Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 105: Christina’s popularity

Chapter 105: Christina’s popularity

Sir Balen stood at the edge of the upper terrace overlooking the training grounds. His usually proud figure was now trembling, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. His gloved hands clutched the stone railing tightly, knuckles white.

"Are my eyes deceiving me...?" he muttered under his breath. He was trying his best to act like he didn’t know what was going on.

Next to him stood Archmage Mandira, a tall and elegant woman dressed in beautiful robes embroidered with different aptterns. Her slightly violet hair flowed like liquid rainbow down her back, and her sharp eyes swept across the scene below with intensity.

A vein throbbed on her forehead.

"Balen," she said coldly, her voice like a blade in velvet. "Weren’t knight training duels supposed to be one-on-one?"

Sir Balen flinched. "Y-yes, Principal...Archmage. That is the standard protocol."

Mandira tilted her head slightly. "Then perhaps you would care to explain why Baron Percival’s daughter—Christina, isn’t it?—is currently fending off six opponents at once?"

Down below, the courtyard echoed with the clash of swords. Christina, hair dishevelledby the constant moving but she moved like a whirlwind, her blade deflecting, dancing, cutting—not lethally, but with stunning precision. Sweat glistened on her brow, but her expression was focused and resolute.

She was surrounded, but not overwhelmed. In fact, she was managing to fend off everyone, but barely. She knew exhaustion would catch up to her real quick before she can fend off everyone.

Even for these high and mighty nobles, this was a new low in her book—she never thought they would gang up on her like this, and in public, no less.

"I-I have no idea how this came to be," Balen stammered.

"Is that so?" Mandira’s eyes narrowed. "Then it seems you may not be suited for your position. A man in power who cannot even monitor the actions of those under him... is useless."

Balen clenched his fists. "Archmage—"

"Save it." Her gaze never left Christina. "Even in this ridiculous situation, she’s holding her ground. In fact... she’s defeating them all. But that doesn’t mean Iwould tolerate this."

Mandira’s voice softened just slightly, tinged with something like admiration.

She folded her arms and continued, "Remind me again, Balen. When I asked for recommendations for the best knight student, whose name did you provide?"

Balen was silent.

"I see," Mandira said quietly. "You didn’t mention her. I wonder why."

Her eyes flicked toward him, and her lips curled into a frown. "No need to answer. I can guess. After all... your family has always been quite vocal about ’noble purity.’ I suppose the daughter of a baron simply doesn’t meet your standards."

Down below, the duel intensified—only to be interrupted by a sudden flicker in Mandira’s eyes. She noticed something unusual. Something glowing faintly, pulsing with arcane power.

Christina’s sword.

The archmage’s brows furrowed. That was no ordinary blade. Even with the academy’s standard enchantments—high-tier anti-lethal wards she herself had designed—it radiated a presence all its own.

"Huh? Is that a magic sword?" Mandira was baffled by what she felt, but that wasn’t the main thing that caught her attention. It was the same sensation she had experienced from those dung-covered iron ingots that had attacked the runaway assassins. And now, this sword. Her suspicions that this girl was connected to everything were starting to feel like the truth.

Her eyes widened. "That sword..."

Without another word, Mandira raised her voice, her magic-infused voice booming across the training ground like a thunderclap.

"HALT THIS DUEL—IMMEDIATELY!"

Every student stopped in their tracks. Swords dropped to their sides. A wave of silence swept over the field.

The knights supervising the session turned pale knowing this was bad. All of them bowed instinctively at the sight of the archmage descending from the terrace, her mage cloak billowing behind her like a storm cloud.

Mandira was well-respected—feared, even. She was more than a teacher. She was a legend.

If Juno was the face of the Sturgon knighthood, Mandira was the soul of its arcane might.

Even Christina, still catching her breath, dropped into a respectful bow. "Archmage Mandira."

Mandira nodded. "Be at ease, Baroness daughter Christina. Come. Walk with me."

Christina blinked, unsure. But she stepped forward, sheathing her blade.

The crowd parted for them as the two walked away from the training ground, silence lingering in their wake.

But before leaving the crowd, Mandira left a clear remark of how all of them would have to answer for what she witnessed.

After a few moments of walking down the marble corridor beside the courtyard, Mandira finally spoke.

"I must apologize."

Christina looked up, surprised. "Pardon?"

Mandira stopped walking and turned to her, voice quieter but earnest. "For not noticing the bullying happening under my nose. It is a failure on my part."

