trouble? Not from the First Prince’s faction, nor someone particularly close to Duke Partlan?
<We must verify who my daughter trusts so deeply.> ‘Duke.’
The rage of a beast that once roamed the continent shifted direction.
That was something that would be burdensome even from Duke Partlan’s perspective. The urgency in the duke's excuse transmitted to Benedict’s mind.
<I never intended for things to escalate like this from the start. I never imagined that guy would become this emotional.> ‘Are you telling me to make him trust me?’ <Calm yourself. If things escalate further, I will intervene. Of course, I will provide appropriate compensation to you and your daughter. There’s justification for that.> ‘It’s unnecessary.’
At this moment, cooperating with the duke could bring many benefits.
Benedict wasn’t ignorant of that fact.
However, nothing—absolutely nothing—would be enough compared to the suffering Lucy was enduring right now.
Benedict had no intention of stopping.
<More than that, my friend. Isn’t your daughter smiling right now?>
Is she smiling? Lucy?
Benedict hurriedly turned his head to see his daughter, who stood amidst the accusations.
Despite the weight of the scorn bearing down on her, Lucy stood proudly with her shoulders back, smiling as the duke had said.
It wasn’t a forced smile to appear calm. It was a genuine smile, as if she truly enjoyed the situation.
<What a remarkable child, Benedict. Even more than you.>
At that moment, as Benedict was frozen in place, someone moved before him.
Divine light blossomed from the ceiling of the party hall, filled with scorn toward Lucy.
Though not ostentatious, it was a warmth that made it impossible to look away.
As the accusations fell, one by one, those who had been hurling insults were captivated by the divine light cascading down like snow, and the party hall fell into silence.
<...I’ve heard you’re close, but did she act to this extent?>
After the heated atmosphere calmed, a voice echoed in the center of the hall.
She didn’t amplify her voice with magic, nor did she use any other tools.
Her voice was purely her own, yet it penetrated the ears of everyone present in the hall.
“Everyone.”
Soft and gentle, yet clear. A voice refined through countless public appearances.
“Please calm down. Nothing has been proven to be true yet.”
No one—none of those standing in the party hall—could refute that voice.
Who could argue against the voice of the saint of the Divine Church, speaking with a sorrowful expression?
Although she was just a student at the academy, in the outside world, it was a different story.
Having traveled across numerous regions and performed good deeds, she had become the face of the current Divine Church. Her words carried authority.
“Lady Alrn?”
“What is it, Flimsy Saint?”
Because of that, the many who gasped at Lucy’s unexpected jab at the saint only found that Flimsy Saint smiled lightly in response.
“Please step forward.”
After confirming Lucy moving through the crowd, she turned her head.
Though her face still bore a smile, oddly enough, that smile appeared cold.
“And Captain of the Knights?”
At the saint’s summons, Tabol displayed politeness for the first time.
“Yes, Your Holiness of the Divine Church.”
“Could you please elaborate on the suspicions?”
“The Partlan festival...”
“Only speak about the suspicions.”
As Tabol coughed awkwardly in response to her gentle yet firm tone, he stated that he had been rude and continued his explanation.
“Firstly, there’s the possibility of using an artifact.”
The stalls at the Partlan festival worked hard to eliminate as many participants as possible.
Even those with established reputations in their fields would find it challenging to guarantee success outside their areas of expertise.
However, Lucy was different.
Even in areas where she should have struggled, she repeatedly emerged victorious.
“Perhaps that could relate to luck. In fields requiring excellent physical abilities? Let’s assume everyone was secretly using buffs to enhance their physical abilities. But for her, a mere first-year student at the academy, to win in areas requiring numerous technical skills? Doesn’t that seem strange?”
Given that the competitions were held in stalls, it wasn't impossible to win purely based on physical ability.
However, the gap between possibility and impossibility was vast.
Even those actively engaged in their fields often faced failures, so how could a first-year student at the academy even dare to attempt it?
“What’s your evidence?”
As Tabol raised his voice to present his argument, a voice emerged from behind him.
