After their duels, Anna and Elisabeth are taken to the locker rooms to receive treatment, under the watchful eye of their mother. Their faces are still flushed with exertion, but their eyes burn with an inner fire.
Outside, the fanfares erupt. Drums thunder against the ground. Trumpets pierce the sky. It's time for the tournament of the seasoned knightesses.
And at the front of the line, she appears.
Rubi Fort De Rush.
Younger sister of Marquise Diamond. Twenty-seven years old. Beautiful. Incredibly stylish. Blood-red hair, short, cut with bangs. Immaculate armor, a scarlet cape that swirls like flame. Her smile? Arrogant. Irresistible. She alone embodies the blazing excess of the warrior nobility. They call her the White Knight—but it's the red of her fire that brands itself into memory.
In the stands, the connoisseurs whisper with excitement:
— "I didn't know she was back…"
— "Rubi loves surprises. And that's why we love her."
— "Taking over from her sister in the order of mage-knights? That's no small feat. But she does it with flair."
Rias remains frozen. He's never seen her before, and yet she has that same brilliance as his mother — a blend of elegance and power that intimidates him. Beside him, his father Yelo leans in with a small smile:
— "That's her, the famous aunt Anna and Eli always talk about. Get ready, son. You're about to witness a real show."
And indeed, Rubi raises her hand, winks at the crowd, then murmurs an incantation…
But this time, it's not a spell reserved for the initiated. No. It's a ritual known by all. The stands, in unison, chant the words of the Goddess Inami:
"There are moments, too, for celebration: the dragon's dance!"
Then, in a rustle of wind and embers, a massive azure dragon bursts from her palm. It swirls above the arena, caressing the crowd with a burning yet controlled breath. Children scream with joy. Adults erupt into fervent applause.
Rias holds his breath.
Blue flames.
And then he understands: Rubi doesn't just control fire — she blends it with wind. In the elemental cycle, some rare combinations give birth to a different kind of flame — hotter, more volatile, more precise. She wields them with unnerving ease.
And then, the fight begins.
Her opponent? A poor victim. A moving target in a demonstration of absolute mastery.
Rubi could win in a single strike. But no. She plays. She flaunts. She cycles through ember incantations, makes her blade dance in a cruel ballet. The opponent ends up surrendering, heart crushed, beneath the laughter and cheers.
That's Rubi — arrogant power. Combat turned into theatre.
Diamond, returning from the infirmary with Anna in her arms, can't help but mutter, weary:
— "Ah… That fool Rubi. Always pulling that disgraceful stunt, even as an army general… I'll have to remind her what dignity means."
But before she can say another word, Anna bolts like an arrow:
— "Aunt Rubiiiii!"
Rubi turns, her smile widening:
— "If it isn't my little monster, the one I just saw shining in the arena!"
— "So you're back?"
— "In the flesh, sweetheart. Haha! And how's Eli?"
— "She's sleeping. Just really tired…"
— "Of course. The fury of the stealth dragon is a brutal spell. Her head and little muscles aren't quite ready for that kind of speed."
Diamond approaches, still grumbling:
— "Come along. It's time for the medal ceremony."
Amid the cheers, the apprentices step onto the podium. Ranked by merit — calculated from their camp scores and the final duel:
Gold Medal: Élisabeth. 51 points at camp, 23 in the duel. Top apprentice of the year.
Idris accepts the medal on her behalf, as Eli is still receiving treatment.
Silver Medal: Barbara. 49 points at camp, 15 in the duel. Solid, but defeated.
Bronze Medal: Anna. 37 points at camp, but 24 points in the duel. The best performance of the tournament.
The crowd is speechless.
— "Did you see that? 24, 23 points from a single duel… that's unheard of."
— "That means Anna and Eli are already fighting at confirmed knight level."
— "These kids are going to rewrite the Empire's history."
And it's not over.
Because after the apprentices, come the honor medals — awarded to knightesses for services rendered. A whole different category. A whole different league…
When it's all over, the people return home. And you can see it on their faces — what a fulfilling day it's been. Children reenact Rubi's moves all along the road…
The sun had long since set, but in the high hall of the Rush estate, an old tension was rekindling—like a forgotten duel that refuses to die.
Around the long marble table, veined with gold, sat four women. Four pillars of a world.
At the back of the room, nearly invisible, Rias watched alongside his fathers. Far away—yet close enough to learn. Anna and Elisabeth were already in bed. They are really tired.
Mariane was the first to break the silence, a faint smile on her lips.
— "My former students. Three prodigies. Three heretics. Three who've been absent from the halls of learning for... far too long."
A soft laugh escaped Rubi's throat.
