The day’s incident made Morningstar realize one crucial thing: she couldn’t afford to lose her temper. Otherwise, she’d lose control.

The dark side of the Dark Sorceress’s body would awaken—and drive her to commit truly heinous acts.

“Sigh… Guess I’ll have to keep a tighter rein on my temper from now on.”

Morningstar lay in bed. Unable to face Holy Maiden Freya any longer, she’d slipped back early.

In the Demon Realm, time held no meaning. The blood moon hung eternally in the sky; inside the Witch’s Spire, day and night blurred into one.

Technically, a Dark Sorceress didn’t need sleep—her body felt no fatigue—but the mind still wearied. After today’s relentless tension, Morningstar sank into the soft mattress. The moment she relaxed, drowsiness crept in.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept when, half-dreaming, she heard a faint voice calling her name.

——————

Northern Snow Kingdom: a land of ice and snow so frigid a man’s urine would freeze solid mid-air. Yet rich in minerals and swarming with magical beasts, it thrived despite the cold.

Wealthy, militarily powerful, and technologically advanced, it stood among the world’s top empires.

Amid the endless white, a girl sprinted desperately across deep snow. Her tattered clothes exposed pale skin to the biting wind. Crimson blood filled each tiny footprint. Beneath torn fabric, raw wounds marked her suffering.

“Ugh!” Her foot caught on something. She collapsed face-first into the snow, utterly spent, unable to rise.

Behind her, knights emerged slowly from the blizzard—silver-white armor gleaming, mounted on wolf-like magical beasts. Their captain removed his helmet, voice dripping with mockery: “Surrender sooner, and you’d have spared yourself this pain.”

The girl stopped fleeing. She turned, eyes blazing with hatred, and rasped hoarsely, “Why?! Why attack my village?!”

“Your village harbored the Cult of Darkness—worshipers of the evil Dark Sorceress.”

“I never saw any cult! Even if there was one—what did my parents and I have to do with it?! They never worshiped it!”

Her bloodshot eyes burned with helpless rage as the knight stepped closer.

“Root them out, stem and branch.” Four words sealing her fate.

Watching these so-called righteous knights, her faith shattered completely.

*If the Dark Sorceress truly exists… please answer me! Avenge me. Kill them. I’ll give you everything.*

Once, such a prayer would vanish unheard. But now…

Morningstar felt the girl’s seething hatred—and heard her plea.

Just as the knight drew his sword, the sky darkened unnaturally. Not storm clouds—light itself had been drained from the air.

Flame crystals flickered weakly, their glow barely reaching a few feet. In that dim light, the knights recoiled: the pristine snow had turned pitch black, like volcanic ash.

A gale roared. Lightning flashed. Ears rang. Skulls felt ready to burst.

“AAAAHHHH!”

Screams filled the air. Mounts bucked wildly, hurling riders down. Lower-ranked knights collapsed, blood pouring from every orifice.

Space twisted before them. A shadowy figure materialized—featureless, shrouded in absolute darkness, yet unmistakably feminine.

“Wh-who are you?!”

Only the captain remained standing. He knew the legends. *Impossible! The Dark Sorceress was eradicated millennia ago!*

“Ill…usion… must be…” he muttered, face twisted, blood streaming from nose, eyes, ears. Escape was no longer a thought.

The shadow extended a slender hand. Pressed against his silver chestplate.

Armor corroded visibly, crumbling like tofu. The black hand sank in, seized his heart.

“Ghk…”

A slight squeeze. His body went limp—a marionette with cut strings—and collapsed.

“Are… are you the Dark Sorceress?”

The girl stared, unharmed yet stunned.

The shadow offered no reply. It tilted its head slightly toward her, then faded—transparent, gone.

“Wait!” The girl struggled up, reaching out—but could only watch it vanish.

——————————

“Mmm…” Morningstar slowly opened her eyes, sitting up drowsily.

“Seems I had a strange dream…”

Someone called her name. She arrived to find bullies tormenting a little girl—and slaughtered them all.

She stared at her palms, clenched them twice in midair, savoring the memory.

Holding life and death in her hands… watching the light fade from their eyes… that feeling… was oddly satisfying.

“So even a Dark Sorceress dreams.”

She threw back the covers, glanced at the damp sheets. “Sigh… Sweated this much?”

With a sigh, she commanded the black substance to shift her nightgown into a training outfit.

The moment she stepped outside, Little Dragoness bounded out from nowhere, map clutched in hand.

“Master! I’ve marked the nations holding your treasures. Which one shall we start destroying first?”

Little Dragoness’s voice trembled with excitement. With her master resurrected, the joy of world destruction was hers once more.