"What is this thing? It looks… kind of creepy."
Madison glanced at the Russian matryoshka doll, unimpressed by its ornate design.
But after a second she frowned.
"I can feel some weird energy coming off it…"
"It's a magical artifact," Damon said, patting the doll without hesitation.
"It seals away a world-ending witch."
Madison flinched and instinctively backed a few steps.
"Welcome home, dear—you must be exhausted."
Standing at the doorway in nothing but a sheer white nightgown, Jenny smiled sweetly, her gaze full of tenderness and… unmistakable desire.
The instant Damon heard that sultry tone, he knew exactly what she wanted.
And really—after years of repression, it wasn't surprising that the woman was practically radiating hunger.
If Madison weren't here, he might have considered reenacting one of those infamous "teacher and student" hallway scenes right at the entrance.
"Next time, maybe don't greet me dressed like that at the door,"
he said mildly, slipping on his house-shoes under Jenny's solicitous care—
which, inevitably, involved plenty of accidental contact.
Madison folded her arms and rolled her eyes at the two of them.
I'm the third wheel here, aren't I…
"I'll, uh, go to the bathroom," she muttered, leaving the field clear.
The moment Madison's back disappeared, Jenny's eyes lit up again.
She dropped to her knees, eager to "clean up the mess."
Damon felt her body trembling slightly and, thinking she might actually be unwell, decided to conduct a full physical check.
His investigation concluded that she was simply over-tired—just needed a bit of rest.
When Madison came out, she saw Jenny heading into the kitchen and didn't think much of it.
She flopped onto the sofa—
only to notice it felt… suspiciously damp.
"Madison," Damon said, absently turning the matryoshka over in his hands,
"interested in learning more magic?"
Her eyes lit up instantly.
"Magic? You mean I can learn magic?"
"You're descended from witches," he replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't tell me you didn't know."
Madison blinked.
"What? No one ever told me that! My parents never said anything."
Damon sighed.
No wonder witches are a dying breed.
The rich rely on tech, the poor rely on mutations—
and those born with real power don't even bother passing it on.
"Fine. Normally the Witch Academy would reach out after graduation.
You'll probably get an invitation soon enough."
Madison edged closer, wrapping her arms around him.
"But you already know so many spells… couldn't you teach me a few first?"
"My magic isn't something you can learn directly," he said.
"But I can help you start with a few entry-level spells.
Beyond that, you'll need to study on your own."
Because Madison's data had already been fully uploaded into the Map Editor,
she now existed as one of Damon's controllable ally templates—
a "friendly hero" unit whose stats and skills he could edit at will.
At her current level she had four ability slots:
three normal skills and one ultimate.
Anything else would require real-world study, which wouldn't consume slots.
Madison's eyes sparkled.
"Then I want Meteor Call! And the Triple Rashomon Gate! Oh, and teleportation—and a shield spell too!"
Damon shot her a look.
"Meteor? What would you even use that for?"
"Heh-heh… to blow up the school, obviously!"
"I hate classes and studying. Wouldn't it be better to spend that time on vacation?"
Damon's mouth twitched.
"Creative. If you ever went to Dragon Country, their kids would probably worship you as a hero—
but no thanks."
"Meteor Call drains massive mana. With your current reserves, you'd pass out before the meteor even landed—
and then die under your own spell."
"Start small. Crawl before you run. This isn't a video game."
Madison's lips instantly pouted.
"Blow up the school? Who's blowing up the school?!"
A small voice cut in.
Yurenka stepped out of her room, eyes shining with mischief.
She might've looked ten or eleven, but her brain had long surpassed most adults'.
No wonder she couldn't stand the idiots at elementary school—
might as well blow the place up.
"Hmm?"
Damon's sharp gaze swept toward her.
Yurenka froze, immediately switching to her best-behaved expression.
"Blowing up schools is bad," she said primly.
"They say crime requires evidence, and anti-terror ops only need coordinates.
If the police come after you, it's really dangerous."
