The Spirit Said, 'You're Unworthy as My Master, Cancel the Contract!' So I’ll Give It to My Sister Who Wants It - Episode2.24

“…Ugh!”

Crash! A dry, sharp sound echoed through the banquet hall. Suddenly, Doran clutched his throat, gasping, and fell from his chair.

“Kyaaah!”

A scream rang out, and the once peaceful atmosphere instantly changed. The room was thrown into chaos.

“What is happening!?”

Mistia leaped from her chair and rushed toward King Doran—only to be stopped by someone.

“Do not come any closer!”

Mistia froze in place.

The one who shouted was none other than Crown Prince Gilbert, Doran’s son. He cradled Doran’s head on his lap, glaring at Mistia with sharp eyes before pointing at her.

“Seize this criminal!”

“H-Huh…?”

Hearing the word “criminal,” Mistia was left in shock.

She had no idea what was happening. But Gilbert continued his accusation.

“Look at the black marks spreading across His Majesty’s skin! This is undeniable proof of a curse! The so-called Hero of Salvation from Asteria is also a user of dark magic. The only person here
capable of casting dark magic is this woman! That means she is the assassin!”

“Wh—”

What an absurd accusation!

(Wait a minute… His Majesty clearly started suffering *after* drinking the wine, right!?)

Labeled as the culprit, Mistia’s eyes widened. Of course, she had not used any dark magic on Doran. It was true that dark magic included curses, but there was no such spell that left a visible mark on the skin.

Besides, curses were powerful *because* they left no evidence. Mistia, who had mastered the highest level of dark magic, would never make such a foolish mistake as leaving proof behind.

But the other guests knew none of this. Fear and suspicion filled their gazes as they turned toward Mistia and her companions. To protect her, Skia and Solm stepped in front of Gilbert.
“Guards! Take this woman to the dungeon!”

At Gilbert’s command, armored soldiers burst through the doors, their heavy boots echoing across the floor. There were around thirty of them. Mistia stared in disbelief.

(*Wait…!? That many soldiers were waiting outside?* *This is just a banquet—why would he prepare so many guards?* *Could it be… Gilbert knew this would happen?*)

A seed of doubt sprouted in her mind.

Panic spread through the hall. Guests screamed and shoved past each other, scrambling to escape.

In the end, only Mistia’s group remained—along with the barely breathing Doran, Gilbert, and his soldiers. Sweat trickled down Mistia’s cheek as swords were pointed at her.

(*This is bad. Being accused of assassinating a king in a foreign land…! I have to save His Majesty. If I act now, there might still be time.*)

But between her and Doran stood Gilbert and his many soldiers. As Mistia grew desperate, Skia spoke.

“I will clear a path.”

With a sharp sound, Skia unsheathed his sword. The soldiers flinched at his movement—but to their surprise, he handed the blade to Solm instead. Solm, startled, took the weapon.

“I can fight with just the scabbard. Protect Mistia and yourself with this. …No matter what, do *not* step in front of me.”

“Y-Yes.”

When Solm nodded, Skia gave him a fearless grin.

“I’m counting on you, Solm.”

Then, his expression turned sharp as he faced the soldiers. Mistia, unable to remain silent, called out to him.

“I will fight with you…!”

Her voice trembled with determination, but Skia did not turn around.

“I appreciate your resolve, Mistia. But in such a confined space, I cannot protect you properly. …Now, my master, give the order.”

Hearing his firm voice, Mistia hesitated. But then, she shifted her thoughts—as a master should.

(*I am worried about Skia, but he is right. If I step forward, I will only be a burden… I have to trust in his strength.*)

After a brief pause, she made her decision and spoke firmly.

“…To save His Majesty, neutralize every soldier in this room.”

Her voice was steady and unwavering. Skia, having received his master’s command, raised his scabbard.

“As you wish.”

He stepped forward, ready to fight. But just before battle could begin, Gilbert sneered and shouted triumphantly.

“Fools! The soldiers are wearing special armor that nullifies magic! A spirit who can only use magic is powerless!”

Convinced of his victory, Gilbert grinned in confidence.

But hearing his words, Mistia simply let out a small chuckle.

“My, how well-prepared you are. But unfortunately for you—my spirit is not *just* magic.”

“—What? That’s just desperate bluffing! Soldiers, attack!”