Starlight scattered, and the world plunged into silence.

It was as if time had come to a stop.

Even the leaves stirred by the gentle breeze dared not make the slightest sound.

And under this crystal-clear night, only gold and amber locked in a cold, detached stare—like glaciers colliding, sparks flying.

“Dormir?”

At last, on that indistinct face, an eyebrow seemed to arch sharply, and a voice as frigid as a drawn blade reverberated in the breathless darkness.

Regret, perhaps.

“So, you’re still alive.”

“Heh, if even an old dragon like you, who loves nothing but wandering, hasn’t kicked the bucket yet, then how could someone young, beautiful, and forever seventeen like me possibly die?”

Clad in strawberry-pink pajamas, the white-haired, red-eyed lolicon crossed her arms, raised her pale chin arrogantly, and pouted.

“By the way—call me Mela.”

“...”

The night air seemed to grow noticeably colder.

“Pity. Just a projection.”

The majestic golden eyes lowered slightly, their gaze landing on Mela’s petite frame hidden within the slightly oversized pink pajama. Was it an illusion, or did the faint curve of a sneer begin to surface at the corners of the indistinct mouth?

“They've shrunk, Dormir.”

“...”

The temperature dropped even further.

The pink nightgown fluttered slightly, scattering tiny particles of starlight. The small foot pressing onto Moen’s face lifted as Mela floated upward—floating until she was at eye level with the woman, no, slightly higher.

She lifted her head, puffed out her chest boldly, and gazed down from above.

“Still small,” the woman sneered.

“I used to be bigger than you,” Mela retorted coldly, glaring at the chest swelling beneath the woman’s black dress.

“It’s only temporary. What’s there to be smug about?”

“Still small.”

“...”

The baby-fat on Mela’s cheeks twitched, but her amber-red, crystal-clear eyes turned slightly, and she suddenly broke into an incredibly sweet smile.

“Oh my, oh my. How rude of me. We haven’t seen each other for a long time, and I didn’t even greet you properly.”

Mela paused, her voice sickly sweet like she was catching up with an old friend. With exaggerated kindness, she said:

“Good evening, the one and only Disaster, the fearsome Deathbane Dragon—HAMLINE.”

“Boom—”

An infinite black mist exploded outward, the woman’s fiery red hair whipped wildly, and her golden eyes exuded majesty and frost, as if the very world must bow in submission.

She locked her gaze onto Mela, her golden irises now frosted with icy coldness.

“Shut up.”

She said:

“Don’t you dare call me by that name.”

“Oh? Do you still hate that title?” Mela, arms still crossed over her flat chest, swayed her head and feigned nonchalance.

“Hamline—in ancient tongue, it means ‘the one who brings annihilation and despair.’ Isn't that quite grand? If I had such a cool nickname, I’d insist on hearing it every day.”

“Shut up! I don’t like the names humans conjure for me!”

“Heh, and I won’t stop.”

Teacher Mela smirked with disdain, utterly indifferent to the murderous intent so strong it warped the very space around them.

“Hamline, Hamline, Hamline. I just called it. What can you do about it?”

“I’ll kill you.”

“You can’t kill me.”

“Then I’ll kill him.”

The woman looked down, her gaze fixed on Moen at Mela’s feet.

“A mere projection like this can’t stop me.”

“...”

Mela fell silent. She looked down at her disciple, then back up. Struggle surfaced on her young face. Finally, she hissed through her clenched teeth:

“Despicable!”

“Right back at you.”

“Using someone else to threaten me? What kind of skill is that? Come to my academy if you dare, and I guarantee you won’t walk out unscathed!” Mela huffed coldly.

“Then why don’t you bring your real self here? A millennium has passed; I’m curious to see if you’ve regressed in other ways as well.”

“I can’t leave the academy.”

“And how is that my problem?”

“Coward. Is this all Disaster has?”

“Heh. So the most powerful archmage of human is just that.”

“...”

“...”

Gold and amber locked in yet another heated stare, like crashing glaciers, igniting sparks once more.

…

This time, the majestic golden eyes ended the pointless standoff first. The woman lowered her head; her gaze landed fully on Moen for the first time.

“This one’s your disciple?”

“So what?”

Mela put her hands on her hips, proud. “Talented, isn’t he?”

