Alaric lay in the tranquil Avalon, continuing his rest.
Meanwhile, the outside world had unknowingly passed through several centuries.
The billowing white steam had replaced the glory of the divine, becoming the new force driving the world forward. Magicians, clinging to the remnants of mystery, were forced to go fully underground, becoming true [Hidden Ones].
... But conflicts did not diminish.
On the contrary, as living conditions and mystical resources dwindled, disputes on the mystical side grew fiercer. On a path with increasingly dim prospects, every magician family staked centuries of inherited wealth, desperate to glimpse the true Root in this true "Age of the End of Magecraft."
[Einzbern] was one such family.
This magical family, born from the Third Magic, deliberately spread word through Europe's magical community to fulfill the Winter Saint's tragic wish: they were collecting ancient "relics" Tied to powerful heroes... and were willing to pay handsomely for them.
"Nouveau riche nonsense."
True magician families scorned the Einzberns' brazen [we have nothing but money] attitude.
Or rather, they looked down on what was ostensibly a magical family but was, in reality, a production line for homunculi.
... If that counted as a magical family, what did that make those who had survived the end of the Age of Gods and fought tooth and nail against the Church's forces on the European continent?
Thus, despite many of these families possessing valuable [Saint Relics], without exception, they refused to trade with the Einzberns… no, with any other family.
These Saint Relics were either witnesses to history or symbols of their former glory.
However, perhaps because the money offered was substantial enough, smaller factions... secret societies or lone operatives like bounty hunters... did show up with so-called "Saint Relics."
But without exception, these relics were either fakes, too low-grade, or defective. The Einzberns deemed them unworthy.
"Are we left with no choice but to summon based on compatibility alone?"
With the Fourth Holy Grail War fast approaching and no suitable Saint Relic in sight, the Einzbern family's patriarch was frantic, almost wishing he could turn himself into a relic... if that were possible.
But it was at this moment.
"Grandpa Patriarch!"
A silver-haired little girl, as delicate as a snow sprite, rushed in from outside, grabbing the white-haired old man's arm.
"There's a strange woman outside… she's carrying a white stone slab and says it's what you're looking for."
…
A dubious lead, true or not.
But with a "better safe than sorry" mindset, the patriarch, fully named [Jubstacheit von Einzbern], met this visiting magician peer with utmost haste.
"White hair, blue eyes."
Acht looked at the "strange" woman Iliya described, immediately noticing her distinctive features.
A magus from the [Whitedragon] family?
Acht wondered curiously.
It was an extremely secretive magical family, rumored to have a history older than most. Most crucially, its origins were said to be tied to [dragons]... yet, paradoxically, this family harbored an intense hatred for [dragons].
"Dragon slaying"... that was their ultimate aspiration.
But in this era, where could one even find a single flightless drake?
The family was doomed to tragedy, their wish forever unattainable as the ages shifted… Yet, undeniably, their combat prowess was formidable. Among magical families, they were one of the rare ones "built solely for battle."
Their exceptional genes were coveted by many magical families… Several had formed marital alliances with them. While their less pure descendants didn't exhibit the hallmark "white hair and blue eyes." Their overall qualities still surpassed those of ordinary humans.
As for the woman before him…
"Hiss... "
After briefly sensing her presence, Acht instinctively took a sharp breath, then forced himself to take several deep ones to calm down.
Just moments ago, with his eyes closed, he felt as if he wasn't facing a human but a true dragon.
…
... This was a sign of pure blood.
In the [Whitedragon] family, status was determined by the concentration of dragon blood in one's veins... the higher the concentration, the higher the status... but also the greater the danger. The denser the blood, the deeper their [dragonification]… to the point where some, overwhelmed by it, might transform into mindless dragon servants.
They called that blood the [Cursed Blood], granting immense power while bearing a terrible curse.
Wait, is this family taking the Holy Grail War that seriously? To send out someone like her?
Acht eyed the woman, then glanced at the over-three-meter-tall white stone slab behind her, subtly stepping back... he wasn't sure if she was deliberately showing off her strength, but carrying a three-meter slab up a snowy mountain was clearly not something a normal human could do.
He had reason to suspect this woman, with her terrifyingly pure blood, might not be entirely sane. It wouldn't be surprising if she transformed into a dragon in the next moment.
Still...
"So, this is their family's goal?"
The old patriarch gazed at the white stone slab, etched with a relief of a person and a dragon.
The dragon soared in the sky, the person stood on the ground, gazing at each other... a scene that seemed to tell a history unknown to the world.
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