"What are you laughing at?" Victor asked.
"What's wrong with laughing?" Tasha said.
"Of course not—without your smile, this evening would be dull and lifeless," Victor complimented her smoothly, then changed the subject. "But you don't laugh like that when you're happy; you only laugh like that when you're making fun of someone—wait, could it be me?"
"Yes." Tasa no longer hid her smirk. "Are you showing off?"
They took each other's hands and stepped into the center of the dance floor. For two warriors with such perfect coordination, no dance was too difficult. Tasa's red dress unfurled as they spun, like a blooming pomegranate flower; the hem absorbed the light, making it look luxurious and luminous. The lights shone upon them, making them look as if they were glowing from within.
But no one was looking in their direction.
At first, some eyes followed them, but soon after the music began, all gazes vanished without a trace. Even the most curious admirers and the most dedicated reporters subconsciously turned their heads away. Their eyes slid past them before making contact; Tash and Victor were both within the crowd and yet outside of it, like a drop of oil falling into water.
The central square was bustling tonight, yet a small empty space had formed in the midst of the lively dance floor; people stopped spontaneously a few meters away from Tassa. While those nearby might have actively made way for His Excellency the Magistrate, what of the dancers who had danced over there, completely unaware? Thus, this avoidance was not merely a spontaneous or conscious act—or rather, it was not solely conscious.
A dragon swept across the sky, sending griffins scattering in panic; a high demon played his little tricks among the crowd. Even though he still looked human and wore a charming smile, people instinctively scattered, as if birds were avoiding the shadow of a hawk.
"Do I?" Victor blurted out, quickly realizing that this rebuttal was flimsy and pointless. "All right, maybe I do," he amended bluntly under Tasa's gaze. "What can I do? You used such precious materials to craft this high demon's body for me, and my soul itself stands out so strikingly. If there weren't some unique special effect, wouldn't that be a waste of your hard work?"
As usual, his words were half-truths, skillfully avoiding a direct answer.
The effects of the Holy Tree Rolling Pin had been temporarily suspended. While Victor's current body certainly couldn't compare to his original one, its power far surpassed that of the Book of the Dungeon. The Book of the Dungeon was merely a magical tome or artifact, whereas the current Victor had returned to the level of a high-ranking demon; his re-formed body was a genuine demon—fortunately, detection spells targeting demons were only triggered by Abyssal factors, so Victor, a demon banished from the Abyss, didn't cause various instruments and spells to light up in a rainbow of colors.
It's only natural for a demon approaching the rank of a lord to be capable of creating special effects.
But is that what Tasa was asking about?
Victor was clearly changing the subject. Tasha had asked if he'd done something, yet he'd answered by asking if he could do something. This evasive response actually gave Tasha her answer: yes, the guy had used a bit of demonic trickery to make others unconsciously step aside, separating him and Tasha from the crowd. And so, this dance took place in broad daylight, yet was enjoyed exclusively by the two of them.
Whether intentional or not, Natasha found it quite charming.
Victor's denial made him seem even more endearing, like a little boy who turns away after giving a flower. A brazen, smooth-talking fellow—once he shows even a hint of shyness, it's more captivating than the blush of a shy person.
That said, even if the devil hadn't resorted to such petty tricks, there wouldn't have been many people snapping photos of them at the ball. The media frenzy surrounding Ms. Natasha and Mr. Victor had already peaked; all news eventually becomes old news, and mentioning "the Magistrate's lover" no longer caused people to gasp or gasp for breath. Victor's public image was being built step by step; his "persona" was gradually taking root in the public's mind and beginning to gain acceptance.
He participated in several academic conferences on the Abyss, calmly addressing various doubts and successfully convincing everyone. He appeared as an advisor at high-level meetings regarding the Abyss invasion and quickly proved that his presence there wasn't merely due to his wife's influence. His superb artistic insights, broad perspective, and vast store of knowledge won over Lake Rabe, ultimately turning the tide and causing even the harshest media outlets to change their tone. Victor was cunning enough, had lived long enough, and was a master of words—capable of spinning a yarn out of the slightest hint of color. A collaborator like him saved Tarsha a great deal of behind-the-scenes maneuvering.
"A faceless upstart of unknown origin," they said at first.
"A lucky favorite," they said later.
