With a shrill, miserable cry, a half-formed shadow was violently torn from Linen's body and flung back toward Novie's.
"Damn brat—underestimating you was my mistake. But now, let's see what else you've got left!"
A ruthless gleam flashed through Linen's eyes.
The instant the black-robed mage had invaded his body, Linen had triggered his Dragon's Soul and shifted to the Holy Light Dragon form—renowned for its purifying Arcana. The intruder had taken a full blast of divine radiance straight to the face.
And yet, the bastard still wasn't dead. His resilience rivaled cockroaches.
And this was just one soul fragment. If his main body was stronger still, that meant… beyond the Seventh Ring?
Terrifying.
But also—what a pity.
Sure, I'm not the protagonist, Linen thought dryly, but as the hardworking stepping-stone villain who keeps setting up face-slaps for the heroines until they stand tall, my villain points still outclass yours by far.
He wiped the blood running from his nose—spiritual overload, most likely. His blood-smeared hand only made him look fiercer. Straightening, he spoke in a low, heavy voice:
"What else can I use against you?"
"Have you already forgotten my real class?"
Dark, chaotic cards unfolded before him in perfect alignment, while his other hand slipped discreetly into his sleeve, fingers closing around Ivory—loaded with the Terminal Bullet.
"Let me show you… my true Arcana."
The black-robed mage frowned. He could sense danger from the boy—Linen still had cards left to play. But it didn't matter. Linen couldn't stop him from reclaiming the girl's body. So long as the prince refused to harm his own sister, victory was his.
Then, suddenly, a silver portal appeared before the fragment's fleeing shadow. Before he could react, he plunged straight into it—only to be spat out by another.
"Space Arcana?!"
Shock rippled through the mage. Linen only had Wind and Fire attributes—how could he possibly use Space Arcana too? What kind of monster was this kid?!
But Linen merely gathered his cards again, calm and unhurried. Clearly, the fight was already over.
Realizing he couldn't re-enter Novie's consciousness, the mage tried to flee upward—only for a furious, childish voice to echo all around him:
"Hmph! Trying to run? Let's see you escape this![Sorgana's Dimensional Binding]!"
A shimmering boundary snapped into place, trapping him in a closed loop. No matter which direction he fled, he'd pop through a spatial gate—then be spat right back out again.
A portal opened beside Linen, and Headmaster Sorgana stepped out, tiny brows drawn tight in anger. Linen had never seen her this furious.
"Dog of the Tower of Chronomancy," she snapped, "you dare harm my student in my academy? You're not getting away with this!"
She raised one small hand and clenched.
Puff!
An invisible force crushed inward from every direction, annihilating the mage's soul fragment on the spot—gone without even a scream.
Then Sorgana spun in a neat half-turn, planting her fists on her hips.
"Hmph hmph! Well? How was that, little Linen? Isn't your headmaster amazing?"
"Indeed," Linen said with a small smile, applauding. "Worthy of a Great Arcana Mage of Space. Your Arcana control and spiritual power are among the finest in the empire."
"Hey! I just saved you! Can't you sound a little more awed? What's with the formal compliments?"
Sorgana crossed her arms, sulking—but her expression softened as she looked him over.
"Still… holding your own against that guy and protecting little Novie too—well done, little dra… Norton."
Linen shook his head modestly.
"No, it was only thanks to your timely arrival. Otherwise, to save myself, I might've had to hurt Novie."
Sorgana's eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Oh? Is that the 'real Arcana' you mentioned earlier? Care to explain it to me? I might even help you improve it~"
But Linen had no intention of revealing the secret of the Terminal Bullet. The fewer who knew, the safer Teresia would be—even if his savior was Sorgana herself.
So he smiled, nodded seriously, and answered without missing a beat:
"Of course. My strongest Arcana is believing in my companions. And it seems my faith was rewarded—you must've received my companions' distress signal, right? Was it Elena who alerted you?"
Sorgana puffed her cheeks. So stingy! She'd just been a little curious about that strange bullet—surely she could've traded him something for it.
Still, at his question, her expression turned complicated. She sighed.
"Well… most veteran instructors were gathered at the plaza, so yes, we got a distress call from your group. But it wasn't Elena—it was the Flame Rose girl."
"Hysteria?" Linen blinked. The princess had good instincts, sure, but he hadn't expected her to be the one to notice something wrong and send for help.
