Reincarnated as the Weakest Shadow Queen in the Academy-Chapter 39: One-Sided Beatdown

Stars.

Ciel frowned. Shadows were given lives and forms, but the Stars? The former shadebeast never thought of them as ’living’.

But she didn’t dare to underestimate the System’s texts. Perhaps there were indeed higher beings in Lethadial beyond her understanding.

Though reality grounded her small self with a grim weight.

She watched as the groggy man grabbed the rabbit’s ear. A yank, and the rabbit’s knee dragged over the rough floor, turning the injury into a blistered mess.

Lifting her, he shouted with lips ghosting her ear. "Pay us back, you dumb fuck! Or else the Young Master will have you kneeling in debts!"

Unfortunately, the girl’s whimpers earned only the passersby’s sympathy, but their glares at the violent human gang did nothing.

Quia’s eyes held a flat, unimpressed anger, and so did Ciel’s.

Their heads turned to each other.

They both gave an affirming, wordless nod.

And they rushed in with a resolved look.

A light flashed in Ciel’s hand, then her staff emerged before pointing forward.

The battle with the Stormveil taught Ciel well.

She recalled the sensation back then as they closed in. The man shook at their advances, but Ciel’s aim was already a few feet away.

A softer move of her mind. And Ciel’s staff pulsed, firing a small, quivering moonblast.

It met the man’s wrist as he winced, forcing him to release the girl. A black patch of burn seared where his vitals were, a less brutal alternative to his hand being chopped off.

He shouted with fury. "Connor!"

Another young man rushed out with his staff hoisted. A chant later, and a blue barrier arose right before Ciel and Quia’s feet, blocking them just an inch away from their enemies.

The injured man scoffed, his smirk a breath away from the sighing Quia.

Other mercenaries darted forth. One drew his daggers, and the other raised his bow before shooting.

The arrow burst through the air, reaching the barrier before a tiny gap opened, allowing it to pass through and reach Ciel’s head.

Until the Queen’s form dissolved into white mist, its movement, fast yet telegraphic, wafted through the barrier to linger between the injured man and his other three companions.

Their pupils, as sharp as they were, couldn’t help but be attracted to the strange magic. A relief found them as the mist threatened to dissipate, returning Ciel to her vulnerable form.

The split second she manifested was when they would attack. Their shared experience allowed this wordless consent, until-

"Stripey. Paw."

A loud crash echoed behind them as the paw struck the barrier, turning its front into nothing but shards.

Gasps escaped the men. Holding the sword, the injured man rushed out to Quia with a grunt.

The archer and mage all aimed at Quia. As Ciel manifested, only a daggerman remained to flank her sides; the blade lunged for her neck.

Until its rusty tip stopped just short of the skin, Ciel’s palm, mana flashing, held the iron still with her telekinesis.

As expected, Ciel’s brows raised with the confirmation. Even with the limit that she couldn’t cast ’Spells’, ’skills’ like telekinesis were the exception.

Tired of the surprise on the daggerman’s face, her staff arced upward and struck his chin, before it drew downward and blasted a small hole into his leg.

She glanced. Bow and staff aimed her way now frantically, but she disappeared into the mist again.

The archer and mage had no time to look. Farther off, Quia caught the swordsman’s wrist mid-stab. With a pull, she snapped her ankle upward to his face, sinking a dent into his sharp nose.

She trembled. Damn, her uniform caught a nosebleed, an utter tragedy of needing to waste more gold on laundry.

The elf gave a brief sigh. Two more groans erupted ahead, and she turned with a casual hum.

Ciel, who travelled on the carriage’s top, sat with a cold, calculated look. Her staff flared, catching the archer and the mage’s wrists and disarming them in an instant.

The battle’s end was rather one-sided.

All of Ciel and Quia’s opponents were neutralized. The swordsman lay on the front with a nosebleed, and the daggerman clutched his knee while writing in pain.

The remaining two? With a brand new burn on their wrists, they held up both their arms in a natural surrender, sweat dripping along their foreheads.

Ciel watched as Quia strode towards the remaining two, a ’kind’ smile on her lips.

And with a wave of her hand, the elf’s summoned paw burst out and slammed into the two like dominoes, their figures tumbling all the way to the back.

The elf flashed an arrogant grin at Ciel, who chuckled with a flutter in her chest.

Oddly romantic? Ciel wondered before she leapt down from the carriage, settling into Quia’s embrace.

Their gazes lingered for a short moment. But as the elf’s grin grew, Ciel pushed away with a faint grumble.

"Ciel..." Quia pouted as the little queen left her, complaining. "Just a few more seconds wouldn’t hurt!"

A frown crossed Ciel’s brow. She liked the embrace, but something compelled her to draw a distance from the elf.

She wondered if that’s what Miss Dragon felt like. Maybe Ciel’s restraint, like Summer’s, also deepened with her old age?

Regardless, that was not why she left Quia.

Ciel hurried past the grunting swordsman, then lowered herself before the rabbit girl.

A red gaping wound, dusted by dirt and ashes, scarred her soft skin. Ciel lent a hand to the approaching Quia, glancing up with a sharp glint.

Sighing, Quia summoned and tossed a red potion. Ciel’s hand snatched it from the air before noticing it contained a duller red liquid compared to the one Quia used to heal her arm.

She popped it open. The rabbit girl curled up in fear, but Ciel just poured the liquid over the wound in silence.

A faint hiss of smoke erupted from the gnash. The rabbit trembled at the pain before the wound sealed itself, leaving only a faint scar on her skin.

Problems solved. Ciel nodded to the tired rabbit girl. "Are you okay?"

Their classmate, or perhaps senior, nodded. "Mm. Thanks... you two were very skilled against the mercenaries."

Ciel’s ears perked up at a dull thud striking flesh from behind. Her pupils darted as Quia moved her leg away from the groaning man, now decorated with a new, fresh bruise on his forehead.

"Don’t mind it," Quia rolled her eyes. "Trash like this was everywhere. Damn it. The guards should be here by now. What a stain upon the Bastion’s reputation."

Both the stall owners and passersby, attracted by the beatdown, had a grumbling look on their faces upon Quia’s words.

But as if on cue, metallic steps echoed from afar, attracting Ciel and Quia’s attentions.

A familiar man with beast-like eyes strode forth, his green‑lined jacket hanging open to expose the muscles beneath.

Guards tailed behind him, their annoyed glares openly fixed on the man.