Verona. A historical city nestled in the region of Veneto, Italy. It was a place steeped in narrative, famously known as the setting for Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, a city built on the dramatic cadenzas of poetic love and tragic feuds. It was also the spiritual heartland of theological literature, the supposed place where Dante Alighieri conceived some of the most ground-breaking cantos of his Divine Comedy.
Yet, in the middle of all this artistic and romantic history, walking aimlessly like a confused, cold dog, was Jay.
It was the middle of spring, and though the Mediterranean climate promised warmth, the mornings in Verona still carried a brisk, chilly air. This was entirely irrelevant to Jay. Maramureș, nestled in the cold slopes of the Carpathian mountains, regularly saw temperatures near 0 degree Celcius during spring nights. His body was accustomed to a biting cold far deeper than this Italian chill.
He was dressed simply. Cheap, baggi dark black coat a plain black shirt beneath it, and black jeans he had managed to buy during his transit in Budapest. The journey had taken him nearly four days to reach Verona instead of the estimated sixteen hours by continuous travel. The main reason for the severe delay was the long, imposing object wrapped in thick black ragged tablecloth slung across his back.
Sister Andrea's platinum Holy Sword.
Every mode of conventional transportation he attempted from bus, train, even the brief thought of flying had resulted in an immediate stop due to the possession of a sharp weapon. Even when he insisted it was a ceremonial collection piece, he was refused and kicked. Refusing to leave one of the two things Sister Andrea had left him, Jay had simply decided to hitchhike the grueling distance from Bucharest to Verona. The fact that he was just a kid, pale and seemingly harmless, occasionally helped him garner pity rides, but it was still an exhausting, draining decision, evident in the fatigue etched onto his face.
It doesn't matter, he thought, adjusting the strap holding the blade. I made it anyway.
He did gain one crucial piece of insight from the frustrating experience.
Spatial magic is definitely convenient. He realized. If he knew how to use spatial manipulation, he could store all his belongings in some pocket dimension, entirely bypassing customs and security. even better, he wouldn't need to do all that if he could just knew how to teleport. The thought was noted in the growing catalog of skills he needed to acquire.
Feeling the sharp bite of hunger as he hadn't eaten for almost a full day, where his last meal being a scrap of cheese in Venice yesterday, Jay decided to stop. He spotted a little cafe, its wrought-iron tables spilling onto the pavement, just a short walk from where he had been dropped.
He stepped inside, the atmosphere warm and thick with the aroma of roasted coffee beans.
"Un cappuccino, e pane, per favore," he requested. His Romanian background meant Italian grammar was still mangled, but the common Latin roots allowed him to utter the simple words he had learn during his trip from the locals clearly enough.
He sat in a corner booth, the heavy sword carefully placed on the bench beside him, leaning against the wall.
He then pulled the Chromed Pendant from his coat pocket, immediately drawn to the initials. He had contemplated them for four days, piecing together the mystery. He concluded that A. A. stood for Andrea Angelini, Sister Andrea's name. The L. R. must belong to the blonde little girl in the photograph.
"Since this photo is eight years old, the little girl should be just a little bit older than me now. She is the 'friend' Sister said would help me."
A moment later, he was served a small cup of cappuccino and a plate of fresh, crusty bread. He ate in silence, mechanically consuming the food needed to replenish his depleted strength.
The quiet domestic morning sounds of the cafe, the clatter of cups, the whisper of Italian in the kitchen were broken by the arrival of a new customer. The man stopped, looked around, ordered his food, and then inexplicably walked over and sat down directly next to Jay out of all the chair in the pretty spacious booth.
Jay's empty eyes lifted, giving the stranger a half-second side glance.
'There are literally dozens of empty chairs there.' He tought.
He decided to forget it, but the man spoke before he could continued his meal.
"You are not from here, aren't you?" the man said, in surprisingly clear English.
I knew it. Too obvious. Jay thought, setting down his cup. He looked at the man. A handsome, young, with striking blonde hair and kind green eyes. A teenager, perhaps a couple of years older than Jay.
"Ah, yes," Jay answered in accented English, deliberately curt, planning to end the conversation there.
"Ah, my name is Dulio, by the way. Nice to meet you," the man insisted, offering a warm smile and an outstretched hand.
"I'm... Illya," Jay replied, using his middle name, which was simpler and avoided his given name. But it backfired.
"Illya. So you're from Russia? Or Ukraine?" Dulio asked, genuinely curious.
This guy. Jay suppressed a sigh of annoyance, sipping his cappuccino. He hated unnecessary interaction.
"Around that," Jay answered vaguely.
"Phew, that's a long journey just to get here," Dulio observed, his smile unwavering.
Jay just nodded, continuing his meal. Dulio, however, seemed undeterred by the lack of reciprocation. He started to speak again, and this time, he finally piqued Jay's attention.
