The black cloak fluttered in the night wind, hiding the witch's entire body. Only her eyes—bright blue like crystal ice—were visible from behind the veil covering her face. In her right hand, a golden magic staff slowly materialized, as if summoned from the empty air. The staff was long and elegant, its tip shaped like an ornate ring with a glowing crystal suspended in the center.
She stepped forward slowly, approaching the demon standing at the peak of the hill.
The demon frowned, unable to recognize who was coming.
"Hah? Who are you? Why are you here?" he barked.
The witch did not answer a single word. She continued walking with a calmness that made the demon feel inexplicably threatened.
"Don't underestimate me!"
The demon raised both his hands, and the power of ice magic swirled wildly around him.
"O ruler of frost… grant me your strength. Obliterate the enemy before me!"
The chant echoed, freezing the air all at once. A colossal blast of ice roared toward the witch, powerful enough to freeze a mountain solid.
But just as the attack was about to hit, a fiery magic circle appeared—spinning rapidly around the witch like layered shields. The demon's ice shattered into white mist the moment it touched the flames.
"W–what!?" the demon shouted. "How is my ice magic unable to pierce fire—without a chant!?"
The circle of fire grew larger, shifting shape into a blazing fire serpent that coiled around the witch's body. The serpent's eyes gleamed dangerously at the demon, as if the creature had a will of its own.
The witch's gaze was just as sharp—silent, cold, yet burning with intensity.
The demon conjured his ice magic once more. This time, he encased his entire body within a thick wall of ice and began chanting again.
"O Snow Shimmering in the Void… unleash the storm…
Freeze my enemy!"
The wind howled above the mountain. The temperature plummeted, and a storm of swirling snow engulfed everything.
The veiled witch lifted her delicate hand.
The fire serpent followed her motion—waiting for her command.
With eyes cold as steel, she moved her index finger slightly.
That small gesture was enough.
The serpent shot forward like a meteor, tearing through the raging blizzard and crashing into the demon's ice wall.
"Hahaha! My ice barrier will never be—"
He never finished the sentence.
The ice wall shattered into countless fragments, destroyed by the serpent's violent strike. A massive explosion followed, flames devouring the ground and lighting up the mountaintop.
The demon was thrown back, stumbling.
"I–impossible… A spell I perfected over hundreds of years… crushed so easily?"
Gasping, he stared at the witch.
And when he saw her eyes, his expression collapsed into shock.
"T–those eyes… Meyer!?"
The witch said nothing.
She raised her finger slowly, her motion graceful, then touched it to her lips—as if telling him to be silent.
A gentle wind swirled around her, contradicting the chaos that had filled the mountain.
The wind formed a soft spiral of light. From within it, shimmering magic particles condensed into butterflies—tens, then hundreds—silver-blue in color, their wings glowing like fragments of the moon fallen to the earth.
The demon froze in terror.
"H–how… how can you wield a spell of that level!?" he screamed, panicking.
The witch did not reply. Her bright blue eyes remained calm and piercing, as if judging the demon's insignificance compared to the power she commanded.
More and more butterflies appeared, swirling around her like a slow, enchanting rain of light.
"You didn't even… chant…" the demon whispered tremulously, fear overtaking him.
The witch raised her hand. One butterfly landed on her slender palm. She lowered her head slightly and murmured—so soft it sounded like nothing more than a breath. Yet the butterfly suddenly glowed brighter, as if it had received an order.
And then everything happened at once.
The butterfly shot toward the demon, followed by dozens—then hundreds—of others. They spiraled around his head, landing one by one on his forehead, his cheeks, his hair, until his entire head was covered in silver-blue light.
"Stop—stop! Don't come any closer! Don't touch me!" the demon shrieked. Terror swallowed his voice whole.
His arms flailed desperately, but every butterfly he tried to brush off only clung tighter.
The witch's gaze lowered slightly—cold, like a judge delivering a final verdict.
"Don't! Don't do this! You… you're a—"
A burst of silver-blue light erupted from the demon's head.
In an instant—without even a final scream—his head was blown apart into black dust carried away by the wind. His body wavered, then collapsed lifelessly, while the butterflies scattered back into shimmering fragments that dissolved into the air.
The witch lowered her hand. The veil covering her face fluttered in the night wind, but her eyes remained cold and unwavering—eyes possessed only by one bloodline.
The Meyer bloodline.
---
Across the Kingdom of Farmedas
Ruins stretched across the land. Fires consumed homes, debris littered the ground, and screams mingled with the roar of unleashed magic. Luis, Miera, and the surviving royal soldiers fought side-by-side against hundreds of black dragons swirling in the sky like shadows of death.
On a hilltop, the witch in the black cloak stood tall. The night wind danced around her cloak while her icy blue eyes looked down upon the devastated kingdom. She spun her staff slowly, then thrust it into the rocky ground.
The world shuddered.
She touched the crystal hanging from the staff. The crystal trembled, pulsing with gentle light—like the heartbeat of the earth awakening.
Magic—believed by many to be the art of weaving chants and bending mana to human will. Without chants, humans were mere beings unable to command the world's energy.
But there was a family that shattered that belief.
A family that manipulated mana effortlessly—so naturally that the world itself seemed to bow to their fingertips.
They were… Meyer.
Mahiru ran with the panicking crowd. Her breath hitched, and when her foot caught on fallen debris, she crashed hard to the ground.
"Lady Mahiru!" one of her servants cried.
"H-help!" Mahiru tried to stand, but her foot slipped, and she fell again.
Her servant pushed through the fleeing people, but a massive shadow suddenly loomed over Mahiru. A dragon dove from the sky, its jaws wide open, ready to devour her in one bite.
Its maw was just about to close—
CRAAACK!!
A dark purple lightning bolt speared down from the heavens like a divine lance, shattering the dragon's head before it could bite. Its lifeless body tumbled to the ground in front of Mahiru.
Mahiru's eyes trembled.
"W-what was that…?"
The sky brightened with overwhelming light. Every surviving citizen of Farmedas looked up—horrified and awestruck—at the sight of a gigantic magic circle spinning high above. Its engravings were ancient, majestic, far too enormous to belong to human magic.
From its center emerged a colossal crystal of lightning—
Thunder Vein, the core magic of the Meyer family.
"T-that's…" Miera whispered, breathless.
"It can't be anything else," Luis muttered, eyes widening in a mix of awe and dread.
On the hill, the witch's silhouette was illuminated by the lightning. The night wind blew through her cloak, making her appear like a shadow of a goddess of war. She stared at the Thunder Vein and lifted her staff high.
More magic circles manifested—bigger, more complex—surrounding the crystal.
In an instant, hundreds of lightning arrows were formed and launched toward the dragons.
One by one, the dragons were struck.
Heads exploded, necks snapped, wings tore apart in brilliant purple flashes. Massive bodies rained from the sky, crashing into the earth with thunderous force.
That night, in Farmedas…
It was not rain that fell.
It was a rain of dragons.