Chapter One: The Heroine Who Nearly Dies Upon Appearing, and the Opportunistic Hero

The Sacred Continent—a land cherished by the great God of Light. The Endless Sea, the Void Volcano, the Beast Forest, the Dragon’s Nest, the Frozen Snowfields, the Underground Labyrinth, the Bottomless Marsh... all these places bask in the radiance of the God of Light. And, of course, there are humans. It is said that humans are the God’s most beloved children, and from the moment of birth, each one is blessed with the gift of magic. Whether the talent is strong or weak, with time and training they grow ever more powerful; thus, everyone is a mage. Thanks to this extraordinary gift, humanity gradually came to rule this continent.

But today, tragedy has befallen the Sacred Empire, one of the four great empires of the continent. Grief covers the land, from the king to the humblest vendor—sorrow is etched on every face. The Sacred Empire’s only, no, the continent’s only Archmage has been struck by a vicious curse. Not even the Pope, himself a Saint Magus, could heal her with his highest ninth-level restorative spell, Angel’s Redemption. It is as if Death himself has pronounced judgment.

Few have ever seen this youngest Archmage in history, but rumors abound. Some say she is a maiden barely twenty, with hair as radiant as the Milky Way, eyes as beautiful as rubies, a voice more enchanting than a siren’s song. Her existence is not only a force of deterrence but a source of faith—her very title, Archmage, symbolizes the possibility of mortals becoming divine.

The elderly Pope, his heart heavy, stood before a very young girl. Her long, slender eyes, high-bridged nose, and gentle lips formed a face not as breathtaking as the rumors claimed, but still undeniably beautiful. Yet, what truly stunned was the pair of red eyes—clear as a lake, dazzling as rubies—capable of enchanting any who gazed upon them, man or woman. The cherry-pink lips, once moist, were now pale and parched from the torment of the curse, giving her a fragile appearance.

She was dressed in an inky black mage’s robe, not adorned with floral patterns but with a tapestry of brilliant stars that seemed to shift with time—one of the sacred artifacts coveted by all magi.

“Magiuna, it grieves me deeply. If I, too, were an Archmage and could cast the tenth-level forbidden spell, Light, perhaps I could heal you.”

The Pope had watched Magiuna grow up, the adopted daughter of his dear friend, and the guilt weighed heavily upon him. Though he led millions of faithful, he was a Saint Magus, unable to wield forbidden spells beyond his rank.

“Please, don’t say that. If this is fate, I will accept it.”

Magiuna’s clear voice was devoid of emotion, as if the curse belonged to someone else. Her composure pained the Pope all the more. Since her mentor’s passing, this girl had closed her heart, letting no one in.

“Is there truly anyone in this world who could place a curse on you? Even a Saint Magus could not curse an Archmage. And if it were an Archmage... what would be the point? They could seize anything with their own power.”

The Pope could not fathom it, twisting his beard in frustration. There were ways to save Magiuna, but all ran counter to the church’s teachings—such as transforming her into an undead creature. With her power, even as a mere ghost, she could live vibrantly. But even if the Pope turned a blind eye, Magiuna herself would refuse.

“Perhaps this is destiny. If not for my teacher, I would have died fifteen years ago. Perhaps in death, I’ll see her again. That’s not so bad, when I think of it.”

Magiuna removed her mage’s hat—a tall, triangular cap, its peak drooping loosely behind. The wide brim concealed part of her face; she usually used it to hide her eyes as she wandered the land. With the hat off, her snow-white hair cascaded to her waist, lending her the beauty of a fragile invalid.

The Pope opened his mouth, understanding why she removed her hat, and watched as she doffed her coveted mage’s robe, revealing a plain white shirt beneath. She placed the hat atop the folded robe and handed them to the Pope.

“I promised your teacher I would take care of you, alas!”

He understood her intentions. Every mage, before death, leaves their most precious belongings behind—either to loved ones or hidden for a worthy, lucky heir to find. She was no exception.

After a moment’s thought, Magiuna took from her dimensional ring a milky-white staff, its body translucent as white jade, shimmering with a gentle luster. At its tip, a crooked crescent cradled a purple gem.

Sensing her intent, the staff quivered, as if wishing her to reconsider.

“Alicia, please grant me this final whim. I don’t want you to see me die. Wait here for your next companion.”

Magiuna stroked the staff fondly, her expression full of reluctance. Even the Pope couldn’t hold back tears at her parting words; his tears fell onto his greying beard. The staff, Alicia, chimed sweetly like wind chimes, then drifted over to rest in the hands of the glowing statue of the God of Light, falling still.

“In the days I have left, I wish to visit my homeland. Since my teacher took me away, I’ve never returned. Farewell, Your Holiness. If you see Tinasia, please ask her to forgive my silent departure.”

Magiuna smiled softly. Blue light flared beneath her feet—a magic circle—and in an instant, she vanished.

“Her mastery of spatial magic is peerless. Truly, Heaven is jealous—Heaven is jealous! May the great God of Light watch over that child.”

Brushing away his tears, the Pope turned to pray before the statue of the God of Light. The statue, gazing ever into the distance, seemed touched by sorrow, its radiance dimming.

Magiuna reappeared in the small town of Derys—one of the Sacred Empire’s remotest cities. Aside from merchants, few ever came here. The townsfolk lived simple lives, and none would have imagined this was the birthplace of the Archmage.

As she walked, Magiuna took in the sights: fruit stalls, beast-meat vendors, healers at the apothecary, tailors at the cloth shop, a modest chapel, an elderly priest—all unchanged from before.

