At night, within a chamber befitting the honoured guest she was, Victoria lay upon her bed after bathing.
Steam still lingered faintly in the air, carrying the scent of herbs and warm water. The day had been long, and Aristovelli's training had left every limb in her body aching with exhaustion.
Yet sleep would not come. Not because of the pain. Because of Elysia.
The fairy hovered above her face, drifting lazily through the candlelight with all the mischief of a child untouched by fatigue.
"You truly won't allow me a moment's rest, will you?" Victoria sighed.
"Oh, Master… am I disturbing you?" Elysia asked, blinking with practiced innocence.
"What kind of foolish question is that?"
Victoria pushed herself upright against the pillows and fixed the fairy with a weary stare.
"Tell me plainly. What role do you actually play in my life? You told me you would guide me toward fully awakening my powers, yet you have done nothing of the sort. Every bit of progress I've made, I owe to that woman."
Her eyes narrowed.
"If your sole purpose is to be a private nuisance… then we may need to find a way to part."
Elysia said nothing. The fairy stilled in midair.
The bright playfulness drained from her face as if someone had snuffed out a candle. Her lips trembled. Her eyes shimmered with tears.
Victoria exhaled.
"Are you seriously about to cry?"
"Mean… Master is mean…" Elysia whimpered. "I'm trying my hardest, but you never appreciate my worth…"
Victoria stared at her, utterly baffled.
"What is she even talking about? All she ever does is play and drift around all day."
"No! That's not true!" Elysia cried between sobs. "I do not fool around!"
Victoria froze.
A pause settled over the room. She had not spoken those words aloud.
"…Elysia."
The fairy sniffled, wiping at her eyes.
"Can you read my thoughts?"
Elysia nodded silently.
Victoria's eyes widened, if only slightly. For a moment, she simply looked at her. Then she sighed and rubbed at her temple.
"Wipe your tears. I take back what I said."
Elysia blinked.
"You truly mean it?" she asked, wide-eyed, looking up at her like a pleading pup.
"Ah… do not make me say it twice."
At once, Elysia wiped her cheeks. The tears vanished as quickly as they had come.
Within moments, her sorrow disappeared without a trace, replaced by the same bright mischief as before. She spun through the chamber once more, darting between bedposts and candlelight as if she had never been crying at all.
Victoria stared at her for a long moment before finally surrendering to the truth that this creature was likely destined to remain at her side for the rest of her life.
"You called yourself my servant, did you not?" Victoria asked at last.
"That's right!" Elysia replied with a bright smile.
"Then start by obeying me."
Elysia tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.
"Hmm… I do not recall Master giving me any orders."
"Very well. You win." Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose.
The fairy beamed.
"Then hear my first command—stop reading my thoughts."
"It's not as though I wish to," Elysia replied, floating closer. "It simply happens. The same way I hear your voice, I hear your thoughts. They reach me just as clearly."
She spun once through the air, clearly pleased with herself.
"Besides… it may prove useful for us. Since no one else can see me, we may speak this way without drawing suspicion. No one will think you're speaking to yourself."
Elysia folded her hands behind her back and smiled proudly.
"What do you think, Master?"
Victoria studied her for a moment.
"That may be the smartest thing you have said since we met."
Elysia froze.
"That is not how one gives a compliment," she huffed, folding her arms and puffing out her cheeks.
Victoria ignored her.
"The last time our conversation was cut short," she said, her expression sharpening. "I'm still curious how exactly you intend to help me become stronger."
Her gaze lowered, hardening.
"By the look of things, bringing down the Triad will be no simple task. I will need every ounce of strength I can gather."
Elysia's playful expression softened.
"To be truthful, the help I mean to offer is not one that will directly increase your power."
"Then what?" Victoria raised a brow.
The fairy hovered before her, small against the candlelight yet strangely solemn.
"Above all else… I am your guiding light."
"Guiding light?" Victoria's curiosity sharpened at once. "Be more explicit."
