Black Lotus was an ability Nevia developed after reincarnation, tailored to her new body’s traits.

Her strengths lay in innate agility, sharp reflexes, and combat experience far beyond ordinary humans. Yet her weaknesses were equally glaring: mediocre innate talent, the lack of physical strength from her young age, and no dark-magic medium to wield her former expertise in black magic and martial arts. The result? Nevia possessed countless cultivation methods and long-lost forbidden spells accumulated as the Demon King—but had no way to use them. Like guarding a vast treasure vault with no key in sight.

Black Lotus was her secret solution—a black magic technique she’d devised to enhance bodily resilience and regeneration. But without proper dark-magic materials, she couldn’t use it freely. She could only slowly absorb stray dark-element energy from the air, storing it drop by drop for emergencies.

Now was that emergency.

Feeling power surge through her limbs, Nevia seized the black threads coiled around her body. With a slight tug, the shadowy strands snapped.

Black flames flickered wildly in her left eye.

She caught the Enderman’s whipping black thread mid-swing, then drove her heel downward with the momentum of her fall. Her soft deerskin boots glowed faintly with dark fire, pulsing like a heartbeat.

A fist-shaped bulge of shadow erupted from the Enderman’s body to meet her kick. Nevia struck it squarely, then drifted backward as light as a feather, landing silently on the ground.

She stood facing the Enderman.

This world’s magic was diverse, but Nevia preferred the warrior’s thrill. Most of her skills were simple enhancement spells—close-quarters combat felt far more exhilarating than casting from afar. Yet this preference left her struggling to find effective attacks now.

Even with Black Lotus strengthening her body, she couldn’t guarantee a swift victory. Time was tight. Nevia estimated she could maintain this form for only three minutes. Beyond that, her body risked catastrophic overload. Such power demanded a price: after using Black Lotus, she’d suffer prolonged exhaustion from drained stamina.

She had to end this within three minutes—or face trouble.

The moment Nevia landed, the Enderman conjured shadowy spears and hurled them at her. She dodged nimbly, then pulled three remaining glass bottles from her back. With a flick of her wrist, she threw them all at the creature.

A deafening explosion rocked the tunnel. Dust billowed. Nevia squinted through the haze, staying alert. Seizing the cover, a black orb materialized in her palm.

Thanks to Black Lotus, she could finally wield offensive dark magic again.

As the dust cleared, Nevia raised the orb to throw—only to see the Enderman burst from the smoke. It condensed into a shadowy mass that latched onto her arm. A slight sting made her yank up her sleeve. There, on her pale skin, glowed a faint black mark the size of a coin, its pattern intricate.

The Enderman’s forced master-servant contract.

Nevia froze. She recalled the moment clearly: she’d done nothing special, merely unleashed a magic orb at the last second. Then understanding struck—and mild annoyance followed.

This rogue Enderman carried a trigger contract. Any dark magic user who attacked it would bind it as their servant. But who placed it here? Such effort couldn’t be meant to gift power to a stranger.

No answers came. Nevia pressed onward through the tunnel, her instincts whispering of hidden secrets.

“Why no traps…?” she muttered.

True to her habit of looting battlefields, she tapped the walls thoroughly. Nothing. Finally, she returned to where the undead had appeared.

The black stone Kaelen had found lay abandoned on the ground—likely dropped in his panic. Nevia picked it up and channeled a thread of dark energy into it.

*Screee—*

Stone ground against stone. The wall before her shuddered, then slid aside like a door.

Behind it lay a small chamber. In its center sat a wooden chest. Nevia approached and lifted the unlatched lid.

The chest was heavy. She strained to open it fully.

Dust swirled as the ancient lid lifted. Nevia waved it away, then peered inside by torchlight.

First, an ornately bound book. She lifted it to read the bold calligraphy on the cover: *Chapter Seven of the Night. By Virgil.* Below it, a translation in the world’s common script. Nevia’s eye twitched. After all that, the treasure was her own work. Seriously?

She set the book aside and pulled out the next item.

A letter. Blank envelope, but the ink inside remained startlingly clear. Nevia brought her torch closer, reading with idle curiosity—gossip was always fun. But soon, her expression shifted to shock. She stared at the floor in silence, sighed softly, then slipped the letter back into its envelope and returned it to the chest.

Suddenly, she felt no joy.

Nevia placed the book back too, ready to close the chest—when her gaze snagged on an unexpected treasure. A small glass vial, etched with intricate patterns, filled with inky black liquid.

*Black Water.* A rare essence that could grant humans dark-magic affinity. Nevia hesitated. She hadn’t planned to take anything… but this was temptation itself. For someone without dark magic, it could transform their core power. For Nevia, it was like an oasis to a desert wanderer.

“I’ll repay her later. Besides…” After a long pause, Nevia slipped the vial into her satchel.

She scanned the chamber once more, sealed the hidden door, and headed toward the tunnel exit where she’d parted with Kaelen. Before she reached it, a voice echoed through the passage:

“Miss Nevia! Where are you?”

Spotting a distant silhouette, Nevia waved. “Over here!”