Twenty years ago, Magiuna was born in such an ordinary town. Children with white hair and red eyes were seen as ill omens, though in this world humans came in all colors of hair and eyes—except for hair as pure as snow, like hers. She bore an uncanny resemblance to a figure from legend, and people, fearing the likeness, shunned her. Fortunately, her parents loved her dearly and cared for her without reservation.

She remembered well: her father was an adventurous mage, her mother ever by his side as his healer. When Magiuna was five, an earthquake struck, and soon after, news came of a mysterious labyrinth having appeared somewhere on the continent. Her father, unable to resist, set off with her mother to explore it.

It was careless to leave their young daughter behind, and Magiuna herself was unsure if she should blame them. Perhaps it was merely youthful recklessness; after all, her mother was just twenty when she gave birth.

They left Magiuna in the care of the chapel’s priest and never returned—killed, it was said. After losing her parents, instead of help, Magiuna had her family’s house seized by local bullies. The priest did not abandon or discriminate against her, but the chapel doubled as an orphanage, and this was not truly her home. Because of her unusual hair and eyes, she was ostracized by her peers.

Feeling there was nowhere for her in the world, Magiuna finally fled to a small cabin on the mountainside near the town—a place rich in resources, often visited by those seeking magical materials. The cabin was likely someone’s temporary shelter.

When Magiuna was on the brink of starvation, she was rescued by her teacher, the Saint Magus Yura.

“Will you come with me? I believe you could change this world.”

A mature woman with wavy black hair appeared before Magiuna. In her beautiful dark eyes there was no hint of disdain. Yura cared nothing for Magiuna’s dust and cobwebs, simply carrying her out of the decaying cabin.

Fifteen years later, Magiuna returned once more to the cabin—this time not by magic, but walking slowly, step by step, as she had in childhood.

“Teacher, I really did change the world. I became the first Archmage. But you’re gone, so what does it matter? I’m about to die, and all that remains is this dilapidated cabin.”

Fondly stroking the door, Magiuna shed a few tears—not from fear of death, but longing for her beloved teacher.

A faint click. As she touched the door, it swung inward, revealing a simple room with only a desk, a bed, and a bookshelf crammed with volumes—clearly, someone was living here.

“Hm?” Magiuna peered in curiously. Who would choose to live in such a tiny, rundown place?

“Who are you?”

A stranger’s voice startled her from behind. She jumped back several steps, landing on the cabin’s bed.

“Are... are you human or ghost?” Magiuna was shocked for a simple reason: every human in this world possessed a flow of magic within their body, and as an Archmage, she could sense it. The boy before her had none at all.

“Of course I’m human. A thief? There’s nothing here worth stealing. Get out of my house!”

The boy wore his hair in a strange, spiky style. Both his hair and eyes were the commonplace black seen everywhere. His clothes were as simple as any townsman’s, and though he was a little taller than Magiuna and not unpleasant to look at, his face was full of irritation as he shooed her away like a bothersome insect.

“How dare you speak to me like that! I am... I am the original owner of this house.”

Since becoming Yura’s apprentice, no one had ever spoken to Magiuna so rudely. She considered asserting her identity but abandoned the thought—what did it matter, when she was so close to death? Still, she would not be bullied so easily and retorted,

“Original owner? I’ve lived here for fifteen years.”

“You don’t believe me? Look.” Magiuna stepped outside and tapped the earth with her toe. With a touch of earth magic, a section of ground rose to head height, revealing three thin, translucent crystal tablets atop it.

“These are what I buried fifteen years ago—they bear my parents’ and my own names.”

As she held the crystals, Magiuna’s heart ached. She had never expected to see them again. These objects were akin to identity cards in this world—issued at birth by the state.

“Fine, I admit you’re the original owner. But only the original owner—you’re not taking my house.”

The boy recognized the crystals’ significance. He had found similar ones while digging, but as they were typically buried with their owners, he had simply returned them to their place, considering this the family’s resting ground.

“You—who would want this wretched house... Ugh!”

Magiuna almost laughed in exasperation. Who would want a house like this? It was on the mountain, gloomy at night, far from the town, utterly worthless. But before she could finish, a wave of nausea overcame her, and she fell to her knees, retching.

“Hey, are you alright? That upset?”

The boy tilted his head, surprised at her reaction.

“Leave me alone.”

Even as death approached, Magiuna’s pride as a woman made her clear her mouth with water magic and wipe her lips with a handkerchief.

“What’s this...” The boy picked up a stick and began poking through the vomit, examining it closely.

“You’re disgusting! Are you some kind of pervert?”

Magiuna knew her strength was almost spent. She’d been suppressing her illness with magic, but now her power was nearly exhausted and she could no longer contain her injuries.

“Gastrointestinal bleeding, facial muscle rigidity... Open your mouth.”

The boy tossed the stick aside and pinched Magiuna’s cheeks. When she did not cooperate, he forced her mouth open for inspection, then scooped her up and carried her into the cabin.

“You! You boor—let go of me!”

Magiuna felt awful. All she wanted was a quiet place to die, yet she had run into a madman who seemed intent on taking advantage of her. If she were well, she could have ended him instantly, but now she could only cry out for help—a cry that would not be heard on this lonely mountain.

“Quiet. I’m going to save you.”

The boy walked to the bookshelf, pressed a certain volume, and a section of floor rose, revealing a staircase leading below. Carrying Magiuna, he descended.