Kyle opened his mouth, wanting to turn his head and look back.
The hand penetrating his chest violently yanked out the dagger.
He fell to his knees, his body lurching forward uncontrollably.
Before collapsing, he finally turned his head and saw the face behind him clearly.
Black hair, black eyes.
That face had been quiet and utterly lacking in presence all along the journey.
“You...”
His lips trembled, his voice squeezed out like air from a broken bellows.
“...Why?”
The girl looked down at him coldly.
Blood from the dagger dripped down the tip of the blade, landing on her plain mage robe.
Her left hand was still holding that unadorned staff.
A faint halo remained on the tip of the staff from sustaining her concealment magic earlier.
“I hate members of the Ross family.”
Her voice was very flat, devoid of any fluctuation.
“And I hate all mages from the City of a Thousand Towers.”
She watched Kyle's pupils gradually dilate.
Those black eyes held no anger, no satisfaction—only a statement so calm it was indifferent.
“You have always considered me a shame.”
“And I have never thought you were noble in the slightest.”
She grabbed Kyle's shoulders and shoved him out of the cave entrance.
Kyle's body pitched backward, falling heavily onto the grass outside.
Silence settled over the cave.
The girl stood there, her right hand holding the dripping dagger and her left holding the plain staff.
Black hair fell down past her shoulders.
A few drops of blood spattered her cheek, making her black eyes look extraordinarily sharp.
Then she turned her head to look at the boy curled up in the deepest part of the cave.
The boy still maintained his posture, his hand clutching the neck of the dead green-skinned imp in a death grip.
His blood-red eyes were wide open, staring at her with vigilance and hostility.
His whole body was taut as a string on the verge of snapping.
Her gaze softened.
That sharpness faded bit by bit from her black pupils.
She didn't step closer, nor did she put down the dagger.
She merely lowered her hand holding the dagger slightly, pointing the tip away from him.
“I'm sorry.”
Her voice was very soft.
“I frightened you.”
The half-demon boy remained curled up in the deepest corner of the cave.
Those blood-red eyes were still fixed intently on her.
His hatred had not faded, and his guard had not been lowered.
He was like a young beast trapped in a snare.
Even if the hunter was dead, he would never easily approach any outstretched hand.
The girl looked at him without taking a step forward.
She knew that if she forcibly tried to take him away like this, he would definitely resist.
She went silent for a moment, then opened her mouth and uttered a name.
“Leby Chris.”
“Do you know her?”
The half-demon boy's body shuddered violently.
In those blood-red eyes, vigilance and hostility were briefly scattered, replaced by shock.
Yet he did not answer, continuing to stare dead at her.
His guard remained up.
“Who are you?”
His voice was hoarse, bearing hostility squeezed from between his teeth.
“Did you come to capture us too?”
The girl looked at him and let out a soft sigh of relief.
“No, I'm not.” She paused.
“In fact... I came to seek your help.”
She raised her hand, and a pale blue light illuminated the tip of her staff.
She began chanting, the spell flowing from her lips.
It was a Water-element Healing spell.
Pale blue water mist gushed from the staff tip, wrapping around the deepest wound on the half-demon boy's arm.
Soaked in the water mist, the flesh slowly closed up, and the bleeding stopped.
During her chanting, her eyes occasionally flicked toward the rear, but she did not turn her head.
The chanting ended, and the water mist dissipated.
She pulled back her staff and extended her hand, intending to help him out of this narrow man-made cave.
Smack.
Her extended hand was slapped away viciously.
The half-demon boy glared at her savagely, his freshly healed hand still suspended in midair, fingers hooked like claws.
“Don't touch me!” His voice echoed in the narrow cave.
“Who knows if you're lying to me! You human mages are the most hypocritical people I've ever seen!”
The girl frowned.
She looked at the boy's blood-red eyes, which were refilled with hostility.
An almost imperceptible trace of urgency seeped into her voice.
“I don't have time to waste with you. Listen closely, do you know Leby Chris?”
The half-demon boy snorted coldly.
“I do.”
The corner of his mouth twisted into a mocking sneer.
“She was captured by you human mages and taken to the City of a Thousand Towers.”
“Just a short while ago.”
“She was captured by you human mages while searching for food!”
He glared at the girl, his blood-red eyes full of unreserved hatred.
“Taken to the City of a Thousand Towers.”
“Just like those demons who became magic materials for mages.”
“Dismembered, preserved in jars.”
“You've never viewed us as living beings of Akara, no matter how hard or humbly we tried to integrate with you.”
