The hall fell into a tense, expectant quiet as Crown Prince Wilhem took his seat upon the elevated velvet throne.
Beside him, Lady Nyxara Nightbane remained standing, her posture straight as a blade, her cold violet eyes silently monitoring the room.
Before the royal court could proceed with standard greetings, Lord Zanac Vane broke protocol.
With a grand, sweeping gesture of his arm, Zanac stepped forward to the foot of the royal dais, pulling the hesitant, green-haired Lyra along with him.
Lady Sylphia followed half a step behind, radiating an ethereal, innocent charm that immediately drew approving looks from the surrounding court nobles.
”Your Royal Highness!” Zanac’s voice echoed across the quiet ballroom, brimming with theatrical triumph.
“Pardon my sudden intrusion, but I bring forth a revelation of vital importance to the high aristocracy of our realm!”
Prince Wilhem’s eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation.
He despised unscheduled spectacles, yet the presence of Sylphia beside Zanac stayed his hand.
“Speak quickly, Lord Zanac,” Wilhem commanded, his voice cold and amplified by the hall’s wind arrays.
“This is a royal gala, not a merchant’s forum.”
”Of course, Your Highness!” Zanac bowed deeply, a cruel, gloating smirk playing on his lips as he glanced up toward the central terrace where Rosalina stood.
“Tonight, with the aid of Lady Sylphia, I present to the court Lady Lyra—a dual-element prodigy who carries the untainted bloodline of House Artecus!
She is the true, lost biological daughter of the Duke!”
A sharp collective gasp rippled across the ballroom.
Heads snapped between Zanac’s group and Rosalina on the terrace.
Whispers erupted like a swarm of disturbed hornets.
”A biological heir?”
”Then what becomes of Lady Rosalina?”
Zanac’s chest puffed out as he looked directly at Rosalina, waiting for her face to turn pale, waiting for her to panic.
“I demand that the High Council of House Artecus recognize her immediately, and strip the fake placeholder of her stolen title!”
Up on the terrace, Rosalina didn’t flinch.
She didn’t even drop her polite, indifferent smile.
Instead, she took a single step toward the marble balustrade, her voice carrying across the entire hall with smooth, crystal-clear magic amplification—forcing him to realize the cold, unyielding reality of his mistake.
”Lord Zanac,” Rosalina spoke, her voice laced with highborn disdain.
“Your enthusiasm is as pathetic as your political awareness.
Duke Artecus is currently overseeing the northern border garrisons.
The representation of House Artecus tonight rests entirely with the High Council—which answers directly to me.”
She looked down at him, her tone hardening into sharp, dangerous anger.
“You find a dual elemental affinity person who looks like she belongs to the Artecus family, and instead of bringing her to us, instead of telling me, you parade her here in public.
You have openly disrespected the entire Artecus family tonight, turning a private matter into a spectacle to make fun of us.
House Artecus is not a house you can disrespect and walk away from like nothing happened.
There will be severe consequences for this.”
Zanac froze, his arrogant smirk completely faltering.
He was in absolute shock.
The woman standing before him—the girl who had previously acted like a passive, politically convenient betrothed—was now baring her lethal fangs like an apex beast.
”D-Don’t change the topic!” Zanac stammered, trying to regain his footing.
“You are merely an adopted daughter!”
”Huh.
Her brown eyes flashed with a sudden, suffocating green light that caused the surrounding mana lamps to flare brightly.
“Furthermore, House Artecus values true power and intellect above all else.
Even if a biological relative appears, a High-Rank Mage with dual mastery does not bow to a child brought in by an emotional fool.”
BOOM.
A dense, physical wave of High Mage mana radiated from Rosalina, pressing down upon the lower floor like a heavy velvet blanket.
The minor nobles gasped, several guards instinctively taking a step back under the sheer weight of her presence.
Zanac stumbled back, his face turning ghostly pale.
“H-High Mage…?
Impossible!
You were stuck at Level 5!”
”I owe you no explanations, my former betrothed,” Rosalina said coldly, turning her back on him as if he were nothing more than dust on her shoe.
Zanac stood paralyzed in utter disbelief—his engagement publicly severed, his grand scheme completely crushed, and his reputation in high society reduced to a laughingstock in a single breath.
Rosalina then turned her gaze toward the trembling Lyra.
“You, come here.
Until it is proven that you are indeed a member of our Artecus family, you will stay in the guest quarters.
Tomorrow, a proper bloodline test will be conducted, and only then will we decide your place.”
Lyra, completely overwhelmed and not knowing what else to do, hurriedly nodded.
“Y-Yes…” She quickly retreated to a quiet corner of the ballroom, standing alone to grab a small bite from the banquet table, eager to fade into the background.
Down near the throne, Prince Wilhem’s face darkened with sheer humiliation.
Zanac had made a complete mockery of the royal opening, only to be utterly dismantled by Rosalina’s unexpected ascension to High Mage.
