[Arc 1] Chapter 17 – An Invitation

When I opened my eyes, I was still sitting upright on the bed. The sun had already climbed high into the sky, its light spilling across the floor. I had been in my domain longer than I’d expected.

Asche wasn’t in the room—she was downstairs. ‘Did you save some breakfast for me?’ I asked through our link.

‘Oh, you’re finally... awake? Or whatever that state was supposed to be.’

‘Yeah. Put Richard’s soul to good use,’ I replied casually.

‘You did what?!’ her voice exploded in my head.

‘Used his soul to stabilize the System’s influence. You must’ve felt it too,’ I said, brushing past her shock.

‘I... yeah. Something definitely feels different, but I can’t quite place it. Still, goddess damn it, why do you always have to do extreme stuff like that?’

‘It was the safest option. Don’t tell me you feel bad for him—after everything he did?’

Asche fell silent. And how could she argue? Richard may have acted like a righteous man, and even in his loop, he clung to his ideals. But from what Marika told me—and what I saw in his memories—he was trash. A human supremacist. Sure, he treated elves and dwarves politely, probably thanks to their goddess, but beast-kin, and other races? He saw them as lesser. Dirty. Subhuman.

The real surprise? He was a frequent guest at the Dancing Tails. Fucking Hypocrite. Whatever underlying insecurities and twisted logic built that mess of a personality would probably take a trained therapist to untangle.

‘What’s a therapist?’ Aska asked.

‘Uh... a good mind mage who uses their magic to heal people mentally?’ I offered.

‘Huh. Sounds neat,’ Asche replied.

I had to agree—if they were good or actually helped people.

‘Anyway, he got what he deserved. At least now, he’s truly useful to the people,’ I concluded, not going into detail what I meant exactly.

‘Mrhm. I’m sure without Kariza’s charm ability, this place would’ve been burned down ages ago.’ I nodded mentally, adjusting my tone.

‘Still surprises me that Marika never questioned his sudden disappearance…’

‘Girl, you were with her. She probably figured he did something dumb and you handled it. Divine justice or whatever.’

‘Girl? Since when do you call me that?’

‘You know why. Deal with it. Also, if you want food, you’d better get down here fast, or I’m eating the rest,’ Asche said cheekily.

I blinked in confusion. She can eat? How? And since when does she even need to?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Not long after, I headed downstairs—somehow, things were already chaotic, even though they’d only just met yesterday. An annoyed Kazari was bickering with Deidre, while Cynthia openly flirted with the elven paladin, whose face was glowing red. Marika was chatting with the three guild girls, who were hanging on her every word. And Tulsi sat beside Asche—who had taken on the form of a young wolf-kin.

Her body seemed... more solid than before. It didn’t just look like a transformation—it felt like she’d inhabited the form of someone else. Deidre, too, had assumed the appearance of a kitsune, matching Kazari so well they looked like sisters. No wonder Kazari was on edge. Truly, Succubi glamour was on a different level entirely.

Asche turned to me mid-bite, chewing as she spoke. “Mmf... funny, watchin’ you admire glamours—chomp—when yours don’t even follow the rules the reshta us are stuck with.”

And just like that, every head turned in my direction. Eyes locked on me.

“You had to say that out loud, huh?” I muttered.

Her tail swayed playfully as she grinned, sharp teeth glinting. “Mmf... anythin’ to shweeten your mornin’~” she said with a grin.

“M-Master, you seem more... stable than yesterday,” Tulsi said, voice timid as she looked away.

“I am,” I replied simply.

Still chewing on her meal, Asche added with her mouth half full “Let’sh just hope Marie doesn’t come askin’ for Richard’sh soul back.”

I facepalmed the moment I realized she’d said it out loud, AGAIN—instead of through our link. Instinctively, I cast a sound barrier around our group before anyone else overheard.

“S-Sorry,” she mumbled after swallowing, “Being able to actually eat for once messed with my focus.”

I glared at her, silently cursing the extra information she’d let slip. Around me, the others exchanged glances—curiosity, suspicion, wariness... and hunger. Really, Kazari?

“I knew something was wrong when he didn’t leave a receipt,” Marika muttered, “but I didn’t think you’d actually killed him…”

“I didn’t really kill him—or his friends. The wendigos did,” I replied. ‘Or would’ve, if I hadn’t stepped in’, I added to Asche mentally. She nodded slightly.

Unfortunately, my casual mention of wendigos didn’t go over well. Apparently, that’s not something you just toss into conversation—especially when it involves paladins getting torn apart.

Zary shot up and pointed her finger at me. “It was you who—!”

