They passed Marvik—the inn where Gilly and Pom had eaten days before. Out front, Valmor stood with nearly fifty townsfolk who had volunteered for the search. The moment they saw Gilly—alive, battered, but standing—a collective sigh of relief swept through the crowd.
Valmor strode towards her, concern etched into his face.
"You've been gone for three days. What happened? Where were you?"
His words hit Gilly like a stone. "Three days…" she whispered in disbelief.
She'd lost track of time completely, consumed by training and survival. It had felt like no more than a day. But three...?
Valmor gave her a long look, then turned to dismiss the worried crowd. Among them she spotted familiar faces—the old man from the inn, the meat vendor who once gave her a treat. People she had never truly noticed before had gone out of their way to search for her. Warmth filled her chest—but alongside it crept guilt. Trust was not easy for her, not after Genesis Academy.
Ephini led the way towards the grand library built into the World Tree's young sapling. The so-called "office" they entered was far more than that—almost the size of the grand hall where Gilly had taken her test. Its walls were lined with endless shelves, heavy with old, unfamiliar books.
Pom caught up after dismissing the volunteers. Night hours were quiet in this town; little could be done in darkness.
As they passed the rows, Ephini explained:
"These books respond to a person's elemental affinity. If you can awaken magic, the right books glow for you."
Gilly's curiosity burned bright as she walked by—yet none lit for her. Not a single spark or flicker. Her heart sank. Weak as ever, she thought bitterly.
But then—something stirred.
High above, atop the tallest shelf, one lone book began to shake and glow violently. Zin and Ephini both turned sharply to the light in the corner of their eyes.
That shelf was forbidden—placed under Seras's strongest wards. No book there should respond to any presence, not unless Seras herself willed it.
Even Ephini paled, knowing her grandmother had sealed some of the most dangerous grimoires at that very height.
As Gilly crossed into the lounge area, the book abruptly fell still. She and Pom noticed nothing. But Zin and Ephini exchanged tense, knowing glances.
At last seated, they asked Gilly the burning question:
What had happened to her over those missing three days?
She told them—in simple terms. The wilderness. The wolves. Her sword. Her intent. The moment she learned to wield purpose, not instinct. It was something only Hunters or higher warriors could achieve.
Pom laughed as Gilly placed the severed wolf's head in front of Zin.
A challenger's trophy.
Zin's expression hardened. "Are you challenging me?" he asked coldly.
Gilly blinked in confusion. "Do what...?"
Pom chuckled, waving off the tension.
"She doesn't know, Zin. It's a ritual for students proving mastery to request a duel by offering their master a trophy. She only wanted to show you how far she's come."
Zin exhaled, letting the matter slide—but his wariness did not fade.
Then—all at once—the mood in the room shifted. Zin, Pom, Ephini... each tensed, rising silently to their feet. Wordless glances passed between them. Something urgent had happened.
"We've got an intruder," Ephini said lightly, forcing a smile as she sat beside Gilly to calm her. "Nothing serious. Stay here. I'll answer your magic questions."
But Gilly felt it—the unease threading the air like cold steel.
Far away, Zin and Pom moved swiftly through the night, racing towards the cabin at the town's edge—the place where Uyi had been kept. When they arrived, Zin burst into the darkened room. Pom hesitated at the door, sensing the wrongness.
The guards were dead—slaughtered grotesquely, their bodies ruined, eyes torn from sockets, entrails scattered like refuse.
In the inner chamber, Uyi was gone.
Yet Zin's heart sank for another reason: he felt the foul, alien energy lingering in the air. The same energy that had vanished when Gilly last stood here.
He clenched his fists as his aura flared, fury rising.
"Careful, boy. Losing control again, are we?"
Seras's cold voice cut through the air like ice.
She stepped into the ruined cabin, her glowing eyes scanning the carnage. Zin froze as her crushing pressure filled the space—only for a moment—but enough to make sweat bead on his forehead. A divine aura no demigod could withstand.
She smiled thinly.
"Remember—you breathe because my daughter begged for you. But slip once more... and even your master won't save you."
Her hand rested on his shoulder briefly, a gentle tap belying the threat.
Zin stood frozen until the pressure faded. She moved methodically, reading the broken room, speaking darkly:
"These rats learned. No mistakes this time. They covered their tracks well. Smarter than before."
It was rare for Seras to curse. That meant fury.
Then she turned, oddly thoughtful.
"What do you think, Zin?"
He hesitated, but she waved him off.
"No need. We both know who did this. And that girl... I see her differently now. Watch her closely. She's more than you realize."
With that, she vanished.
