Outside the seaside villa in Ruya City, Yvette stood on the white sandy beach, her expression blank as she gazed at the sea before her.

The clear, pristine water shimmered like a gigantic mirror, reflecting the entire starry sky, including the sudden and spectacular aurora that had appeared overhead.

It hung directly above her.

Something felt off, she thought.

This felt very wrong.

She had heard Rosalyn discuss the aurora belt and the Abyss. The crucial detail was that such a phenomenon occurred once in a century, and for the average person on the Glowing Continent, witnessing it even once in a lifetime was a rare stroke of luck. Why had Ish Island experienced it merely 12 years apart?

Was it merely a coincidence?

Just a coincidence?

She continued to stare at the aurora above, at the dazzling starry river, the bright full moon, and the surface of the shallow sea, where transparent whirlpools intermittently appeared and disappeared. She remained immobile for a long, long time.

…

Minutes melted away, or perhaps centuries felt compressed, when the low roar of a magitek motorcycle engine shattered the dense silence, pulling Yvette back from her deep thoughts. She turned her head slightly to see Rosalyn jumping off the still-moving motorcycle, her breath slightly irregular. “Teacher, I—”

Yvette didn’t give her a chance to finish and directly asked, “Did you bring everything?”

Rosalyn’s eyes glimmered with unexpected redness behind her golden-rimmed glasses. She paused for a few seconds and answered in a hushed tone, “It’s all back at the manor…”

Although the opportunity to return home seemed bleak, she had actually been preparing for this moment for many years. She had two large suitcases in her room filled with clothes, novels, rune studies, pillows, blankets, useless wasteland trinkets, plant seeds, and notebooks documenting her daily life, learning insights, and culinary experiences.

However, upon seeing the aurora, she had hurried straight to the seaside villa in the northern part of the island, leaving all those preparations behind.

“Did you bring the ring and the knife?” her teacher asked.

“…Yes, I brought them.”

“What about the flying board?”

“It’s on the motorcycle.”

“Then that’s good.”

Suddenly, the air fell silent. Rosalyn watched as Yvette climbed back onto the magitek motorcycle and pointed toward a barely noticeable transparent whirlpool on the distant horizon, calmly stating, “I’ll take you there.”

After a pause, noticing Rosalyn still standing rooted in place, she added, “Get on the bike. We can talk on the way.”

This time, Rosalyn didn’t refuse again.

The magitek motorcycle soared through the air, the sea breeze tugging at their hair and robes. From the passenger seat, Rosalyn turned her head sharply, staring at her teacher’s emotionless profile. She watched as Yvette’s silver hair billowed, resembling a fearsome dark god, ready to pierce any boisterous monsters emerging from the water with her strands.

But if her teacher were a dark god, then she felt like a fallen angel in service to that deity, she mused.

Perhaps due to the overwhelming power of Yvette’s tentacles, after flying over four or five kilometers, the assaults from the sea monsters gradually subsided.

As tranquility enveloped them, only the aurora continued to sway, undulating through the vast starry night and draping a shimmering veil over the two.

“Why are you silent?” Yvette suddenly spoke while driving.

“Teacher, you didn’t try to persuade me to stay,” Rosalyn murmured, looking down wistfully. “I was all prepared, and if you wish, I could stay.”

“It’s a good thing to be able to go home; some people want to return but can’t,” Yvette replied, her tone still calm, devoid of the sorrow of separation, “So I hope that after reuniting with your family and fulfilling all that you wish to do, one day in the future, you can return here—carefree and without attachments.”

Rosalyn froze for a moment, as if something lodged in her throat, and she nodded vigorously, “I will.”

“That’s good,” Yvette said, a gentle smile appearing on her face, reminiscent of spring thawing the ice of a river.

As the magitek motorcycle sped through the air, the transparent whirlpool, like a mirage, became increasingly clear, resembling a portal quietly awaiting its destined passenger.

However, due to her previous experience crossing the Abyss, Rosalyn knew this was not the teleportation portal she had envisioned. Its entrance might last only for seconds or extend to a few hours, but the moment they fell through it would be a mere instant.