Now, people prefix Victor's name with titles like "extraordinary," "remarkable," and "miraculous"—without a hint of sarcasm. In such a short time, Victor has demonstrated so many extraordinary qualities that if he hadn't first appeared as something of a clown, if his entrance hadn't been so entertaining, people might have been afraid.
Everything went exactly as they had planned.
The clever minds of the Sorcerers' Guild believed they knew the truth, viewing Victor as one of the spoils from the ancient mage's tower—a demon sealed by the ancient mage, banished to the Abyss, and then captured by His Excellency the Magistrate. With Tash's tacit approval and active encouragement, this "truth" would eventually spread.
The "informed" mages marveled at Tasha's wisdom and boldness in capturing the demon, while the more sentimental witches found this peculiar love story quite touching; a few even took the initiative to send Tasha love potions (e.g., "The Elixir of True Love: How to Make Your Betraying Lover Die in Style"). However, whether they viewed this union as a strategic move or a matter of love, those who believed these rumors all agreed on one thing: the Lady Magistrate had subdued the demon.
Natasha, the Magistrate of Tasmalin, could never be manipulated by a demon. She would neither abandon us nor lose—this was the reputation Tasha had built through her struggles in Eryan up to this day.
Snap! Victor snapped his fingers near Tasha's ear, clearly having noticed her distraction. Tasha pulled her wandering thoughts back and smiled. "I admire your confidence."
"You flatter me," Victor said modestly. "If I weren't so extraordinary, how could you have fallen for me?"
"Don't you also have this handsome face?" " Tasa teased.
She flicked Victor's lower abdomen with two fingers. Victor grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips for a kiss. A reporter nearby raised his camera and then lowered it again, staring blankly ahead as if his professional resolve had just nearly wavered under the devil's spell. Tasa and Victor, witnessing this, burst into laughter in unison.
"This isn't a protest; it's just a little cleanup," Victor said, bringing up an old topic. "If we're talking about protests, I started long ago. Your people see you as a god; they don't believe any mortal can stand by your side. The less I look like an ordinary person, the more they accept me."
"People always deify the extraordinary figures in their hearts," Tasha replied. "I suppose you've seen plenty of examples of that."
"Yes," Victor sighed. "Ordinary people deify heroes and turn them into something otherworldly, so they can shift the blame onto them and find a glimmer of hope in their hopeless lives. Their heroes are merely an excuse, just as holidays are an excuse for revelry and forgetting one's fears." "They never bother to ask where you come from," he continued. "Consul Natasha is synonymous with miracles; she needs no justification."
"That's not so bad, as long as they don't turn into dreamers lying on the ground waiting for miracles to happen," Tasha sighed. "I'm not a miracle; I just did what I could."
"Oh, dear," Victor laughed, "you make it sound as if you really were one of them."
"I truly am," Tasha said.
"Is that so?" The demon raised an eyebrow. "No, no, no. You're unlike any being I've ever encountered—whether celestial, abyssal, or mortal. You're a maverick Nest Mother—sometimes I really don't know how you've mastered so many emotions without a teacher—but you still don't belong to your people."
"I don't belong to them," Tasha nodded. "But when did I ever say I was a Nest Mother?"
Victor paused, then it dawned on him.
"You never did say that, did you? Ah, dodging the question—I can't believe I fell for that one." He chuckled, a hint of curiosity showing. "Then what are you? Did you just fall from the sky?"
"Now that your memory has returned, have you ever summoned me?" Tasha asked.
"No," Victor replied. "This dungeon was supposed to be completely destroyed; I never prepared a dungeon consciousness."
"Then I'm not quite sure."
"What?"
"'Fallen from the sky,'" Tasha said with a smile. "Who knows?"
More than twenty years after arriving in Erian, on the final day of the Red Rain Festival—this night of shared dance—Tasha revealed her story for the first time.
She spoke of the day she awoke in Erian, of how a soul enters the dungeon's core, and of how she transformed from a drifting specter into the consciousness of this dungeon.
She spoke of the day before she arrived in Erian, and of the reason for her death. The story involved a stormy night of wind and rain, thunder and lightning; a car skidding out of control on a deserted road; a driver who never knew what he had struck. She died, and then lived again—only to awaken not in her former world, but in the entirely new and unknown Erian.