Christina’s eyes widened. "Archmage, no... please, don’t say that. It’s not anyone’s fault but my own. I let it happen. I didn’t speak up."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Mandira’s lips. "And yet... you stood your ground today, against overwhelming odds. That speaks to your strength—and your growth."

Christina looked down at her hands, still trembling slightly from the duel. "I won’t let them push me around anymore. Not now. I’m not the same girl I was when I came here."

"A commendable mentality," Mandira said softly. "Admirable, even."

Her eyes then drifted to the sword strapped to Christina’s waist. "But tell me, Christina. That sword—where did you get it?"

Christina hesitated.

"It’s... a gift," she said finally. "From someone important."

Mandira’s smile deepened. "A precious gift, clearly. The craftsmanship is unlike anything I’ve seen before. It radiates a subtle enchantment... and not from this academy. No, this is something else."

Christina’s eyes flickered, and an image surfaced in her mind—Shennong, with his gentle smile and strange aura, handing her the sword beneath the moonlight of her home’s forest glade. Which is a dangerous sign for her because that’s not what happened, but for some reason she had started to vision him as a prince.

Why was she seeing such figure of her mother’s illegal boyfriend?

"I... I’m not sure what he is to me," she whispered.

Mandira didn’t press. Instead, she nodded knowingly. "Sometimes, we don’t realize someone’s place in our hearts until long after they’ve given us something unforgettable."

A silence passed between them, warm and filled with unspoken understanding.

Then Mandira tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "Do you think I could meet the blacksmith who forged that sword? I’d pay a very handsome sum for a blade of such caliber."

Christina smiled faintly. "If I ever return to my barony and see him again, I’ll ask."

"Please do." Mandira gave a small chuckle. "Even an archmage can appreciate fine steel."

The moment of levity passed, and Mandira’s gaze turned serious again.

"As for those who dared gang up on you... I’ll deal with them. Higher nobles or not, their titles do not excuse their actions. Bullying, especially under the guise of training, has no place in my academy."

Christina’s chest swelled with a quiet relief. "Thank you, Archmage."

"One more thing," Mandira added. "I understand you’ve grown close with Princess Maria."

Christina blinked, unsure of what to say. "She’s... a little strange, but sweet. I wouldn’t dare to overstep my boundaries, Archmage"

"That’s not what I am here for," Mandira gave her a wry smile. "Maria speaks highly of you. I think she finds solace in your presence. I hope you’ll continue being her friend. She doesn’t have many genuine ones. I know that girl ever since she was a young girl. She might look like a tough girl, but she is just as feminine and soft as we are."

"I’ll try," Christina said, smiling to herself. She realized that Mandira might be really close to Princess Maria to speak about her like that.

With a nod, Mandira turned and began walking away, her cloak swaying. "Then until we meet again, Baron daughter, Christina."

Christina watched her go, the weight in her heart a little lighter.

She reached down and touched the hilt of her sword.

Not sure what he is to me... she thought again.

But when she closed her eyes, Shennong’s smile came back clearer than ever.

"Damn it! Go away, you cocky man," she muttered to herself as she walked back into the training grounds—only to find that everyone was now ignoring her, looking rather uneasy.

But then, suddenly, a certain man stepped forward, and she immediately recognized him. Without hesitation, she gave the typical noble salute.

This man was none other than Daniel Marciel, the nephew of Juno Marciel—one of the most prestigious figures in the knight faculty and the current Student Council President, now working under the Order One as a trainee under his uncle’s guidance.

Why is he here? For what purpose? Everyone was confused.

Then Daniel spoke, his voice calm and measured. "I came here to meet Princess Maria. But... I didn’t expect to see such a talented knight."

"Thank you, my lord," Christina said, bowing slightly and already preparing to excuse herself—only to freeze at his next words.

Daniel made a sudden proposition that left the crowd gasping. It wasn’t just as Juno Marciel’s nephew—but as the Student Council President himself.

"Would you like to apply for the Student Council? There are a few open spots."

His words were simple, yet they rippled through the crowd like a thunderclap. Christina gasped too, stunned by the unexpected attention. Every day, she seemed to be drawing more and more eyes.

And deep down, she knew: she had someone to thank for it.

Shennong... she thought, a quiet smile forming on her lips. If you hadn’t encouraged me to stand up and change... I’d still be hiding in the shadows.

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