On December 3rd, at 9:34 a.m., the last detonation sank like thunder behind distant peaks, and Medith’s ability trials finally came to an end.

Very few could join the experiment, like a ritual behind closed doors. Only Haidra, Kailon, the Queen, Sais, and the captains who had followed Medith from the start.

They sealed nearly ten kilometers, yet that white mushroom cloud, tens of meters tall, refused to be hidden, like a pale bloom against the sky.

...

So your Lawbreaking Ability is Annihilation, and it’s a kind unseen before, like a void that eats light.

You might be the strongest Magic Breaker on the continent. At least in raw ability, I’d stake my seal on it, like standing at the peak of a storm.

At its limit, a two-kilometer Devastation Ring ignores [Tsunami]-level Impado defenses. Even for me, the only path to withstand your blast is a head-on clash, like two waves colliding.

But I still can’t endure your Devastation Ring. Spent to the last drop, I can only keep myself unharmed at point-blank, like a thin shell under an avalanche.

Exhaustion washed over Haidra like a tide. She lay back on a soft mat, eyes dim.

They tested countless things, beads on an abacus: conditions, range, stamina cost, and effects.

Her conclusions were staggering, like a mountain suddenly cleaved.

If I haven’t miscalculated, everything within the first two hundred meters will be instantly Annihilated, snuffed like candles.

Your Magic Breaker blast has three layers, nested storms with different force.

Annihilation Zone, radius two hundred meters.

Devastation Ring, radius eight hundred meters.

Shockwave Ring, radius one thousand meters.

As you said, the instant your mushroom cloud rises, everything within the Annihilation Zone that’s magical, including quasi-magic items, turns to white dust, like ash drifting in snow.

It vanishes into the air forever, along with its original owner.

It can be canceled by a blast from another Magic Breaker. The exact parameters remain unknown, storm against storm.

Judging by my all-out breaking barely holding, anyone below third-tier [Earthquake] will likely die instantly, like grass in a wildfire.

You seem able to use it only with full stamina, like a cup brimming.

With stamina not full, you can still use it, but you can’t trigger a [Annihilation Zone] like the first time.

Strangely, your first use spent only a sliver of stamina, yet covered that grand range, like a spark birthing a volcano.

You don’t need to shout “Regido” to break. You only need blood smeared onto the mark, a red thread on a seal.

That could make for a ruthless surprise in battle, a knife from shadow.

After you break, your appearance stays the same, but something unknown blooms inside you, a hidden ember glowing.

Its force sits below [Annihilation] and above [Tsunami].

Let’s call it the rumored [Yutong] for now.

Your stamina, you know better than us. It seems far better than your old mana, with fewer shackles and a wider sky.

The flaw is, you can no longer use the wind eye to observe Collapse Points, a fog curling over the map, Haidra said with a trace of regret.

Gain and loss share a scale. With a power like this, it’s no burden, Medith said lightly, like weighing gold on a calm balance.

Confusion flickered across the women’s faces, like ripples in a pond. Medith, didn’t you have this in the siege? Why didn’t you feel anything?

Medith remembered that young man. It wasn’t a dream; the brand on her forehead proved it, a red seal under cold moonlight.

Maybe I only received the power then, but never opened it. Later, for some reason, it opened, and I truly gained it, Medith said coolly, like a locked gate finally turning.

They remained puzzled, yet fully trusted Medith. She was the legendary Divine Child; perhaps the gods do favor her, like wind at a pilgrim’s back.

That resurrection that day was eerie beyond words, like a candle relit at dawn.

Haidra had questions, but held her tongue. She tried to probe, yet Medith was tight as a sealed jar, walls without cracks.

...

On December 4th, Haidra and others began teaching the sprite army warcraft. She and Medith held lectures, outlining many events across the continent in recent years, maps unfurled like rivers.

On December 5th, the Eastern Nation’s best chefs and engineers poured their craft into the sprites, seeds scattered across fertile soil.

Their hard-earned lore was given without reserve, like water drawn from a deep well.

This owed much to Medith. She saved a city of hundreds of thousands, not to mention the world beyond the walls, one lantern relighting a town.

Luckily, the sprites were quick and clever. Eastern Nation’s Impado gear was built around Wind Magic traits, blades shaped by the breeze.

A perfect fit, filling each other’s gaps. Knowledge bloomed overnight, like spring bamboo after rain.

The Elf Clan smiled wide, and the Eastern engineers broke through design bottlenecks, ideas bursting like a sudden shower.

On December 30th, the month-long Conference of Inquiry ended. Both sides were content, and Haidra couldn’t stop grinning, satchels heavy with bright stones.

Ah, we came to teach you, and ended as your students. Shame, shame. Kailon’s face showed no shame, only the smug grin of a merchant who found a windfall, a fox with a feather stuck in its teeth.

Medith smiled wryly and shook her head. Haidra would return today. Elyu, upon hearing, sent a thousand-strong warband to escort them, guarding an ember in a storm.

They feared accidents on the road and a theft of intel, the path like a river full of hidden eddies.

News had been plenty lately. Hundreds of Segireneto POWs were publicly cast into the sea to drown, waves swallowing names.

Skaro’s mountain bandit chiefs were beheaded before a crowd, blades flashing cold.

Their hearts barely rippled. Beside the suffering in Sia City, these deaths felt too light, a pebble tossed into a deep lake.

...

Fate will meet us again, Medith. Seated amid a thousand, Haidra looked at her with reluctance, like a traveler leaving a warm fire at dusk.

The companions who came with Haidra lingered, unwilling to part. Some even wept aloud, strings breaking on a lute.

A month of friendship, and the sprite-girl paradise’s warm welcome, made them almost shed armor and stay forever, honeyed wine and soft songs in their ears.

Is the Queen spoiling them too much? Songstresses and dancers serving them every day. Did she even offer services? Medith felt speechless inside, silk curtains and incense curling in her thoughts.

Thinking of Lahiss’s nature, it might well be true.

Medith… Nira sat on her horse, reluctant eyes on Medith, dew clinging to a leaf.

Medith tried to keep her. Nira refused, bolting back into the ranks, like a startled bird diving into the woods.

Medith sensed something, yet dared not press. Sais and Lahiss were trouble enough, two storms already howling at her gate.

Nira! Catch— Medith tossed a medal from her chest, a dark star arcing through the air.

Nira grabbed it on instinct. It was the badge of the Dusk Legion. A black sun hung overhead, with streaks of Crimson Sun squeezing through, shedding holy light.

Keep that. If anyone bullies you, tell them you are my friend. If they still refuse, in time, Medith will lead ten million soldiers and march here herself.

All who profane the Crimson Sun will be cut down without mercy, drums like thunder and blades like rain.

Nira clenched the badge, hid among the crowd, and covered her mouth. She sobbed without a sound, rain falling inside a closed room.