Chapter 52: Blind Ego
Jessica barely glanced back at the arena as she walked away. Behind her, the noble spectators still murmured, processing the abrupt end of the match, while attendants rushed toward the battlefield to tend to Hannelore.
Hannelore was still conscious, still standing—barely. The fight had ended, but it didn't feel like a proper loss. It felt like something worse. Like she wasn't just beaten but completely dismantled.
Jessica didn't need to see her face to know what it looked like. The weight of failure. The feeling of coming up short in a way that couldn't be rationalized or excused. Hannelore had pushed herself as far as she could go, and it still hadn't been enough.
Jessica exhaled, adjusting her pace as she made her way toward the staging area. She had a fight coming up.
Edgar was next.
⸻
Jessica stepped onto the arena floor, rolling her shoulders as she walked with calm, measured ease. The steady hum of anticipation rippled through the crowd, but she ignored it, her focus entirely on her own body.
Her muscles were still tight from her previous fight, and she couldn't afford even the slightest stiffness here. Flexibility would be everything. Thunder magic was unforgiving—if she let the tension stay in her limbs, she'd be paralyzed the moment Edgar landed a hit.
So as she crossed the stone floor, she tilted her head left, then right, loosening the joints in her neck. Her arms lifted in a slow, deliberate stretch, pulling across her body, forcing every stiffened muscle back into fluidity.
She rolled her wrists, flexed her fingers, tested her footwork—not as an intimidation tactic, but as a necessity.
The nobles watching could think whatever they wanted. She wasn't here for their approval.
She was here to make sure every part of her body could still move after she got hit with a lightning bolt.
Jessica barely noticed Seraphina until she was almost past her.
The princess was standing near the exit, lingering just long enough to ensure Jessica saw her.
Jessica kept walking—until she caught the look Seraphina shot her.
Frustration.
Jessica blinked. What the hell did I do?
She didn't know this person. Had never spoken to her.
Actually—Jessica frowned slightly—had they ever even spoken to each other?
Seraphina had been involved in plenty of things around Jessica—the candle stunt, the noble faction rumors, maneuvering political circles—but she had always used someone else as a mouthpiece. She had never once spoken to Jessica directly.
That was… actually impressive.
Jessica exhaled. This had to be about the candles. She had assumed that was just some harmless prank.
Still, she didn't see what the big deal was. If Seraphina wanted to be annoyed, that was her problem.
Jessica moved past her without a word.
Seraphina, however, watched her go, her blue eyes sharp with something unreadable.
⸻
Jessica stepped toward the judges' table, her voice level and composed.
"I wasn't able to make it to the magic evaluation earlier," she stated. "Can I take an affinity test now?"
The lead official—a middle-aged instructor who had likely already written her off as a physical combat brute with zero magical talent—blinked at her in mild disbelief.
"You missed your evaluation," he said, barely restraining a sigh.
Jessica nodded. "I did."
His lips pressed together, as if debating whether or not to entertain this at all.
"Lady Moran," he said, voice deliberately neutral, "as I'm sure you are aware, you do not have magic capacity—"
"I know." Jessica cut him off smoothly. "But I still have sensitivity, don't I?"
The official narrowed his eyes.
Jessica held his gaze.
"Affinity and capacity aren't the same thing," she continued calmly. "Even if I can't cast, I can still sense magic and react to it."
Murmurs spread through the gathered spectators.
Jessica was deliberately wording this carefully.
She wasn't claiming an elemental affinity. That would have been an outright lie.
She was claiming sensitivity.
And while she didn't have the ability to cast, her body reacted to magic in ways that weren't entirely normal.
The official exhaled through his nose.
"We're not doing this right now," he muttered, waving a dismissive hand.
Jessica didn't react immediately. She simply tilted her head slightly, then—without any shift in expression—dropped a single, measured line.
"What if I can win blindfolded?"
Silence.
Actual silence.
The official, who had been halfway through dismissing her, physically stopped.
The murmurs ceased.
Jessica remained perfectly still. Unbothered. Her face unreadable.
The official blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said," Jessica repeated, tone flat, "what if I can win blindfolded?"
The weight of her words crashed through the stadium like a hammer.
Because everyone knew what this fight was.
This was a rigged match.
Edgar's Thunder Magic was her direct counter. The academy had designed this fight to humiliate her.
And yet—she just claimed she could win without even looking.
The official opened his mouth—then closed it.
Jessica didn't smirk, didn't gloat—her expression never changed.
She was dead serious.
The official looked completely flabbergasted.
Because this wasn't arrogance.
This was a girl who had no reason to say this—saying it with complete certainty.
He glanced toward the Headmaster's private viewing box, silently asking: What do you want me to do with this?
⸻
Around the stadium, the reactions were immediate and chaotic.
"She's insane."
"No way she actually means that."
"This has to be a bluff, right?"
"…What if it's not?"
Lucien, who had been watching from the noble section, slowly leaned forward, fingers steepled.
Interesting.
Jessica had made bold statements before.
But this was different.
Tobias would have laughed if he were here. Magnus would have tilted his head, maybe nodded in mild approval.
Seraphina? She would have smirked and started planning.
But none of them were here.
This was just Jessica and Edgar.
And Edgar?
Edgar did not laugh.
He simply studied her.
