Estella’s heart pounded fast at the faint heat pulsing at her fingertips.

'Am I… becoming a mage now? Can I make magic circles like Airi?'

Staring wide-eyed at her trembling palm, Estella saw Ria’s expression grow heavier with worry. The maid’s eyes moved busily, checking her mistress’s hand. Up close, the tips of Estella’s fingers did look unusually red.

“My lady, does your hand hurt? Should I fetch the mage?”

From the list of physicians the Imperial Medical Department had sent to the Marquis’s household, Gerard had narrowed it down to five, and three were pending final approval. For now, the estate still had no official physician—meaning Gerard was the only one who could fill that role.

“It’s not because it hurts, Ria. I’m just hungry. Could you tell Lily to prepare a meal?”

Lily was the girl who had become Estella’s personal maid in Ria’s stead.

“Yes! I’ll prepare it right away!”

At the word hungry, Ria flustered as though it were a dire emergency and hurried out. Though Estella had told her to pass the task to Lily, Ria’s anxious nature meant she likely ran straight to the kitchen herself.

In fact, Lily had often worried aloud that Ria kept doing her work—that if things went on like this, she might lose her position as Estella’s exclusive maid. That post was currently the most hotly contested role in the Marquis’s estate.

Miraclelium production management, patent work—Ria already had far more duties than one might expect. Add in all the small errands she insisted on handling herself, and not even two bodies would have been enough. Yet if it was for Estella, Ria was always the first to throw herself in.

Once Ria had left, Estella looked around, then slipped quietly out to the balcony. She couldn’t risk manifesting magic inside and accidentally setting furniture or bedding aflame.

“At this rate, I’ll be stronger than Gerard, won’t I?”

Remembering how Aslan had come to possess magic power surpassing even the Mage Tower’s master, Estella chuckled to herself. She was terribly curious what kind of face Gerard would make if that happened.

From memory, she easily recalled a passage the former Estella had read in a book on magical theory:

“Within every living creature lies an energy-converting organ called the mana core. It absorbs ether particles mixed into the atmosphere, stores them, and circulates them. The transformed ether is then restructured according to one’s innate attribute, manifesting as unique mana.”

She remembered every word, line for line, from how obsessively she had read it. With that kind of fervor, she could have carved out her own life—so why had the former Estella buried herself in books instead?

Still, thanks to that, she now had this opportunity.

Following what she’d read, Estella sat cross-legged in meditation posture, pressing thumb and forefinger together and resting her hands on her knees. She closed her eyes to focus—then suddenly tilted her head.

“This doesn’t feel right, does it?”

The pose seemed more suited to chanting Namu Amitabul than anything else. Hardly appropriate for this world. She jumped up, drew a deep breath, and instead focused on the sensation in her fingertips.

The heat told her that the magic awakening within her was probably fire-aspected. The thought thrilled her so much that her heart thudded and her breath quickened.

She waited.

Goosebumps prickled along her arms as she felt something slowly gather at her fingertips. With each thump of her heart, the warmth grew more distinct.

And then—finally—something burst at her fingertip.

Pyonk!

A tiny flame popped into being—no larger than a lighter’s flicker, more like the flame of a candle.

“Eh? What’s this? That’s it?”

Expecting something grand, Estella stared, aghast. It looked like nothing more than a portable lighter. She concentrated again, over and over—

Pyonk!

Pyonk!

Even after changing her stance, the result was the same.

Then, a remembered line struck her like a stone dropping through her chest:

“All living beings possess a mana core, but activation and ether-conversion efficiency vary by individual. If absorption is meager or transformation losses high, then even if mana manifests outwardly, output and duration are severely limited.”

“Damn it!”

Indeed—Estella was of a constitution with no talent for magic.

“Haah…”

After all the hardship to secure and consume that mana core, for nothing?

Despairing, she clutched at her hair—then forced herself to think positively.

'Still, it might work for Ciel or Luka.'

Even if only those two gained results, it would be meaningful. So she set aside her fleeting dream of becoming a mage.

“At least I brought back the obsidian. That’s what matters.”

She said it aloud for reassurance, though her lips still pouted further with disappointment.

Changing straight into her training clothes, Estella went directly to the forge, where expansion construction was in full swing. On the road to Belzram, after Zuhara, this forge had filled her mind most of all. It was destined to become Wintfall’s symbol of weapon-crafting.

The moment Dolan spotted her, he threw down his hammer and came running at a sprint.

“My lady!”

The others working nearby also noticed her and broke into broad smiles, bowing deeply.

They had heard about her dangerous expedition—so seeing her safe filled Dolan’s face with both relief and joy.

