"Heh, that was close—just a little more and you would've brought her back. But just so we're clear, that last question wasn't from me. That was entirely her own inten—"
"No, you asked it. Don't push it onto her. My little sister would never say something like that."
Linen waved his hand, dead serious.
The black-robed mage: …
Why did it suddenly feel like he was getting blamed for something random?
Oh well. Whatever.
"Novie" suddenly smiled in a dangerous way, her delicate fist tightening before she lunged straight for Linen's abdomen.
Fool! You're an Arcana Mage, yet you dared get close to a knight!
Bang!
A dull impact rang out. Surprise flickered in the black-robed mage's eyes.
Novie's strike had been fast and fierce, yet it hadn't dealt the crushing blow he'd expected—nothing like when she'd shredded magical beasts during the trials. Even more shocking, Linen had reacted in time, catching the punch with his bare hand and blocking it cleanly.
How could an Arcana Mage who got winded climbing stairs block a knight's full strike?!
"Surprised? Isn't it natural for an Arcana Mage like me to know a bit of close combat?"
Linen slowly lifted his head, his eyes calm as an ancient well.
"I don't know who you are or how you took over Novie, but clearly, you never wondered how a girl without the Norton name and ignored by everyone in the palace managed to learn swordsmanship."
The black-robed mage tried to yank his hand back, but Linen's grip was iron—unyielding as a vise. It was obvious now: in pure strength, Linen completely outclassed him.
An Arcana Mage stronger than a knight?!
Even though he hadn't activated Novie's personal blessings yet, his strength wasn't even magical!
Seeing disbelief twist across the mage's face, Linen gave a soft snort and let go, allowing him to pull back.
The title Dragonblooded Norton wasn't just for show. Those with dragon blood—the descendants of ancestors who had once bathed in it—were blessed with immense strength and a high chance of awakening draconic talents.
Except for rare cases like the Silver Dragons, most dragon blessings were physical. That's why the full title was Warriors Baptized in Dragon Blood.
Before being cast aside as a useless failure, Linen had been one of those descendants—the empire's hopeful prodigy, trained by its best swordsmen, martial artists, and adventurers.
And the forgotten princess, Noraviel, had been his very first disciple.
In pure Arcana, Linen—who'd only just mastered Second-Ring Fusion Arcana—might still lag behind some upperclassmen.
But in close combat? Linen could crush ten of them.
"Impossible!"
The black-robed mage gritted his teeth and rushed forward again, unwilling to believe that the perfect puppet he'd crafted could lose to an Arcana Mage in melee.
I just underestimated him before. Once I unleash Novie's full power, he'll be done for!
But Linen proved him wrong.
Green light shimmered around Linen's body—the Wind Elemental's blessing boosting his speed.
Yet he didn't use that agility for hit-and-run tactics like a typical Arcana Mage. He didn't cast a single spell.
He simply stood his ground, calmly deflecting every one of the girl's furious attacks with his bare hands.
Punches, kicks, knees, elbows—since the mage controlled Novie's body, he could use her honed combat skills freely. But against Linen, they were useless.
Watching Linen's stance—steady, rooted like a tree—the mage's frustration deepened.
He couldn't even make him take a single step back!
Linen's movements were efficient and precise, deflecting every blow with minimal effort.
But deep down, the black-robed mage understood—he wasn't losing to Novie's body. He was being completely suppressed by Linen himself.
The Heart Reflection School's possession technique had one fatal flaw: unfamiliarity with the host's body always led to subpar control.
Still, he'd never imagined he'd lose a fistfight—while controlling a knight—to an Arcana Mage.
"Done attacking? Then it's my turn. No objections, right?"
Seeing the mage's breathing turn ragged, Linen finally stepped forward.
"Damn it!"
The mage's pupils shrank. The man before him hadn't even cast a single spell, yet he felt like standing before a towering mountain.
He'd only ever felt this kind of awe when facing the Rings of his own Arcana school—the reverence of a novice before a master.
Linen threw a right punch. The mage raised his hand to block—but Linen suddenly withdrew and flicked his left hand instead.
Thunk!
The mage staggered backward, clutching his forehead, eyes wide with disbelief as tears welled up.
Did he just waste a perfect opening… to flick my forehead?!
"You bas—"
Before the mage could finish, Linen pressed the attack—this time mimicking the very moves "Novie" had used earlier. But Linen's were faster, smoother, more flexible. The mage was forced back again and again.
Each time he slipped up, Linen's fingers snapped out—another sharp forehead flick.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
The mage's head rang, his pride crumbling—while Linen, somehow, still found time to taunt him.
"Your dominant hand's weak, your off-hand's sloppy, your footwork's a mess—every move's garbage. And you think you can beat me?"
"This punch holds sixteen years of training—think you can take it?"
Thunk!
Another stinging flick.
Then Linen suddenly paused, his tone softening in thought.
"But hey—if you manage to land even one hit on me, maybe I'll take you outside the palace for some fun."
What the hell is he talking about? Who wants to go out with him?!
Just as confusion crossed the mage's face, a sudden tremor rippled through the spiritual world.
Inside Novie's consciousness—previously suppressed—something stirred.
He's doing this on purpose! He's replaying their memories, trying to guide that brat into taking her body back!
He actually knows how to break possession-type Arcana!
Though the mage's spiritual strength far exceeded Novie's, only a fragment of his soul was here—he couldn't afford to take her lightly.
He needed to end this now.
Gritting his teeth, he reached for the Holy Sword he'd copied the Sword-Spirit with earlier.
He'd seen its power firsthand—a blade that could sever Arcana itself. No matter how strong Linen was physically, he was still just flesh and blood. One strike would end it.