Because Jessica Moran was not a liar.
And if she said something like that, it meant she had already calculated a way to do it.
And that?
That made him uneasy.
————
The instructor still looked stunned.
Jessica, however, remained completely unfazed.
"Well?" she asked, tone level. "What is it?"
The instructor hesitated.
Jessica tilted her head slightly. "It doesn't make a difference to me. Vision won't change the outcome of this match." Her arms crossed over her chest, gaze steady. "I'm just asking for a fair evaluation. Considering I can't cast spells, I can most certainly do other things."
That statement sent another ripple through the audience.
It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't bluffing.
Jessica had already convinced herself of this.
And that was what made it so unsettling.
The instructor instinctively glanced toward the Headmaster's private viewing box.
A silent question: Are we really doing this?
The Headmaster—who had been watching with an unreadable expression—gave a slow, deliberate nod.
That was all the confirmation the instructor needed.
He sighed through his nose, shifting his posture as if resigning himself to this absurdity.
"…Very well."
Another wave of murmurs rippled through the stadium.
The official raised a hand, gesturing toward a nearby attendant. "Fetch a blindfold."
⸻
At this point, nobody was shocked that Jessica had inhuman reflexes.
They weren't debating whether she could react without vision.
They already knew she could.
The real question was: How the hell was she going to deal with an area-wide attack?
Concentrated magic? Fine.
Jessica could read small, sharp threats.
But shockwaves?
Pulse magic?
Thunder magic that didn't need to be aimed?
Those would rip her apart.
Lightning didn't travel in predictable patterns. It was wild, chaotic. The mana was unstable, the casting delay was barely a fraction of a second, and the range was absurd.
Even at full capacity, Jessica had never been able to dodge wide-area attacks.
And now?
Now she was taking away her sight completely.
That made no sense.
And that, if nothing else, made this worthy of being humored.
Not for respect.
Not for fairness.
But for cynical curiosity.
If Jessica wanted to turn this fight into an experiment, they were more than happy to watch it happen.
⸻
Edgar felt his entire body tense.
What the actual hell was this?
He had already been frustrated when this matchup was announced.
Jessica specialized in countering precision attacks—her entire fighting style was built around weaving through focused strikes, evading pinpoint magic, and punishing hesitation.
His Thunder Magic didn't even need to be accurate.
This was a terrible matchup for her.
But now?
Now he was stuck in an even worse situation.
If he won, he just beat up a cripple.
If he lost, he lost to a blindfolded cripple.
There was no honorable outcome.
This wasn't a real fight anymore.
It was a spectacle.
And he was just another part of Jessica Moran's ridiculous performance.
His fingers twitched as he exhaled sharply through his nose.
He knew what was happening.
Jessica wasn't mocking him.
She wasn't even doing this to humiliate him.
She was doing this because she didn't care about him at all.
She wasn't fighting Edgar von Riefenstahl.
She was fighting the concept of this matchup.
As if he was just an obstacle rather than an opponent.
Edgar hated that.
His jaw tightened as he turned toward the instructor.
"Are we really doing this?" he asked, voice clipped.
The instructor just sighed again. "Yes."
A moment later, an attendant arrived with the blindfold, placing it on the table near Jessica.
Jessica reached for it—but didn't put it on.
Not yet.
Instead, she stayed perfectly still.
And then—her eyes began to glow.
⸻
The crowd gasped.
Not in fear.
Not in awe.
But in pure confusion.
Jessica's eyes glowed green.
Aura manifestation.
A relic of the past.
Something considered useless.
The Vampire Duke, watching from the private booth, raised an eyebrow.
Not in shock.
Not in alarm.
But in thought.
The Headmaster, on the other hand, showed no visible reaction.
Because he had already been expecting something strange.
But even he had to admit—this was unexpected.
Jessica wasn't just using aura.
She was using it ten years too early.
Most swordsmen who trained their entire lives, completely forsaking magic, didn't reach this level until their mid-twenties.
Jessica?
Jessica had never once been seen practicing aura.
Yet here she was.
And she looked completely confident about it.
⸻
Jessica blinked once—then smirked.
A slow, sharp, dangerous grin.
Something about it was completely uncharacteristic.
For the first time in this entire exchange—she looked like she was enjoying herself.
The air around her felt different.
She tilted her head, stretching her neck slightly. Crack.
Then, with absolute, undeniable arrogance, she said:
"Are you ready to get your ass beat?"
The crowd didn't even know how to respond.
Shock.
Silence.
She was acting like she already won.
⸻
Jessica reached for her rapier.
A delicate, refined weapon.
Then—without warning—
She slammed it into the arena floor.
CRACK.
The stone split beneath her.
Jessica kept smiling.
The nobles watching weren't scared.
They were confused.
Because this wasn't power.
This wasn't some new technique.
This was Jessica Moran acting like she was about to demolish Edgar.
And no one knew why.
Finally, she reached for the blindfold.
And tied it on.
⸻
The Arena Falls Silent
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Because this wasn't just an exhibition anymore.
This wasn't just Jessica trying to prove a point.
This was something else.
Something far bigger than any of them understood.
Lucien, in the noble seating, tapped his fingers against his armrest.
For once, he didn't have a clear answer.
And that?
That was the most interesting part of all.