Tilith

As the night gradually faded away, the cold sunlight hid behind the overcast sky above the coast, and the sea breeze remained chilly. Compared to the chaos in Heglais Town the previous night, a fishing village ten kilometers away was unusually quiet.

A young woman, clad in a deep brown cloak with her hood up, gently tucked away her black hair, which had been tousled by the sea breeze. She gazed at the distant silhouette of the town. Fog had risen over the sea, and the outline of Heglais Town was faintly visible, barely discernible.

Yet, her deep purple eyes remained fixed on it for a long time before she finally looked away. Carrying a basket of herbs, she returned to a small wooden cabin by the sea.

Inside the cabin, the fireplace crackled with flames, and the rare sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the shelves filled with various bottles and jars. Opposite the shelves stood an old wooden table that served as an alchemy bench, adorned with brass scales, a crucible, parchment scrolls filled with formulas, a quill, and an assortment of magical materials. A bubbling potion cauldron filled the room with a pungent, peculiar odor.

The woman removed her hood, allowing the sunlight to fall on her face. Though her features were delicate and beautiful, her complexion was pale, with faint dark circles under her eyes, giving her an air of exhaustion, as if she hadn’t rested properly in a long time.

Since the window was left open, the damp, chilly sea breeze seeped in, making the room slightly cold. After placing the herbs from her basket on the table, she glanced at the fireplace and snapped her fingers. The flames roared back to life, warming the room once more.

“You’re using a second-circle spell just for that? Couldn’t you just close the window?” A teasing voice came from the doorway as an older woman in a black robe stepped into the cabin.

The young woman glanced at her and continued with her work.

“I like fresh air. The sea breeze is quite refreshing.”

The older woman walked over curiously, examining the herbs on the alchemy bench.

“Is this... the heart of a deep-sea monster?”

“The blood of a high-ranking vampire...”

“A ghoul’s tooth... flame flowers from the snowy cliffs... saltpeter, sulfur, charcoal...”

The older woman looked at her in astonishment. “These are the herbs you went out to gather? What on earth are you planning?”

The young woman shook her head slightly. “Just a small experiment.”

Seeing the older woman’s persistent confusion, as if waiting for an explanation, she sighed softly.

“The Church’s weapons have become increasingly advanced these years. I thought it might be time for us to update ours as well...”

She then explained the structural principles of the magical sigil to the older woman, who listened with awe and admiration.

“As expected of you... If such a weapon were to be successfully deployed, it would likely drive an entire city mad in an instant...”

“It’s not that severe...” the young woman replied, shaking her head.

“Just half a city.”

The older woman opened her mouth, momentarily at a loss for words. After a moment, she smiled wryly.

“President Tilis, could you at least notify me before you go out to gather herbs next time?”

“I thought you were just taking a stroll along the coast. I had no idea you’d be hunting down so many dangerous creatures...”

“You’re our only hope. Please don’t act so recklessly and put yourself in danger again...”

Tilis smiled faintly. After finishing her preparations with the “herbs,” she yawned and settled into a rocking chair by the bookshelf. She picked up a stack of newspapers nearby, her tired face showing signs of weariness as she waited for the potion in the cauldron to react.

“President Tilis...” the older woman frowned. “Leave these tasks to us in the future. You have a more important mission. Staying healthy is what matters most right now.”

Tilis looked up, her smile tinged with resignation.

“Elder Margery, there’s no need to be so formal. Just call me by my name. And I’m not the president—I’m just the vice president.”

“No, no.” Margery shook her head. “That so-called president has always been arrogant and self-centered, much to the displeasure of the council. Once this matter is settled and he’s gone, I’ll nominate you as the new leader of the Magical Hermitage.”

“Killing him won’t be easy. And I’m not as exceptional as you say,” Tilis replied with a smile.

“Of course you are!” Margery suddenly grew serious, her gaze unwavering.

“Ever since our ancestral homeland was destroyed, magic has been cursed. Anyone who dares to seek the truth of the world goes mad. We’ve fallen from our lofty heights to the depths of despair...”

“Magicians... we were once so proud. We were the embodiment of knowledge, tirelessly pursuing the truth. We were omnipotent, revered by all...”

“But now?”

Hatred flickered in Margery’s eyes. “What do they call us? Black witches! Deceitful sorceresses! The root of plagues and panic! Evil heretics who deserve to be burned at the stake!”

As Margery’s emotions grew more intense, Tilis simply set down the newspaper and watched her silently, as if this scene had played out countless times before.

Seeing the calm in Tilis’s purple eyes, Margery paused, her emotions finally subsiding.

She gazed deeply at Tilis and sighed. “In the past thousand years of the Hermitage’s history, you’re the only one who hasn’t suffered backlash...”

“Not only that, but you’ve risen through the ranks in just a few years. You’re only twenty, yet you’ve already surpassed us old folks who’ve lived for centuries. You’re a true genius!”

Tilis listened quietly to Margery’s praise, but her expression remained devoid of joy. She slowly reopened the newspaper and silently stared at a front-page article featuring a photograph of a young man.

Margery’s words of admiration continued to echo, but Tilis’s thoughts had already drifted far away.

Am I a genius? Perhaps...

But the reason I don’t suffer backlash isn’t because of some extraordinary talent.

It’s because...

Tilis gently traced the face of the young man in the newspaper, over and over again.

Perhaps she had done this so many times that the photograph had begun to blur.

Her two promotions four years ago were both because of Luo Wei.

To the Hermitage, she was seen as a prodigy and a miracle.

But only Tilis knew the truth—the real miracle was this man.

He was the gift the gods had bestowed upon her.

Margery’s grating voice continued, but Tilis’s expression remained unchanged. Her calm purple eyes shifted toward her.

“Tilis, you’re a genius! A true genius! You’re our only hope to restore the glory of the ancient magical empire!”

Margery stared intently at Tilis in the rocking chair, clearly displeased with her constant focus on the newspaper.

“You’ve been reading that newspaper for days... Aren’t you tired of it?”

“What could possibly be so interesting in there?”

“Stop paying attention to such trivial matters. Once I deal with the president and the council can allocate all our resources to you, you’ll be able to focus entirely on your research! I’m looking forward to your future—our great cause will succeed!”

Margery seemed lost in her fervent dreams of the future, her expression fanatical, her body trembling with excitement.

Tilis silently observed Margery, a faint, almost imperceptible emotion flickering in her purple eyes.

It was disdain.

Or perhaps weariness.

The unimaginable pressure, the endless research with no results, left her feeling suffocated...

She lowered her gaze, trying to suppress the disgust rising within her, and looked once more at the photograph in the newspaper.

Only by reminiscing about the times she had spent with him could she find a rare sense of relaxation.

Tilis gazed at the young man in the photograph, her purple eyes growing deeper.

A faint smile unconsciously crept onto her lips.

Soon.

All of this would come to an end...

She thought happily.