I cut her off before she got the wrong idea. “I, Zary, did no such thing. Without me, we’d have had a full-blown dungeon break. Thanks to my interference, there are only a few dozen of them wandering around. That holy torch probably vaporized half just by existing. And they weren’t real wendigos anyway—just cursed copies.”

Eleanor rubbed her temples. “Okay, just so I understand this correctly… the infamous Left Hand of the Inquisitor and his entire squad got wiped out by a dungeon break?”

“Nah. Maria and her girlfriend probably made it out,” I replied, waving a hand dismissively.

Now Mai spoke up. “Aska said something a-about... s-soul?”

Oh. Right. The girls didn’t know I wasn’t actually the Matriarch. Great.

“Well… I can use soul magic too. And leaving the soul of a High Paladin to rot would’ve been a waste. So, I took it.”

Deidre sighed, clearly not amused. “And it didn’t occur to you that the two surviving members of his squad might come after you for that? Even if you are a Matriarch, taking the soul of the famous Richard… Someone will take action if that gets out.”

I smiled. “Trust me. I doubt those two girls will be believed.”

Asche, mouth full of meat, mumbled, “Yesh—mmf—bein’ a holy torch doesh tend ta raise… s’me eyebrows.”

“Holy Torch?” Fara blinked.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ I groaned internally. ‘Can’t you shut up for one moment?’

‘Most of it’s out anyway’, Aska replied nonchalantly in my mind. ‘Might as well give them the a rough idea. Builds trust.’

I sighed. “Yes, holy torch. No idea what exactly happened, but that ziggurat place forced all of Richard’s holy energy into the priestess and basically lit her up with it.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Zary said cautiously, and Marika nodded in agreement.

Deidre stepped in—thankfully. “I’ve heard of that place. It was supposed to be sealed after the Mother of Origin cursed it… Maybe the recent tremors damaged the seal?”

Okay, not helpful.

‘Stop staring at me like that,’ I snapped at Asche. ‘We can’t be sure it was me. Total coincidence. Definitely.’

I nodded slowly. “That must be it. It was… truly bizarre, even for me.”

I hoped my little act was convincing enough. No one pressed further. Either they bought it or didn’t want to push me. That worked for me. I was already behind on updates.

‘Mind giving me a quick rundown—do Fara and her group know about the rest?’ I asked Asche silently.

‘Nah, they still think you’re a full Matriarch. They don’t know about the witch’s hat, the demons, or the System stuff. Even with my slip-ups, I tried to keep things structured.’

‘Thanks,’ I replied. She just grinned and stuffed another chunk of meat into her mouth.

‘Oh, I also filled in Marika and Zary about the auction house plans. Zary wanted to join, but I shut her down. They also don’t know that Tulsi and Deidre are demons. Probably best to keep it that way for now…’

“Now that I think about it,” I said aloud, “aren’t you all acting a bit too... carefree around me?”

Fara fidgeted. “W-Well, you’re a Matriarch. That’s... scary. But you freed me. And you brought me to the Marika. And from what I heard, you helped the others too. I don’t want to sound rude but… for a Jaeger Matriarch, you’re actually kind of… nice?”

The others mumbled similar sentiments, nodding or shrugging.

‘Asche...’ I thought flatly, ‘you broke them. They’re calling me nice.’

Asche burst into laughter, loud enough to make several heads turn.

“Yeah, and then there’s your... um, familiar,” Fara added. “She makes you seem... approachable, I guess?”

Asche’s tail swayed. “Did you hear that? I make you approachable~”

Kazari and Cynthia muttered under their breath—clearly not on board with Fara’s take.

“Anyway,” I began, dispelling the sound barrier around us, “I’d really like to eat something before my familiar devours everyth—”

“So you must be the so-called Matriarch,” said a voice I immediately wanted to punch. “I was expecting more. But judging by your... following, I’m starting to doubt the rumors.”

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I turned slowly.

A man stepped inside like he owned the air.

Everyone froze.

“Count Vaelric,” Eleanor muttered under her breath.

Kazari immediately stepped forward, her charm magic already coiling in the air. “What does the Captain of the High Guard want in our humble—”

“Quiet, lowly filth,” he cut in, eyes narrowing. “Who allowed you to speak to your better?”

Count Vaelric was tall, stiff as stone, and full of the kind of arrogance only human nobles could wear without choking on it. His black steel armor gleamed, sleek and polished, accented by faintly glowing green-blue crystals—imbued with magic, obviously. Humans and their need to display power.

‘They really do,’ Asche added, not noticing she’d separated herself from them.

