— — — — — —
Inside the study space, Ravenclaw's expression turned… complicated when Morgan came looking for her.
"…You're not joking, right?"
Merlin had appeared after Ravenclaw's death, so she didn't share the near-mythical reverence most modern British wizards had for him.
But after being around this long, her mindset had gradually shifted closer to that of modern times.
Which only made this more absurd.
Who are you, and who is Merlin? And you think you can just rewrite how the entire world sees him?
And the most ridiculous part?
Tom had actually agreed.
"Well, Tom basically said he doesn't care." Morgan waved it off. "Whatever I do after I revive is my business. That's basically the same as agreeing, right?"
A giant question mark practically popped over Jeanne's head. How is that the same thing?
Ravenclaw, on the other hand, nodded thoughtfully. "In that case, yes. That counts as agreement. When the time comes, I'll help you think of a way. We can start by reshaping how the world sees you. That should make things easier."
Morgan nodded, satisfied.
Still, her top priority right now was adapting to the modern magical system as quickly as possible. Otherwise, Tom would have to relearn everything from her era, and the time cost would be far too high.
Ravenclaw resumed the lesson.
"Repeat after me… Ava—da Ke—da—vra."
This wasn't exactly the kind of spell Jeanne should be learning.
So…
Jeanne Alter—Jalter —stepped forward instead, chanting even louder than Morgan.
Ravenclaw already knew about her existence. There had been a period when Tom kept visiting Jeanne's room, which tipped her off. A little probing later, and the truth had come spilling out of Jalter's mouth with almost no effort.
Though to be fair, Jeanne wasn't exactly innocent either.
Maybe because of that, Jalter had gotten bolder and bolder. Sometimes halfway through, she'd shove Jeanne back into control just to make her deal with the aftermath while she retreated to recover.
Even so, in front of Ravenclaw, she was still easy to read. Still easy to trick.
Ravenclaw might have a bit of a mischievous streak, but she wasn't heartless. After learning that Jalter acted of her own will, she chose to keep the secret.
Besides, compared to the devout, almost saint-like Jeanne, Ravenclaw found Jalter far easier to get along with.
That said, Jalter's faith in Tom was just as strong. Only… mixed with other feelings. More human. More complicated.
"Make sure you pour killing intent into it," Ravenclaw instructed. "Let your negative emotions fully surface… though, for you two, that shouldn't be difficult. Let those emotions guide your magic, then release the spell."
A witch with a dangerous streak, and a darkened, impish girl…
They were practically made for this kind of magic.
After a brief explanation, Ravenclaw led them to a dedicated training ground for practice.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Jalter struck first.
A flash of blinding green shot forward, hitting the target dummy twenty meters away with perfect accuracy. The dummy shattered instantly.
Ravenclaw nodded in approval.
Even if it wasn't a living target, she could sense the killing intent embedded in the spell. And that intent determined the true power of the Killing Curse.
It might not look overwhelmingly destructive on the surface, but against a living being…
There was no spell more terrifying.
For a first attempt, Jalter had already surpassed most dark wizards.
Excellent. A new Dark Lord was about to join the world.
"Next."
Ravenclaw turned to Morgan and, quite thoughtfully, handed her a wand.
In Morgan's era, relying on external tools to cast spells would have been seen as weakness.
But times had changed, and she didn't look down on modern wizards for it.
Taking the wand, she didn't cast immediately. Instead, she replayed Jalter's earlier casting in her mind.
At her level, it was easy to see past the surface and grasp the deeper mechanics at work.
"…I see."
Morgan murmured softly, already piecing together the fundamentals.
This era was one of magical decline.
The power of wizarding bloodlines still remained, but the world itself had weakened. Studying the deeper truths of magic had become far more difficult.
So instead, modern wizards developed incantations.
They used spells to guide instinct, amplifying the role of emotion to compensate.
But a person's emotions had limits.
Killing intent, in particular, was unstable.
'Then why not…'
Under Ravenclaw and Jalter's watchful gaze, Morgan finally moved.
"Avada Kedavra~"
Her voice was soft, almost gentle, laced with a strange, hypnotic cadence.
The moment the words left her lips, Ravenclaw and Jalter both shivered violently. A bone-deep chill spread through their bodies. Their limbs turned cold, their souls felt frozen in place, and even breathing became difficult.
A faint green glow rippled outward from the tip of her wand, like a droplet falling into a still lake and sending out rings of disturbance.
