Three weeks had passed.
During that time, Eviris quietly observed as the survivors tried to start over in a neighboring village — how they mourned, how they clung to one another. Word of the destruction of the village on the outskirts of the Forgotten Forest had spread far and wide. It wasn't just whispered among the locals who had taken the survivors in; it had even reached the pages of major newspapers. They spoke of the attack, and of the death of a once-renowned wizard — Shining Rogue — who had spent the final years of his life in obscurity, in the humble village where he'd been born.
When Eviris first read those lines, her small hands trembled as they gripped the wrinkled paper, her fingers curling until nails dug into her palms, as if trying to hold on to some fleeting sense of understanding. Her eyes traced every word about her uncle Rogue — about his heroic sacrifice, about the greatness he once carried.
But just below that, in the same column, she saw something else.
There it was — confirmation that the guild responsible for the recent wave of village attacks, the very same one that had annihilated her home, had suffered severe losses. Their leader, gravely wounded, had vanished from public view.
She could no longer stay in that quiet, remote place.
Every corner of the new village, every glance from a fellow survivor, every name spoken in remembrance of the dead — each pressed down on her like a weight, a constant reminder of her helplessness that night. Her resolve to grow stronger, her determination never again to stand frozen as everything she held dear was torn away — those feelings had grown too loud to ignore. The only path forward that made sense was to become strong enough that no one could ever harm her loved ones again. Until then, emotions were a luxury her pragmatic mind could no longer afford.
And so, in the dead of night, she left the village behind.
The emotions she carried gnawed at her, but the need to grow stronger lodged in her throat like a splinter, drowning out all else. Her small twelve-year-old body moved swiftly through familiar paths. Now that she no longer had to match the pace of others, she ran without slowing, putting distance between herself and the place that had once been home — now something else entirely. Before leaving, she had penned a short note — simple, direct — explaining that she was gone, and that there was no use looking for her. She didn't want to burden the survivors with worry.
Night gradually gave way to dawn.
Her sensitive ears twitched at every gust of wind, catching the new sounds of a waking world. Before long, she reached the first border town. These roads were already familiar — her village had often sold goods here. The buildings, even the scents, were etched into memory. Soon, she found the first inn she could.
The interior was just as expected — simple and unremarkable: a counter, a few wooden tables, and a dimly lit lobby.
"One room, please," Eviris said, her voice steady and devoid of emotion.
The older woman behind the counter gave her a once-over, gauging her travel-worn appearance, then named the price. "Six hundred Gemstones."
Without hesitation, Eviris pulled a small pouch from her side and handed over the exact amount. "Here."
The woman took the coins, counted them, and nodded, passing over a wooden-tagged key. "Room 212. Single bed, but for a little one like you, it'll be just right."
"Thank you," Eviris replied curtly and, key in hand, headed for the stairs.
Soon, she was alone in her room. With a sigh of relief, she peeled off her travel gear — sturdy but worn clothes, typical for rural life and training. After changing into more neutral, everyday attire, she felt slightly less conspicuous. She had only enough money for three, maybe four days of lodging. She knew she had to act soon.
Stepping out onto the streets of the town, Eviris moved with quiet purpose, her steps guided more by instinct than thought. Before long, a tall building came into view — it towered above the others with its unusual architecture, impossible to overlook. She didn't need to ask anyone. She could feel the dense concentration of mana radiating from it.
A guild.
Arriving at the Dawnspire Guild, Eviris immediately found herself in the middle of a tense, silent standoff. In the center of the hall, surrounded by a cheering crowd, two boys stood facing each other. The tension in their eyes was so sharp it felt like they might kill each other with sheer intent. Around them, the other guild members hollered and shouted, their voices merging into a roar that seemed to shake the air itself.
Suddenly, a white magic circle flared beneath one of the boys — dark-haired and muscular. In a blink, he shot forward like an arrow, charging straight at his opponent. But his rival — a leaner, red-haired boy — was ready. A violet circle lit up beneath him, sparking to life as it heightened his neural impulses, allowing him to react with incredible speed.
What followed was a ruthless brawl. Fists and legs flew. Magic bursts flared. Neither could gain the upper hand.
Eviris, with eyes of unnatural sharpness, followed every movement. She wasn't merely watching — she was absorbing the structure of their magic, analyzing it like a complex formula. Every spark, every move, every technique was broken down and cataloged in her mind, compared against her theoretical knowledge.
Eventually, her quiet presence drew attention. One of the fighters — the one with the white circle — broke off from the fight, his eyes locking onto Eviris.
