Leaving Blossom Lake, Angelica White shed her nervousness and timidity, morphing back into the confident, noble leader she truly was. As she traversed the mountains and forests, protectors and elders alike bowed their heads in respect to the powerful regent headmaster.
Even without the acting headmaster title, Angelica commands immense respect. As the first elder to become a Weaver of Nature, her power was unmatched. Her Moonsilver Lake boasts two of the ten warden in training, solidifying its position as the most formidable among the twelve Halls.
During the legendary Thirty Years’ War, Angelica's name struck fear into the hearts of the righteous factions. She travelled thousands of miles to single-handedly challenge the Sanctum of Profound Horizon, the largest righteous tradition in the South, and emerged victorious, slaying their chief elder. To this day, whispers of her exploits sent shivers down the spines of righteous mages.
However, at this moment, disquieting fog clouded Angelica's mind. The Etherbloom seed clutched in her hand fueled her bewilderment. "To test a disciple and expose traitors," she pondered, "is risking such a heavenly treasure truly necessary?" Definitely not. It was clear the headmaster had something more profound in mind.
"Either the disciple or the traitor must be someone really special." she mused. With a resigned sigh, Angelica pushed those thoughts aside. She dared not ponder on Rachel's secret.
The headmaster's emergence from seclusion was unusual, so was her sudden inquiry about traitors. And now, the Etherbloom seed... Something momentous was brewing.
Angelica's gaze locked back on the seed. It pulsed with a mesmerizing light, an undeniable font of mana unlike anything she'd ever encountered. Could this be the source of the headmaster's power? Angelica's heart pounded in her chest, her fingers tracing the warm surface of the seed. A vision of herself, radiant and powerful, flashed before her eyes. The headmaster, her idol, suddenly seemed within reach.
That fleeting thought, however, turned Angelica ice-cold. A horrifying realization dawned: she was the first to be tested with the Etherbloom seed. Panic bloomed in her chest. One wrong move could spell disaster.
"The seed must be passed on," she thought, her veins pulsing with urgency. But how could she justify entrusting such a precious artifact to an ordinary disciple? The dilemma clawed at her.
---
Seven days had slumbered by since the incident with Nevaeh. An unsettling silence echoed in John's mind.
He'd expected a swift arrival from the Law Enforcement Hall. What he didn't realize was that behind the scenes, a complex dance was unfolding - a new investigation team assembled, a deal negotiated, all for his safety.
Fueled by a newfound understanding of the Daily Identification magical power, John started a series of secret experiments -- casting the magical power on people, with himself the first subject.
The magic revealed a chilling fact. His inability to reciprocate Nevaeh's advances, despite her undeniable allure, was not due to his mental strength, but a sinister parasite. This Hearthstone Leech, it turned out, came in pairs. He harbored the male, which released chemicals effectively neutering his attraction to women - unless, of course, they possessed the female counterpart. The parasite functioned reciprocally as well.
A sigh escaped John's lips as he absorbed the identification results. The culprit - the woman in red, who forced the potion into his mouth - came into sharp focus.
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Blessing or curse? It was a conundrum. Nevaeh's barrage of charm weaves, it seemed, were rendered powerless thanks to the leech. Without it, who knew what might have transpired? Perhaps in a dark order teeming with enchantresses, this was a blessing in disguise. After all, beauty often proved to be a man's fatal weakness.
Rejecting the unsettling contemplations, John rose to head towards the botanical garden. Strengthening himself daily was a non-negotiable regiment. Disruption was not an option.
As he reached for the door, his path was abruptly blocked. Three figures stood before him, each radiating an aura of power that far surpassed his own. Their expressions were grim, and a faint, unsettling malice emanated from them.
Dressed in black, the leader’s eyebrows sharp as blades, his face a canvas of sculpted features - undeniably handsome, yet devoid of warmth. His eyes, cold and calculating, fixed on John with an unsettling intensity. The other two figures, equally imposing, flanked him silently, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.
With a surge of caution, John activated his magical power and focused it on the leader.
[Altair Greenwood: Late stage Stone Weaver.
Elite disciple of the Temple of the One, deep undercover in Law Enforcement Hall.
Objective: None (came due to boredom)
Reason for Appearance:
His companions are angry at you for killing Nevaeh and disrupting Law Enforcement Hall investigation, but Altair remains unconcerned. His primary goal is to placate the wrath of Citadel of Siren Delight.]
A cold dread washed over John as the information sank in. His breath caught in his throat, and his hands tightened around the hilt of his dagger. Altair Greenwood, a spy from the Temple of the One? The most revered righteous faction? And he was here out of boredom? Disbelief warred with suspicion in John's mind. A moment of stunned silence passed before John lowered his head in greeting to the three senior disciples.
"Altair Greenwood, Law Enforcement Hall," Altair stated flatly. "Regarding the events of seven days ago. We have questions and updates." His icy tone offered no comfort.
"Feel free, Senior Altair." John replied, his voice betraying a calmness he didn't feel. The mention of "Siren Delight Citadel’s wrath" made him uneasy.
"Did you kill Disciple Nevaeh?" Altair cut to the chase.
John steeled himself. "Yes."
"Why do you take such an action?" Altair continued to ask.
"She turned traitor, trying to drag me down with her. I refused, forced to resist. In the struggle... she died." John told the same story he told Archmage Meridian.
"She belonged to the Citadel of Siren Delight, doesn't fall under the Cliff of Broken Love's jurisdiction." Altair Greenwood stared at John, his voice full of indifference.
"Therefore, you've violated Order regulations by causing the death of a fellow disciple. As punishment, you'll be deprived of five years' worth of resources and are required to pay a thousand mana crystals to the Citadel of Siren Delight as compensation within three months. In addition, since Nevaeh was a suspected traitor, and you were the last person she contacted, we require your cooperation with our investigation. Leaving the Order without permission will be considered fleeing. We'll notify you when the investigation concludes."
John felt the floor vanishing beneath him. Punishment for eliminating a traitor? He could deal with the investigation, but a thousand mana crystals? As a lowly disciple receiving ten crystals a month, it seemed like an impossible burden.
"Truly living up to the name of a dark order." He thought, irony danced in his eyes, "This whole thing is a Siren Delight Citadel appeasement party."
Sensing John's growing frustration, the disciple on Altair's left spoke up, his tone harsh. "Any questions?"
Snapped back to reality, John bowed his head and murmured softly, "No."
The three Law Enforcement Hall disciples exchanged a few more inconsequential words before turning and departing, leaving John grappling with a twisted sense of justice and a seemingly insurmountable debt.
John watched the Law Enforcement Hall trio dwindle into specks on the horizon, a heavy sigh rumbling from his chest. Was Cliff of Broken Love truly so weak, or was he just an expendable pawn in their political games?
A cold dread began to creep in. What if he couldn't conjure a thousand mana crystals within three months? Would the Citadel take further action against him? His recent breakthrough to Wave Weaver at nineteen was a rare feat. Would Archmage Meridian consider him valuable enough to defend him?
A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in his mind as he reached the botanical garden. Magic training was no longer his sole focus. The looming debt demanded a desperate search for ways to earn mana crystals.
In that moment, a truth settled over him. Beauty, indeed, had been a disaster. Even Nevaeh's demise hadn't broken the curse.