On his chest, the crest of the High Guard: a black circle wrapped in stylized flame. The symbol of noble ego.

His face didn’t show much—cold and stiff—but the disgust in his eyes was obvious as he looked around the room, lingering on Kazari, the beast-kin, and the other non-humans.

“Filthy sub-species,” he muttered, practically spitting the word. “Who let so many of you run wild?”

Ah. There it was. The usual bile of a noble-bred human.

“Maybe calm down, dude,” said Asche.

The count’s hand hovered over the rapier at his side—slim, marked with runes pulsing in the same eerie crystal hue as his armor. I smiled. I didn’t recognize the runes, but they were clearly magical. The sword looked expensive—and well-used.

‘With that kind of attitude, he’s probably dueling people who aren’t allowed to win,’ mused Aska. ‘He doesn’t look battle-hardened. Just arrogant.’

I had to agree. He didn’t seem like someone who had ever seen a frontline. As he stepped closer to Asche, three others followed him in.

One moved like a rogue—quietly, focused, eyes always alert. The second was heavier-built, his armor thick and ceremonial, chin raised as if the room owed him respect. Another noble, no doubt.

The third was a woman—likely a battle-mage. Crystal shimmer lit her fingertips, delicate and calculated. Her armor matched the others: form-fitted, dark, and laced with that same uncanny glow.

They looked strong. Not Guildmaster-strong, but certainly formidable by human standards. If all the High Guards were like this, I might’ve been a little bit impressed. Still, no matter how polished they looked, they bled like anyone else.

“They always do,” said Asche aloud again.

The count stiffened, lip curling.

“How dare a creature like you speak in my presence without my leave?” he barked, voice shrill with fury. “You dare raise your voice among nobility? Filth like you should be kept on a leash—if acknowledged at all.”

In one quick move, he pulled his rapier and aimed for Asche’s head. She stopped it easily with two fingers.

The poor count staggered, trying to yank it back. But no matter how he yanked, the blade wouldn’t budge.

Am I witnessing some off-brand theater production of King Arthur? I wondered.

His face turned crimson—part rage, part embarrassment. The guards flanking him looked equally caught off guard, their hands halfway to their weapons, unsure whether this was still protocol or disaster.

“Attack this fil—” he began, but I cut him off.

“If you’re the count, then you must be the father of that smugface,” I mused. “Knew I saw the resemblance. Your face is even more punchable~”

That did it. The other guards immediately drew their weapons. Guests and staff scrambled—some ran for the exit, others huddled in the corners, too scared to move.

“Now, now, little guards,” I said, almost laughing. “You really don’t want to take this fight.” I turned to Asche. “Let his blade go.”

“Fine,” she muttered with a sigh, clearly annoyed.

The blade slipped free, and with it, the count lost his balance. He landed hard on his rear. No one laughed. Except me.

“Are you insane?” Deidre whispered behind me, her voice tight with panic.

I ignored her. Her comment wasn’t worth answering. The count glared up at me, venom bubbling beneath his sneer.

“I grow more certain you’re no Matriarch at all,” he spat. “No woman of noble blood would behave like a harlot parading with mongrels. Your company alone betrays your filth. That you arrived with Marika—ha! I should’ve known. You probably bribed that worm Bensin for a stage to play your games. But I assure you, by my authority—”

I didn’t let him finish.

I grinned. “Let me tell you a short story about the Asches and the Wendigos.”

The room fell quiet as I let just a trace of my aura bleed out.

“The first true wendigos were the result of a twisted experiment—born from the union of the Winters and a legendary fire mage from the long-lost line of the Rosenthals, the first Jaeger family. Fire and ice—two forces that should never mix—collided. The result was a curse. They tried again and again until they finally called it a success.”

I let the cold deepen. And as their fear bloomed, a strange urge came over me—something slow, theatrical, almost poetic.

“But we Asches… we carry a flaw in our blood.

Like the wendigo, we are cursed to wander the cold—

to let the world around us drown in endless snow.

It always follows us.

Always consumes the places we touch.”

I paused, then raised my chin.

“But I was the first to overcome that flaw.

Now... I command it.

I could bury this city in snow—freeze it still beneath silence and frost.

Or, if I chose...

I could turn the snow to ash.

Let it fall like poisoned dust.

Let it coat rooftops, fill lungs, clog throats.

A thick, heatless blanket that suffocates everything it touches.

No escape.

No fire.

Just breathless death—

quiet,

slow,

absolute.”

I could feel the magic thickening in the air,

the weight of it like pressure behind the eyes.

“Every adult.

Every man.

Every child.

The young.

The old.

Beast-kin. Elf.

Human. Dwarf.

