Snowflakes battered the wooden window in clusters, frosting the glass with a blurred layer of icy fuzz. The fireplace burned fiercely; an orange halo danced on the ceiling, lighting the room’s simple, neat furnishings.
It was the end of Yvette Loxivia’s fourth year on the Radiant Continent. Tomorrow was New Year’s, and the main street outside the window buzzed with noise. On the snowy night, children’s excited shouts and the mellow notes of holiday bagpipes turned into a comforting background hum.
At this moment, Moga was nowhere to be seen in the house. She had finished a small task last night and gone to the Adventurers’ Guild this afternoon to submit her report.
Compared to the Moga Yvette met four years ago, she had become a small legend in the districts around Adelock.
Traveling alone with no companions, she could single-handedly clear many high-danger monster packs or hunt down notorious bandits. In just four years she’d advanced from Silver to Gold, becoming one of the most formidable resident adventurers in Adelock.
Rumors circulated, though, that she was schizophrenic and often talked to unseen presences. Because the churches had vouched that she’d not colluded with an Eldritch God, many assumed it must have been caused by that cultist incident long ago—she hadn’t been contaminated, but her head had been banged, leaving her muttering to herself. Google seaʀᴄh nοvelfire.net
Of course it was a rumor, but it had some basis in fact. To avoid suspicion, Moga had been forced to tacitly accept it, pretending not to notice or too lazy to care.
Though it somewhat affected her reputation, she didn’t mind as long as it didn’t bother the Eldritch God.
After a while, guessing that Moga would soon return with dinner, Yvette roused herself from low-power standby on the bed,
It was an action that consumed a great deal of aberrant mana; without using it she could have stayed on ultra-long standby for at least another month,
but now she could only hold out until tomorrow at most.
Still, she had no choice—she had to let her student know who the teacher was and what she looked like. Better to get it over with sooner than later; crossing this off now would be for the best.
Soon silver hair flowed to her waist, snow-white skin like frozen moonlight, dark-red eyes as pure as gems—after ensuring her mimicry had no flaws, she sat quietly in the single armchair by the hearth, tilting her head slightly to watch the flames as if listening to the whisper of burning wood.
A few minutes later the door opened. Snow-laced wind accompanied Moga in, cradling packages wrapped in oiled paper; bits of unmelted snow still clung to her shoulders and the gold-orange tips of her hair.
She kept her head down, brushing snow from her boots and loosening a half-wet scarf, and—like always—said, “Lord Eldritch, I bought some fresh cinnamon rolls, and that roasted venison you said you wanted to try—”
Then she looked up and saw the silver-haired girl in the armchair by the fireplace, and froze.
She had never seen such a beautiful girl; it wasn’t just an exquisite face or a slender waist—more importantly, the girl carried an otherworldly, transcendent beauty, like a goddess untouched by mortal filth. Even the elves, famed for their looks, didn’t compare.
Moga snapped back quickly and, on high alert, demanded, “Who are you? Why are you in my home?”
She couldn’t help but wonder—there should only be the Eldritch God at home at this hour. If someone appeared here, could they be here for the Eldritch God?
“I am your teacher, Moga.” the silver-haired girl said.
Her voice was lovely, like a clear, ethereal zither. What made Moga feel even more familiar was the girl’s tone—calm and slightly wooden. Having never heard a machine speak, Moga couldn’t name the timbre, but she suddenly realized only one person around her used that tone.
“The Eldritch God?” Moga ventured. She’d noticed no tentacles on the bed; despite how absurd it sounded, she had to make the connection.
“Correct.” A gentle smile curved the silver-haired girl’s face. She said quietly, “My name is Yvette Loxivia. However, as my fourth disciple, you should call me ‘Teacher.’”
Moga stood stunned. Years around the Eldritch God had trained her to treat it as a purely non-human presence—partly because when it spoke its tone revealed no clear gender, and its blunt manner often made her think of a male deity.
She had never expected the Eldritch God’s true body to be an indescribably beautiful young girl!
“Teacher,” Moga swallowed, smelling the fragrance filling the air, only then remembering she was still standing in the doorway.
Flustered, she kicked the door shut with her foot, took the food from the oiled paper and set it on the table one by one, then grabbed a small stool and sat opposite her teacher. With an obedient posture she asked, “Teacher—are you really an Eldritch God?”
“You—you’re nothing like the Eldritch God I imagined.” Moga said honestly. Yvette smiled and replied, “That’s normal, because I really am not an Eldritch God.”
“You’re not an Eldritch God?” Moga’s face showed a “so it’s true” expression. “I knew it.”
Staring at Yvette’s serene smile, Moga couldn’t help asking, “Then who exactly are you?”
“I’ve never actually thought of myself as a god,” Yvette said in the same calm tone, “but in the Mortal Realm I do have several mythical identities—like the Silver Witch, and like the God of Serendipity.”
Moga was truly shocked this time; her pupils trembled violently. After several minutes of dumbstruck silence she finally managed, incredulously, “You—you’re not joking, right?”
“You know I don’t like joking.”
“You really are that Silver Witch? The teacher of the legendary mage in the tales?”
Moga fell silent. Beyond the shock, she suddenly remembered that soon after they’d first met, her teacher had asked about three people—one of whom was the legendary mage Rosalyn Sien.
Now that she thought back, the clues fit. Could those three be her elder brothers and sisters?
She could actually become the junior sister of a legendary mage?!
This is simply unbelievable!!