"Hey, kid. You lost or something?" he asked gruffly. "We may not be the strongest guild out there, but we don't need babysitting."
His opponent — the redhead — scoffed. "Give it a rest, Zerek. Let's just show her the door."
"Yeah, let's toss her out and get back to it, Aren," Zerek agreed, stepping toward her.
But before they could act, Eviris calmly walked past them, as if they didn't exist.
It irritated them — just a little. But when they saw where she was headed — straight toward the guildmaster's office — their fire cooled ever so slightly.
Eviris had no intention of wasting time on distractions. She was here for one reason only — to speak with the guildmaster. Without hesitation, she opened the office door and stepped inside.
An elderly man wearing an old-fashioned hat sat behind a massive desk. His gaze, sharp and lively, fixed on the young mage standing at the threshold.
"Little one, how old are you?" he asked, his voice keen and curious.
Eviris couldn't exactly say she was only four years old. Her body, thanks to her unusual development, appeared to be that of an eleven or twelve-year-old — and she intended to use that to her advantage.
"Twelve, sir…" she began.
"Keil. You may call me Keil," the old man gently corrected. "Maybe those two boys tried to send you away, but you did right by ignoring them completely."
"How…?" Eviris asked. Her tone remained emotionless, but a flicker of curiosity sparked in her eyes.
"I can sense everything that happens in and around this guild," Keil explained, his gaze growing even more focused. "And the fact that your mana is already at the level of a seasoned mage at such a young age — now that's impressive. From this moment on, you are a B-Rank mage of Dawnspire Guild. And… where are my manners — what is your name, child?"
"Eviris," she replied.
A few minutes later, Keil and Eviris exited the office together. In the main hall, Zerek and Aren were still going at it, too wrapped up in their brawl to notice anything else. But when a dense wave of mana radiated from Keil, it hit the crowd like a shockwave, freezing everyone in place. The realization hit swiftly when they saw the small girl standing at the guildmaster's side.
"From this day forward, Eviris will be part of our guild — Dawnspire — as a B-Rank mage," Keil announced, his voice echoing through the hall and drowning out even the faintest whisper.
Zerek and Aren didn't take the news well. Discontent was written plainly on their faces. They were annoyed, even outraged. After all, they had only achieved B-Rank status at sixteen — and had long been considered the rising stars and pride of the younger generation within the guild. And now, some girl had walked in and been handed the same rank on the spot.
Without paying attention to the grumbling around her, Eviris wasted no time. She made her way straight to the mission board. She had no interest in making friends or getting involved in guild drama — she was here for one thing: strength. And strength came from work. Her eyes immediately locked onto the first available request: "Hunt down mutated boars east of the city. They've been causing trouble for a local farmer."
Perfect. Simple. Direct.
She knew the general route to the farm — her village had often delivered goods in this direction. And her inhuman endurance, forged through years of training, allowed her to travel without needing frequent rest. She didn't tire. She didn't need to pause. Three hours passed quickly, and she arrived at the site.
At the edge of a field stood a lean farmer, surveying the wrecked crops with a sour expression. When he noticed her approaching, he looked visibly surprised.
"Hey, little lady, what're you doing out here?" he asked, eyeing her youthful appearance with skepticism.
"I'm here on a boar extermination request," Eviris replied flatly, handing him the mission slip.
The farmer studied the slip carefully, then gave a small shrug. "Well... If the guild approved you for this job, it's not my place to argue."
Once she reached the fields, there was no need to search for long. Less than a minute later, five dark, hulking figures emerged from behind the tree line. The mutation had made them larger, their hides now marked by hardened, bone-like growths.
The first boar collapsed without so much as a squeal. It had taken only three steps before a dense, focused beam of blue fire pierced cleanly through its ribcage at a perfect angle. Eviris didn't even blink. She knew the exact calculation: entry angle — 28 degrees, depth — approximately 30 centimeters. More than enough to sear the trachea, strike the bronchial bifurcation, and incinerate the alveolar sacs in a fraction of a second. No air. No breath. No motion.
The second one let out a grunt, having just turned toward the sound of the first hitting the ground. But a thin, blue spike struck it cleanly between the third and fourth ribs on the left side — as precise as a surgeon's needle. A lance of flame traveled straight to the lung, but not beyond. Not a single millimeter of energy was wasted.
Eviris never moved from her spot, simply observing. Her eyes tracked each beast's breathing rhythm, muscle tension — she didn't fire at random. She selected the precise moment, the precise point.