But when his hand touched his waist, there was nothing there.
The sheath was still in place—but the sword was gone.
"You looking for this?"
The black-robed mage jerked his head up in disbelief—only to see Linen's right hand gripping what seemed to be empty air. Yet from that invisible blade emanated a chillingly familiar aura.
The Holy Sword—its concealment enchantment still active.
He actually stole it—when?!
"When you can finally hold onto your sword without letting go," Linen said evenly, "maybe the adults outside will start taking you seriously."
Another line of incomprehensible nonsense—but deep within Novie's mind, those words stirred something once again.
"Damn it… If this keeps up, that brat's consciousness really will awaken…"
A creeping panic took root in the mage's chest.
His current soul fragment had already been damaged once—obliterated by Linen's alchemical bomb when he'd possessed the Earl of Mist. Its power had never fully recovered, leaving his control over Novie's body unstable. During that earlier conversation between Linen and Novie, he'd already felt his grip slipping.
He had sacrificed everything—pretending to be the Sword-Spirit, plotting for months—to reach Princess Noraviel's consciousness. Once expelled this time, the Bloodstained Red Dragon Empress would never give him another chance.
She might even track his true Mage Tower through some unknown means.
If that happened, he was dead.
Retreat wasn't an option.
He bit down hard and steeled himself.
There was only one path forward: to make himself useful enough that the Tower would have to protect him.
And he hadn't lost yet—not completely. This body wasn't truly his, after all. And he was a proud mage of the Heart Reflection School.
To a Heart Reflection mage, bodies were expendable tools.
"If you've got the guts, then cut her down!"
The mage suddenly charged again, his attacks growing even more reckless, abandoning defense entirely.
Linen clicked his tongue in irritation, drove the Holy Sword into the ground behind him, and continued bare-handed.
A smug smile crept across the mage's face.
Exactly—this was their greatest difference.
He could strike to kill, but could Linen do the same?
Novie's body left herself open, even exposing vital points. One Wind Blade—one spell—would wound her badly.
But could Linen bring himself to hurt his own imperial sister?
Besides, the mage could see through him now. Linen's calm composure was just an act.
In close quarters, knights always had the upper hand. Even if Linen had the edge in technique for the moment, he couldn't maintain it forever. As the fight dragged on, the mage grew more familiar with Novie's body—her instincts, her speed, her strength—using them more efficiently with each exchange.
Meanwhile, Linen's fists—untoughened by years of brawling—were starting to tremble. His knuckles were bleeding.
If he refused to use any Arcana that might harm Novie, he'd lose. His own hesitation would kill him.
"Keh keh keh… Let's see how long you last!"
"You bastard!"
Linen was panting hard now. His stamina was failing. His movements started to falter, leaving small, fatal openings.
And the mage saw them all.
He abruptly lunged in, driving Novie's body straight into Linen's chest—not to strike, but to lock eyes.
For a brief instant, their gazes met.
A black shadow bloomed in Novie's pupils and shot forward, plunging into Linen's mind.
Novie's body went limp and collapsed into Linen's arms.
Inside Linen's consciousness, triumphant laughter echoed.
Had the fight dragged on, the mage might still have won—but that would have wasted precious time, and time was something he didn't have within Eden Academy's walls.
But this? This was the perfect opportunity.
Linen Norton—imperial prince, Arcana prodigy, and master-level martial artist—was a far superior vessel.
Why defeat him… when he could become him?
That was the true pinnacle of Heart Reflection Arcana.
"Keh keh keh keh…"
The mage froze.
The laugh that escaped his lips—it wasn't his. It was too wicked, too gleeful.
And it was coming from Linen's mouth.
"What's so funny? You still don't get your situation, do you?" the mage growled, forcing his will deeper into Linen's mind.
But Linen's voice—strained yet steady—answered back:
"The one who doesn't understand his situation… is you."
His lips twitched in a smile, even as his body resisted him.
"Tell me—since I already knew how to guide Novie to resist your possession, do you really think I wouldn't know that the Heart Reflection School's ultimate Arcana seizes control by linking life force?"
A surge of dread ran through the mage's soul. But his possession was nearly complete—why did Linen still sound so calm?
"Bluffing! If you had any mental-defense artifact, you'd have used it already!" he snapped, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
Linen didn't answer. His gaze shifted slightly. Deep inside his mind, a familiar system prompt appeared.
[Confirm full activation of innate talent "Dragon's Soul"? Warning: user will be mentally recognized as a dragon. Unexpected consequences may occur.]
[Confirmation successful.]
[Note: Dragon species undetermined—manifestation may vary. Proceed with caution.]
Then, a pair of colossal golden eyes opened within Linen's consciousness.
The mage's entire being froze.
He was facing a human—yet it felt like staring into the gaze of a true dragon.
Was this the fabled Dragonblood talent of the Zijinghua Empire?
What kind of dragon was this man descended from?!
The mage probed cautiously with his spiritual sense. The aura was immense, but the dragon's soul seemed weak in spiritual combat—a Red or Black Dragon, perhaps.
He could handle that.
But then, the Red Dragon's presence vanished.
And in its place, new dragons appeared—Silver, Blue, Green—and one more that made his soul recoil in horror.
A Holy Light Dragon.
Those were supposed to be extinct!
What kind of monster's mind was this?!
This wasn't a human consciousness at all—it was an abyss crawling with dragons.
"I have to… I have to report this to the Tower—"
The Holy Light Dragon turned its gleaming eyes toward him, its gaze locking onto his trembling soul.
...
Fuck.
...
...