Fate first revealed itself to Adelaide as a string of blood-red runes, coiling like a serpent and smoldering like embers.

She was little, gazing into a tub-like appraisal tank where words floated up like bubbles. Curiosity lit her eyes; frost sealed her tutor’s face.

— High risk. Blood Magic affinity—extreme.

— Detected inherent magical domain—Sacrifice Domain.

"Monster...!"

She didn’t know what those lines meant, nor why her tutor screamed that word with a face like ash.

She only knew her gentle father warned her that day with a voice like ice, never tell anyone.

After that, the beloved tutor who always stayed by her side vanished like a candle snuffed in wind.

From that day, her parents stopped smiling; no more hallway lifts, no more airy spins like swallows in sunlight.

Was it her fault, so the tutor wouldn’t visit?

Was it her fault, so father and mother turned away?

Little Adelaide didn’t know; hurt rose first like tide, then she ran, and ran, chasing backs she could never catch.

She ran until she fell, until strength leaked away like water from broken clay.

Then the eight-legged shadow of the Dreamfeast Spider slipped into this dream-world like night ink, silent and cold.

— Yes, it’s all your fault.

It crouched beside the sobbing child Adelaide, whispering like silk over skin.

— Because you awakened Blood Magic, your parents’ wish shattered like glass.

— Because you awakened the Sacrifice Domain, they had to “deal” with the tutor from that day, and dump her like trash in the gutter.

The scene before her melted like wax; little Adelaide closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she was in a garden, pale wrists and joints tied by silver threads, hanging like a puppet in empty sky.

The baby-softness had drained from her face; a budding body carried grace beyond her years, like a lady stepping from a fresco.

Every frown and every smile tugged hearts like strings on a lute.

— You started wearing a mask back then, because you learned how heavy your sin was.

"My... sin..."

Blood Magic is a branching variant of Water Magic, yet it stands like a shadow opposite the healing tide—blood-and-flesh sacrifice.

Mages offer mana, complex circles and sigils, chants and stances—offerings to coax nature’s miracles like seeds into bloom.

Blood Magic breaks that covenant; its power steals from other lives like wolves from a flock.

Its offerings must be blood and flesh, bodies laid on a silent altar like winter meat.

It is a taboo that profanes life, yet its strength tempts like a jeweled blade.

No need to spend half a life on theory, no matching your mana—just sacrifice others and take their power like thieves at dusk.

Human nature snaps thin here; every Blood Mage in the annals succumbed to that lure, becoming blood-drunk monsters, nightmares children fear in the dark.

So Blood Magic became absolute taboo, and every Blood Magic candidate is born a sinner, like a brand at birth.

Society feared them, barred them from study; high-affinity candidates were forced into prefrontal lobotomy—“mercy,” a second life carved like wood.

Even if it’s a leatherworker who’d never study or misuse Blood Magic, the blade still falls like rain.

For Adelaide, her Blood Magic gift wasn’t just high; it was unique, the kind that shines like a lone star.

She also bore the Sacrifice Domain, a mighty inherent domain famed alongside Mira’s Time Domain, like twin towers in legend.

Holders of the Sacrifice Domain are magic’s darlings; any offering—circles, mana, chants—yields effects multiplied like echoes in a canyon.

For ordinary mages, that means streamlining incantations, casting at many times the speed like arrows loosed in a flurry.

For Blood Mages, multiplied offerings mean multiplied blood-and-flesh sacrifice, a feast that grows like a fire.

A swift-step spell that once needed a whole leg now asks for mere toenails; sight magic falls from a dozen eyes to one.

In truth, it’s almost the most compatible inherent domain for Blood Magic, fitting like lock and key.

Adelaide is the only known one in history who holds both extreme Blood Magic affinity and the Sacrifice Domain, a rarity like a phoenix feather.

The tutor was right—she’s a monster, even among Blood Mages, a blade wrapped in lace.

The spider’s tendrils hooked behind her; the silver thread at Adelaide’s neck tightened like a noose.