“You've only ever treated us as livestock to play with as you please.”
His voice came word by word, like a dull knife grinding against a stone slab.
“Are you planning to use me for experiments too?”
Hearing that Leby had been captured, the girl closed her eyes in pain and clenched her fists.
Forcibly suppressing emotions she hadn't felt in a long time, she looked at the furious half-demon boy.
“I don't know if Chris told you about me.”
“My name is Irene Ross.”
The half-demon boy froze.
The girl spoke rapidly, her voice kept very low, as if pressed for time.
She recounted how she met Leby Chris at the magic academy.
The only girl willing to share a table with the "stain of the Ashley family."
They exchanged notes in the late-night library.
Chris taught her how to substitute expensive experimental materials with the lowest-tier magic ingredients.
And that night when she helped Chris escape the Magic City.
The Alliance Council passed the resolution to expel half-demons.
The ones who left were not just Chris, but all the half-demons in the City of a Thousand Towers.
Including that half-demon Legendary mage, Lord Morgan.
She was the one who stole her family elder's pass token and forged a city-leaving permit.
She was the one who accompanied Chris to the city gates, watching her mount a borrowed horned horse and vanish into the wilderness.
“Chris told me on the night she was sent away.”
The girl's voice paused.
“‘If you no longer have a place in that prosperous, dreamlike city, come find me in the Withered Wood Wasteland.’”
“‘Go to that sanctuary built by Lord Morgan inside the Forbidden Zone.’”
She looked into the half-demon boy's eyes.
If Leby hadn't shared her story with her own kind...
Irene wouldn't know how to make the half-demon in front of her believe her either.
“Do you believe me now?”
The half-demon boy stared at her for a long time.
The hostility in those blood-red eyes was bit by bit replaced by another emotion.
Not trust, not gratitude, but a sort of realization bordering on the absurd.
“...It's you.”
His voice was somewhat dry.
“You're... the magic genius Sister Leby talked about, the one who could overturn the magical world.”
The girl let out a long sigh of relief.
Without waiting for the boy to continue, she moved swiftly, yanking him out of the cave in one swift motion.
The boy was thin as a bundle of firewood, weighing almost nothing.
She set him on the ground, laid her staff horizontally, and began reciting an incantation.
“‘Breath of lightness, ethereal feather... Shed thy burden, rise with the wind...’”
However, Irene's chanting came to an abrupt halt.
A blunt object pressed against the small of her back.
A woman's voice came from beside her ear, languid and playful.
“My, my, isn't that the activation spell for Levitation?”
“Barely eighteen, Low-tier Transcendent strength, and you even know Levitation.”
“What a formidable magic genius.”
The voice paused slightly, carrying a mischievous tone of triumph.
“This talent of yours is far better than my beloved's.”
“I'm getting a little curious about what your initial magic energy level was.”
Golden hair fell across Irene's shoulders.
A pair of golden eyes, brimming with a faint smile, looked at her from slightly behind.
Irene did not turn her head.
Her hand remained in position holding the staff, suspended in midair.
Then she opened her fingers, and the staff dropped to the ground with a dull thud.
Behind her.
Elvia tilted her head, looking at the staff that rolled to her feet, and let out a light chuckle.
“A wise choice.”
“Be a good girl and don't struggle.”
With a flick of her wrist, the Gray Dagger flipped through her fingers before she stowed it at her waist.
Even though they were separated by an entire major rank.
Still, for any Transcendent mage, having a physical class close the distance was fatal.
Let alone a genius knight like herself, who could withstand or even kill a Transcendent rank opponent.
Elvia curled her lips up.
She actually understood those battle maniacs a little now.
This kind of genuine cross-rank combat yielded a rather amazing thrill.
A certain knight lady who relied on Shroud of the Gloomy Night to land a sneak attack and successfully defeat a magic genius...
...wished she could put her hands on her hips and show off right now.
A sharp blade suddenly flashed forth.
Irene reverse-gripped a dagger hidden inside her mage robe, spun around, and lunged toward Elvia.
Seeing this, Elvia almost burst out laughing.
A mage engaging in hand-to-hand combat?
She nimbly stepped aside to dodge the glint of the blade, her tone dripping with amusement.
“Are you insulting me?”
She reached out and clamped down on her opponent's dagger-wielding wrist with a grappling hold.
Her fingers locked precisely between the wrist bone and the base of the palm.
With just one twist, the dagger would drop.
A textbook knight grappling technique, more than enough to deal with an unarmored mage.
However, her mockery did not last long.
