Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

The girl with black twin ponytails standing at the back of the group wore a silent, mocking smile. Humans were such disgusting creatures—especially after the Industrial Revolution… no, more precisely, ever since the Age of Discovery, humanity's darkest side had been revealed.

Particularly here in the western continent, and in the Americas.

Yet even as she mocked them, a flicker of annoyance crossed her mind toward the assassins. She had come to this forest to relax, only to be hunted down. And judging by what she overheard, these assassins intended to kill them all.

If she acted alone, she could end the fight swiftly—but that would ruin her low-profile plan. Running off alone would risk investigation by magician families or worse. Though she wasn't afraid, exposure was dangerous.

She had already been targeted by some inexplicable person. She didn't want more trouble from these assassins, lurking in the mountains, randomly killing people while others were around.

Her hope was that at least some students would escape. If half got away, she wouldn't stand out so much.

The assassination team's leader eyed the dense nut-shell defenses. Dropping his rifle, he called on the big guy behind him and gave orders to his marksmen: "Get ready. I'll use this heavy hitter to smash those walls, then you finish the rest."

The "big guy" was a six-rotor machine gun. Firepower was the problem before; now, with this, breaking through those defenses would be simple.

Sparks flew as the machine gun unleashed a torrent of bullets. A single bullet couldn't destroy the nut walls, but a continuous hail of bullets and rockets steadily tore apart the terrain with deafening roars.

Even Aslan, watching from afar, nodded approvingly. This was why he had long pursued overwhelming firepower.

Originally, Aslan hadn't planned to intervene. After all, this was a magician dispute of the era. But through his familiar, he spotted the girl with black twin ponytails. Calling her "girl" was generous—she was older than him, a true senior he could almost call "grandmother."

Aslan reminded himself his mission was to investigate possible changes in the world. For that, allies and connections were vital. This great-grandmother before him was far from weak. If the crisis he sensed was real, befriending her now could be invaluable.

No matter what happened, three Heroic Spirit-level beings teaming up should be formidable. And since he was no longer purely human—more of a fantasy entity—he hoped she wouldn't reject him.

Seeing the enemy readying heavier firepower, several students prepared to retreat. The assassins' goal was clear: kill the target, then silence the witnesses. Mark's presence made their escape less likely.

Several pushed the black twin ponytailed girl aside, fleeing in panic back the way they came.

She remained calm, probably expecting this. A team with the funds to buy so many hot weapons must have set traps along their path.

Boom—an explosion echoed, followed by a British curse filled with surprise, fear, and confusion, "#@%! Why are there mines here?!"

The girl pushed up her glasses, lowering her profile.

A sudden scream, the sound of a trigger, and a bullet cracked through the air.

Mark—who had just popped his head up to counterattack with magic—was shot clean in the head by a hidden enemy.

Among the students, fear spread. Their strongest fighter was dead. Escape seemed impossible.

"Tsk."

The girl was ready. If the enemy approached, she would strike back—ready to burn these pests to ashes. With the target down, the assassins advanced, poised to kill everyone.

"[Thunderfall]!"

Suddenly, a stone engraved with thunder and lightning fairies flew from behind the assassins, smashing into their ranks. Thunder roared over the small area.

Without even a scream, half the assassins fell. The explosion also detonated ammo caches, causing further chaos.

The students were shocked, but the assassination leader's rage boiled over.

"How dare someone interfere when the mission's almost done!"

"Who's there?!"

He turned, aiming his gun toward the stone's origin.

Aslan casually stepped from the forest, holding a similar stone engraved with fairy runes.

"You want to know who I am?" he said. "I suppose I'm the senior of these kids. Thanks for taking care of your useless juniors. I didn't expect to find people bullying juniors during my seclusion in the forest. Quite a surprise."

Aslan made no effort to hide his scent. The strong aroma of Western dragon blood hit the black twin ponytailed girl's nose, making her frown.

Is Mercury retrograde this year? Why does trouble always swarm around me?

Such a strong dragon aura wasn't something descendants of dragons could match.

Today's "dragon blood descendants" in the magic world—those with more than five percent dragon blood—could be counted on one hand.

To the girl, this guy reeking of dragon blood was just an ancient relic pretending to be young, much like herself.

No—fairies didn't age.

-End Chapter-

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