As Makia progressed, the nobles—having grown accustomed to the format—became less distracted and began to focus more intently on the duels.
In particular, those whose children were participating in the dueling arena even moved seats to get closer, making sure to see their sons and daughters more clearly.
Some watched to cheer on their children, others to discover new talent. The nobles’ eyes were all fixed upon the dueling floors.
But that wasn’t the only reason they were here today.
“Oh my, Lady Achaia.”
“It’s been a while.”
Lady Achaia had also moved to a position from which she could clearly see Ias, and several other noblewomen nearby greeted her.
“Have you come to see your son’s performance?”
“Hehe, it would be nice if that were the case.”
“Such modesty. Surely Ias has already been selected as his class’s representative and is preparing for the next duel.”
As the ladies praised Ias and turned to look for him—
“......Oh?”
One of them tilted her head at the unexpected sight.
“That’s not Ias, is it?”
Lady Achaia nodded.
“It doesn’t seem so.”
“Is he feeling unwell? What a pity. Events like this are such perfect opportunities to showcase one’s abilities.”
“Well, everyone has days like that.”
Lady Achaia spoke calmly.
She looked over to where her son was seated.
It seemed his class had already chosen their representative.
Pielot di Ribanche.
It was the expected outcome.
'It couldn’t be helped.'
She’d heard that Ias had been defeated by Pielot in a single exchange.
The fact that Ias had encountered someone so vastly superior was surprising—but it was also something he needed.
It was regrettable that her exceptionally talented son couldn’t shine before the nobles, but it was true that Ias had never before faced a peer stronger than himself.
Lady Achaia thought this was the perfect opportunity to correct her son’s arrogance.
'I wonder if that little act in the faculty office helped Ias too.'
It had been the first time Ias had ever seen his mother act so overbearing. In fact, it was the first time his parents had ever come to Atlas at all.
He’d been deeply embarrassed back then—so much that, just to avoid ever seeing that again, he’d surely behave properly this time. He was, after all, an enormous bundle of pride.
'Phew, they say a mother’s role is to praise her child’s strengths and accept their flaws...'
It was not an easy task. The older her son grew, the more she realized that truth day by day.
As she watched, another noblewoman nearby spoke.
“Atlas is such a strange place, isn’t it? They still insist on prioritizing battles without magitech equipment.”
Another woman nodded in agreement.
“That’s what makes it so different from other institutions. Of course, as long as they produce results, I suppose it’s fine.”
On the continent of Agoris, most educational academies like Atlas trained students in combat, but by the third year they usually began learning how to use magitech-based weaponry.
Here, where magitech was so advanced, most weapons were equipped with magitech systems, or if not, students enhanced their performance through enchanted armor or accessories.
But Atlas students never even saw magitech equipment until graduation. They only developed their own innate strength, weapon experience, and skill.
'Is that because of Principal Carla’s unique educational philosophy—or because...'
...because she was simply ignorant about magitech?
“Oh my, look there.”
One of the noblewomen pointed ahead.
Carla had appeared.
“My goodness, she’s stunning every time I see her.”
“As a woman, I can’t help but envy her.”
The noblewomen’s gazes toward Carla were filled with admiration—and a fair measure of jealousy.
Lady Achaia, too, looked toward her. For some reason, Carla wore sunglasses even indoors, yet her beauty remained radiant as ever.
But the look in Lady Achaia’s eyes was different from those around her.
'Carla, today I’ll tear that mask off your face.'
Of course, Lady Achaia had come to see her son Ias, but that was merely the cover for a far more important purpose.
More precisely, Ias was being used as the smokescreen to conceal that true purpose.
Ssssk.
She lifted her head slightly.
Many nobles who shared her intent were already gathered in this gymnasium.
They met one another’s eyes, confirming their unspoken agreement.
'Today, we’ll expose Carla’s true identity.'
Lady Achaia was almost certain that Carla was a demon.
And if that turned out to be true, then an institution led by a demon was no place for her son—or for anyone’s children. The other nobles thought much the same.
This Makia event had drawn a large number of noble families, and naturally, Carla would approach them.
Meanwhile, those allied with Lady Achaia would begin investigating her.
They had several magic-based methods prepared to reveal whether she was a demon, and others were already prepared to dig through Atlas’s records while Carla was occupied speaking with nobles.
'Carla knew far too much about the nobles’ private affairs—especially about the parents of the students here. She must’ve done something inside Atlas itself.'
Like Frondier, Lady Achaia had considered the possibility of eavesdropping devices. But unlike Frondier, she lacked the means to detect them.
That something as ordinary as a speaker could have been a listening device—without being able to see the internal structure, it was almost impossible to uncover.
Even so, she was determined to find one today.
'......Still, she really is impressive, Carla.'
Lady Achaia narrowed her eyes.
Though her sunglasses hid them, Carla’s gestures and posture ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) were visible.
Carla faced straight ahead. She wasn’t looking at any of the noble houses present—those who were the very reason she had come today.
'It’s as if she has no interest in the nobles at all.'