My ash does not ask your name.

It does not care for your face.

It falls without favor.

It buries without bias.

My ash brings equal death.”

I raised a single finger.

A faint pulse echoed outward from my hand.

I turned back to face them.

Their expressions were pale, frozen in fear.

No one moved.

They felt it—the magic in the air,

the cold that wasn’t just weather.

They knew, now,

that my threat was no bluff.

Poetry wasn’t really my thing. But judging by their faces… it had landed just fine. With my back still to the guard, I asked calmly, “So tell me, High Guard… what does my ash bring?”

The rogue-like guard dropped to one knee immediately. The count to scared to move at all,

“I beg your forgiveness, Matriarch Asche, for the offense Count Vaelric has caused. We weren’t fully informed of your standing. I will personally ensure his highness—the Archduke— is informed of the offense committed against you.”

I giggled silently and turned, letting my gaze settle on the wolf-kin.

‘Too much?’ I asked.

She gave a “so-so” gesture before turning her attention back to her cold meat. ‘You owe me food.’

‘Isn’t that my share anyway…?’ I asked, slowly.

‘Hush. Focus on your theatrics,’ she replied, casually brushing me off.

Well. She wasn’t wrong. Still… I hadn’t eaten since I arrived in this town. Unless blood counted—which it didn’t. Not as a full meal... probably.

I looked back at the kneeling man—composed, still, assessing me with experienced eyes. He was probably the vice-captain. And most likely the true leader of the High Guards.

“You may rise,” I said, leaving room for him to speak.

“Viscount Marlo, Madam Asche,” he replied, rising smoothly.

“Viscount Marlo,” I said, with a slow smile. “I commend you. You strike me as someone who’s seen real battle.”

My tone made it clear that the others—excluding Vaelric—were merely polished armor and ceremony.

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he bowed his head slightly.

“I’m honored, Matriarch. I served a few years at the frontlines—against demons and beast-kin. His Highness, the Archduke under whom I served, saw fit to promote me. I was granted the title of Viscount and made vice-captain of the High Guards. But after what happened today… perhaps I’ll rise again.”

“Oh, I’m sure I could offer the headmaster a few kind words,” I said lightly. “About how you treated me—and this place—with proper respect.”

“I understand,” he replied. The message clearly received.

With a flick of my finger, the unnatural cold lifted. The snow halted. A light layer still blanketed the floor, glittering softly.

“I assume there’s a carriage waiting for me?”

Marlo nodded. “Just around the corner, on the main street. It’ll take you straight to the academy. I’ll inform the headmaster that you’re on your way… and to prepare refreshments.”

I clapped my hands together with a bright smile. “Oh, how wonderful! That would be most appreciated.”

‘Let’s go, Aska. You can eat more at the principal’s place,’ I said through the link.

She grumbled but stood and followed me towards the door. The count remained still—paralyzed where he’d fallen, his eyes unfocused, breath shallow.

How utterly disappointing. I assumed the other two guards would deal with him while Marlo escorted me outside.

“Same command as yesterday, Kazari,” I called over my shoulder, waving a lazy farewell from the front steps.

Somehow, I was starting to get very busy.

----------------------------------------

What a mess.

How could that monster just do whatever she pleased without consequence?

Yes, she saved us. And for that, I would offer thanks. But nothing else. Not for the chaos, not for the power she flaunted, and certainly not for the fear she spread so easily. I just couldn’t understand how Marika could idolize her.

There had been no sign from the Goddesses—no lunar whisper, no echo of fate. I’d prayed the night before. Lit the moonstone candle. Closed my eyes and waited for the familiar pull of divine reassurance. Nothing came. Not even a flicker of warmth. That silence clung to me like a second skin.

And that hat of hers… no matter how convincing, it had to be fake. It had to be.

“When do you think Master will return?” Tulsi asked the kitsune named Deidre.

That one unsettled me. She looked far too similar to Kazari. Nearly identical. And yet… as far as I knew, Kazari had no sisters. When I’d asked about it, Deidre only deflected the question.

Apparently, she was the key to rescuing our captured kin. But whenever I looked at her, I felt a wrongness coil in my gut. As she turned away, her shadow passed over the floor—and for a heartbeat, it wasn’t shaped like her at all. If it weren’t for the safety of the children, I would’ve dug deeper already.

“Tulsi, I have no idea. Go play with the others or whatever you do when you’re bored. Just don’t pester me. We are not friends,” the nogitsune replied curtly.

Tulsi pouted. “No fair. But fine.” Then she turned her attention elsewhere. “Fara, Eleanor, Mai, can I come with you today?”