An extremely intense sense of crisis erupted in an instant.
Elvia instinctively turned her face aside; a black spike grazed past her cheek, slicing off several golden strands of hair.
Her pupils shrank abruptly. Releasing Irene's hand, Elvia executed a smooth backflip to retreat.
Glancing around, she only then realized that without her noticing...
...several black magic circles had risen around her in an instant.
They hovered in midair, surrounding Elvia in the center.
The center of every circle was aimed squarely at her.
Then, sharp black spikes began emerging from the circles one after another.
Black, semi-transparent, gleaming with a cold, dark radiance.
The opponent's staff was on the ground, and she hadn't made a sound!
How was that possible?
Elvia's pupils contracted violently.
Chantless magic?
Her rapier unsheathed simultaneously, its silver-white blade drawing an arc through midair.
It sliced clean through the two black spikes following right behind.
Magic residue from the shattered pieces splashed onto the back of her hand, bringing a searing sting.
Her eyes grew sharp.
Compared to her beloved, who could launch hundreds of Wind Blades with a wave of his hand after practicing for a week...
...she knew all too well just how troublesome chantless magic was.
It could even break the rule that close-quarters engagement meant certain death.
“Interesting.”
She stopped retreating. Pushing off the ground, her form charged toward Irene like an arrow leaving the string.
Her rapier trailed behind her, its tip carving a fine groove into the ground.
Black spikes shot in from all directions. She leaned sideways, ducked, and tilted her head, every dodge perfectly timed.
The black spikes flew past her pauldrons, waist, and earlobes, not a single one landing a clean hit.
She grinned fiercely, an excited light burning in her golden eyes.
Weaving past the obstruction of countless Shadow Pierces, Elvia reached the core.
“Game over!”
Her rapier swung up, pointing straight at Irene's throat.
Elvia was brimming with confidence—until she saw the pale green magic scroll Irene raised.
Irene pinched the edge of the scroll and tore it open.
There was no hesitation in the movement, as though she had held the scroll in her palm all along, waiting only for this moment.
Blinding green light poured from the tear in the scroll, and a massive surge of wind suddenly condensed.
Air compressed to the absolute extreme was released in an instant.
It turned into a roaring hurricane barrier, crashing head-on into Elvia.
Elvia's eyes widened.
“Holy sh—”
The rest of her words were swallowed by the hurricane's roar.
Her body was lifted by the tremendous thrust, like a withered leaf in a gale.
She crossed her arms in front of her face to guard, but it couldn't block it at all.
She was forcibly blown backward, slamming heavily into the trunk of a dead tree.
The dead tree snapped in two, showering Elvia in wood chips and broken branches.
She lay among the broken timber, her long golden hair scattered across dirt and shattered leaves.
In the distance, Irene had laid her staff horizontal.
She grabbed the bewildered half-demon boy in one motion and pressed him onto the staff.
“Hold tight.”
Her voice still held no fluctuation.
Then she raised her head and began reciting an incantation.
It wasn't the lengthy, intricate chanting from earlier, but an extremely concise whisper, precise to every syllable.
“‘Breath of lightness, ethereal feather.’”
“‘Shed thy burden, rise with the wind.’”
The staff left the ground, carrying her and the boy.
Like a black arrow, it shot rapidly toward the deeper reaches of the Withered Wood Wasteland.
And on the other side...
Elvia, who had been blown away, took her sweet time getting up.
It wasn't that the single magic scroll had severely injured her or rendered her unable to stand.
A magic scroll that could last a week without failing wouldn't be of a particularly high rank.
That wind just now was Mid Rank at most; it couldn't possibly deal any real damage to her.
The reason she didn't get up was purely because she didn't want to face the embarrassment of letting her cooked duck fly away.
Fumbling on her own was bad enough, but as ill luck would have it, there were two spectators watching.
Lin Gui was fine, but Shadow Blade Lynn...
Elvia lay among the broken logs, closing her eyes and playing dead.
She simply couldn't bring herself to face her frighteningly famous ghost master.
What Elvia didn't know, however...
...was that aboard the flying vessel concealed in midair by Shroud of the Gloomy Night, the two spectators weren't paying attention to her at all.
For the first time, an expression of genuine astonishment appeared on Lin Gui's face.
And sitting on his shoulder, Shadow Blade Lynn's gaze wavered.
Her eyes followed the departing figure, remaining silent for a long while.
Then she spoke.
“The talent of you humans never fails to command heartfelt admiration from an elf who has lived nearly sixty years like me.”
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