She spoke of the missing gap between "the first day" and "the last day"—that stretch of memory completely erased, leaving only a vague impression. As the forbidden spell in the Book of the Dungeon protected Tasa as she traversed the astral plane, she suddenly felt a sense of familiarity: the needle-prickling tension on her skin as space fractured was strikingly similar to the moment just before the car crash; the sensation of weightlessness during the spatial leap was almost indistinguishable from the state between death and losing consciousness. She realized that at the very moment she had died and crossed over to Erian, she had also traversed the astral plane.
"I don't know why I came here," Tasha said. "But I still remember that I was just an ordinary person."
Victor said nothing; his amber eyes were wide open, as if he were processing this flood of astonishing information. It was a long while before he finally spoke.
"So your name is 'Tasha,'" Victor said in a strange tone. "You never told me."
"Is that all you're thinking about?" Tasha nearly lost her composure. She had carefully decided to reveal her greatest secret, expecting Victor to offer some meaningful insight into why she was here—the Hall of Truth hadn't provided much useful information.
" "So does that alias, Natasha, actually come closer to the name you've admitted to using?" Victor seemed completely lost in his own world, muttering to himself with lingering resentment. "And to think I believed I was different from them—that we knew each other's real names…"
Tasha let out a deep, deep sigh. The hand resting on Victor's waist began to tighten, pinching the flesh and twisting it clockwise.
"Ouch, ouch, I get it!" Victor finally snapped out of his reverie and forced a straight face. "Well, I don't really know why that is. Things concerning the Astral Plane and the world are very complex, full of incomprehensible random events—not everything has a predefined reason. It's a convergence zone between countless worlds, where the laws of countless worlds can exert influence within a small area. Most scholars who study the Astral Plane have gone mad. Trying to systematize its laws is like trying to study the laws of the Abyss—the latter's scope is actually smaller."
"So you're saying my appearance in Eryan might really just be a coincidence?" Tasha said.
"[Maybe]," Victor replied, making an emphatic gesture with his hand. "Because other than a coincidence, I can't think of anything else."
Though disappointing, it was also to be expected. Tasa sighed and nodded.
"Still, I think you're wrong," Victor said.
"Wrong about what?" Tasa asked.
"You're still not one of them," Victor said with a toothy grin. "It's not power that's ordinary—it's the soul. An extraordinary soul will eventually become extraordinary; all it lacks is an opportunity. If you put everyone in Eryan in your shoes, how many do you think would achieve what you have? That soul traversing the starry realms is you. You chose this path, you chose Eryan, you chose me, and you've remained undefeated."
Victor paused at that word, and they shared a smile.
"May you remain invincible," said Victor, still trapped within the Book of the Dungeon, as he handed the soul fragment to Tash. "I will remain invincible," Tash had vowed in the face of Victor's sacrifice. Victor wasn't entirely certain when he offered his blessing, and Tash didn't have complete confidence when she made her vow, but they had stumbled and stumbled together to reach this day, never giving up, and never intending to.
"So don't be modest," Victor said. "The fact that you appeared in Eryan is, for us, a genuine 'miracle.'"
It really does sound unbelievable.
When you're in the thick of it, everything seems to happen naturally. To Tasa herself, it felt as though she was simply striving to survive after her journey through time—and trying to live a little better. The journey had been arduous but not impossible; yet, looking back at the starting point more than twenty years later, Tasa couldn't help but marvel.
To have come this far truly feels like a miracle. And as the creator of this miracle, Tasha felt a sense of pride—and utter fearlessness.
If she could accomplish these impossible tasks, creating even more didn't seem like a pipe dream.
"I still feel like we're more alike," Victor blinked. "You left the world where you were born, and I left mine—though my journey was shorter compared to yours. I died and came back to life; you died and came back to life. Compared to everyone else in the world, aren't we the real companions?"
"Yes," Tasha laughed.
She could tell Victor was trying to make her laugh, and she did indeed feel more at ease—the festival Tasha had prepared couldn't entertain her, just as a magician himself finds it hard to enjoy the fun of being tricked by his own magic. The uncertainty brought on by the impending invasion of the Abyss had been soothed, and before it was soothed, Tasha hadn't even realized she'd been anxious. To think she needed a demon to comfort her, Tasha couldn't help but find it amusing.
"Once we're free to enter the Astral Plane," Tasha said, "shall we go visit my hometown together?"
"Sure," Victor laughed. " "Oh, according to the latest trends in drama, for safety's sake, we should get married right away instead of waiting until we get back to your hometown."
"G-get married?!" a childish voice exclaimed.
