The carriage halts.
The pursuers can no longer chase us, so the carriage no longer needs to run itself into the ground.
“Oh my, I hope I didn’t overstep?”
“Not at all. It was an appropriate intervention.”
Standing before us, dressed in black from head to toe like a mourning widow, is Marchioness Ludvecia.
She winks at us through the open carriage window and points her staff at our pursuers.
“Welcome to the Marquisate. From here on, this is my land, so you can relax.”
Whoosh.
As the Marchioness channels her mana into the tip of her staff, a black magic bullet surges toward the rear.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion shakes the ground, the carriage, and even the very air around us.
Those inside the carriage begin stepping out, their faces tense as they survey the scene outside.
“Could it be…?”
“Did you kill them?”
The sheer force of the magical explosion was overwhelming.
Even though it’s known to be a mere magic missile, an S-rank mage’s magic missile is akin to a cannonball, a bomb in itself.
A single shot could not only physically devastate but also embody the effects of an explosion spell.
Those caught in the blast are, of course—
“Of course not.”
Not dead.
They aren’t dead.
“I merely disrupted the mana cohesion of anyone possessing mana by unleashing a magical shockwave,”
Disarmament.
Effectively, the Marchioness had triggered a magical EMP.
When mana particles are loosely bonded, they scatter and break apart under the shockwave of Ludvecia’s magical explosion, preventing them from regrouping.
While the smoke from the black explosion rises, there’s no sign of people reduced to charcoal or ash.
“Ack…!”
“[Widow Witch]…!”
One by one, figures emerge from the smoke.
Their golden armor, now soiled as though dusted with black soot, belongs to the knights dispatched directly by the Emperor.
Their bodies remain intact, though their aura-forged blades have been shattered.
“Why does the Marchioness of Ludvecia insist on monopolizing the special class in the Old School Building of Esdinas Academy? Answer us, Marchioness!”
“Oh my, just because you’re a Duke, does that mean I owe you an answer?”
An elderly knight, clad in golden armor, steps forward and shouts. However, Ludvecia, Marchioness of Ludvecia, pays him no mind. Instead, she links arms with me as I step out of the carriage.
“He’s my son.”
“Preposterous! Your words are nothing but lies to monopolize them—”
“What did you just say?”
A black star twinkles in the sky.
Unlike the earlier magic bullet, the newly formed starlight in the clear sky is far sharper, honed to a deadly edge.
“Do you honestly think I’m harboring them for political or magical gain?”
“Isn’t that the case?”
“No. I swear upon mana itself, and upon the late Count Habsderk.”
“Ugh…!”
Ludvecia places her hand over her heart and declares firmly.
A mage swearing upon mana and a widow invoking her deceased husband leave no room for further questioning unless one is willing to declare open war.
“We will not give up! Special class of the Old School Building! Should you ever wish, come to the Imperial Palace! The Empire will always welcome you!”
The Golden Knights shout as they turn their horses away.
They dare not pursue further, as crossing into Ludvecia’s land would mean direct conflict with the Marchioness herself.
“Marchioness, wasn’t that a bit dangerous?”
Even for an S-rank mage, taking on the Empire’s strongest military force alone would be a daunting task.
“Perhaps, if I were alone. But there’s Esta, isn’t there? Hehehe.”
“Academy faculty are neutral, though.”
“Oh, but Esta would help, wouldn’t she?”
Instructor Esta would likely intervene.
The Academy would defend her actions as protecting students.
But that only applies when dealing with reasonable individuals.
And what about those lunatics over there?
“Graaaahhh!”
Screams erupt as they rise, one by one.
“Hmm. Was my magical explosion too weak? Or did they lack enough mana to feel a proper shockwave?”
“Silence, witch!”
Slendia, a leader of Vinyudan, her hair disheveled, shouts at Ludvecia.
“We will never give up! Until we reclaim our rights from people like you, who live comfortably with oversized—”
Slendia raises her fist.
“For a world where everyone is equal!!!”
With that, they flee.
Even the Golden Knights wanted no part of this insane group, revealing just how despised Vinyudan is by society.
“They wouldn’t attack the resort, would they?”
“The Empire’s nobles or officials wouldn’t. But those lunatics… they have no limits.”
Yurha answers instead, nodding.