Except this "lake" was an eerie, unnatural green.
Just looking at it filled one with discomfort, as if it stood in direct opposition to life itself.
Then—
A vague green silhouette silently took shape behind Morgan.
It wore a tattered hood, its face hidden in darkness. In its hand was a scythe that gleamed with a pale, chilling light.
The instant it fully formed, it moved.
Fast enough to leave afterimages.
Where it passed, a thin trail of murky green mist lingered. Grass and plants touched by it withered and blackened at a visible speed, as if life itself had been drained away. Even the air seemed to lose its vitality.
Jalter instinctively tried to breathe deeply, only to realize she couldn't draw in any air at all. Her chest tightened in panic.
The scythe brushed lightly across the three targets.
Just a touch.
The dummies crumbled instantly, like weathered stone collapsing into dust.
After the task was complete, the green figure slowly turned, gave Morgan a slight bow, and then dissolved into a wisp of smoke, vanishing into nothing.
"Not bad."
A satisfied smile curved across Morgan's lips, bright and striking.
The Killing Curse itself didn't really suit her tastes. She preferred to let her enemies suffer, to drag them through every possible misery before letting them die full of regret.
Still, she couldn't deny its efficiency.
"Was that really your first time learning the Killing Curse?"
For once, Ravenclaw looked genuinely shaken. "Learning it is one thing. But you improved it on the spot. Don't you think that's a bit excessive?"
"Excessive?" Morgan shook her head lightly, completely unconcerned. "I just understood the essence of the spell and adjusted it to suit me. Isn't that normal?"
Normal?
Ravenclaw felt like she'd just been thoroughly shown up.
But Morgan wasn't exaggerating.
She had walked her path almost entirely on her own.
As a child, she was unloved by her father and had no reliable teacher.
Merlin, the court's chief mage at the time, had offered her some guidance, but his attention soon shifted to her younger "brother."
So Morgan buried herself in the royal library.
She read. And read. And somehow, she grew stronger just by reading.
Eventually, she awakened her own fairy bloodline. After that, everyone else looked insignificant by comparison.
Even Merlin never dared face her head-on, relying instead on schemes and tricks.
Still, her life was a perfect illustration of how talent alone couldn't overcome fate.
Especially when fate came packaged with someone as shameless as Merlin.
"How did you do it?" Ravenclaw asked, still replaying that green phantom in her mind. "That thing… it was like looking at Death itself."
Since they would be companions for the long haul, with no fear of betrayal, Morgan found herself surprisingly open. For once, she didn't hold anything back.
"I told you. A person's killing intent is limited. No matter how intense, it's still just an individual's will."
She lifted her wand again, green light flickering at the tip.
This time, she pointed it at Ravenclaw, "…But if you bring the world into it, its magic..."
Ravenclaw's instincts exploded into action.
Her black hair shifted into an icy blue, visible to the naked eye. Magic surged wildly around her as defensive and offensive spells poured out in a storm, forming an airtight barrier in front of her.
She could feel it.
The magical world itself rejecting her.
A terrifying pressure closed in from all directions, as if it meant to erase her very soul.
Only when Morgan dismissed the green light did that suffocating sense of danger fade.
Seeing Ravenclaw still shaken, Morgan smiled, clearly pleased with her little prank. "Get it now?"
"…I do."
Ravenclaw nodded slowly, a hint of frustration in her expression.
Once again, she had felt the vast gap between them.
More precisely, the difference between someone who could only influence the world… and someone who could command it.
Ravenclaw could use her magic to work within existing rules, bending them to her advantage.
But Morgan?
Morgan imposed her will directly onto the magic itself.
And if even the world and its magic rejected you, then death was inevitable.
Seeing this, Morgan started to panic a little.
She had only meant to tease her, maybe give her a firsthand understanding of the concept. She hadn't intended to crush her confidence.
If Tom found out, he'd probably be dead set against her Morgan le Fay Medallion from now on.
"Rowena, your talent is incredible," Morgan said quickly, trying to reassure her. "Honestly, you're one of the most gifted witches I've ever seen. You're not that far behind me. We should exchange ideas more often. I'm sure you'll get there too."
Ravenclaw looked at her for a moment, then smiled.
"Don't worry. My will isn't that fragile."
A flicker of determination flashed in her eyes.
Someone who commands the magic itself…
If Morgan can reach that level…
Then so can I.
.
.
.