"Yes. But… it wasn't exactly a distress call for you."
Sorgana rubbed her forehead, exasperated.
"Princess Hysteria used my personal comms channel to send me an Arcana message—because she got lost after you all left her behind. So I scanned your location through the Weave. But you should probably comfort her later—she was already crying when she called me."
Linen covered his face.
Ah, as expected of Your Highness. Ever reliable in your own way.
Still… nice work.
After all, what ordinary student would think to contact the headmaster directly after getting lost?
Sorgana cleared her throat. "According to academy records, the rest of your group's already headed to the ritual hall. Another instructor will arrive soon to take your statement. And as compensation for what happened here, I'll personally grant you one request—anything within my power. Any questions?"
That was no small offer.
A promise from someone of Sorgana's caliber was rare. She might act unreliable, but she remained one of the empire's greatest Arcana Masters—and an infamous collector besides.
With her word, you could demand nearly anything: a relic, an artifact… even, theoretically, her hand in marriage.
And since she hadn't specified any time limit, the promise could be saved—until the perfect moment.
Say, for example… when the Zijinghua Empire's battle for the throne began, and one might need Eden Academy's support...
Such a generous "compensation" made the situation clear: during the dungeon inspection, Eden Academy had uncovered the black-robed mage's interference—and also recognized that Linen had, whether deliberately or not, disrupted the man's schemes.
Sorgana had clearly factored that into her reward.
Besides, Linen had once refused the Empress's direct intervention, exchanging it for Eden's continued protection. That alone was no small favor.
Yet to Sorgana's surprise, Linen suddenly said, "All right then. In that case, I'd like to use this request right now."
"Right now?"
Sorgana blinked, poking her cheek with a tiny finger.
"Hey, hey, little brat, I'd think twice if I were you. This is a promise from me—the Headmaster herself!"
"Yeah, I've thought it through. Because what I'm asking is something only Headmaster Sorgana can do."
Linen's tone left no room for argument.
"…Fine then. Let's hear it."
Reluctantly, Sorgana nodded.
"Headmaster," Linen said, "earlier you told that guy this matter wasn't over. May I ask how you plan to deal with him first?"
"That's all you wanted to know?"
Sorgana arched a brow, then smirked.
"Relax. He's just a small fry—barely Seventh-Ring. Even if I can't leave the academy right now while I'm patching the dungeon, I always keep my word."
Her grin turned sharp. "That mage cut off his soul-fragment link the moment he saw me appear, but in that split second I already traced the spatial fluctuation straight to his tower. I linked his coordinates to a lava dimension in the multiverse—and dumped half that realm's fire elementals into his tower. For cowards from the Heart Reflection School, that should be enough to leave them half-dead!"
She snickered darkly. Physical pain wasn't even the cruelest part—Arcana Mages could always discard a body. The real punishment lay elsewhere.
Even if he somehow survived, his life's work—his tower, his collections, his research, every rare tome—would all be devoured and burned by rampaging elementals from another plane.
For an Arcana Mage, that was worse than death.
Ironically, Sorgana had borrowed the idea from Linen himself. Of the treasures she'd placed in the Mist Castle as rewards, one-third had been taken by students, another third recovered by the rescue team—but the last third had been vaporized by Linen's alchemical blast.
Damn it, she thought. That explosion was aimed at that Chronomancy bastard. So why does my heart ache too…?
"So," she said wryly, "you might want to think twice about using up my promise so quickly."
"No," Linen said without hesitation. "I've decided."
Sorgana sighed and folded her arms, motioning for him to continue.
"You said you poured half of a lava dimension's fire elementals into that bastard's tower," Linen said. "Enough to leave him half-dead, right?"
He looked straight at her, eyes narrowing in mischief, a grin tugging at his lips.
"So… what about the other half?"
Sorgana blinked—then burst out laughing.
She really was starting to like this little Norton brat.
"Rest assured," she said between laughs. "I'll pour the rest in too. That bastard won't live to see tomorrow's sunrise."
Silver light shimmered in her pupils as she spoke, her tone laced with meaning.
Linen nodded, satisfied.
That man had learned too much about his Dragon's Soul—and drawn dangerously wrong conclusions. Leaving him alive wasn't an option.
