Watching Moga’s stunned, speechless face, Yvette pursed her lips and began eating first. She held the roast in both hands, taking small bites,

occasionally using water magic to wipe grease from her fingers, cheeks, and the tip of her nose, her expression growing increasingly satisfied.

Affected by her movements, Moga finally snapped back to herself, hurriedly poured a cup of fruit wine for her teacher, and took a seat at the table.

“Teacher, you suddenly telling me all this — could it be that—” Moga asked absentmindedly while picking at the apple pie.

“Mm, within the next day or two.” Yvette did not deny it. “After I leave, keep an eye on your second senior brother Dugrabi and third senior brother Lant Quinn. One is a son of the Flame Dragon King, the other is of the demonkin — both are strong and should be able to help if you get into trouble.”

Moga exhaled. Having been mentally prepared, when the day actually came her emotions were steadier than she’d expected. She asked, “Will we be able to meet again, Teacher?”

“Of course. I’m not dead — I just need to find the Remnant Abyss to use as an entry back to the Mortal Realm. As a half-elf you’ll live a long time. When the next aurora appears, we’ll meet again.”

“That’s good.” Moga nodded.

“By the way.” After finishing the roasted venison and cleaning her hands, Yvette suddenly remembered something and reached out to Moga. “Give me your Emerald Bow.”

Moga complied immediately.

Holding the bow and stroking the high-purity magic crystal inlaid on it, Yvette said, “I’ll modify the magical circuits etched into your Emerald Bow to boost its performance and add new functions. This is half of the parting gift I’ll give you.”

Before Moga could respond, Yvette reached out as if to enlighten her, touching Moga’s brow. Using mind magic, she transmitted a shard of memory and said, “This is the other half: the complete contents of the Gale Grimoire and a compendium of spells on ‘Natural Magic’. Ideally I should give you a physical grimoire, but circumstances are limited, so I’ll store it in your mind. Master it well—don’t let me down.”

Moga’s face lit with excitement. The Gale Grimoire wasn’t unexpected; she had been studying spells from it for three years. But the Natural Magic compendium was another matter. As far as she knew, short of being a pureblood elf, only the Greenfield Society — one of the nine branches of the Academy of Truth — would normally have access to such material.

And as a half-elf, if she could learn that content, wouldn’t she be as capable as a pureblood?

Natural Magic spells were the obsession of half-elves!

“Thank you, Teacher,” Moga whispered. Yvette inclined her head slightly. She had wanted to weave Natural Magic into a full grimoire herself, but her mastery wasn’t deep enough to reach the underlying runes, so she could only gift a compendium of spells.

As for whether this Natural Magic knowledge would bring trouble to Moga in the future—probably not much.

On the Radiant Continent, if the Academy of Truth is likened to a central academy and its archmages to professors and academicians, then outside the Academy there are many maverick “folk-science” mages who conduct their own arcane research and keep developing new spells.

Their method is crude: explore patterns, tweak incantations or runes, and “try their luck.” Though most results are useless, they’ve nonetheless contributed a number of recorded magics to the continent.

If anyone later questions the provenance of the Natural Magic Moga wields, she can simply attribute it to some reclusive scholar or clandestine sect. They’re like the hidden clans in wuxia tales — useful for scaring people more than anything.

Yvette spent a not-too-short, not-too-long time upgrading the Emerald Bow — roughly over five hours.

Since she was about to part with her student and the gear was tied to the student’s safety, she took the highest-difficulty route in design: the most complex etching method with the strictest precision requirements. The benefit was that once finished, the bow, even if placed in Origin Civilization, would be a high-end military-grade piece of equipment with a built-in bonding feature. The downside was that the etching fineness was roughly equivalent to handcrafting mid-to-low-end crystal chips,

which posed a considerable mental strain.

By the time she finished it was late. Tired, she looked up and saw Moga sitting nearby, intently watching her profile. When their eyes met, Moga froze for a moment, quickly averted her gaze, and awkwardly asked, “Is— is it ready, Teacher?”

“Yes. Try it.” Yvette said.

Moga nodded and took the Emerald Bow, which showed no major outward change. Following her teacher’s instruction, she channeled her mental energy into it—and instantly her world flipped. A strange interface appeared before her eyes, written in the common tongue: “No usage permissions detected.”

“Teacher—what is—” Moga was stunned. As someone who had never used a visual terminal, she couldn’t comprehend the image before her.

“That’s the bonding function. I’ll open the bonding process and register your information so that no one but you and I can activate the bow’s special abilities.” Yvette explained.

Moga blinked in bewilderment, finally feeling the gulf between deities and mortals. No matter how she looked at it, this was undeniably a miracle.

Soon, after completing the bonding process, Moga could formally use the Emerald Bow. She discovered that upon activation the bow granted her a visual overlay only she could see—enhanced night vision and a telescopic function to magnify distant scenes.

In addition to range and damage boosts, the upgraded Emerald Bow gained an aim-assist feature and the ability, in emergencies, to condense wind elements into Wind Arrows—useful if she ran out of physical fletched arrows.

After playing with it excitedly for a long time, Moga set the bow down contentedly. Suddenly sounds and louder commotion rose from outside.

She and Yvette looked to the window. From the ground, fire-arrows rose into the sky—each blooming into brilliant fireworks in the snowy night, lighting up the heavens.

“Do people in the Mortal Realm also set off fireworks?”

“They did thousands of years ago.” Moga replied puzzled. “Teacher, when you said ‘also’ you meant—”

“The Terminus used to have this custom too, long ago.”

“And then it stopped?”

“It stopped.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone there died.”

“Were they turned into tainted demons by the Terminus Witch?”

“Perhaps, though it’s also possible the witch only appeared after the destruction.” Yvette had a suspect she considered likely to have become the Terminus Witch, but she found it improbable—after all, Lianna was a gentle, kind child; if she were to destroy the world, there would surely be another cause.

“Teacher, how were you born?”

“I don’t know either.”

“Gods—don’t have parents?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s okay—Teacher, I don’t have parents either.” Moga comforted.

Your father isn’t dead yet, is he?

After a quiet moment, Moga poured fruit wine for both her teacher and herself. She wasn’t fond of drinking and had a low tolerance. But tonight was New Year’s Eve, and with the imminent parting she had mixed feelings; a small drink felt natural.

“Cheers.” Yvette raised her goblet and drank it all at once. Moga copied her and downed her cup. After several rounds, Yvette seemed completely unaffected by the alcohol, while the half-elf’s cheeks flushed, adding an attractive bloom to her delicate face and making her gaze unfocused.

Minutes later, under the wine’s influence, she could no longer steady herself. She relaxed and leaned against her teacher, closing her eyes and resting her head on Yvette’s soft chest; soon even breaths leveled into a steady rhythm.