"That's a nice sword you got there," Dulio remarked, nodding toward the wrapped object on the bench. "Going to the Verona Cathedral?"
Jay's eyes immediately fixed on Dulio's. He maintained the gaze for several seconds, cold and assessing, before answering.
"No."
Dulio just smiled, a slight, knowing curve of his lips. 'He is not lying', Dulio thought internally, recognizing the subtle truth in the boy's denial.
Jay didn't continue the conversation. He finished the last piece of bread, picked up the holy sword, paid for his meal at the counter, and left the cafe with just a polite, detached nod toward Dulio. Dulio simply watched Jay's back as he exited, before continuing his own breakfast who had just served.
After strolling around the city and asking a couple of locals for directions, Jay finally arrived. The Chapter Library of Verona was surprisingly close to the Verona Cathedral, the very place that blonde young man Dulio had asked about.
"This should be the place."
He stopped before the entrance, pulling out the Chromed Pendant again. He looked at the background of the photo, matching the architectural details. The sign above the entrance confirmed it: Biblioteca Capitolare di Verona (Chapter Library of Verona).
The library was an imposing building, a structure of weighty importance. Its exterior was weathered stone, showing centuries of history, yet it held a dignified, quiet atmosphere, contrasting sharply with the bustle of the nearby tourist attractions.
There were plenty of tourists milling about, but the number was manageable, not the overwhelming crowds of the Arena or Juliet's Balcony. Jay walked up the steps and into the interior.
He expected a holy place, perhaps resembling the chapel he had lost. Instead, he found a structure that felt more like a fortress built for knowledge. His first impression was that it looked like an ordinary, albeit very old, library. The silence was immediate and thick, broken only by the soft turning of pages and the muffled steps of patrons.
Jay strolled through the towering wooden shelves, a slow, meticulous study of the surroundings. The air was dry, smelling intensely of aged paper, leather, and beeswax. He was fascinated by the sheer antiquity of the collection. He didn't understand the Latin script or the theological content, but he understood the weight of history. Some volumes were so old they tracked back to the second or fourth century, incredibly preserved and maintained.
He walked deeper, past reading desks and hushed scholars, until he reached a particular chamber. It was a large, square room, with a high ceiling supported by thick columns, split into upper and lower sections connected by a sweeping wooden staircase. A serious, formal reading hall.
As he crossed the threshold into the room, Jay felt a strange, internal jolt. An acute sense of unease settled over him. It wasn't the fear that came with the devil's shadow; it was the same feeling he'd experienced when Vali had shown his vast, terrifying devil wings for the first time, somehow somewhat it felt magical, otherworldly, but distinctly different from the pure, anti-demonic holy feeling he got from Sister Andrea's sword. This room hummed with a hidden, potent energy.
The room was quiet, even quieter than any other section in the library. As Jay looked around, scanning the shelves, he suddenly felt a metallic clink sound on his hip pocket. True enough, it was the Pendant, vibrating lightly, emanating a dim, faint light that was barely visible beneath his coat.
"It's reacting to something."
The pendant, a gift from Andrea, had led him here. It was a beacon.
Suddenly, the soft, deliberate sound of a footstep could be heard directly behind him. Jay immediately recognized the presence of someone who had entered the room silently. He quickly shoved the pendant back into his coat pocket, he don't want strangers to just witness such weird glowing metal pendant in his hand.
"Now, would you kindly tell me where you got that pendant from, kid?"
' Well... '
It was the sound of a woman, her voice mature, warm, and musical, but carrying an unmistakable undertone of command and threat.
Jay turned slowly to face the source of the voice. He saw a beautiful, mature woman with long, flowing purple hair that cascaded over a dark, long black dress. Her beauty was arresting, almost ethereal but artificial in a sense, and profoundly unsettling to Jay.
But there was no time to admire her presence. His immediate caution was sparked by the fact that this woman knew about the pendant and recognized its power enough for her voice to shift when speaking of it. She was clearly not the young blonde girl in the photo, the friend he was seeking.
"It's a gift," Jay said, his voice flat and cold, "from my sister."
"Your sister?" the woman echoed, a delicate hand rising to stroke a strand of her purple hair.
Jay contemplated his next move. Should I tell her? This woman was clearly steeped in the magic he sought to learn. She already knew about the pendant. What was the worst that could happen? She might know the girl, Sister Andrea's 'friend', and could help him find her.
"Andrea Angelini. Do you know her?" Jay asked, watching her face closely.
The purple-haired woman's brow furrowed slightly as she tried to recall the name. "Andrea Angelini, Andrea Angelini…" she murmured, tasting the words. Then, her eyes widened fractionally.
"Ah, the girl from the church. Yes, I remember. It's been a long time since I've seen her. How is she? Doing fine, I hope?"
"She is dead," Jay said, his answer delivered in the same plain, cold voice he used to state the time.
