Faeul surged forward with terrifying speed, his heavy footsteps devouring the distance between he and the young lady. In the blink of an eye, he was standing over her and blocking her path, towering over her like a beast ready to claim its prey.
Faerith stopped in her tracks, ready to face the monster she had a hand in creating with her potions.
Faeul's lips curled into a twisted smile, his rage turning to something darker and his intentions were that of something primal. He spread his arms wide, as if welcoming her into a cage.
"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous. "We're not done yet!"
Faerith was quiet, her eyes tracing the distance between her and the gate which had no guard on duty there. Left with no choice, she reached into her inventory, and with a sharp pull, the whip materialized in her grasp, looking good as new from the last time she fought in that other world.
Violet light flared along her hand, pulsing with psychic energy as she lowered her stance.
She was ready to fight. If Faeul wanted nothing but violence—she would give him that.
Faeul couldn't believe his eyes.
Where on Earth did she pull that weapon from? Is she using one of those her potions to truck me?
There was no point thinking of it, she seemed different now from the last time. More dangerous and he had to keep his guard up.
The people residing near the city gate began to gather once more. Fruit sellers paused mid-trade, their baskets left forgotten. Children climbed into crates and stone steps, some looking through their windows, eyes wide with curiosity probably wondering where the city guards where.
The air filled with uneasy murmurs as the crowd slowly circled the confrontation. Whispers spread like wildfire—venomous and cold.
"Isn't that Faerith Brewer?"
"What is she doing here?"
"Trouble… she's always bringing trouble."
Faerith could hear them, their stares burning into her back, sharp and judgemental. Despite all this, she did not turn around or give them the attention they needed.
Her focus remained locked into her opponent. The city of Erandale watched, waiting to see who would fall first.
Faerith's sharp and increased perception flared to life. She began to notice every small detail around her, even the sweat sliding down Faeul's temple, the way his jaw tightened, teeth grinding as if ready to snap. The work seemed to slow—every breath, whisper and every shifting footstep stretched thin in her senses, like they were done by a giant.
In that heated moment, Faeul moved.
The fight had began, but ended just as quickly. As both opponents lunged forward, ready to tear into each other, someone stepped between them.
But they stopped instantly. Faerith's eyes widened as she took in the figure standing calmly between she and Faeul.
It was Loni'var standing tall, hands resting on her hips, utterly u bothered. Her witch attire was gone; instead, she wore simple attire that was cut from the waist. Rings and necklaces glinted softly against her skin, giving her an almost casual elegance—but her presence alone was intoxicating.
The crowd stirred, whispers rising from different corners, much louder this time.
"Isn't that the Chaos Witch who's leasing the new knights of Azure Lane?"
"It is… it really is."
"What's she doing here?"
"Does she know that Brewer girl?"
"No… that can't be possible."
Faeul recognized the woman at once, the color draining from his face in that moment. He staggered back, eyes wide with shock. "I-it's you…" he stammered. "You're here… in Erandale?"
Loni'var ignored him completely, his ego being stricken. Her gaze settled on Faerith, steady, sharp but undeniably calm.
"Faerith of the Brewer family," she said, her voice calm yet commanding, "I would like to speak with you. In private."
The square fell silent at the sound of her voice. The people of Erandale stared in disbelief.
Of all the souls in the city, Faerith was the one Loni'var had come for. And in that moment, everyone understood that Faerith Brewer was no longer just another girl in Erandale.
She had importance, especially when coming across Ravessa and this new power that she possessed.
The murmurs of the crowd slowly died but they still remained, still awaiting their promised fight. Loni'var stepped closer. Her presence alone was enough to still restless hearts and quiet fearful tongues. She smiled softly and placed a hand on Faerith's shoulder.
The young girl was confused, wondering why the woman was present here.
Then, Loni'var's face turned sour as she turned back to the crowd, "They won't be any fighting today, return back to your homes or the knights of Azure-Crest will be the next thing you have to worry about"
The Azure Knights? Faerith's brow knitted as this name came across her mind. Hadn't they already disbanded, why was she mentioning it again.
As the crowd listened without hesitation, going back to their homes not failing to mumur, Faeul still stood firmly, not planning on letting the young lady go. Loni'var turned her attention to him, eyes squinted with rage.
Faeul had seen the intensity in those blue eyes. With fear in his heart, contemplating what was going to be done to him if he attacked, he turned and walked away, glaring at Faerith with burning hatred.
Now the attention of one of the top five witches in the south turned back to Faerith.
"Walk with me," she said gently. "Beyond the walls."
Then she turned and began to walk away.
Faerith remained where she stood, her breath caught in her chest. It had been so long since she stepped outside the safety of Erandale. Fear lingered deep within her, carved there by years of hearing stories of Mythics and death beyond the gates.
Besides, she had lost a loved one whom she chose to forget outside those walls.
Loni'var noticed the stillness. She stopped, directing her gaze towards the girl. Understanding dawned on her face as she looked at Faerith. Slowly, she extended her hand.
