The girl who can discharge

“You said you met a girl wielding electricity in the ruins?” Selina asked, her eyes sharp with interest.

Aelir nodded eagerly.

“Yes, in the relic ruins! She was the first to clash with Bruka. She held a katana wrapped in crackling lightning, single-handedly holding off Bruka and his entire group…”

Aelir recounted the scene vividly.

Bruka, the red-clad noble boy sent out of the Secret Realm by Selina’s Sacred Mark, hailed from the Leonardo family, his father a prominent noble in the human empire.

Through their two-hour conversation, Selina’s gentle, elven demeanor had calmed Aelir’s fears, building trust.

By revealing her connection to Roan and Kant, she convinced Aelir she was indeed Kant’s apprentice.

This was a calculated move.

Layering identities was safer than being exposed outright, a lesson learned when Leisen recognized her too easily.

In a world of magic, divination, and mental perception, even a disguise wasn’t foolproof.

Establishing a cover identity preemptively—like being Kant’s apprentice—offered protection, especially in Tianqi Academy, where both her thief and elven identities risked recognition. Her mission at Babel Tower was daunting, a hellish challenge to complete without exposure.

“Do you know her name?” Selina asked, her interest piqued by Aelir’s description of the lightning-wielding girl.

She needed a “lucky” candidate to offload her excess points. Bruka’s reckless intrusion into her safe zone had triggered her Sacred Mark, causing her identity token to balloon to nearly 100,000 points—an absurd twenty times the passing threshold of 5,000.

Securing first place was guaranteed unless something drastic happened, but that would thrust her into the spotlight as the freshman representative, likely under her sister Felicia’s scrutiny.

Selina could already imagine the nightmare: Felicia sensing something amiss, embracing her as a “human pillow” in a sisterly reunion, while her apprentice, Litiya, stared in disbelief at her transformed master.

“Master, how could you fall so low?” Litiya might cry. “Defeated by being a girl? Wake up and use your invincible Wind Spirit Moon Shadow!”

How could she respond? “Sorry, my silly apprentice, Master’s gone too far to return… I’ve fully become an elven princess~”? The thought was mortifying—a scene straight out of some scandalous tale. She’d rather bury herself than face that chaos.

To avoid this, she had to shed the first-place title. Relying on other candidates to outscore her 100,000 points was less likely than a divine artifact falling from Babel Tower.

So, she’d create a new first-place candidate by transferring points.

Defeat halved the loser’s points, so she needed a strong candidate to “beat” her convincingly.

The lightning-wielding katana girl, who held off Bruka and fifty others, was the perfect choice.

Losing to her would be believable, and with 50,000 points post-defeat, Selina could secure second place—safely forgettable compared to the third, who’d garner more attention. Second place was her goal.

Her despair from waking to this mess vanished, replaced by determination.

For Aelir, she’d hunt low-tier beasts, leaving them for her to finish off, ensuring the girl’s score.

“I think she mentioned her name once… Leia, I believe,” Aelir said, straining to recall.

“Leia?” Selina locked onto the name.

She’d find this girl, stage a “defeat,” and hand her 50,000 points, securing Leia’s first-place spot. With Leia’s strength, passing was assured, and the extra points would seal her victory.

“How’s your recovery?” Selina asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Aelir replied, feeling warmth from Selina’s hand. The lingering injuries had healed, her stamina restored.

“Then let’s head to the ruins you mentioned,” Selina said.

“Sister Selina, are you…?” Aelir began.

“Exactly. Your description of Leia sparked my interest. With a day left, I want to challenge her,” Selina said earnestly, masking her true intent: to offload points. She couldn’t tell the naive Aelir, who still believed Selina was Kant’s apprentice and had forgotten her snow elf rescue due to the Sacred Mark’s influence. Fewer lies to cover, at least.

“Let’s go together!” Aelir’s eyes lit up. No longer alone, she felt secure with Selina, especially comforted by the warmth of her hand.

As Selina prepared to leave the shelter, her twin crystal swords vibrated, resonating with the chalice in her hand.

Both reacted, puzzling her. “What’s happening? Why are the swords and chalice reacting?”

“Sister Selina, what’s wrong?” Aelir asked, worried.

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Selina reassured, placing her hand on the swords and channeling mana. A vision surged into her mind.

Amid a howling sandstorm, a towering figure stood at its core, crimson eyes piercing the dust, gazing at every creature.

Where the sand touched, life withered, turning to dust in moments. The storm roared like an abyss, the figure advancing with purpose, chanting an ancient hymn.

Wind! Wind! Wind!

The word echoed, layered with countless voices, shaking Selina’s soul. The chant drowned her senses until her consciousness faded into the sandstorm.

She snapped back, breathing unevenly. Aelir gripped her hand, concerned. “Sister Selina…?”

“I’m okay,” Selina said, steadying herself. What was that? Encountering divine traces wasn’t new, but this was intense. The chalice and swords, gifts from Themis or Hestia, reacted to a divine presence tied to the vision—a sand-controlling god.

Selina, well-versed in Seliris’s lore, knew no such deity. Either their faith was secretive, operating in shadows, or the god had vanished, leaving no trace. “Aelir, were the ruins you visited filled with sand?” she asked.

“How did you know? It was a desert, just ruins and sand. Many got lost there,” Aelir said, shuddering. Her escape with the chalice was sheer luck; many candidates perished, disoriented and dehydrated.

The desert was as perilous as the icy region, but subtler.

Cold deterred most, but the desert’s dangers—dehydration, disorientation—revealed themselves only deeper in.

For elves, deserts were anathema, lacking the vitality of water or life. Even golden elves, adaptable as they were, lost their edge in such barrenness, especially with extreme temperature shifts.

Still, Selina had to find Leia and investigate the divine artifact. As an elven princess and apostle, she couldn’t ignore a god’s trace.

Gripping her token, she steeled herself for the journey.