With her terrifying authority and sharp intellect, she had turned the entire room into her own stage, frustrating the Prince’s plans to control the narrative.
’It is so frustrating…’ Wilhem thought, his jaw clenching.
Seeing his initial setup falling apart, Wilhem decided to force his own move immediately.
”Enough of this nonsense!” Prince Wilhem barked, standing up from his throne.
His sharp blue eyes locked onto Lady Nyxara standing beside him.
“Lord Zanac’s disruption is minor compared to the true rot within our court!”
Nyxara’s violet eyes narrowed slightly, her core shifting into a guarded, defensive state.
Wilhem took a step toward her, his gloved hand subtly touching a silver signet ring beneath his sleeve—activating the three hidden curse-type matrices designed to shatter her mental stability.
Bzzzt…
Nothing happened.
The curse array died before it could even manifest, completely suppressed by an overwhelming, invisible presence that stepped into the frame.
”Lady Nyxara, I have heard many grand things about you, and you truly hold a high place in my heart,” Barn spoke smoothly, closing the distance in a blur of movement and bowing gracefully before her.
“It is an honor to meet you.”
Nyxara felt a strange, inexplicable instinct trigger within her core, but her immediate focus shifted to the towering stranger bowing so effortlessly before her.
”And who might you be?” Lady Nyxara asked, her cold violet eyes analyzing his every line.
”Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner.
My name is Barn, a Master,” he said smoothly, extending his hand toward her.
Still trying to decipher his strange aura, Nyxara instinctively placed her gloved hand in his.
Barn took her hand, intending to offer a customary kiss, but the second his fingers made contact with her skin, his dark eyes widened.
He felt something completely out of the ordinary—a hidden, ancient anomaly within her soul matrix that he had never expected to encounter, something that defied the baseline laws of this reality.
Meanwhile, Wilhem stood by, his lips initially curved into a dark, victorious smile as he waited for Nyxara’s mana to explode out of control.
‘What is happening?!
Why isn’t she losing control?’
Shaking off the failure, Wilhem rationalized his next move.
‘Whatever, I need to focus on the primary plan.
I need Sylphia’s standing as the Saintess.’
However, as Wilhem tried to piece the room back together, he noticed that the man named Barn had completely frozen, still holding Nyxara’s hand without moving a muscle, looking like a carved marble statue.
Nyxara, who was trying to calculate his motives, felt a sudden, uncharacteristic blush brush her cheeks.
She grew awkward and confused.
‘Why did he stop?
Why is he just standing there holding my hand?’
Observing this from the balcony, Rosalina felt a sudden pang of worry and urgency for Barn.
“Barn!
What are you doing?!
Let go of Lady Nyxara’s hand!” she called out, her voice sharply cutting through the room.
Barn instantly snapped out of his trance, releasing Nyxara’s hand and stepping back smoothly.
“Ah, yes…
My apologies.
I was momentarily shocked by Lady Nyxara’s Dark Mana.
It is exceptionally refined and powerful—I got caught in my own thoughts for a moment.”
Nyxara quickly seized the excuse to smooth over the awkward tension, straightening her posture.
“It is quite alright.
After all, I am a young mage recognized throughout the realm for my power and potential.
It is only natural for people to feel a sense of awe when sensing my true capacity.”
”Indeed.
Your Dark Mana is truly amazing,” Barn replied, his dark eyes holding a deep, lingering mystery.
”Yes, Lady Nyxara is very strong and serves as an idol for many young noble ladies,” Rosalina added as she stepped down to stand beside Barn.
Yet, deep down, Rosalina knew things were far from simple; Barn would never freeze like that over ordinary mana.
Ignoring the subtle exchanges below, Prince Wilhem strode purposefully toward the elevated royal throne.
As Nyxara moved toward her designated seat as his betrothed, Wilhem raised his hand, stopping her in her tracks.
”Stop.
Nyxara, this throne is not for you,” Wilhem declared coldly.
Nyxara narrowed her eyes, her dark aura flaring as she prepared to retort.
“I am your official betrothed.
If not for me, then for whom?”
”For her,” Wilhem said, pointing directly toward Lady Sylphia, who was already walking up the golden carpet toward him with a serene smile.
Sylphia stepped onto the dais, taking her place directly beside the Prince.
Wilhem looked out over the stunned crowd, his voice amplified across the entire ballroom: “From this day forth, I, Prince Wilhem, Eldest Prince of the Kingdom of Asteria, hereby break my engagement with Nyxara Nightbane!
I choose Lady Sylphia as my true partner and the next Queen of this realm!”
The proclamation sent a thunderous wave of shock across the entire aristocracy.
But in the quiet shadow beside Rosalina, Barn merely looked up at the arrogant Crown Prince, a cold, amused smirk touching his lips as he thought to himself:
’Fool.’