“Fine with me,” Eleanor said. “We’re planning to head to the guild. Maybe pick up a quest within the town before deciding how we tread forward… after parting from our so-called warrior.”

“Oh, I could do that! I’m pretty good with the spear,” Tulsi said, perking up.

“If you want, we can test your skills at the guild’s training hall,” Fara offered.

“Sure, I—”

Deidre hissed sharply. “Did you forget the kind of trouble you could walk into if—”

Tulsi cut her off with a mocking grin. “I’m not that dumb. The only reason you found me… is because I let you~”

“Bitch.”

“Love you too~”

I watched their exchange, uncertain. They clearly knew each other, but it wasn’t friendship. The way they spoke hinted at something shared—danger, maybe, or just survival. And somehow, it all led back to her. Her true name remained hidden. And that, above all, unsettled me.

“What are you brooding over, my dear?” asked Marika gently, her voice shifting to moon elvish.

“You know who,” I answered in the same tongue. “How can you be so calm? She was ready to kill us just moments ago.”

Marika chuckled softly, folding her hands in her lap. “Do you know how I felt the first time I saw the Witches of the High Council?”

I shook my head. “No. I do not.”

“Terrified,” she said, without hesitation. “They are powerful enough that even the Old Ones respect their authority. Some say they are just as strong—if not stronger. Each of them could level this city if they so desired.”

She met my eyes, her tone steady. “The same could be said of the Matriarch of the Jaegers… or the Demon Banquet… or countless others. And yet, none of them have done so. Have you ever wondered why?”

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted quietly.

“It is the Temple. The Mausoleum. Ithi told me that the runes embedded in the pillars are ancient—even when she was still young. There were only three beings who ever practiced that form of magic. One of them was Calypso, the Witch of the End. Another was Eternal. And the third…”

She paused, as if weighing whether to speak the name.

“…she never told me. But she did tell me this place, this city-center—these runes do not bear Calypso’s signature. Nor Eternal’s.”

My breath caught. “S-So, you think it’s a wit— YOU THINK IT IS HER?!”

Marika nodded slowly, solemnly. “I believe something has awoken her after all this time. Ithi taught me many things. As a recognized honorary witch—albeit a low rank—I learned to recognize the old signs.”

She leaned closer, voice hushed. “And that hat of hers… the feathers it bears. Most races wouldn’t recognize them. Even many witches wouldn’t. But to wear the feathers of a Rainbow Crow so openly? It is more than bold—it’s a deliberate insult to every witch who lives. And yet she wears it.”

I remembered something—barely. A glyph, etched in ash near the hallway when she passed. I’d stared at it too long. By the time I tried to describe it to Marika, it had already faded from my mind.

Something about that rune… it didn’t want to be remembered.

Marika closed her eyes for a moment. “From Ithi’s old journals—written when she was younger—only one description matches that hat. Only one rune was recorded at the scene where it appeared…”

I swallowed. “What happened?”

Marika took a breath. “The disappearance of the Endless Library.”

I froze.

The Endless Library—the loss that had plunged the world into its darkest age, from which only the divine had helped us recover.

“But… wasn’t that caused by Eternal?” I asked, uncertain.

“That’s what most believe. And many in the Council still do. Some say Eternal masked her involvement using foreign runes. But Ithi… and Alexandria… believe it was the third.”

I frowned. “Then why don’t people speak of this third one at all?”

“Because it goes against the teachings of the Divines,” Marika said softly. “Do you believe in our Goddesses?”

“Of course I do,” I answered, chin rising with pride.

“Then there is your answer. The Divines themselves erased that name. Whatever that being once was, they removed her from the world’s memory for a reason. And we trust them for that reason.”

Her eyes glittered beneath her silver lashes. “So if such a being now walks among us again, then it must be because the Moon Goddesses willed it. This is a sign, Zary. She saved us. And I believe the moons will guide her hand to bring freedom—so that our people may finally be free from pain.”

With that, Marika rose from her place and smoothed her robe. “I will be heading to the Witch’s Embassy shortly. Follow when you’re ready.”

I gave her a small nod.

I still didn’t trust the witch, that monster, that… whatever it was in the end. I couldn’t ignore the weight of her magic, or the sharpness of her gaze. But Marika was right. I was a paladin. My faith was not meant to be convenient—it was meant to be absolute. If the Goddesses wished this being to rise again, then I would trust in their plan.

But if they ever gave me even the faintest sign that she was a danger… I would strike her down with my own hands.

As was my oath.

As was my purpose.

I would wait for a sign.

And if none came—then I would become the blade the moons had forged me to be.