“Host, look—you're the Dragon God’s favorite, moonlight pooled on a White Dragon’s scales, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, like a pebble dropping into a still pond.

“And you carry Icarus’s blessing, starlight threading your wings, a Hero and a Saint, right?”

“That’s true,” her voice soft as dusk wind over grass.

“And you swallowed the world’s Taint, shadows gathered under your claws, so by any measure you’re the current Demon King, right?”

“Well, put that way, it checks out,” she sighed, like mist settling on cold stone.

“Most important of all, you’ve got me—the strongest System—north wind at your back. Learning magic’s easy for you, so picking two mentors isn’t hard.”

“You just want to show off!” Lilith knocked the little blue figure on the head, thunder in her brows, her patience crumbling like dry leaves.

She’d hoped the System would offer something solid, but in the end the weight sat in her own hands, heavy as a river stone.

Still, the System had nudged her. Greed chews more than it can swallow—she wasn’t arrogant enough to be a born prodigy who could master every draconic art. Maybe—just maybe—she wouldn’t learn everything. She could focus on Death Magic and Stellar Magic, and leave elemental tricks as surface frost. By day, she’d study Death Magic under Fafnir; by night, Stellar lore under Asterios. Two lamps, one path, the schedule set like beads on a string.

Only drawback: sleep would thin like winter moonlight. But three years as a Hero had taught her to live on short nights and long roads. No wonder this body stayed small; it felt like a sapling stunted by too little dawn.

“System, you make sense. I’ll talk to Tartarus tomorrow.” Lilith slapped her thigh, a drumbeat in a quiet room, resolve rising like sun through fog.

“Oh! You finally get my charm?” The System’s voice wobbled, dew bright on a blade of grass. It wanted to play, and she seldom played back. “But why sleep so early?”

“Hush. Lights out.” Lilith cut him off, pressing the little blue man back into her body, then flicked her tail to kill the lamp, darkness folding like a cloak. This might be her last good sleep for a while; she held it like warm bread in cold hands.

So be it—sleep first.

———

“You want two mentors at once?” Tartarus sounded surprised, ember-glow in her eyes. “Your plan could work, but Death Magic and Stellar Magic are two rivers running different ways. Are you sure you can swim both?”

“Um… maybe,” Lilith murmured, head lowered, unease like a moth against glass. Each magic was a whole theory-tree. Two trees grown too close could twist and crack. Magic accidents don’t make good stories.

She remembered the worst one in human history: a space spell gone wrong. A border city, mid-teleport construction, one sigil drawn crooked, too many mana crystals fed in. The city—sewers, foundations, streets—was sliced clean and left hanging, a stone fruit split and stuck in the sky.

If she messed up, the lightest price was life gone like a candle snuffed. The heaviest was a shaft of starfire across her face—ashes scattered like snow.

“But I still want to try.” Lilith lifted her gaze, a spark under wet wood. The System said she had talent, and in her past life she’d been half a top student. Two systems at once felt like studying history and physics side by side—hard, yes, but not impossible.

The wind was at her back. She’d jump.

“I really want to learn Death Magic and Stellar Magic together, and I know I can do it!” Lilith pressed two small fists to her chest, heartbeat like a drum. “I’m your daughter, the youngest Little White Dragon. I’m the Saint of humans, the Hero who slew the Demon King. I can do it!”

“None of that proves you can learn two magics—except you being a White Dragon.” Tartarus sighed, a warm bellows of breath, then drew the Little White Dragon into her arms. She smoothed Lilith’s hair, touch gentle as rain on moss. “Child, I don’t want you to face a cliff-edge risk. You’re the dragons’ darling; even if you do nothing, the world will shield you. Dragons are the strongest on this land—master one branch, and you can guard yourself. You don’t need to chase what can’t be done.”

“Can’t be done?” Lilith tilted her head, eyes bright like stars in shallow water. “I don’t understand. I’ve wanted magic for so, so long. Now the gate’s open—maybe only once in my life. I have to step through.”

“You always talk in fog and riddles,” Tartarus said, fingers ruffling her hair, nestling chaos on her crown. The Little White Dragon squirmed in the Red Dragon’s arms, her white tail swaying like a cattail, her annoyance waving like a flag. “Studying one kind is still studying. If you love magic, one or many—love is the same flame.”

“Not the same! I want both!” Lilith leaned into her shape, playing to her smallness, voice sweet as honey on rice. “I want Fafnir’s Death Magic and Asterios’s Stellar Magic. Let me learn, let me learn.”

“Lilith, don’t make trouble.” Tartarus flicked her forehead, a light tap like a cherry knocked from a twig. “I’m your mother in name, and I won’t let you walk into a storm blind.”

“But… at least give me a chance. Let’s ask the mentors. Is that okay?” Lilith held Tartarus’s gaze, a candle steady in wind.

“Alright. I’ll take you to see Fafnir and Asterios now,” Tartarus said, her words opening like dawn between mountains.