“...For a human, he’s not bad.”

The woman’s eyes flickered.

At the moment, Moen had his eyes tightly shut, his face deathly pale. Yet even beneath his disheveled golden hair and streaks of blood, the face lying at the pinnacle of masculine human beauty could not be obscured.

But to her, human so-called beauty meant absolutely nothing.

She merely just recalled that even in the face of despair, even when facing her—a being he could never hope to defeat—he had still dared to draw his sword.

She had killed many, destroyed even more countless beings. Such defiance… was rare.

As for those peculiar abilities of his…

The woman’s elongated pupils narrowed as she turned her gaze toward Mela.

“You still haven’t given up on that ridiculous plan of yours?”

“Ridiculous?”

Mela squinted as well.

“Compared to you, aren’t I far less ridiculous? Are you still looking for *her*?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Since we both are beautiful maidens, I’ll give you some advice: give it up.”

Mela’s playful smile faded, her young face turning cold.

“You’ll never find *her*.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“You don’t know *her* current location, you don’t know *her* current state, and you don’t even know if *she’s* still a person or has turned into some kind of entity, right?

“With *her* unique nature, even if she appeared right in front of you, you wouldn’t recognize her. Isn’t that why you’ve been lingering in this forest for so long?”

“I just detest humans.”

“Ha, perhaps.”

Crossing her arms once more, Mela retorted sharply:

“Still as foolish as ever, I see.”

“Right back at you.”

The woman’s majestic golden eyes showed no ripple of emotion. Perhaps unable to tolerate such meaningless chatter, she turned and prepared to leave.

A pitch-black rift opened before her once again.

“Goodbye.”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Tsk.”

Watching the black-clad figure disappear into the distance, Mela propped her chin on her hand and muttered softly under her breath:

“Saying me shrunk… Hah. After more than a thousand years, you didn't change a thing either.”

“...”

The woman’s bare foot, on the verge of stepping into the rift, paused abruptly.

She turned sharply, glaring at Mela with an expressionless face.

“What? Want to fight?” Mela, utterly unafraid, puffed out her small chest again.

The woman averted her gaze slightly. After a moment of silence, she casually flicked a finger in Mela’s direction.

A beam of dazzling golden light shot forth but veered suddenly as it was about to reach Mela, instead plunging into… Moen’s body.

Mela froze.

“Wha… What was that?”

“Just a drop of blood,” the woman replied dreamily.

“You can think of it as a mark.”

“What’s the point of marking this brat?”

“Hmm…”

Imitating Mela’s posture, the woman rested her chin on her hand.

“Maybe it’ll come in handy?”

“But he’s my disciple!”

“Precisely because he’s your disciple that it’s worth doing, don’t you think?”

The woman smirked coldly, golden eyes gleaming with a trace of disdain.

“Feel honored. I have quite a bit of faith in your judgment.”

“...”

Ignoring Mela, whose eyes were wide with shock, the woman turned away, her long skirt trailing behind her as she entered the rift. Only a cold, detached voice lingered in the night air:

“He’s too weak now. The next time I come for him, I hope he’ll be strong enough to satisfy me.

“…Pass on this message for me, will you?

Mela Dormir.”

…

…

The night wind stirred. With the oppressive presence now gone, the leaves rustled joyfully once more.

After Disaster’s departure, all traces of Teacher Mela’s earlier cheeky grin disappeared. Her small face grew increasingly grave.

She rubbed her chin and murmured with deep contemplation:

“So this… is what it feels like to be personally cuckolded?”

“Oh, how annoying. This, this scene… I'm gonna get her back someday!”

The most powerful archmage set her resolve.

“Though…”

Mela tilted her head downward, glancing at Moen, whose body was rapidly recovering thanks to the drop of Disaster’s dragon blood. Her expression became somewhat peculiar.

“Did I… accidentally get this boy into another greater trouble?”

A drop of dragon blood was precious, yes, but compared to the consequences of catching the attention of a Disaster, it was hardly worth it.

If Moen weren’t her disciple, she would hardly feel the need to go easy on him.

And knowing Disaster’s personality…

“Well, never mind.”

With that thought, Mela clapped her small hands together and broke into a mischievous grin instead:

“It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”