Chapter 37: The First Trial: A Teasing Dance of Power

“Sister Noah Autolinde…”

At the very edge of the onlookers, Issac, a scullery maid, gazed worriedly at the two figures confronting each other in the center of the grand hall.

“How could this be… How could something like this happen? It’s utterly unscientific…”

Beside her, Joshua, who was observing the scene through an invisible communicator attached to an owl’s leg, mumbled to herself while flipping through a book.

“Indeed… why has Sister Noah Autolinde become a princess of the Royal Court? And why has she transformed into something resembling a dragon? All of this is truly bizarre…”

In response to Joshua’s murmuring, Issac nodded in agreement, speaking softly so as not to draw attention from those around them.

“No, I mean, it’s utterly unscientific how breasts of that caliber could shrink to that size, yet still be larger than mine are now.”

“Sister Joshua! Is this truly the time to be concerned with such matters?!”

Suppressing the urge to shout in exasperation, Issac’s voice bristled with annoyance, her small face puffing out like a fugu fish.

“Hmm… if you’re worried about Noah Autolinde, there’s really no need.”

In stark contrast to the anxious Issac, Joshua, nestled amidst a pile of books researching, appeared utterly unconcerned.

“Issac, you’ve only recently become a Saintess, so you wouldn’t know, but that Noah Autolinde, she holds the title of a Templar Knight.”

***

On the arena floor, the first round of the Royal Court Trial officially commenced.

Their figures vanished from their positions almost simultaneously, then intertwined in a flurry.

Silvya, gripping her axe handle, steadied her breath and swung a heavy, arcing blow; the weighty axe strike, though not swift, possessed a powerful, almost magnetic pull, precisely targeting Noah Autolinde’s ample chest.

Silvya’s attacks were the epitome of refined killing techniques; as a demon lord hardened by countless battles, she knew precisely which areas inflicted the most pain, which would swiftly incapacitate an opponent, and which were most vulnerable, allowing for maximum damage with the fewest strikes.

All of this, Silvya knew intimately; she was perfectly adept at the art of severing, carving, and dismembering humanoid creatures.

She could even envision the next moment: Noah Autolinde’s chest caving in, a muffled groan escaping her lips as blood splattered, and her body crumpling to the ground, utterly incapacitated.

Everything unfolded with such methodical precision, her seasoned combat experience affirming it would be an uneventful, almost boring victory.

Yet, just as the axe blade was poised to connect with Noah Autolinde’s chest, Noah Autolinde revealed a pure smile, her steps subtly shifting, allowing the axe tip to graze past her by the barest fraction of an inch.

She moved like a mouse toying with a cat, or a butterfly dancing on a blade’s edge.

The lack of solid impact momentarily startled Silvya, disrupting the series of follow-up attacks she had meticulously planned.

A rapid succession of over a dozen powerful, gravity-laden axe strikes, each designed to pull an opponent in, were all deftly evaded by Noah Autolinde.

Noah Autolinde’s toes lightly tapped, using the momentum to move; her slender feet, clad in fawn-leather boots, merely shifted with Silvya’s force, effortlessly deflecting a cleave potent enough to shatter flesh and bone alike.

Every seemingly perilous move failed to so much as brush against Noah Autolinde’s prominent chest, the hem of her skirt, or the tips of her wings, leaving Silvya utterly incredulous.

“Such weak, fluffy attacks~, they won’t ever hit me~.”

Like a mischievous sprite carried on a fragrant breeze, Noah Autolinde capitalized on the momentum of Silvya’s concluded assault, closing in.

Her substantial, bound chest seemed to press forward as she mischievously leaned close, whispering a taunt into Silvya’s ear.

“!”

Silvya’s heart jolted, and she hastily pulled her axe blade back, intending to strike Noah Autolinde, who was now almost at arm’s length.

Instead, Noah Autolinde expertly chopped her wrist.

Silvya winced in pain, nearly releasing her grip on the weapon.

Before she could react, a small, leather-gloved fist landed squarely on her chest.

“Ugh!”

Silvya felt her entire body seize up; the punch, though not powerful, abruptly disrupted her still-unsteady breathing.

Her weapon, which she had barely held onto, slipped completely from her grasp, and she stumbled back several steps.

“Is that all you’ve got? How disappointing~.”

Noah Autolinde stood with her hands clasped behind her back, an air of effortless ease about her, as if Silvya’s long-honed skills were utterly beneath her notice.

Suppressing the tempest of anger surging within her, Silvya regulated her breathing.

She was, after all, a warrior seasoned by bloody conflicts, and quickly recalibrated her mindset, accepting the undeniable truth that she could not defeat Noah Autolinde in close-quarters combat.

If all her attacks were destined to be dodged by Noah Autolinde, then what kind of strike could possibly be unavoidable?

Before she could even conceive of an answer, Noah Autolinde’s kick arrived—a high, long leg, encased in black stockings that sculpted its form with unparalleled allure, aimed directly at the side of Silvya’s head.

Raising her arms to block, Silvya felt a pain in her forearms as if they were shattering.

She knew they weren’t truly broken, but Noah Autolinde’s force was so immense that it had vibrated her bones into a tingling numbness.

She intended to counterattack, but then she paused, momentarily stunned by Noah Autolinde’s utterly indecorous posture.

The hem of her skirt, reaching to the very tops of her thighs, barely concealed her ‘beautiful garden’, and the glimpse of overflowing, milky-white flesh sparked a myriad of suggestive thoughts.

“Please don’t stare at other people’s legs; it’s quite rude~.”

Noah Autolinde maintained her kicking stance, pouting with dissatisfaction.

“You’re the one who kicked me!”

Masking a fleeting blush that crossed her face, Silvya retorted loudly.

The pain in her arms and chest eased slightly with the exertion of her lungs as she suddenly pushed back, sending Noah Autolinde’s long leg away.

***

Before Noah Autolinde could launch her next attack, Silvya’s head transformed into a colossal dragon’s maw.

The dragon head let out a deafening roar, brazenly radiating an ancient majesty and dominance.

“Ugh…”

Even with the protection of the barrier, the residual dragon’s might still propagated outwards as sound waves.

Maids and soldiers nearby instinctively clutched their ears, the ringing tinnitus rendering them temporarily deaf.

“It seems the Hexahedron needs some improvements, specifically countermeasures against sonic attacks.”

Letitia Tanis, seated upon her throne, maintained the barrier, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Noah Autolinde, despite being at the epicenter, was paradoxically the least affected.

The moment she sensed danger, she immediately retreated, yet the sheer power of the dragon’s might still caused her eyes to widen, momentarily freezing her in place.

Silvya’s assault was far from over.

After unleashing her dragon’s might, the colossal dragon head began to coalesce flames in its throat, spewing forth high-temperature dragonfire that, like a colossal river, instantly engulfed the entire barrier.

Noah Autolinde was utterly enveloped by the roaring inferno, her small figure appearing so diminutive and vulnerable before such a majestic, natural force.

“Holy Domain, unfold.”

However, with a soft incantation, a spherical space centered around Noah Autolinde instantly expanded, carving out an unblemished sanctuary amidst the sea of flames.

The torrent of dragonfire continued for a full ten minutes.

Under such intense heat, not only metals but even minerals would have melted away.

“It’s quite hot, isn’t it~.”

Yet, Noah Autolinde was utterly unfazed, as if she had merely enjoyed a sauna.

Her milky-white skin had acquired a faint blush, and her delicate fingers tugged at the opening of her upper garments, inviting more cool air into the deep cleavage of her chest.