The purple-haired woman's beautiful face registered a flicker of genuine sadness. "Such sorrowful news on this beautiful day," she murmured. There was a pause of heavy silence before the woman spoke again, her eyes drawn back to the area where Jay had placed the pendant.
"Could I take a look at that pendant for a second?"
Jay hesitated. The woman, sensing his doubt, offered a gentle, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, kid, I won't steal it from you. It's just that… the thing in that pendant feels intimately familiar to me." She was clearly referring to the subtle magic emanating from the artifact.
After a moment of cold calculation, Jay decided the risk was minimal. He took the Pendant out of his pocket and extended it toward her.
As she took the metal disc, her eyes widened again, this time with true recognition, even before she opened it.
"Ah, now I remember why it's familiar. I remember, this is the pendant that Lavinia gave to that sister during her visit here. How long ago was that? 6, 7 years, or even 8 years..." she said, her tone steeped in nostalgia.
Jay's own eyes widened for the first time since his tears dried. Lavinia! That's the L! The woman had named the blonde girl in the photograph. The " L.R " without even opening the Pendant.
She knew.
"Lavinia… is that the girl in the photo? Can you tell me where she is? I have to meet her. It's my sister's last message to me. I already know about the magic things, so please, could you tell me?" Jay pressed, his voice betraying a hint of desperate urgency for the first time.
The smile on the woman's face disappeared, replaced by a serious, almost weary expression.
"I see. Yes, that is her in the photo when she was seven years old, Lavinia Reni. I, in fact, know her very well. But…"
"But?" Jay asked, already steeling himself for the disappointment.
"She is not here with me anymore. You are late i'm afraid. I sent her away two years ago to an organization called Grauzauberer. And truthfully, I don't know her exact location now. She might be on a mission in America, Asia… only magic knows how far she's traveled." She returned the pendant to Jay, who took it back, his face falling into renewed disappointment.
'I've gone thousands of miles just to get nothing.'He tought. The cold, hard reality of his journey crashed down.
"Sorry, kid," she said gently, turning as if to leave.
"Wait," Jay stopped her, the single word sharp.
The woman paused. "Huh? Do you want to ask another question?"
"No. I want to ask you for something instead. Can you teach me how to do magic?" Jay asked, the cold, unyielding determination back in his eyes, fixed on her purple hair.
The purple-haired woman was silent for a long moment, observing the pathetic, determined human boy before her. She slowly shook her head, a faint, regretful smile touching her lips.
"I'm sorry, kid. I don't have the luxury of time at this moment. My work is far too demanding."
"Are you busy with your research?" Jay pressed, guessing what she mean by 'work'.
The purple-haired woman contemplated whether she should even bother answering an ordinary human. But she decided, why not? What could this human kid do? Tell everyone that she is doing her research like a lunatic? Besides, she felt a vague sympathy him, and his cold, empty gaze is interesting to say the least.
"Do you know Sacred Gears?" the woman asked, testing him. Jay immediately nodded, remembering Vali and Berjequel.
"Well, I'm conducting a high-level research project about that very topic right now, which is quite time-consuming. So, unless you have something to help me on, you should probably ask someone else to teach you how light a fire out of nothing. Now, let me excuse myself."
She turned her body, prepared to ascend the sweeping staircase.
But before she could move, a burst of vivid purple fire instantly blazed in the palm of Jay's left hand.
"I've already knew how to light a fire out of nothing," Jay said, his eyes challenging her.
He had just activated Incinerate Anthem. He had noted during this trip to Verona that to draw out the Sacred Gear's basic abilities, all he truly needed was the intention and concentrated willpower.
He quickly determined that this specific output was the base purple flame, not the True Cross of Golgotha which was a separate, taxing state, what Berjequel called a Balance Breaker, and he also remember how Vali said Balance Breaker as he changed into his white armor.
He instinctively knew that the black fire required a level of emotional commitment and power drain he couldn't risk casually. He noted that researching the conditions for the black flame's emergence without a full Balance Breaker was a high-priority short term goal of him.
While Jay was making these internal calculations, his simple words and the unexpected purple fire had a profound effect on the woman. Her beautiful, otherworldly eyes widened in genuine shock.
'No way. That is Incinerate Anthem! How is this kid even possess Augusta's Sacred Gear?!' She tought.
The purple-haired woman's mind whirred. She knew for a fact that the Incinerate Anthem was currently wielded by one of her fellow magician, someone not dead. To see it suddenly manifest in the hand of a nameless, ordinary child was baffling, and the suggestion that the original wielder was dead was terrifying.
"Who are you, kid?" the woman demanded, her voice losing all its previous warmth, becoming sharp and authoritative.
"Jay," Jay answered, letting the purple flame flicker steadily in his hand.
The woman suddenly floated slightly upward, lifting off the ground with graceful ease. She looked down at Jay, the intense surprise replaced by a knowing, almost predatory calm.
"My name is Glenda," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the vast room, "but most people know me better as the Witch of the South."