"Yes," Elysia said proudly. "I can perceive your mana at its most intrinsic level. I can read its flow, its density, its balance… and tell you what it reveals about your current state and growth. Beyond that, I can assist you in nearly anything. You need only give the order."
Victoria considered this.
"If that is true…" she said, "then answer me this. The first time we met, you told me I had yet to become a demigod—that I had barely reached a quarter of my power. Judging me now… where would you place me on a note of ten?"
"Hmm…" Elysia brought a finger to her chin.
Her pink eyes began to glow faintly.
"For now… I would say you are nearing three."
Victoria stared at her.
"…Three?"
"Yes."
"Out of ten?"
"Yes."
Victoria's expression darkened.
"Is this your idea of humour?"
"No! No, no!" Elysia squeaked, darting backward through the air. "It doesn't work the way you think! I must account for many things—your magical power, physical strength, speed, mana control, endurance—and weigh them against the height you are meant to reach!"
"…Interesting." Victoria's stare eased only slightly.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Then rate me under each point. Out of one hundred. Perhaps that will make me sound less pitiful." She rose from the bed and folded her arms.
Elysia hovered cautiously in place.
"Very well… but do not blame me, Master. I merely speak what your mana reveals."
"Then stop trembling and show me."
Elysia drifted closer. Her eyes blazed pink once more as she gazed into the very essence of Victoria's being, as though peering through flesh and bone into the currents beneath.
After a moment, she nodded.
"Your magical power stands at 30/100. Your mana control at 20/100. Strength, 30/100. Speed, 25/100. Endurance, 30/100."
She clasped her hands together.
"That gives you an overall score of twenty-sevenout of a hundred. Which is not bad at all! You've improved by ten points since the last time I measured you. At this rate, your growth is promising."
Victoria did not seem encouraged.
She looked at Elysia in silence, cold displeasure settling across her face.
"Hehe…" The fairy stiffened.
She scratched the back of her head and offered a nervous smile.
"Perhaps… pretend I said none of that."
After a moment spent weighing her own assessment, Victoria let herself fall back onto the bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above.
"I still have a long way to go," she murmured. "How long do you think it will take before I reach my full potential?"
Elysia hovered beside her.
"Honestly speaking, it depends entirely on you, Master. The surest way to evolve—especially at your current stage—is through battle. The more you fight, particularly against strong opponents, the more you will adapt and grow."
Victoria exhaled softly.
"So, training alone won't be enough."
"It is important," Elysia added quickly. "But insufficient on its own."
Victoria's eyes remained on the ceiling as she spoke again, quieter this time.
"In my previous battles… I noticed something. I begin by struggling, but as the fight continues, I adapt. I start reading my opponent, adjusting instinctively, until eventually I surpass them. It is as if the longer the battle lasts, the clearer everything becomes—and my movements… become lighter."
Her hand slowly curled into a fist. "More precise."
A brief silence settled between them.
"Tomorrow is my final day of fundamentals," she said at last. "I will draw out everything I can from it."
Then she turned her head slightly toward Elysia.
"And Elysia…"
"Yes, Master?"
"Stop calling me 'Master.' It feels strange. Use my name instead—Victoria."
Elysia tilted her head.
"That is too long. Vicky is shorter… and nicer." She smiled brightly, as if she had solved a great problem.
Victoria opened her mouth to protest.
But she paused.
The fairy looked genuinely pleased with herself, as though she had just given something precious rather than taken liberties with her name.
Victoria exhaled through her nose, closed her eyes again, and let the argument dissolve.
Slowly, she surrendered herself to sleep.
***
The next day marked the third day of Victoria's training. Elsewhere in the forest, Aiden and Godric did not permit themselves rest either, each sharpening their skills in silence and discipline.
Within a familiar clearing, Aristovelli stood with an artificial wand in hand—a carefully crafted instrument meant for the lesson ahead. Victoria stood before her, attentive.