Then she walked over, offering a glass of water.
"Here, Daddy, have some water."
"...What did you just call me?"
Madison choked mid-sip, spraying everywhere.
Yurenka blinked innocently.
"Mom sleeps in Dad's room, doesn't she? I saw her come out this morning."
Madison's mouth twitched—utterly speechless.
"Should I call you Aunt Madison then? Or maybe Step-Mom Madison?"
Madison flushed crimson and waved frantically.
"Just Madison! I'm only eighteen!"
Sure, in this country plenty of girls became moms at eighteen,
but Madison was not ready to join that club.
Even the thought made her skin crawl.
Desperate to steer the topic away, she blurted,
"So, um—where do I start learning magic?"
At that, Yurenka's eyes sparkled.
She hated regular studying because everything in school was too easy.
But magic? That was different. That was interesting.
Damon shook the matryoshka lightly.
"Let's find you a teacher."
He snapped his fingers.
The room shattered like glass—
and suddenly, all three of them were inside a Mirror Dimension.
The kaleidoscopic reflections drew gasps from both Madison and Yurenka.
Then Damon opened the first layer of the matryoshka.
Golden sand-like light coalesced into the shape of a man—
braided hair, slitted eyes, yellow robes—
the very image of a stereotypical dark sorcerer.
The moment he appeared and saw three strangers, he said nothing.
Instead, he grabbed the dragon-shaped ornament on his belt.
The carving writhed—
flattened to two dimensions, then swelled into three, coming alive.
But Damon moved faster.
Before the dark mage could even finish his incantation,
a nearby skyscraper twisted—its walls sprouting gears and serrated blades,
transforming into a monstrous mechanical beast that lunged forward and swallowed him whole.
[Dark Sorcerer – Longtao Armor eliminated. Data recorded. +800 Anomaly Points (800 / 1300).]
"Seriously? Who still uses casting wind-up animations these days?" Damon muttered.
He turned to Madison and Yurenka.
Both girls stared wide-eyed, pupils dilated—identical expressions of shock.
"Lesson one," Damon said calmly.
"When you fight with magic—don't waste time on long chants.
Act fast. Don't let the enemy charge an ultimate or transform."
"And most importantly—when it's time to fight, just fight.
The more you talk mid-battle, the shorter your life expectancy."
Madison and Yurenka nodded hurriedly.
Though in their heads both thought:
He's calling that a 'lesson'? He just one-shotted the guy with a building!
Damon, meanwhile, silently thanked the unfortunate mage for entering the board—
literally sacrificing himself to provide a vivid, hands-on demonstration.
Browsing the recorded template, Damon mused aloud:
"Huh. Weak as he was, the guy had a decent spell list—
fire magic, telekinesis, transmutation, animation, cleansing…"
Not bad, considering he'd once been sealed by Balthazar,
one of Merlin's three disciples.
Even a weak dark sorcerer from that line still outclassed most modern mages.
(For comparison, current-timeline Kaecilius only clocked at 700 points.)
The sorcerer's specialty had been Animation Magic—
turning lifeless matter into living flesh.
In The Sorcerer's Apprentice, he had animated a parade dragon into a real, blood-and-bone monster,
merging the people inside into the creature itself.
Its raw power aside, the spell represented a profound mastery of the transformation of matter—
the boundary between stillness and motion.
Sadly, the sorcerer himself was too much of a rookie to explore its full potential;
his "dragon" was little more than a glorified lizard—big, tough, and fire-breathing, but that's it.
Damon opened the next layer of the matryoshka.
This time, thick black viscous liquid oozed out—
like living oil, glistening and writhing in the dim light.
If the Symbiote scientists at Oscorp ever saw it,
they'd lose their minds with excitement.
But this wasn't ordinary oil.
It was—
Morgana, the Dark Witch herself.
And beneath that swirling darkness lay her host body—
Veronica, power level roughly E-class,
the beautiful witch who had once sealed Morgana at the cost of her own freedom.