The Daughter of an old friend

The sudden eruption of chaos in the Secret Realm left the training grounds in stunned silence, quickly replaced by a cacophony of shocked discussions.

The central magical projection had gone black, yet the vivid image of a white beast swallowing everything lingered in every onlooker’s mind—a devastating arrow of ice and snow, unleashed with divine precision.

Under such a terrifying elemental storm, even the academy’s Sky Eagles couldn’t escape.

No one, not even the academy’s leadership, could have predicted that a routine candidate test would unleash destruction so chilling it shook the bravest souls.

With the eagles caught in the storm, the surveillance “eyes” were lost, and the projection went dark. But the fleeting glimpses of that cataclysm were enough to leave every student in awe.

Disbelief spread like wildfire, followed by a torrent of questions. “What was that? No way that was a candidate!” one student stammered.

“Impossible! A freshman with that kind of power could be a mentor!” another exclaimed.

“Mentors might not even match her. That magical fluctuation was at least high-tier—maybe ultra-tier!” a third speculated.

“Her appearance… pointed ears, silver hair, and that ice magic. Could she be an adult snow elf with terrifying strength?” someone ventured.

“Snow elf? We have snow elf classmates, but none are that powerful. She’s not a candidate—she must be a new Secret Realm trial!” another countered.

“I never went to the icy region during my exam. Is there really a hidden trial there? I heard the top freshman two years ago ventured into that area…” a student mused.

“It’s too outrageous. Could it be a mistake?” another whispered.

The debates swirled around Litiya, who stood quietly, her friend Ylenia gazing at her with eager curiosity.

Litiya shook her head slowly. “No, I’ve never seen this elf. Perhaps I didn’t explore deep enough, but I found no trace of elves in the icy region during my exam.”

Her words draped the mystery in a deeper veil.

The top freshman from two years ago hadn’t encountered this snow elf? Now, a silver-haired elf with monstrous power had emerged mid-exam.

Was she a candidate or a special trial? Even if a trial, her ultra-tier strength was terrifying.

Ultra-tier power was rare, even among the academy’s elite.

Only the top five on the leaderboard might stand a chance against her.

Ylenia, seated beside Litiya, murmured with concern, “I hope Selina’s okay. It’d be a shame if she got eliminated…”

In the principal’s office, Principal Melianne and Vice Principal Hecate stared at a private magical projection, lost in thought.

Hecate broke the silence. “That… that’s Selina, isn’t it?”

The public projection had gone dark due to Selina’s interference, but for seasoned administrators, her tricks were child’s play—amusing but ineffective.

They had full access to every candidate’s actions, and the recent scene briefly made Hecate question if the Selina they’d tracked was real.

“No mistake—it’s Selina,” Melianne confirmed. “If I’m right, that group’s commotion triggered a protective forbidden spell on her, likely the Sacred Mark.”

“Ultra-tier power… Carina spared no expense on her daughter. The Sacred Mark, huh? I recall Felicia’s child has one too,” Hecate mused, stroking her chin.

“It’s just a divine race’s way of protecting their pureblood heirs. With so few born every century, losing one is unthinkable, even for a mighty clan,” Melianne said, her experience tempering her surprise.

“The Sky Eagles are probably ice shards now. Tell the proctors to halt eagle deployments to the icy region and shift the projection to other candidates. Let Selina clean up her tracks—it’s the least we can do to repay a favor,” Melianne instructed.

“Love you, my dear Melly!” Hecate cooed, wrapping her arms around Melianne like an octopus.

“Tch, you old flirt!” Melianne scoffed, though her eyes betrayed a hint of fondness—a bond forged over centuries of friendship.

In the Secret Realm, as the raging blizzard and white beast dissipated, the silver-haired elf lowered her ice bow.

It dissolved into starlight with a gentle breeze.

At her feet, a stark white line divided the ground—normal earth on her side, endless silver snow on the other.

The storm had buried everything in its path, a frozen wasteland where even the hardiest would perish.

That single arrow was annihilation itself. Its magical mastery and mental control were beyond most high-tier mages.

Using it against mere candidates was almost overkill—perhaps a lazy way to end the conflict.

The once-crowded area was now empty, the storm leaving no trace of the weaker candidates, not even as ice sculptures.

Their tokens had teleported them out, sparing their lives but likely leaving mental scars from the ordeal.

Yet one figure stood out—a lone ice statue. The silver-haired elf gazed at it, her ice-blue eyes devoid of pity.

Thorns of ice formed a path as she approached, her shoes crunching on the frost. Touching the statue, a crack spread across its surface, shattering it into fragments. The red-clad noble boy emerged, pale and trembling, a pathetic shadow of his former arrogance.

He was the sole survivor, saved by his noble status and a desperate expenditure of all his magical artifacts.

They had barely shielded him from the storm, but he was drained—magicless, defenseless, clinging to life.

The storm had frozen not just objects but mana itself, a terrifying anomaly.

Freed from the ice, he looked at the elf as if she were a demon, his face whiter than paper, his psyche teetering on collapse. “D-Don’t kill me… I-I was wrong, please don’t kill me!” he stammered, warm mist rising from his soaked trousers—a noble reduced to disgrace.

The elf’s gaze held no emotion, reflecting his groveling form.

She crouched before him, her ice-blue eyes piercing his soul, making him tremble like a sieve. “Who is she?” she asked, nodding toward Aelir.

“I-I don’t know, I swear!” he babbled, curling into a ball.

“I said, who is she?” Her voice, laced with chilling intent, froze his blood.

He prayed for his token to activate, desperate to escape, but it remained inert, leaving him to face her alone.

Following her gaze to the unconscious Aelir, he spilled everything. “Her name’s Aelir Canaan, a thief’s daughter. Her father died three years ago, her mother’s gravely ill, and she’s… pretty. That’s all I know, please spare me!”

The elf’s eyes flickered at “Canaan.” “Canaan… so familiar. Her aura, too… could it be him?” she murmured, words incomprehensible to the boy. He grasped only that she recognized the name, though it was neither noble nor royal—just tied to a notorious thief executed years ago. How could a Secret Realm elf know an outsider?

He had no time to ponder. Her gaze returned, crushing him with divine pressure. “Y-You promised! Elves value honesty, don’t go back on your word!” he stammered, clinging to hope despite his token’s failure.

“Honesty is for trustworthy beings, not scum like you. And I never promised to spare you,” she said flatly, as if killing were trivial.

In his terrified gaze, she raised her hand, flicking his forehead.

A surge of icy mist invaded his body, freezing his blood and organs instantly. Without his artifacts, he was defenseless, encased in ice from within.

Just as death loomed, his token finally activated, a white flash whisking him away.

The elf stood, gazing at the empty spot.

Her goal was achieved—the noble had tasted death’s terror.

Though his body was saved, his mind might never recover.