— "Mistress, you know I never had the patience to stay locked inside a classroom. But everything I am, I owe to you."
Tales inclined her head, placing a hand on her heart.
— "As for me, I've always admired your discipline. Though some only remembered the scent of cooking... and the clash of blades."
— "And others hid away in libraries to avoid real battles, murmured Rubi, a sly smile on her lips."
Tales didn't respond. She raised her cup with the air of a weary noblewoman.
— "A toast. To knowledge. And apparently, to brutality."
Rubi raised her glass too, her voice honeyed.
— "And to magic that doesn't stay locked in books. Magic... that protects."
Mariane, unfazed, answered the question burning on everyone's lips.
— "Anna and Elisabeth are brilliant children. I see no reason they should wait until fourteen to take the concours. On the contrary, the earlier they begin, the better. They could pass on what they discover to future generations."
— "Naturally", said Tales. "And it goes without saying they have all the makings for advanced magical modeling. Elisabeth is mastering a Mistress-level spell at eight years old. And Anna—not only is she literally translating that technique into other elements, she's achieved the feat of the first non-verbal spell. The Academy will open… their true destiny."
— "Yes, yes, the Academy will know how to nurture their talent. We all agree that the warrior's soul runs deep in them. And this new fighting style of Anna's is simply groundbreaking. The poor wind-users finally have their moment of glory."
—"Oh, I see where you're going with this, General", replied Tales coldly. "But this isn't a question of possession. It's a matter of orientation—and avoiding the reckless risks certain factions love to impose on their recruits."
— "Oh?" said Rubi. "I simply don't want to waste these children's talents by having them cloistered in labs, hiding far behind the front lines."
— "Wisdom still hasn't reached you. War isn't just about charging headfirst. There are strategies."
— "And humility still hasn't touched you, huh? The battle is at the front, little prince."
Mariane raised a hand. But the storm had already broken. Rubi leaned forward, her eyes ablaze.
— "You want them to join the Tower because you want successors. Another trophy on your shelf."
— "A child you want to train to strike before she thinks. Just like you. As if blood on your hands were worth a crown."
— "Please… they are De Rush. Believe me, armor suits them perfectly."
— "Wake up, Rubi. A non-verbal spell just happened. That era is over."
Without anyone realizing it, the rising voices awaken old traumas in Rias. He turns his face into his father Idris' chest. His heart is beating just a little too fast. He doesn't cry, but he clings tightly to his father's robe.
Because yes, it always starts like this. The shouting. The rage. Then the hands rise. And when those adults aren't satisfied with their arguments added by their caresses, they turn on the children. And when I say "children," I mean Rias. To see him dragged around while they're still in their romantic haze—between the sky-colored stains on bare skin—little Rias ruins all the pleasure.
And what I'm saying is still an understatement, compared to the brutalism of those men—unable to find redemption in their past mistakes, ruining their present, and most of all, their future.
Rias tries his best not to remember, but he remembers anyway—right down to the pain. And Idris instantly understands something's wrong. So he shouts:
— "Diamond."
Looking at her husband and child, Diamond finally raises her voice—but without yelling.
— "Enough."
She didn't raise her tone. Yet even the walls fall silent.
— "Your grudges don't interest me. Your regrets even less. What you're projecting onto my daughters… is revolting."
Tales tenses. Rubi lowers her eyes, just for a moment. She sits down like a sulking child.
— "Anna and Elisabeth don't belong to your factions. Nor to your past glory. Nor to your dreams of legacy. Yes, they will go to the Academy. And there, they will choose. The path they want. And you… you will let them."
Mariane adds, softer—perhaps more wounded:
— "We've all forgotten something. We were students once. And someone gave us the right to become who we are. Let's not steal that from them."
A heavy silence follows. Not one of tension—but of truth.
Diamond concludes, locking eyes with the two rival women:
— "What these children have already shown… will attract eyes, jealousy, traps. They are strong—but they're still children. Above all, they need our protection. I want to protect their childhood. Their freedom. Because that's the only kind of strength no one can take from them."
Then she turns to Mariane:
— "Mistress, thanks to you I came to understand the power of knowledge. And you're still giving special attention to my daughters. You don't know how grateful I am. But first, I want them to enjoy their childhood. I will propose to Anna to take the concours at age twelve—but I will not force her before fourteen. And I'll do the same with Eli."
Strangely, it's Rias who feels most soothed by his mother's words. How many times had he longed to be considered and protected like that? To feel free and safe at the same time. Is there any better feeling in the world? I don't think so.
He falls asleep peacefully in his father's arms—and just like that, the meeting comes to an end.