Sylvia Crawford

Xu Xi understood well that wizards were a maddening breed.

For power, they would commune with the underworld.

For truth, they would alter their very beings.

For transcendence, they would cast aside all ethics.

From the current state of the wizarding world and fragments of intelligence gathered from the Supernatural United Bureau, Xu Xi knew one thing for certain—the foremost rule of survival in this realm was to be wary of other wizards.

Thus,

even though he was deeply intrigued by the "Champion" and yearned to study that delicate balance between life and death,

Xu Xi waited patiently.

He remained vigilant against potential risks.

It wasn’t until he personally witnessed the Champion’s self-sacrificial battles that he confirmed—no hidden hand pulled the strings behind the Champion’s actions.

Every fight, every choice, stemmed solely from the Champion’s own will.

Half an hour later,

the rain ceased.

In a desolate grove far removed from the village, Xu Xi sat quietly, his obsidian robes woven with dust-repelling enchantments that effortlessly kept the surrounding mire at bay.

In stark contrast, the half-undead girl before him cut a pitiful figure.

Her armor was battered beyond repair.

Her sword had been snapped in half.

Rivulets of muddy water dripped ceaselessly from her dented steel helm.

Xu Xi had already glimpsed her true face, yet she stubbornly kept the helmet on, unwilling to speak without its concealment.

"W-Wizard… sir?"

Her voice was hesitant, almost trembling.

Though her expression remained hidden beneath the helmet, Xu Xi could easily picture the fear tightening her features.

"You’re afraid of me?" Xu Xi extended his palm, catching a droplet of rainwater as it fell from the withered branches above. The cool splash against his skin was faint but unmistakable.

He was certain—this undead girl had never met him before.

Which meant her fear wasn’t directed at "Xu Xi" the individual,

but at "Xu Xi" the wizard.

"Y-yes… No! I mean—no!" The girl straightened abruptly, her posture rigid despite the weight of her battle-worn armor. A trace of noble bearing lingered in her movements.

First a nod, then a frantic shake of her head.

After a moment’s hesitation,

she rose and offered a formal bow. "Thank you for your aid."

Such refined manners only solidified Xu Xi’s suspicion—this girl had once been nobility.

"Sit. I accept your gratitude." Xu Xi tapped the space beside him, gesturing for her to return to her seat.

"Yes, Wizard sir."

The girl obeyed, her movements less stiff now, as if she sensed Xu Xi’s lack of malice.

The "seat" was little more than a rotting log.

The clatter of steel, bone, and wood echoed sharply through the silent grove.

Truth be told, sitting face-to-face with a skeletal figure clad in heavy armor gave the moment an eerie weight.

The air was thick with stillness,

a silence so profound it felt deliberate.

Xu Xi wasted no time. "Tell me your name—and how your body came to be like this."

"You mean…"

"Everything."

"…"

The undead girl fell quiet.

After a long pause, she spoke again. "Before I answer… may I tell you a story first?"

She added softly, "It’s about… a friend of mine."

A classic deflection—everyone knew "a friend" meant oneself.

Xu Xi gave a slight nod. "Go ahead."

And so,

under his watchful gaze, the armored, skeletal girl began her tale—one that stretched back to an era long before the undead scourge,

when the wizarding world was still a haven for the living.

Once, there was a noble house named Clawphire, ruling over vast, verdant lands.

Their lord was a humble and kind man, a renowned knight whose combat prowess rivaled even the mightiest of orcs.

His wife was gentle and beautiful, and together they raised a daughter—

Servia Clawphire.

The girl grew up surrounded by love, the darling of her family. She displayed extraordinary talent, achieving the rank of a full-fledged knight at a young age.

Her platinum hair,

her emerald eyes,

earned her the title "The Emerald of Light."

"Servia, my child, you will be Clawphire’s pride!" Barring unforeseen tragedy, Servia would have continued to grow, matching her father’s strength and one day inheriting the lordship.

But tragedy, by its very nature, strikes without warning.

The girl destined for greatness

was suddenly struck by a vicious illness, one that defied conventional remedies.

Her father spent nearly half the family’s wealth to summon a legendary wizard—one who promised a cure.

The betrayal came without mercy.

"Foolish mortals."

The wizard sneered, unleashing a necromantic curse upon them.

He was no healer, but a practitioner of dark arts, toying with the Clawphire family from the very beginning.

To him, they were ants—

their suffering, his amusement.

The curse spread instantly, twisting every living soul in the estate into mindless undead.

"But Servia was… fortunate."

The armored girl’s voice grew heavy. Beneath the helmet, her unseen face must have twisted with sorrow.

She explained:

Servia’s parents, desperate to save her,

had stockpiled countless life-restoring elixirs by her sickbed.

Those potions slowed the curse’s advance.

Yet that alone wouldn’t have been enough.

What truly spared Servia was another catastrophe—one far greater.

A different wizard, far more powerful, had torn open the veil to the underworld.

The resulting undead calamity swept across the world,

and one of its epicenters erupted within Clawphire’s lands.

The collision of two necrotic energies, combined with the elixirs,

halted Servia’s transformation midway.

She became a monster.

A walking skeleton—

yet one that retained her mind.

Half her face remained,

a ghastly mockery of life, more horrifying than full decay.

When she finally awoke,

a thousand years had passed.

Everything she cherished had crumbled to dust.

The manor? Collapsed, uninhabitable.

The lands? Barren, save for a few scattered villages.

Her family? Gone—reduced to mindless husks.

"Father?"

"Mother?"

Servia tried to rouse them, to no avail.

The two skeletons, clad in tattered remnants of their past, turned on her with hollow, ravenous fury.

Over and over, she pleaded.

Over and over, they attacked.

Their only utterances were bestial snarls—

and the fragmented echoes of their final, desperate thoughts.

"Kill you… kill you… protect… Servia…"

In the end,

Servia raised her sword with trembling hands.

She ended their torment.

Gave them peace.

Then she stepped out of the ruined manor,

an undead abomination,

and walked her family’s lands once more.

She sought to protect the few living souls still clinging to these territories.

But wherever she went,

only terror greeted her.

"Monster! It’s a monster!!"

Servia was no longer their Emerald of Light.