— How pitiful… if this got out, you’d be denied even “merciful” lobotomy, and go straight to the gallows like a trussed hen.

"No, it won’t. As long as I don’t use magic…"

Sitting in the garden, Adelaide swallowed the cramp wringing her stomach, and kept the perfect heiress smile like porcelain.

She still believed, warm and naive, she could be queen consort, could fulfill her parents’ hopes like lanterns carried on.

Yes—if she did better everywhere else, she might win back father’s and mother’s love like spring after frost.

"—Adelaide, this is your new sister."

"Her name is Mira."

Adelaide saw the black-haired orphan her parents brought home and said nothing; she stood blank, like a deer in snow.

Her hands trembled lightly, unable to grasp what the world was showing like cards flipped.

— You’re a smart child; you read the answer in your parents’ eyes, you just refuse to believe, like a swimmer who won’t breathe.

"No, maybe father and mother only pitied her… yes, that must be it."

She told herself that, again and again, like prayer beads passing through fingers.

The same day, she saw Mira’s appraisal: a variant magic with extreme affinity like hers; she could no longer lie to herself.

Mira would become the new queen consort; Adelaide would become the castaway, thrown like driftwood.

Adelaide collapsed, limp on the floor; a dull ache hammered her heart until breath fled like birds startled.

As her spirit cracked, the Dreamfeast Spider’s shadow thickened and gained a body in this dreamlike world like ink clotting.

It watched her tears and laughed, brazen as crows on a wall.

— No wonder, no wonder! On appraisal day you chose a shabby brain to sacrifice, masking your true affinity like a cheap veil.

— It wasn’t only to fool eyes, was it?

— Deep down, you wished to be low-affinity trash, a failure written small like dust.

— Then you’d have a reason for mediocrity, instead of this…

— Your talent rivals your sister’s, yet you bury your true self under a ridiculous mask, and watch her steal everything like a thief at noon.

The Dreamfeast Spider crept closer step by step, until its breath traced her ear, a voice rising from her soul like smoke.

— That’s why you hate that “dream,” because you know you and “her” are the same thread.

— Yes, you both… are failures.

"I am not… a failure…!"

The word cut her; clarity flashed like a blade, and she struggled.

Silver threads snapped, then more threads knitted back like webbing, binding her until she couldn’t move.

"Let me go…"

— Pointless. The me you see is only an avatar of this illusion; the real me outside is savoring your blood like wine.

The Dreamfeast Spider watched her struggle with amused eyes, like a cat at a trapped bird.

Sound drifted in from outside, faint like wind under a door.

— Don’t worry. Your hatred and fear—for sister, for parents, for that unfair god with ugly taste—will melt into your blood and rebuild me like clay.

Am I going to die?

Her heart kicked hard at the thought, like a drum in storm.

No—she refused; she wouldn’t die under earth without light, alone like a broken seed.

She couldn’t feel her body, so she gathered her scattered mind like birds called home.

It worked a little; the outside voice grew clearer, more like speech than chewing.

Hope sparked, a coal in ash; she pushed harder until the world that held her turned unstable like a loose frame.

Crack—

Like a glass bottle splitting, a fissure opened at the world’s edge like a white seam.

Through it, she heard a voice she knew by heart, clear as bells.

"…me nenda melehtë—hundo! (Grant me your strength—Thunder Apex!)"

As the chant ended, the dream-space before Adelaide cracked like a hammered mirror and flew apart in glittering shards.

Waking felt wrong, like being yanked from her own skull; then her body returned, and her mind cleared like dawn.

Yet something slick and warm clung to her skin like sap.

A bad premonition rose from her chest like cold mist.

She slit her eyes to peek, and saw green ichor smeared on her dress, and the Dreamfeast Spider cleaved into twin petals.

Between those halves lay a thin sword flickering blue-violet lightning like storm vines, and a gold-haired figure.

It was her sister, Mira, bright as a drawn blade.

Realizing that, Adelaide shut her eyes and tilted her head, playing dead like a fox in a trap.