But that couldn’t be. Carla almost never appeared publicly at Atlas; she must have come here for them.
Lady Achaia checked her phone.
As expected, a message had arrived.
'When Carla moves, proceed with the operation.'
It didn’t matter which noble Carla approached—whichever direction she went, there would be allies waiting close by, ready to buy time.
......But then.
'What’s this?'
Since her arrival, Carla hadn’t moved an inch.
She wasn’t watching the duels, nor greeting the nobles—just standing still, staring ahead.
'Could she have noticed? No, impossible!'
Lady Achaia’s thoughts raced. She had concealed her suspicions perfectly. Her earlier act in the faculty office had been designed specifically to make Carla lower her guard.
If she had truly been exposed, Carla wouldn’t even have come here. No matter how suspicious she might have been, being found out outright would have been far worse.
But the truth was far simpler.
Carla was currently reeling from the realization that Frondier had seen through her identity, and she was still trying to decide how to respond.
The nobles could wait. Makia lasted three days, and there were many houses to meet. It was important, but not urgent.
Frondier, however, was different. Carla had no idea what he might do next. Still, she had duties to fulfill, and so she had come here for now.
'If he really found out, I have to decide now—wait for another chance, or act immediately.'
Lady Achaia, unaware of all this, thought quickly.
But there would be no “next chance.” If Carla truly had sensed something, she wouldn’t give them another opening.
If she returned to her former quiet self—no longer seeking demonic knowledge—then Lady Achaia would lose all ground to pursue her.
There was only one answer.
'We start now. Right now.'
Bundles of search spells designed to reveal Carla’s true nature—already being prepared by Lady Achaia and the other nobles.
Before Carla could leave this place, right now—
“——Good afternoon, madam.”
“?!”
The finger she had poised to send the command on her phone froze.
She could have ignored the greeting and sent the message anyway, but a chilling sense of foreboding stopped her.
The man’s courteous voice carried a solemn warning she knew better than to defy.
“.......”
Slowly, she turned her head to look behind her.
There stood a man—black hair, black eyes, staring straight at her.
'Frondier de Roach!'
He was here.
The very man she had suspected to be the true mastermind—arriving at this exact moment.
***
A few minutes earlier.
Teacher Giotto was walking carefully down the hallway.
He turned behind the faculty office, toward the old storage room where unused materials and cleaning tools were kept.
Today, an unusually large number of outsiders were entering Atlas. Extra vigilance was needed.
But that cautious nature of his—
“You’re late.”
—had finally led to his capture.
“Ah, Fr–Frondier, sir?”
Giotto had found the storage door slightly open and had been curious—only to discover Frondier already inside.
“What brings you here? Looking for something...?”
He tried to smile as he asked, but Frondier just looked at him.
Expressionless. Silent.
“Wh–why are you looking at me like that?”
Giotto’s throat bobbed. His face was stiff, his shoulders and neck tensed in an effort not to tremble.
Frondier scratched his head lightly.
“Normally, I’d play along and try to draw out a clue, but this time I don’t have the time.”
“Wh–what do you mean...?”
“For now, I’ll give you three chances to drop the act.”
Giotto fell silent for a moment, then forced a reply.
“What act? I’m not—”
“Two.”
“I mean it, I—”
“One.”
“......”
Finally, Giotto closed his mouth.
Frondier pointed toward the back of the storage room, where piles of old materials were stacked seemingly at random.
“You wouldn’t want what’s hidden there to be discovered, would you?”
“......!”
Giotto said nothing, but his wide eyes were answer enough.
Behind that pile lay a magitech device—a receiver that recorded every sound captured by the bug attached to the speakers. It had been cleverly concealed behind the wall, yet somehow, Frondier had found it.
“I’m giving you a chance, Mr. Giotto. Whether you take it is up to you.”
“......What do you want me to do?”
“You can probably guess. I want information.”
“What kind of information?”
“That’s the key point.”
Ssshh—
The moment he said that, something black began to flow from Frondier’s body. It looked like mist—or dust. Giotto couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“H–hrrgh...!”
Giotto gasped and stumbled back, but it was too late.
The black haze spread, staining the walls, the floor, the ceiling—until the entire storage room was covered in darkness.
He looked toward the door he’d entered through, but it was completely blackened, no gaps left. There was no way out.
Giotto knew instinctively.
'What... what is this?'
It was a sight he’d never seen before. The once-ordinary storage room was now drenched in black, its peaceful atmosphere replaced by an oppressive dread.
Even the faint light from the window was swallowed, plunging everything into total darkness.
'I can’t see anything...!'
Sshk, sshk.
He couldn’t see, but the sharp, eerie sounds reached his ears clearly.
The unknown, by its very nature, was terrifying.
“W–Will-o’-the-Wisp!”
He quickly raised his hand, casting the spell. A flame lit up, illuminating the space—
And there he saw it.
“Hiik...!”
All the black shapes that had painted the room were now stretching into sharp, spear-like spikes, all pointing directly at him.
