Chapter 19: The Cover-Up and Forced Praise
Prince Alistair von Aurelius was a paragon of nobility. His composure was unshakable, his elegance unmatched. As the future Emperor, he had been trained since birth to maintain grace in any situation.
And yet.
Standing before this, even he had to break his silence.
"...What the hell."
The battlefield was a slaughterhouse. The ground was ripped apart, gouged as if something ancient and monstrous had torn through it. Monster corpses lay in mangled piles, some bisected cleanly, others crushed into pulp. The blood had already begun to dry, soaking the soil a deep, near-black red.
The rest of the elite class stood just as stunned, trying to find an explanation.
And in the very center of it all—standing in absolute, eerie serenity—was Jessica Moran.
She was covered in blood.
She was completely unharmed.
And she did not care.
Her posture was perfect. Her expression was placid, elegant, untouched by the devastation around her. She wasn't even shaking.
In that moment, something deeply unsettling settled into their chests.
She was calmer than the prince himself.
And for the first time in their lives, they felt like she was looking down on them.
_
The arrival of the instructors shattered the silence.
Grandmaster Wolfram von Eisenwald stepped onto the battlefield first. His grizzled, battle-hardened gaze swept over the carnage. His brow furrowed.
Then, Lady Isabeau de Montclair, their Magic Theory instructor, arrived alongside two more knight instructors.
And all of them—every single one—came to an abrupt halt.
The instructors had been prepared for casualties.
They had not been prepared for this.
"...By the gods," Lady Isabeau murmured, covering her mouth. "What in the world..."
One of the knight instructors let out a low whistle. "I've seen battlefields with less destruction than this."
Grandmaster Wolfram exhaled sharply. "Who led the charge?"
At that question, a strange tension settled over the elite students.
The instructors were expecting an answer.
But the actual answer?
No one.
No one had led anything.
They had fought in isolated groups, struggling against their enemies. They had barely survived, relying on brute desperation rather than tactics.
But that was not the answer the instructors wanted.
And so—instinctively, collectively—the noble students did what they did best.
They lied.
_
"It was a group effort," Seraphina von Aurelius declared smoothly.
The instructors nodded approvingly.
"Excellent," Grandmaster Wolfram said. "This is why we train you—to prepare you for battle. This level of cooperation is commendable."
The students forced themselves to nod along.
They could feel the side-eyes from their peers. No one believed it.
But at the same time—no one corrected it.
Because the actual truth was unthinkable.
Jessica Moran had been alone.
Jessica Moran had survived alone.
Jessica Moran had done this alone.
And that was unacceptable.
_
Through all of this, Jessica said nothing.
She stood still, perfectly composed, and watched.
They had abandoned her.
And now, they were taking credit for the battle they had barely survived.
It was actually funny.
Not that she showed it.
Her pristine noble etiquette, the one they mocked her for, was the only thing keeping them sane right now.
If she had reacted, if she had gloated, if she had even smirked—
They would have lost it.
But instead, she simply inclined her head, as if none of this concerned her.
And that was so much worse.
_
Alistair kept watching her, a deep unease settling into his bones.
She was not shaking.
She was not pale.
She was standing in a war zone, in a pool of blood, and yet her demeanor was calmer than his own.
That was not normal.
That was not human.
Beside him, Lucien von Hohenfeld, who had been silent this entire time, let out a slow exhale.
"...This doesn't make sense," he muttered under his breath.
The prince nodded absently. "No. It doesn't."
_
The instructors gathered the students and recorded the event.
The official report went as follows:
• The elite class faced an unexpected monster surge.
• The students showed commendable teamwork and pushed through together.
• Six trainees died in battle, but the rest survived due to the combined efforts of the class.
Jessica Moran's name?
Barely mentioned.
Just a small note at the bottom:
• Jessica Moran was separated briefly but survived.
That was it.
She had single-handedly fought a battle that matched or exceeded the entire class's effort—and yet, as far as the official record was concerned, she was a complete non-factor.
Not even worth a footnote.
The actual truth was erased.
And that?
That was hilarious.
Jessica, for all her eerie composure, found herself almost amused.
They had been so desperate to believe she was insignificant that they had effectively removed her from their own history.
It was pathetic.
And yet—
It was convenient.
Because if they weren't even willing to acknowledge her existence?
Then they would never suspect the truth.