"Do you fear what resides outside here?" She asked calmly. "You may hold my hand, if that is so. Maybe comfort will find you"
Faerith hesitated only a moment longer, her gaze darting towards the walls only to catch a sight of Ravessa beside Loni'var whom she could only see beckoning her to accept.
She took a careful step forward and for the first time in a long while, she moved toward the world beyond the walls.
---
The two of them passed beyond the gates, and with a low hum of magic, the barriers sealed behind them.
Faerith lifted her gaze to the open sky. The air smelled of fresh fruit and wild lavender, carried gently by the wind. For a moment, she forgot everything else—fear, blood, gates, beasts.
It was beautiful.
So peaceful…
"You like it, don't you?" Loni'var said, breaking the silence. "It must have been a long time since you last stepped outside the walls. Why is that?"
Faerith drew in a slow breath. The question lingered, heavy. She knew the answer, yet the words refused to leave her lips.
"It's… nothing," she said at last.
Loni'var raised a brow, resting her hands on her hips. "Well," she replied dryly, "that is certainly an answer."
Faerith glanced at her. "Then why bring me out here?" she asked. "I haven't agreed to join your Knight squad."
A faint smile curved Loni'var's lips. "That," she said, turning and starting down the path, "is exactly why I'm here."
They walked beneath a long stretch of trees, their leaves whispering softly above them. Flowers lined the boulevard, untouched and calm. There was no sign of Mythics—none of the horrors Faerith had feared for so long.
Still, her eyes searched the distance out of habit.
"Are you trying to change my mind?" Faerith asked quietly.
"You may call it whatever you like," Loni'var replied without slowing. "But yes. I came here to convince you."
The path stretched ahead, quiet and open—waiting for her answer.
Faerith rolled her eyes and let out a long sigh. She knew Loni'var well—not just as her mother's old companion, but as a woman who lived by her own strange rhythm. Loni'var spoke when others hesitated, acted when others doubted, and often left even her admirers standing confused in her wake.
Perhaps that was why she had reached her forties and still walked alone—unchanged by time, sharp-eyed, striking, and utterly uninterested in bending herself to anyone's expectations.
They walked in silence for several minutes, boots pressing through grass and loose earth, until the land ahead opened into a wide clearing.
Monkey orchids bloomed across the field.
Faerith grimaced. The strange flowers—shaped like tiny, grinning faces—had always unsettled her. No matter how many times she saw them, they sent a shiver crawling up her spine.
She stopped walking.
"What is this place?" Faerith asked, her tone wary. "Why bring me here?"
Loni'var slowed, then turned to face her, her expression calm but serious.
"Easy," she said. "As you can see, this is a field of monkey orchids."
Faerith frowned. "And?"
"And," Loni'var continued, her voice lowering slightly, "it is also a place where Mythics like to feed."
The wind passed through the field, rustling the flowers. The orchids seemed to grin wider.
Faerith's hand twittched, a sharp involuntary motion she couldn't surpress when she felt fear. Her breah stopped for some seconds, eyes widened, the air around her suddenly feeling too thin.
"Y-you brought me to this dangerous place to talk?" She said, her voice filled with anger and shock, tight and trembling.
Loni'var simply nodded, a smile on her face.
"Oh, naive Faerith Brewer," she said calmly, almost gently, as though pity sat comfortably on her tongue. "I didn't bring you here to talk. I brought you here to be honest."
The words barely settled before Loni'var stretched her hand upwards.
The world screamed.
A wave of black energy shot from her hand, violent and absolute, tearing through the air like a living thing. A plume of black smoke erupted outward, swallowing the entire field in seconds. Darkness crashed down on Faerith all at once, thick and suffocating. She cried out, instinctively shielding her eyes as the pressure crushed against her senses, her heart hammering wildly in her chest.
When she finally came about, the silence was worse. She was no longer in the field. No longer anywhere near Erandale.
This new world was blank, empty in a way that felt unnatural, like reality had been scraped clean, turned into a grey pigment. A vast expanse of pale nothingness stretched endlessly, resembling a sky with no ceiling, a world made only of clouds and dust. Beneath her feet, the ground was slick and cold, soaked in blood that stained her feet crimson as she took a hesitant step.
Her stomach twisted.
What is this?
A sharp, unsettling laugh echoed through the void.
Loni'var stood before her, chuckling loudly, her presence now towering, oppressive. Faerith raised her gaze, dread crawling up her spine as she faced this individual—this thing—that had claimed to be an ally.
Her eyes were glowed, emitting a blood-red light.
"Hey, you're not Loni'var," Faerith said sternly, forcing strength into her voice despite the terror clawing at her chest. "Who the hell are you?!"
The imposter went quiet and for a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—she began to change.
Her body twisted violently, joints bending in ways no living creature could. Her clothes began to rip apart as her frame expanded, muscles swelling beneath the fabric. Bones cracked loudly. A dark plume of smoke seeped from her eyes and throat, pouring out like rot given new form, coiling and writhing around her growing silhouette.
Faerith staggered back, overwhelmed, her mind screaming for reason that no longer existed.
And then—the system emerged.
A message burned itself into her vision, searing into her soul—something that would haunt her long after this moment, long after survival itself became uncertain.
[You Have Encountered A Mythic]