"Today, we will study a few afforae," Aristovelli said. "It should be obvious that I cannot teach you everything in a single day, so I will focus on the fundamentals—those that will make the rest easier to grasp once you advance. Any questions?"
"Yes," Victoria replied, her gaze briefly lowered.
"I do not have a wand like yours. And I do not intend to acquire one—it does not suit my style." She paused.
"I understand it may sound unusual… but is it possible for me to cast spells through my sword instead?"
Aristovelli regarded her for a moment, then nodded. "Of course."
Victoria blinked slightly.
"But only if you possess the skill to do so—and have a blade capable of withstanding your mana. Wands are merely conduits: they focus, refine, and direct a mage's magic with precision. In most cases, they are a mage's most reliable companion."
Victoria's eyes drifted briefly to the sword at her side.
Aristovelli continued.
"However…" A faint smile touched the legendary witch's lips.
"I do not think that will be a problem for you. You are… different. Simply stay attentive, and everything will proceed smoothly."
The Legendary Witch paced slowly across the clearing, her wand spinning lazily between her fingers as she began a measured, almost lecturing monologue.
"Before you cast a spell," she said, "you must ensure your mana is properly controlled. If it is not, your magic will disrupt—or worse, you will burn far more mana than necessary."
She stopped briefly, turning slightly toward Victoria.
"Once that foundation is secured, you must execute the corresponding gestures with precision and recite the incantation correctly. Only then will your mana be properly channelled and shaped into a spell."
Her wand traced a small arc through the air.
"After that, you direct it toward your intended target."
Victoria tilted her head slightly. "It sounds… complex."
"At first, yes," Aristovelli replied without hesitation. "But with time, these formalities become second nature. And once a mage reaches the highest tiers of power, even gestures and incantations become unnecessary."
Her gaze sharpened faintly.
"However, do not misunderstand. Regardless of one's level, a spell never reaches its true potential without these foundations." She raised her wand.
"We will begin with basic defensive and offensive afforae, so you may observe how each is properly executed."
With a smooth motion, she traced a circular pattern above her head.
"Globulus."
A sphere of magic formed instantly—almost invisible, yet distorting the air around it like a thin veil.
"This is one of the most widely used defensive spells. No fixed gesture exists for its casting; the form depends on how you wish to shape the barrier. Observe carefully."
Victoria's eyes narrowed in focus.
"Do not worry," she said calmly. "You are not the only one here with sharp eyes. I will not miss a single detail."
Aristovelli smiled faintly. "If you say so."
She flicked her wand. The barrier dissolved into drifting particles of light.
"Then let us proceed to the next spell."
"The next spell is known as the father of all offensive spells," Aristovelli continued. "Not because it is the most powerful, but because it is one of the most widely used in battle—and among the oldest recorded offensive afforae."
She shifted her stance, bringing her wand forward. With a fluid motion, she traced two interlocking circles in the air—smaller than before—then pointed sharply toward the centre.
"Reich!"
The spell erupted instantly.
A violent shockwave surged outward from her wand, tearing through the clearing and annihilating every tree in its path. Timber splintered like brittle glass as the forest itself was carved open by sheer force.
Victoria raised her arms instinctively, bracing herself against the pressure of the blast as debris and wind lashed around her.
For a brief moment, she imagined Elysia witnessing the scene.
If she had been here, she would have undoubtedly called this woman a sociopath.
Fortunately—or perhaps wisely—Victoria had ordered her away from training sessions since the very first day. The fairy would have done nothing but distract her.
As the dust settled, Victoria studied the aftermath in silence.
Then realization struck.
"You used that spell against me on the first day of our training," she said. "But back then, you didn't use any gestures or incantations. Are you one of those powerful mages you mentioned?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"People even say you are the strongest."
Aristovelli let out a light laugh. "You flatter me—just like the others."
She flicked her wand lazily. "Now, let us proceed."
The air around them shifted.
"This next spell is known as the Spell of Elements. It embodies the four primordial forces of nature."
Her wand traced a slow arc.