Zin stood motionless. His mind churned. Gilly... Her strange powers... The energy she absorbed, the marks, the impossible survival...
A god's apostle? Or worse—something not of this world?
He shook the thoughts away and left. Outside, the gathered leaders—Valmor, Pom, the old innkeeper, and the city's captains—waited for him as the night's grim council began.
The threat was no longer lurking.
It had come.
---
The council meeting had ended. Tense words and cautious plans were all they could offer for now. One by one, the figures of power and guardians of the town faded into the night, leaving only Seras and Zin standing in the moonlit square.
Seras turned towards the library without a word. Zin fell into step behind her, quiet, his mind restless with questions. She glanced back, sensing his curiosity.
"You want to know, don't you?" she asked softly, amusement curling her voice.
Zin gave a slight nod. He didn't trust his voice.
She smiled faintly, her pale hair glowing under the moon. "What I did back there—scolding you—was for your own good. If I hadn't cut you down to size, you'd have lost control. And done something far worse than shaking the earth with your temper."
That motherly note in her voice made Zin uncomfortable. Seras wasn't known for warmth. Or mercy.
He sighed, grateful but uneasy.
"But Gilly…" he began.
Seras raised a hand to silence him. Her eyes darkened.
"She's strange, that girl. Not a god's apostle. I'd wager everything on that. And she's not an otherworlder in the way we know them. But something in-between... and even that doesn't sit right."
Zin frowned. "Then what...?"
She shook her head, her voice lowering. "She reminds me of the Automata. The ones from the time before the First Draconic War. Beings neither flesh nor spirit. Made, but alive. Self-willed. But even that comparison is flawed. Something about her breaks the old rules."
Zin's stomach turned. Those ancient tales were older than even Seras herself—5,000 years buried under dust and myth.
They stepped into the library.
At once, every book in the towering shelves flared with light—each one glowing softly as if recognizing their true creator.
Seras sighed, snapping her fingers. The light faded instantly.
"Annoying," she muttered.
Ahead, Ephini rose hurriedly from her desk.
"Grandmother..." she began, but Seras gently patted her head as she passed, barely breaking stride.
At the final shelf—the forbidden one—Seras stopped. Her gaze sharpened.
There, at the very top, a lone book trembled violently. It rattled in its chains as if straining against its confinement.
Her expression darkened.
A flick of her wrist, and the book unlatched from its resting place, floating down into her hand. Thick with dust, bound in chains so old they were flaking, the ancient grimoire pulsed faintly under her fingers. The heavy lock sealing its secrets was untouched for centuries—until now.
Seras frowned, brushing dust away to read the faint inscriptions burned into the iron.
Nine hundred years... forgotten... and yet... something touched you.
She glanced sideways at Gilly.
The girl sat on the lounge sofa, eyeing her warily. Seras sat beside her,
Seras leaned closer, her eyes faintly glowing as she scanned Gilly—probing her mana, her soul, for any lingering trace of the dark energy left in Uyi's prison.
Nothing.
Not a whisper. Clean. Empty.
Seras frowned.
Then she pointed to the severed head of the shadow alpha wolf resting on the floor nearby.
"You killed that?"
Gilly nodded hesitantly, unsure why the air in the room felt so tense.
Seras smiled... but there was no warmth in it.
"Good. Then this is yours."
She dropped the chained grimoire onto Gilly's lap. the weight of the book thudding into Gilly's lap. A sudden pressure gripped Gilly's chest—the tome was cold and heavy, impossibly so for its size, as if it contained mountains in its pages.
The weight pressed down on her legs, strange vibrations crawling through her skin. The chains stirred faintly—responding to her presence—as if they knew her. Gilly felt her breath hitch; a pressure behind her eyes like forgotten memories struggling to surface.
Everyone in the room stared in silent disbelief.
Seras... handing over a forbidden grimoire? Unthinkable.
But Seras's curiosity had overruled her caution.
"Nine hundred years ago, before the Draconic War," Seras murmured, almost to herself, "your great-aunt Katharine gave me this book. Even then, it was sealed. I tried for eight centuries to break its locks. Failed. Left it to gather dust for two hundred more."
She ran her fingers over the lock. "But someone... something... cracked part of the seal last night. I traced the mana on the chains. You touched it, Gilly. You broke what I could not."
A ripple of surprise ran through the others. Zin's eyes widened. Ephini's breath caught.
Seras smiled softly, watching Gilly's pale face under the weight of the book.
"Open it," she whispered. "Let's see what you are."
A moment of stillness stretched thin.
The chains stirred again—ever so slightly—around Gilly's fingers.
Everyone held their breath.