In other words, this was a one-way passage; once they landed, returning would require swift action to locate another Abyss nearby—a considerably risky endeavor.

After all, this mysterious aurora belt existed for only a few hours; any lapse in time was fraught with peril.

Moreover, she couldn’t say what might happen if, in that moment of the Abyss vanishing, someone reached in and couldn’t pull back, whether their arm would be severed by the Abyss.

Minutes slipped by before the magitek motorcycle came to a stop at the entrance of the Abyss. It was a whirlpool about 50 meters above the sea surface, wide enough theoretically to accommodate a vehicle.

Although she had felt sadness moments ago, the thought of reuniting with her father, mother, elder brother, and second brother after a full 12 years ignited a complex mix of excitement and sorrow within her heart.

“Here.” From the motorcycle, Yvette suddenly pulled out a small blue trinket from her clothing.

Rosalyn took it, her surprise palpable upon examining it.

It was a small brooch made from the flower “Magelight Orchid” produced by the magelight vine, dried and crafted from an amber-like material.

Given that the magelight vine only bloomed once every hundred years and its flowering lasted just half a month, it was an incredibly precious item. In the dream-like Ish City, its market value would rival the book on “Elemental Decay Compensation Techniques” that her teacher purchased.

Having cut so many magelight vines over the years for use as nightlights, she had never seen this brooch before—she’d only encountered images of it.

Serious, she pinned the flower to the chest of her mage robe, promising, “I’ll never take it off for the rest of my life.”

Yvette nodded, then paused for a few seconds before saying, “Actually, I’m not saying you shouldn’t…”

“No, no, you can’t, Teacher.” Rosalyn shook her head hastily. “This is too dangerous for you.”

She anticipated what Yvette was about to say. Just like when she first became her apprentice and heard the phrase “it’s not that it’s impossible,” her teacher was actually a person very reserved with emotions, seemingly soft-hearted, but hidden beneath a cold exterior, not easily discernible.

But she couldn’t allow Yvette to accompany her to the Glowing Continent.

To her, the Glowing Continent was home, but for Yvette, it was a treacherous place.

After all, the Glowing Continent was a high-magic world, there were indeed dragons, and real gods existed.

For example, the kingdom of Eton, to which the Sien family belonged, worshiped the true god “Lord of Unity” of the Three Saints Church. This god was no mythical being; He possessed a tangible divine kingdom on land, a paradise all his followers dreamed of.

Even the human-demon wars in the Eastern and Western Continents were steeped in the conflicts of demonic gods and true gods.

If someone like Yvette were to be exposed, she would inevitably be mistaken for the legendary dark god “Witch of the End,” and not only would the church hunt her down, making her an enemy of the world, but it could even provoke divine retribution.

Once Yvette fell silent, Rosalyn wiped the corners of her eyes, picked up a piece of magelight vine from the motorcycle, and along with the ring, the brooch, and the weapon, carried these scant belongings as she summoned the wind, gliding toward the Abyss.

“Teacher.” Standing at the edge of the semi-transparent whirlpool, she spoke solemnly, “I will definitely, definitely return.”

With those words, she took one last deep look at Yvette, as if trying to engrave her teacher’s image into her very soul. Then, stepping onto the cerulean wind, she entered the Abyss, vanishing from sight.

…

On the surface of the sea, waiting for several minutes, Yvette observed the whirlpool suddenly disappear. Emotionless, she returned to the driver’s seat and headed back home.

She felt there was nothing wrong with this; within her nearly 300-year-long life, a mere 12 years felt like the fleeting snap of fingers. However, for Rosalyn, now a 22-year-old young woman, this 12 years represented more than half her life, surpassing even the time spent with her parents, which was entirely normal for her to feel emotional.

But as a former male and now an ageless witch, she certainly wasn’t one to be carried away with emotion.

Arriving back at the seaside villa, she looked at the bundles of magelight vines Rosalyn had prepared in the back seat. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to store them in the villa’s storage room.