"Each element is represented by a constellation: Gemini for wind, Virgo for earth, Aries for fire, and Pisces for water."
Victoria listened closely.
"These constellations are not merely symbols," Aristovelli continued. "They act as living spirits that resonate with the caster. They attach themselves to those whose nature aligns with their traits."
"In other words…" Victoria murmured, piecing it together.
Aristovelli nodded.
"Take Aiden, for example. He is hot-tempered, impulsive—therefore, he is favoured by Aries. His fire-based spells are naturally enhanced by that affinity."
She lowered her wand slightly.
"Which means someone not favoured by Aries would need far more effort to reach the same level of power Aiden attains instinctively."
"I see," Victoria said quietly. "That makes things much clearer."
A brief pause followed.
Then, almost to herself, she added—
"I wonder which constellation would choose me."
"Very well. Let us move to practice." Aristovelli's gaze lifted toward the sky, her expression sharpening with a faint edge of excitement.
"Tell me—what do you think would happen if one were to summon all elements at once?"
Victoria raised her wand, completely out of words.
"Elemantaris!"
The world answered.
A violent surge of wind erupted first, spiralling outward as flames coiled into the shape of a roaring basilisk. The earth beneath them trembled as stone broke free and began to levitate, twisting into jagged forms midair. Above it all, the sky darkened abruptly, heavy clouds gathering as rain poured down in sheets—only to converge into the shape of a colossal eagle forged of water.
Lightning cracked through the heavens, illuminating the storm as thunder rolled across the forest like the roar of a forgotten god.
For a moment, the clearing was no longer a training ground, but something closer to a minor apocalypse.
Victoria did not move. She was not afraid. Only deeply, silently impressed.
Not merely by the scale of the spell—but by the ease with which Aristovelli had woven it into existence, as though it were nothing more than a casual breath.
Even without ever witnessing her in true combat, something settled within Victoria at that moment.
"This woman… she is truly the strongest, isn't she?"
With a simple motion of her wand—almost dismissive, like brushing away insects—the Legendary Witch unravelled the spell. One by one, the elements dispersed, returning to their natural state as the storm dissolved into calm.
The sky cleared, revealing its quiet beauty once more.
"Now then," Aristovelli said, tapping her wand lightly against her palm. "We will begin with Globulus. Are you ready?"
"Yes." Victoria drew her sword; her eyes sharpened with unwavering resolve.
That day, she trained relentlessly, practicing the afforae again and again until exhaustion blurred the edges of time itself. And when the moon finally rose above the trees, Aristovelli called an end to the session.
***
Later that night, in the heart of the village, a farewell banquet had been arranged in honour of Aiden and Godric.
It marked the eve of their departure—when they would entrust their guilds to their right hands and set out alongside Victoria, toward a journey meant to end the reign of the Triad of Chaos.
The feast was unusually lavish.
Tables stretched across the square, heavy with roasted meat, bread, and overflowing barrels of ale. There was more than enough for every villager to eat themselves full many times over. That alone was remarkable—Chief Lashkar, long known for his stinginess, had been the one to authorize it.
And this time, it was not out of fear of Aristovelli's temper.
It was gratitude.
Since the arrival of the Comet and Legend Guilds, the once-dangerous forest had grown noticeably safer. The beasts that once plagued the outskirts had vanished, and the burden of hunting, fishing, and protection had been quietly taken over by Aiden and Godric's men.
Tonight, there was peace enough to celebrate.
Music rang through the village as villagers and guild members danced around a great bonfire, its flames crackling beneath the night sky.
Godric sat at a table alongside Aristovelli, as he often did.
Victoria, however, sat apart from the crowd, watching the fire in silence. Elysia hovered near her shoulder, swaying gently in the warm air.
Aiden, meanwhile, had already drunk far beyond reason.
Yet somehow, he still managed to stagger his way toward Victoria.
In one hand, he carried an oversized roasted chicken leg. In the other, a wooden cup filled with ale.
"Hey, Victoria… hic!" he called out, waving the chicken leg dangerously close to her face.
