It was a spring morning, with clouds hanging low like a grayish-white veil shrouding the sky, filtering the sunlight into a soft glow.

A cold breeze swept through; Yvette treaded over the thin ice that had yet to completely melt, navigating through the dense forest of evergreens until she reached the foot of Mount Ish. The chilly, damp air filled her lungs, shaking off some of the fatigue from rising early.

Behind her, seventeen-year-old Rosalyn, clad in a fitted overcoat, looked exceptionally tall and her curves were becoming distinctly apparent—a stark contrast to her former girlish figure.

In this, Yvette felt grateful; Rosalyn’s growth had tapered off since last year, settling at a height of around 1.7 meters. Yvette had been concerned that someday she might have to look up to speak with her student, even tiptoe to pat her on the head—both scenarios sounded thoroughly pathetic.

With this thought, Yvette couldn’t help but glance down at her flat shoes.

Maybe I should get a pair of heeled boots… she mused silently, though worried she might not adjust to them. After all, in her past life, she had stood at a perfect height of 1.82 meters, a towering figure by many standards, never having to worry about heeled shoes. Now, having transformed into a silver-haired, red-eyed beauty, she gained much but lost much as well. Reflecting on it made her somewhat melancholic.

“Is the top of the mountain where you woke up, teacher?” Rosalyn looked up curiously at the mist-wreathed summit.

Yvette nodded lightly. At this point, aside from her journey through the world, there was little need to hide other matters from her student. After all, she herself didn’t fully know her own origins; perhaps sharing them could inspire some clarity.

As a gentle breeze rustled by, Rosalyn seemed to take a leap forward, humming an unfamiliar tune from another world, clearly in high spirits.

Infused with this good humor, Yvette’s gaze softened a bit. She occasionally hummed to herself when feeling happy, but many of the songs from her past life had faded into obscurity, their memories lost to time.

Sometimes, she wondered if she could capture those long-remembered songs during another dream, recording them to become a scribe of the origin civilization, monopolizing Earth’s entertainment resources to amass numerous credit points—she could then buy upscale goods and enjoy luxuries.

Well, of course, that was just a whim. As a powerful mage, the idea of resorting to dancing and singing seemed rather embarrassing. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel{f}ire.net

An hour later, they reached the end of the mountain trail. When there was nowhere else to go, they pulled out their magitek skateboards and soared to the edge of the volcanic lake, looking down.

At this moment, much like when Yvette first escaped her cage decades ago, the dark lake exuded a deep blue calmness, silent as depths. In the center of the water rested a tiny metallic platform, like a forgotten countryside dwelling, still waiting for someone to return.

After a quick three-minute wipeout of a few aberrations that were unfortunate enough to wander close, Yvette stepped back onto the metallic platform, opened a small door nearby, and unleashed a light spell, leading a curious Rosalyn down into the depths.

“The first level is the quarantine area, filled with many elite military-grade weapons and equipment. When I saw this place was the only one with sunlight, I brought most of the collected items, including usable books…” Yvette began narrating as she walked, her voice echoing in the silent corridor.

Rosalyn gazed around with a solemn, almost reverent expression, exploring the first level. She noticed many draft papers inscribed with luminous liquid writing derived from magelight, along with numerous dismantled remnants of magitek equipment.

Though it was just a fleeting glimpse, she felt as if she saw the scenes of countless years past: her teacher, devoted and focused, diligently studying, dismantling, and pondering here.

Those monotonous snippets were replayed day in and day out, like a faulty film projector recording the entire evolution of a sorceress.

Continuing downwards, Yvette expertly outlined each level’s functionality, sharing details of her original explorations. Rosalyn followed along, reconstructing the grand history of this subterranean relic through her teacher’s narrative.

Finally, after traversing ten underground levels, they arrived before a sealed alloy door.

But unlike the prior predicament of being at a loss, this time, they utilized the potent cutting ability of their alloy blades. If that failed, Yvette could consider prying open the elevator shaft or restoring power to this level to seek other options.

Activating the alloy blade, enhanced by the muscle-limit removal, Rosalyn swung down powerfully, producing notable results—a deep dent appeared in the alloy door.

Seeing the significant effect, Yvette joined her in the effort. Soon, under the combined strength of their efforts, a gap big enough for one person to slip through was finally cleaved open in the door panel, and the air within was unexpectedly fresh—not rancid. This was due to the redundancy of the ventilation system, which centralizes airflow through wind pressure; as long as the winds moved over the volcanic lake, air could circulate continuously, eventually exiting from some opening halfway up the mountain.

Indeed, even this level bore the pervasive traces of magelight vines, though their brightness was limited. The two continued to use magical illumination.

“Teacher, what level is this?” Rosalyn glanced at a nearby sign. She had learned a bit of the Black Tide language in her dreams, but having consistently communicated with her teacher in the common language of the Glowing Continent, she had nearly forgotten it.

“This should be the management level’s living quarters,” Yvette carefully discerned the faint, blurry characters above and speculated.

Compared to the higher levels, this one was significantly more spacious, containing an array of rooms for leisure and habitation. The two took their time exploring, pushing open doors one by one.

“It seems those who lived here didn’t escape the fate of aberration…” Rosalyn remarked somberly, gazing at the many grotesque skeletal remains within the rooms, and even spotting a relatively intact aberrant corpse.

Clearly, she now felt a blend of sympathy for those who perished in the apocalypse but also a tinge of resentment as she surmised these people must have locked others out to save themselves, inducing a conflict within her.

“Perhaps,” Yvette nodded slightly, rummaging through the clutter. The documents here had mostly decayed, but it was fitting of such an executive living area; there were quite a number of well-preserved hardcover books. Although they were all in the field of rune medicine, they still held considerable value.

“Teacher, look at this!” After a while, Rosalyn suddenly spotted something and called out with excitement.

Yvette zipped over to see a luxurious notebook that had not decayed, its pages penned in Black Tide language—unfortunately, Rosalyn’s literacy level being semi-illiterate meant she couldn’t decipher it.

Picking up the notebook, Yvette scanned through its text, her pupils contracting slightly.

“I am Acelin Omega, the CEO of the Ish City branch of the Black Tower Medical Institute, and the grand-daughter of Vincent Omega; this is my last will.”

“If any future traveler finds this message, it means the world has not ended, and I must clarify one thing.”

“I swear by the honor of the Omega family that the ‘Divine Transcendence’ from the Abyssal Base is still contained below the God Erosion, and has not leaked; we are not the sinners of this world.”

“The true source of the mutation lies within the sea!”