These decorations were meant for two people to enjoy, but now that she was alone, she could make do without them. Thɪs chapter is updated by novel·fıre·net

Feeling an inexplicable restlessness rise within her, she got back in the car and returned to Ish City, arriving back at the familiar manor, entering her top-floor room, and lying down on her bed. She closed her eyes, struggling to find sleep for several hours.

After what felt like a night filled with chaotic dreams long absent from her mind, she finally awoke the next morning, tired but quickly clasped her hands together and sat up. Lost in thought for a moment.

She reflected that while twelve years were not long, they didn’t pass by swiftly, either. Some things had become habits that could not easily be changed.

Thus, in the days that followed, she began to force herself to forget, gradually readjusting to the life she knew. She was learning to adapt to days without someone to pour her tea, call her to wake up, prepare meals, do laundry, and manage the manor—days devoid of anyone around her asking her a multitude of trivial questions or enthusiastically dragging her off to explore and seek adventure.

The enforced adjustment was surprisingly effective, as the sands of time covered over her. Little by little, she felt herself beginning to forget the blonde girl whom she had watched grow up, returning instead to the solitude of years past, wandering alone in the End of Days.

Until three months later, on a tranquil afternoon, while randomly tidying up one of the bedrooms on the second floor, she stumbled upon a letter tucked away in a cabinet.

Immediately, she began to read it—

“Teacher, I worried that if I decided to leave, it would be sudden and I wouldn’t have time to say many things to you, so I’m leaving this letter behind. But I suspect, given your relaxed demeanor, it’ll be quite a while before you see this letter, perhaps a month after I leave, two months, or even longer?”

“When I was with you, I felt it didn’t matter, and I enjoyed every little moment of serving you. But now that I’m gone, I know you must need a few reminders, like the specific care details for the wheat field, how to prevent mold, where to collect wild chicken eggs, and so on. I’ve jotted these notes in the notebook packed in my suitcase, along with insights on swordsmanship.”

“I’m sure I’ve returned home by now, possibly fighting for the survival of the humans or raising funds to build schools. You know, I’ve always wanted to do that, and I appreciate your permission and support…”

“My feelings for you are rather complex; in my heart, you are my teacher, my idol, a guardian, and even a sister. But sometimes, I also feel you behave like a sister who needs me to care for you. Hm, such rebellious thoughts are only worth writing down at this moment; I hope you won’t be mad.”

“But please believe that my respect for you will forever be my top priority, far exceeding even my faith in that deity or my father. Therefore, sometimes I find it troubling: what if one day you tell me you are a dark god and intend to destroy the world? Which side should I stand on? I once thought that question was simple, but now it feels increasingly complicated to face.”

“Oh, right! I’ve actually written many such letters in the lower layer of this cabinet, many of them from earlier, so their timeliness may be off and the writing not so refined. I hope you won’t read them all; but if you must, read one every few years!”

“This is my little wish.”

“Because only this way can I linger a bit longer in your long, long, long life’s memory.”

“—Your everlasting student, Rosalyn Sien.”

Sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, filtering through layers of fine dust, cascading onto the yellowed letter, as if scattering a handful of golden powder.

Yvette inhaled deeply, then opened the second drawer of the cabinet, where she indeed found countless envelopes.

Each one was labeled: “Open this one in the second year,” “Open in the fifth year,” “This is the tenth year, please be a bit more patient,” and even, “In one hundred years, Teacher, I’m deeply sorry, but please don’t forget me.”

She closed the drawer again, clutching the original letter she had opened, and made her way to a lounger in the manor, soaking in the bright daylight as she began reading the second letter.

Thus, the wind of time brushed through the courtyard, lifting fallen leaves that had aged anew.

Unknowingly.

Five years, ten years, twenty years, fifty years… a hundred years.

Spring turned to autumn, the cycles of seasons continued unceasingly, shedding countless sunsets and dawns onto the earth, yet Yvette never once contemplated leaving the manor or this island.

She often leaned quietly against that old lounger, staring at the sky, picking up the letters she had read many times before, and reading them anew.

She thought she would probably wait here, always wait here, until the day her only student returned once again.

…

…

(End of Volume One)