“Some of them are already on the Silverstar Group’s blacklist. All the leaders are, and many of their subordinates can’t access Silverstar’s services.”
“And yet, they still resort to terror?”
“It’s their resentment over what they lack.”
Yurha put her hand on her chest and shook her head.
“A world where everyone is equal… What nonsense. They can’t even get the phrase for a ‘flat world’ right.”
“Equality, is it, Senior?”
“Equality?”
“Taking from the haves to fill themselves, creating a world where everyone is a B-cup. Isn’t that their aim?”
Such is Vinyudan’s public justification.
But like any organization of malice, its leaders and members secretly harbor ulterior motives beneath their slogans: envy of those who have what they do not.
‘They’d do anything if it meant getting bigger.’
Their goal, while couched in lofty ideals, is rooted in resentment—seeking to take from others to gain for themselves, all while desiring to become “haves” in the process.
In that sense, their attack on the special class of the Old School Building was not surprising.
“Hah, honestly, do those lunatics think wearing magic pants over their chest would enlarge their mana pockets?”
Yurha, speaking as though controlling or leaking information, glanced at Ludvecia to gauge her reaction.
The Marchioness opened her eyes wide, briefly looked at me, and then gently patted my back with a faint smile.
“If that’s the case, then I must protect you even more diligently. I can’t let them demand some ‘miracle for a bigger chest’ from my son.”
“I’ll leave it to you, Marchioness.”
“Marchioness?”
Crunch.
“…Mother.”
“Hmm. Not entirely satisfying, but it still has a nice ring to it.”
Vacation.
As students left their dormitories to visit their hometowns, I found myself returning to the Ludvecia March.
Or rather, I had come home.
* * *
Nearby.
“Damn it… how humiliating!”
Slendia, her hair in complete disarray, pounded her fist against her chest in frustration.
“To fail like this…!”
Failure.
An overwhelming failure.
“Lady Slendia, wasn’t this doomed to fail from the start…”
“Impossible!”
Slendia snapped at the Vinyudan member, her voice a sharp reprimand.
“Do you think those women would stoop to killing? They can’t even bring themselves to take a life! We should have exploited that to our advantage!”
“Well, about that…”
“Just think! If we could kill even one of those women, the benefits we’d reap would be unimaginable! Imagine splitting their core and receiving an implant. Think of the size we could achieve!”
Implant.
The Vinyudan members lowered their gaze to their feet.
Instead of a rounded chest, they were greeted by the sight of their plain, unadorned shoes. Biting their lips in frustration, they averted their eyes with a bitter expression.
“But Lady Slendia, aren’t they dangerous? Challenging them just because we are Vinyudan would be reckless, especially when they have two S–ranks on their side.”
A bespectacled woman, whose chest had a modest rise at best, cautiously voiced her opinion.
But—
“What do you know?!”
Slendia’s rage-filled voice caused the woman to bow her head.
“You need mana pockets that big just to hope for a minor enhancement! Anything smaller than a fist isn’t worth the trouble, no matter how many you collect!”
“But if we gather enough…”
“Enough? They’d still be nothing but specks! Even if you managed to piece them together, they wouldn’t be firm and rounded. They’d sag like old rags! Is that what you want? To look like grannies in your twenties?!”
Slendia’s tirade caused the members of Vinyudan to shut their eyes tightly.
“No, ma’am.”
If they were to enhance themselves, they at least wanted something noticeable—not enormous, but enough to create a pleasing silhouette.
“That’s why we must…!”
“My, my, Slendia. You seem to be struggling.”
“!!”
A clear, mocking voice came from behind Slendia.
She turned swiftly to see a woman in an orange dress smiling brightly at her.
“How about it? Need my help?”
“You…!”
“That’s right. Two S-ranks, huh?”
The woman smirked.
“If I can keep them busy, you can finally get your long-desired ‘true chest’. Am I right?”
Though her figure was just as flat as Slendia’s, the mana emanating from the woman was anything but ordinary.
“And as luck would have it, I’m an S-rank too. I’ll show them.”
The woman in the orange dress spun gracefully, the hem of her gown fluttering.
Slendia bit her lip as her gaze fell on the enormous weapon she lifted beneath her dress’s edge.
“Chests, after all, are nothing more than fakes.”