Godric exhaled sharply. "That fool is looking for trouble again."
"Let him be," Aristovelli replied with a faint smile.
"Aiden," Victoria said flatly, still not looking at him.
"Vic-to-ri-a!" he insisted loudly, ignoring her tone.
"Vicky, that man is addressing you," Elysia added helpfully from her shoulder.
"I am aware," Victoria replied. "Ignore him."
But Aiden was undeterred.
He leaned in further, pressing the roasted meat closer to her.
"Eat something," he said, grinning through his drunken haze. "I've never seen you eat before. You'll need strength for what's ahead, won't you? So, eat. Stay strong."
Victoria's patience snapped.
In a single motion, she rose and seized him by the collar.
"Are you that suicidal?" she asked, lifting him slightly.
Aiden responded with incoherent babbling, his words dissolving into drunken nonsense.
Then, without warning—his body went limp. Snoring followed immediately.
Victoria stared at him.
"Is he serious right now? Unbelievable, what a pain."
Victoria exhaled and lifted Aiden by the collar once more, setting him carefully onto a nearby wooden chair. With a reluctant sigh, she draped her cloak over him.
Before she could even return to her seat, Loof approached with two bowls cradled in her hands—one filled with steaming vegetable soup and slices of red meat meant to stave off the night's cold, the other with bread and spices.
Victoria was about to refuse.
But before her thoughts could turn into action, Aristovelli stepped in and gently took the bowls from Loof.
"Thank you for the meal. I will handle this," she said with a warm smile.
Loof lowered her head respectfully and quietly withdrew.
Aristovelli took the seat across from Victoria and placed the food between them.
"I am not hungry," Victoria said at once. "I will not eat until—"
"Until what?" Aristovelli interrupted calmly. "Until you kill the usurper? That is what you were going to say, isn't it?"
Victoria did not answer.
Aristovelli leaned back slightly, her expression sharpening.
"Listen, Queen. If you believe the power you inherited from Eros will keep you alive—and carry you through the Triad—without food, then I will tell you now what will happen."
Her gaze locked onto Victoria's.
"You will not reach your world. Worse… you will not even reach the Triad."
A brief silence settled.
"Mana exists in all things," Aristovelli continued. "Especially here in Utopia. There are even rare beasts so saturated with it that a single bite could restore your strength."
Her voice lowered, more severe now.
"You speak of vengeance—justice, whatever name you give it—but what you seek is not something you consume hot. It demands patience. Timing. Preparation."
She tapped the table lightly for emphasis.
"So, eat. Drink. Train. Learn. Leave not a single detail unattended."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"So that when the decisive day comes, you are not a half-formed version of what you were meant to be."
A pause.
"Live without regret."
Without waiting for a reply, Aristovelli rose and left the table, returning to Godric's side.
Victoria remained silent, her reflection wavering faintly in the surface of the hot vegetable soup.
Elysia, sensing the weight of the moment, said nothing.
After a long pause, the fallen princess reached for the wooden spoon Loof had brought with the meal. She stirred the soup once, then lifted a spoonful to her lips.
At first, she felt nothing.
The last time she had eaten had been lunch before her father's death.
Then warmth spread.
The soup passed through her mouth, down her throat, and settled within her chest like heat returning to a long-abandoned room. It felt as though her body—once a neglected garden left to dry under unkind skies—was being gently watered again after years of drought.
She exhaled softly and closed her eyes, allowing herself to linger in the sensation.
When she opened them again, Loof was sitting quietly across from her table, watching with a warm, patient smile.
"How is it?" she asked gently. "I specially prepared it for you."
Victoria hesitated. Then—
"It is… delicious," she admitted, a faint smile forming at the edge of her lips. "Thank you for the meal."
"You are welcome," Loof replied, her expression glowing with quiet satisfaction.
At that moment, unseen by anyone else, something shifted deep within Victoria's being.
In the depths of a withered inner world, a single daffodil bloomed.