Victor and Tasha stopped and turned to look to their side. The girl with the braids suddenly covered her mouth, her cheeks flushing crimson under their gaze.
The girl had nowhere to hide. Centered around Tasha and Victor, there was an empty circle about two meters in radius in the middle of the dance floor, with no one inside it. Yet, from this area cleared by the demon's trickery, a little girl had somehow appeared—close enough to eavesdrop. Victor clicked his tongue, looking rather embarrassed.
Tasha patted his hand gently and said to the little girl in a soft voice, "Gabirila, what are you doing here?"
"It's Mom and the others…" Gabirila said with a troubled look, tugging hard at her skirt. "They made me go play with them again, but I just want to find someone to play with on my own. Oh, I'm not a little kid who gets tricked anymore. They're always like that… So I ran away. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop… Please don't tell them…"
Her voice was soft and delicate; if not for Tasha's exceptional hearing, she would never have been able to make out what she was saying. The fourteen-year-old girl spoke with her head bowed, gentle and shy, though her attire clashed with her "little white rabbit" demeanor: her dark red dress was embroidered with intricate patterns that would make an ordinary person dizzy if stared at too long; a thick gold necklace hung around her neck, its pendant a skull the size of a baby's fist; no fewer than five bracelets of varying sizes adorned her slender wrists; each was distinct in style, yet when worn together, they created a deeply unsettling effect; a pair of earrings, far too mature for her age, hung from her ears—upon closer inspection, they were not studs, but clips.
This outfit would be perfectly suited for a masquerade ball, yet this young girl wore it as her everyday attire.
Gabriela is the daughter of a witch.
The number of witches in Tasmalin State has increased by two in recent years: the daughter of the Plague Witch, Lesley, was born just last year, and the other is Gabriella, the daughter of the Echo Witch, Afra. As the only child of the witches for quite some time, Gabriella has a witch for a biological mother, a whole group of witch godmothers, and Tasha even got in on the action, serving as a nominal foster mother. The various trinkets adorning this little girl—including that dress that looks incredibly ominous at first glance—are all protective talismans crafted by witches. Even though she herself has not yet awakened her powers, these items are more than enough to keep her safe and sound.
If it were Gabriella, it wouldn't be hard to understand why she could ignore the demons' tricks.
Whether to call this young girl lucky or unlucky is hard to say. Her "mom squad" is powerful enough to let her walk all over Tasmalin (and even Eryan), but she herself is unfortunately introverted and meek, leaving her completely at a loss when faced with her fierce mothers. Tasha patted Gabriella's head sympathetically, fully able to imagine her running away in panic after the witches urged her to "go do something witches do."
"Don't worry, I'll keep it a secret," Tasha said. "Go play. I'll handle things over there."
"Thank you! You're so kind!" Gabriella exhaled in relief. "I actually didn't want to leave, but I've been feeling really unwell today. Something's been off since this morning. I want to… do it again… just one more time…"
Tasha grabbed Gabriella's shoulders.
Her grip was timely; had Tasha not held her steady, Gabriella would have toppled backward.
The young witch's slender neck snapped backward, her spine arching into a small semicircle as her head fell back against her back. Her brown eyes rolled backward, retreating beneath her upper eyelids and exposing a large expanse of white. Tasha held Gabriella's head steady and carefully laid her on the ground, so she wouldn't hurt herself during this sudden convulsion.
Gabriella was unharmed; the magical artifacts on her body showed no reaction, none of them activating to protect their master. But she certainly didn't look fine—amidst the spasms, Gabriella's eyes rolled back again.
Her eyes had already been nearly invisible moments ago; human eyes simply couldn't roll back that far—it was practically a full 360-degree rotation. Yet Gabirila's eyeballs rolled once more, and after they did, a pair of blue eyes appeared within their sockets.
Tasha saw stars in those blue eyes.
"One more time—"
Gabriela said.
"The stalemated chessboard is reshuffled
A meteor crashes through the sealed gate
A narrow bridge is built upon
The dead body of a deceiver
A city falls
A city rises
Blood and ash nurture the seeds of hope
A soul from beyond the realm
Will eventually wear the crown of the kingless—"
The young witch's voice cut off abruptly, and those blue eyes, speckled with strange flecks of light, suddenly closed. Gabriella slumped limply, her eyes shut tight, silent and still.
"Happy Awakening Day," Victor murmured to himself. "Astrological Witch."