Paresha’s Sacrifice and Kaelan’s Teasing

“She’s a witch!”

In his desperation, Lucius raised a hand, aiming at Kaelan, and roared his accusation. “This person is a witch! She has magic on her, can’t everyone see?!”

Saranya’s heart sank, seeing her master at risk of exposure.

“Nonsense!”

Someone suddenly pointed to Lenix on the ground, drawing everyone’s gaze. “It’s the one on the ground who’s the problem! Look, just look at her!”

Lenix lay there, her eyes half-open and vacant, her pupils dull and lifeless. Her once delicate skin was gradually losing its luster, fading from a normal flesh tone to an eerie, pale green.

“This thing is showing its true form!”

“How disgusting, what *is* she…?”

“Lucius, this is someone you brought! You need to explain yourself!”

“Everyone, please don’t be hasty. I will actively cooperate with the City Council to investigate Lenix’s identity—”

“Bullshit! You brat, the City Council is run by your family! Do you think everyone here is an idiot?!”

Amidst the crowd’s furious shouts, Lucius was rendered speechless. With a face contorted in resentment, the young master slowly raised his hands.

“I concede this game.”

Behind the chessboard, a dejected Dalia Aurelius raised her wand, dispelling the magical light from the arena, bringing the match to a close.

“We won…”

A wave of relief washed over Saranya. She let out a long breath and took a step towards her master.

“We won… we… ha… haaah…”

The tension in her nerves suddenly dissipated, and her vision went black. Her feet slipped, and she tumbled to the ground.

An overwhelming exhaustion enveloped her. She propped herself up with her hands, desperately trying to rise, but found herself utterly unable to move. Saranya was burnt out, yet strangely, she hadn’t participated in the battle at all, so she shouldn’t have been this exhausted…

Her head throbbed excruciatingly, and several black-purple spots danced before her eyes, while the blood vessels in her eyeballs pulsed wildly.

“Huu… huu… what’s happening… my stomach… my stomach…”

A searing, burning pain in her abdomen caused her entire body to convulse, and she let out a choked groan.

Cheers…

Cheers surged like waves. The crowd huddled together, shouting “Victory.” Her companions rushed towards her, Aivy and Phillo leading the way, their expressions filled with concern, their mouths opening and closing, yet no sound reached her ears.

She swallowed with difficulty, shifting her gaze to see Vireta’s blood-stained body lying on a stretcher, carried by the surging crowd through the gate, leaving a faint trail of blood on the ground.

“…!”

Someone embraced her.

A soft touch emanated from behind. The person holding her was small and slender, instantly recognizable.

“Kaelan…”

“It’s Master’s fault… Master made you too tired. When we get back, Master will make it up to you, alright?”

Kaelan helped her up, then stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around Saranya’s neck, pressing her lips gently against Saranya’s pale cheek.

“Just a little longer, Xiao Ya. I’ll have you back to normal in no time…”

That was the last thing she heard her master say before her consciousness faded.

Kaelan’s eyes, once glowing with purple magic, now held a pair of moist, captivating red pupils, reflecting Saranya’s haggard face. The physical discomfort vanished, and with it, all other sensations. Saranya exhaled in relief, slowly closing her eyes.

****

A cramped room, an unfamiliar ceiling.

There were no windows, the door was tightly shut, and the environment was eerily quiet, save for the occasional faint scratching of a pen from beyond the door.

‘Where was this, again?’

“Oof… ow…”

Saranya rolled over, settling onto her side on the uncomfortable hard bed, her lower back protesting sharply.

As her vision tilted, a dark-patterned nightstand came into view. On its surface lay the room’s sole candlestick, and beneath its flickering orange glow, a thick, rectangular book rested.

[The Legends of Olavi Series – IV]

She recognized this. It was a sample copy displayed by Mor, the scribe. It seemed she was currently in his home.

Curiously, the book lay open, specifically to a page featuring a half-body portrait of her.

‘Huh…?’

Beside the book, a piece of parchment was spread out, bearing an identical half-body portrait. At the top of the page, some text was written, its layout remarkably similar to that of the book.

It appeared the book itself was a reference, and the author was compiling a new biography.

Saranya picked up the parchment and softly read the title.

“Haia… Novfloss…?”

‘Who was this? And why was she given her master’s surname?’

The door suddenly opened, startling Saranya. She burrowed under the covers, clutching the parchment.