Curious about who dared to interrupt, Tabol narrowed his eyes, but upon seeing the face, he couldn’t help but wear an awkward smile.
Arthur Soladin.
Though he was far from the line of succession, he was nonetheless part of the royal family.
He was one of the few individuals here to whom Tabol had to show deference.
“Yes?”
“Your claim about the use of artifacts—do you have evidence? Did you witness her using one? Or did you verify the artifacts she supposedly used?”
“...”
“Did you raise your voice simply because you believe it’s something a first-year student at the academy couldn’t accomplish?”
Arthur looked at Tabol as if he were pathetic and then slightly glanced at Duke Partlan before standing up.
“While I cannot compare myself to my brother, I’ll speak from the perspective of someone who has been called a genius. Lucy Alrn is a monster. A monster that introduced me to the wall of talent.”
“However.”
“Even Fray Kent, who is expected to become the pride of the kingdom in the future, has never defeated Lucy Alrn.”
At Arthur’s words, the gazes of the crowd shifted here and there.
They were undoubtedly searching for Fray Kent, who was supposed to be present.
Even amidst the urgent situation, Fray, who had been leisurely enjoying her meal, noticed the gathered stares and swallowed what was in her mouth before nodding.
“Yeah. Lucy is strong.”
Her unremarkable voice drew admiration from various corners.
Who is Fray Kent?
She’s a monster who has consistently triumphed in numerous competitions across the continent with overwhelming skill.
If she grows, she’s considered likely to earn the title of Sword Saint, yet she has never managed to defeat Lucy Alrn even once!
What had been merely a rumor now transformed into reality thanks to Fray’s acknowledgment, solidifying the divine talent of Lucy Alrn in a public setting.
Consequently, the eyes of the people shifted. From “Could that be true?” to “Perhaps that might be possible.”
The bloodline of the Alrn family had finally flourished, hiding its talents for so long.
“Does this mean that she’s lacking in anything other than physical ability? Not at all. If that were the case, Lucy Alrn wouldn’t consistently place first at the academy.”
“...Your Highness the Third Prince. What are you trying to say?”
“Simply put, I find it displeasing that you would dismiss the talent of a genius who will go down in history. Isn’t that how you end up as a mere incompetent under the shadow of Lucy Alrn?”
Tabol’s mouth fell shut at Arthur’s words.
It was partly due to Arthur’s strong stance, but it was also because he understood the hidden implications behind those words.
The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.
If Lucy Alrn’s talents were false, what would that make those who had been defeated by her? Specifically, what would it mean for the First Prince?
How could he belittle him without evidence and still handle the consequences?
“However, there are still parts that cannot be proven. I can say her talent is outstanding, but magic? In the realm of magic, it’s not the case.”
“I think I can address that.”
This time, another voice emerged from elsewhere.
Joy Partlan.
As a daughter of the Partlan family, she possessed exceptional magical talent.
She looked as if she had hurriedly arrived from somewhere, struggling to catch her breath.
“Lady Alrn possesses profound knowledge regarding magic as well.”
“...Really?”
“Are you suggesting you don’t believe me?”
From behind the fan that concealed her face, only her eyes remained visible. Those eyes were cold, sharp, and composed.
How could one contradict the words of a lady from Partlan's estate?
Once again, Tabol’s mouth shut, and after a brief pause, he opened it again.
“I understand. Perhaps Lady Alrn’s talent surpasses my limited understanding. However, there are still suspicions lingering. The final part of the festival. The dungeon raid. When Lady Alrn faced the First Prince.”
Tabol spoke, asserting that Lucy’s response could not have been given without prior knowledge of the dungeon.
As he raised his suspicions, those who had witnessed the duel between the First Prince and Lucy nodded in agreement.
It seemed that Tabol's voice rose with renewed vigor.
“I ask Lady Alrn. Did you know about that dungeon before visiting the stalls?”
“Of course I knew. Unlike you, pathetic knight.”
“...Huh?”
“Compared to your ineptitude and inflated pride, I’m a genius.”
In the silence that settled over the party hall, laughter filled with mockery began to spread.