Besides, anyone who repeatedly targeted both him and Novie had already crossed Linen's bottom line.
He wasn't about to let a Seven-Ring enemy linger in the shadows, especially after Sorgana confirmed the mage's level. Better to spend the favor now, wipe out the threat, and earn genuine goodwill from the eccentric yet formidable Headmaster.
For mages like her, sincere goodwill was worth far more than a single promise.
Just then, a faint murmur broke the air. Linen turned, and saw Novie—still unconscious until now—begin to stir.
"Heh, looks like you two could use some private time," Sorgana said, already opening a spatial portal. "Don't worry about the ritual—I'll have the instructors handle it. Good luck~"
Before Linen could protest, she vanished, leaving a private space behind.
Linen rubbed his forehead awkwardly.
Honestly, after her earlier outburst over that one question, things still felt a bit awkward.
Then again—what was there to be nervous about?
He'd already teased and tamed the Flame Rose Empire's tsundere princess. Handling one girl he'd raised himself should be easy.
He even knew exactly how many moles Novie had under those white stockings.
And besides—he had a major advantage here.
In the original novel, Novie was just a minor side character, barely intersecting with the protagonist. Unlike his legendary Empress mother, who had ten spin-offs and was probably a hidden heroine herself, Novie was guaranteed not to become a protagonist.
Which meant, facing her, Linen could freely farm affection points without any risk of plot backlash.
With an advantage like that, how could he possibly lose? Who could even stab him in the back?!
...
Novie felt as though she'd been dreaming for ages.
A quiet, colorless dream.
In it, she was still the "princess without a surname," overlooked and forgotten. Sometimes her mother showed her a rare, fleeting kindness—but never the kind she gave her other children.
Life wasn't ideal, but it was peaceful.
Great events shook the empire—heroes rose, legends unfolded—but none of it had anything to do with her. She was merely a spectator, offering silent blessings from the background.
No great talent. No ambition. Just an ordinary princess living an ordinary life.
And honestly, that wasn't so bad.
But something was missing—something she couldn't name.
Until one day, she overheard the palace servants whispering:
"Did you hear? The Third Prince was killed."
"Yes. But Her Majesty only expressed regret—no plans for revenge."
"Well, considering how he died, she probably can't, for political reasons."
The Third Prince… her brother, wasn't he?
Novie turned the name over in her mind. She'd barely interacted with him. She wanted to feel sad, but no tears came. She felt almost guilty for that.
Drip.
A teardrop hit the ground. Startled, she touched her face.
Strange. I hardly knew him—why am I crying?
Third Prince… what was his name again?
Linen?
Her eyes widened.
Memories flooded in—color and warmth shattering the grey world.
A boy who led her home when she was lost, asking only that she wear a certain white dress.
A boy who hid mice in teachers' shoes, then ran away laughing when she got scolded, demanding a lap pillow as his reward.
A boy who taught her swordsmanship when no one else would—and promised to forge her Holy Sword, insisting he was the one who benefited.
"Such a shame," he'd once said. "You started out so well, but you're turning into a villain. Novie, what kind of person will you become?"
Brother always says weird things.
"My future? I'm not telling you!"
She'd stuck out her tongue, but deep down she'd sworn:
Someday, she'd stand beside him.
If he was a villain, she'd be a protagonist—but a protagonist who protected him alone, never letting any others steal him away.
Wait—why did she even remember all this?
He wasn't some irrelevant Third Prince.
He was her Onii-chan!
The grey dream shattered completely.
Novie looked down. The dull colors were gone—replaced by her real self: golden hair, black-and-white maid uniform, sheer stockings, and the invisible Holy Sword he'd designed for her.
That grey girl wasn't her. This vibrant one was.
And before her stood the figure she'd always known.
She stepped forward without hesitation. The grey world collapsed behind her—but she didn't look back.
"Brother Linen…"
Her eyes fluttered open.
And then she froze—because her head was resting on his lap.
Brother's lap pillow?!
Her face turned scarlet.
"You're awake?"
Linen smiled warmly at her flustered expression.
Then he frowned.
Why is the system window flashing now, of all times? Whatever. Farming first.
Let the farming begin.
---
T/N: remember that Linen taught Novie to call him Onii-chan, but ill be switching from brother to onii-chan from time to time so yeah idk fuck you
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