Soft footsteps approached, growing closer, before abruptly halting. A fair, delicate hand reached into her blankets, retrieving the paper from her grasp.

“Mor, the scribe, seeks more than just copying books.”

Hearing Kaelan’s indifferent tone, Saranya slowly poked her head out from under the covers.

“He wishes to write his own works but struggles with content. In this situation, writing a biography for you—once a renowned legion commander, now ‘Miss Haia’—is a suitable choice.”

“So, Master, you’ve arranged a collaboration with him?”

“Not me…”

Kaelan stepped aside, and another young woman strode into the room from behind her. Her posture was straight and tall, clad in armor and bearing a sword, with a pitch-black eye patch covering one eye, making her appearance strikingly noticeable.

“Long time no see, Saranya… Sister…”

“Paresha! You, how could you—”

Paresha cut her off, seemingly unwilling to discuss her recent experiences, and immediately shifted the topic to Mor.

“I met old Mor through Vireta and agreed to assist his creative endeavors, sharing your story with him. In exchange, he helped me greatly, allowing me to consult many of his ‘treasured’ books. And within those books—”

Paresha held up two round-bottomed flasks, both filled with murky, grayish viscous liquid, bubbling and churning.

“I found the recipes for these two medicines. I secretly left the city, unbeknownst to my mother, and ventured deep into the desolate Northern Reaches to gather the ingredients for the recipes. For this, I paid a heavy price… a truly terrible price.”

The young woman set the medicine bottles down with a sharp *clink* on the table. She then lifted her hand, pulling her eye patch aside to reveal an empty eye socket, surrounded by black-purple scars resembling burns.

“For you, Saranya. I did all of this to save you…”

“Paresha, I’m sorry. Ever since the incident at the Sacred Hall, I haven’t had the courage to face you. I know you—”

“I don’t want your apologies. I want you and Kaelan to pull yourselves together and take me to find Mejga… I want revenge! I want to reclaim my brother from that beast’s clutches!”

Saranya choked, nodding vigorously at Paresha.

“I will, I promise I’ll help you get Westir back!”

Paresha’s willingness to risk her life, to pay any price to save her, stood in stark contrast to Saranya’s previous indifference towards her.

A powerful wave of guilt washed over Saranya. She seized Paresha’s wrist.

“I promise, I promise to help you! Paresha, thank you…”

Before her, the young woman pushed aside her light-golden bangs, her previously aloof expression slowly softening.

“Saranya Sister… I’ve grown stronger… I no longer need to rely on you and Kaelan. From now on, I can protect you—”

“Protect? Heh heh, Paresha…”

Kaelan suddenly interjected, causing Paresha to falter slightly.

“Your reason for saving Saranya isn’t *just* to find Mejga, is it?”

The young witch’s expression turned sinister as she advanced on Paresha step by step. Paresha instinctively hunched her shoulders, retreating half a step.

“Have you forgotten that you were originally trained by Saranya and me? Do you think we don’t know your ulterior motives? Using your poor brother as an excuse to hide your true feelings, do you really feel no shame?”

“Wh… what ulterior motives? Don’t talk nonsense!”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“You…”

Paresha placed her hands on her hips, desperately trying to maintain her firm, cold demeanor, but the two faint blushes creeping onto her cheeks betrayed her.

“My esteemed Miss Priestess, I have a question I’d like to ask you. Please, answer me truthfully…” Kaelan adopted a respectful tone, leaning closer to Paresha, a hint of playfulness in her voice. “You wouldn’t happen to… want to play a ‘threesome’ with Saranya and me, as the wronged party, would you?”

“Ah… ahh…?”

Perhaps not expecting Kaelan to be so direct and explicit, Paresha’s expression shifted from unease to shock, then quickly morphed into a complex, stiff, and subtly awkward state.

“No… no no no no!!!”

Shame, indignation, and a tiny bit of excitement—Kaelan was right; Paresha truly presented herself as the archetypal ‘wronged party’.

“No? If not, then why aren’t you getting out of here?! I want to be alone with her!”

“But the medicine…”

“I’ll give her the medicine myself; I don’t need your solicitousness! Get out, now!”

Saranya watched Paresha scurry out of the room, a helpless, wry smile gracing her lips.

“That poor child… I thought after visiting the desolate Northern Reaches, her mindset would become a little more normal when interacting with us…”