To him, Estella was far more than a noble to be politely served. In his eyes shone both affection and reverence.

“You’ve been well? The construction is nearly finished, I see.”

Estella slowly looked around. Hammering and sawing resounded from all sides, the heavy scent of iron filling the air. Paradoxically, she felt more at home here than in any soft bed—truly back where she belonged.

The forge expansion, at its height, was like a great dragon swelling its body, ready to take flight. The living, breathing sight made her heart race all over again.

'So what if I have no talent for magic? I have this magnificent forge instead!'

Who knew? That pitiful flame might yet prove useful one day. Better than nothing, she reminded herself firmly.

Dwelling on regrets wasn’t in her nature.

With dwarves aiding the work, progress was strikingly fast. If only humans had been involved, they would be less than halfway done by now.

Once there had only been the second forge. Now, after expansion, there were five, each dedicated to different weapon types. Every hall had been widened to maximum capacity, ready for future production lines.

And Dolan oversaw all of it.

“Yes. Once the fourth and fifth halls are complete, the whole project will be nearly finished.”

Pride glowed in his face. He had never dreamed of being master of a forge so grand. Each time he looked at the site, his chest swelled. And it was all thanks to Estella—no, to the vice-commander.

“The workers have increased. Are they all dwarves?” Estella asked, noticing unfamiliar faces. She already knew every dwarf and half-dwarf who had worked with Dolan before.

“Yes, word spread among the dwarves that Wintfall treats them well. And when they heard that a half-dwarf like me had become master smith, many came seeking work.”

As Dolan had predicted, more and more skilled talent was gathering in Wintfall.

“That’s a fine thing. Dwarves are excellent craftsmen. They’ll be a great boon to Wintfall. All thanks to you.”

Like a young predator, Wintfall grew stronger by the day. Estella inspected the steady progress closely, ticking through her plans one by one.

After a thorough round of the forge, she moved on to the training grounds.

There, the clash of iron rang against her ears, mixing with the scent of sweat. Knights wielding shields, spears, and wooden swords moved in disciplined unison, their footprints carving deep marks in the sand-packed yard.

The first to notice her were the resting soldiers nearby. One whispered, “It’s the lady!” and soon heads turned all around. The rattle of armor filled the air as men bowed deeply.

“Vice-Commander! You’ve returned safely!”

“Were you injured?”

Voices poured forth with concern, warming the atmosphere that had been taut with discipline moments before.

“You haven’t been slacking on your training, I trust?”

Estella smiled at them as a senior soldier might at juniors.

“Of course not!”

“Commander’s been the most diligent. He’s trained every single day with the repeating crossbow, vowing he’ll surpass your skills!”

Others chimed in eagerly, like schoolboys telling their teacher stories of a classmate’s feats. Estella had become indispensable to the order itself.

And, as the saying goes, speak of the tiger—Lucius himself soon strode into the yard, drenched in sweat. He must have just been training with the repeating crossbow.

Impressed by the veteran’s undimmed zeal, Estella bowed deeply.

“Commander, I’ve returned.”

“Well done.”

Lucius smiled gently and tapped her shoulder twice as one might with any comrade.

“I hear you haven’t missed a day practicing with the crossbow.”

Glancing slyly at her subordinates, Estella spoke with a smile. Lucius chuckled awkwardly, then his eyes gleamed with mischief as he challenged,

“Naturally. Well then—how about a match?”

“With pleasure.”

Estella’s competitive fire burned as hot as anyone’s.

Her spirited acceptance drew a cheer from the knights, as though children had been given a new game.

“Wooooah!”

Soon, two practice crossbows stood side by side in the yard. The order split into two camps, each shouting for their chosen champion.

Two squires set up Dolan’s specially made disc-launcher at the far end of the field.

The tension was palpable, but both Estella and Lucius wore confident smiles.

Lucius went first.

As the cheering died down—

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whooshwhooshwhoosh!

Dozens of discs shot into the air.

And—

Swaaaash!

Thwack! Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!

Lucius’s bolts blasted every disc from the sky.

A perfect hundred hits, a hundred strikes!

“Wooooaaah!”

His men roared as Lucius raised both arms like a conquering general.

“Your turn. Tell me—can you defeat me?”

“You’ll see the result yourself.”

Estella grinned and stepped before Invincible No. 1.

Whooshwhooshwhooshwhoosh!

As discs soared into the air, the heat she’d felt that morning surged again at her fingertips.

Swaaaash!

The instant she fired—

Kwagagagagagang! Kwa-BOOM!

Her bolt struck a disc, and with a thunderous roar, a massive flame erupted across the sky.

Chapter 159

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