The third rushed her — its mutation had amplified its speed, making it almost a blur. It opened its mouth, ready to lunge. A mistake.
In a fraction of a second, Eviris raised her hand, and a thin stream of fire slipped into the open mouth like a probe. The blue flame slid down the trachea, seared the larynx and bronchi, then ignited from within, scorching the lungs. The creature didn't die on the outside — it burned from the inside before its body even realized it was dead.
The fourth was larger than the rest, its ribs reinforced by thick bony growths. A direct strike wouldn't work.
Eviris assessed. One breath. A slight shift of her foot. A subtle movement of her fingers — and the flame entered through the eyes. A short, exact pulse. It hit the optic nerve, traveled deeper like a surgical catheter, slipped past the skull into the respiratory system — through the skull base, into the nasopharynx. The boar convulsed, snorted, and collapsed, twitching violently.
The fifth attempted a flanking maneuver. She didn't even look at it. Just a wave of her hand — and a thin, nearly invisible arc of flame sliced beneath its right shoulder blade, traveling along the spine, searing through the lung from behind, through the intercostal space.
Two more. The largest yet. Formidable. Judging by their movement, they were alpha males — natural leaders, shaped by evolution itself.
Eviris didn't alter her breathing.
A second passed. She snapped her fingers.
Beneath their feet, two small blue flashes ignited — right at chest height. They flared for only a moment — and vanished. The boars stopped in unison. Stood still.
Then — staggered. And then — fell. No cry. No visible wounds.
"Penetrating flame. Dual pulse. First collapses the diaphragm. Second targets the right lung. Surgical," Eviris murmured under her breath, as if logging the results in an invisible notebook. "Minimal expenditure. Efficiency — one hundred percent."
She straightened up. The forest fell silent once more. Only the wind stirred the scorched grass, darkened in spots where her incredibly hot flame had struck with pinpoint accuracy. The task was complete.
The farmer, stunned by the speed and, above all, the precision of Eviris's work, was at a loss for words. His boars — once terrifying monsters — now lay lifeless, almost untouched externally, as if struck by an invisible, silent death. He looked at the small girl, then at the fallen beasts, and in his eyes there was not only relief but a reverent fear. He didn't try to detain her, merely signed the confirmation of task completion with a trembling hand.
Without wasting time on explanations or farewells, Eviris turned and headed back to the town. The return journey took as long as the way there, but this time her mind was occupied with more than just navigation.
She analyzed.
Mana expenditure: Every use of blue flame, every pulse, every pinpoint strike was accounted for. She compared actual consumption to what her theory predicted. "Deviation minimal. Efficiency confirmed."
Targets' reaction: The boars, their mutations, their speed — everything was recorded. How their bodies responded to tracheal burns, nerve impacts, and internal lung combustion. "Fastest and quietest method. Drawback — limited radius for multiple targets."
Her own reaction: She was curious about how her body and mind responded to real combat. There was no fear, no adrenaline in the way others might experience it. Only cold, precise focus on the task. She felt satisfaction from perfectly executed work, not from "victory" in the usual sense. "Parameter 'anxiety' normal. Concentration increased. Emotional interference absent."
Meaning of power: Every successful shot, every fallen boar, every unit of mana saved strengthened her confidence that the path she had chosen was the only right one. Power is control. Power is prevention.
When Eviris returned to the guild, the tension in the air seemed to ease slightly, although Zerik and Aren were still exchanging sharp glances. She approached the task reception desk, where Keil was already waiting, his keen gaze fixed on her.
"Finished?" he asked, his tone neutral but with a flicker of interest in his eyes.
Eviris silently handed him the farmer's signed form. Keil took it, skimmed through it, and gave a barely noticeable nod.
"How did it go?" The question was rhetorical — he probably already sensed changes in her aura or had received the farmer's report.
"Efficiently," Eviris replied briefly, offering no further details. "All seven specimens neutralized."
At that moment, Zerik and Aren, who had been watching from afar, came closer and heard her words. Surprise mixed with disbelief on their faces. Seven mutated boars? Usually, such a task was given to two or three experienced B-rank mages.
"All seven?" Aren, the one with the purple circle, couldn't hold back. "That little girl's lying! It's impossible for one person to handle that so quickly."
"And where's the proof besides this crumpled paper?" Zerik added, crossing his arms. "We, Aren, fought until each of us truly earned our rank."
Keil didn't respond directly. Instead, he raised his hand, and in his palm appeared a small, charred yet perfectly round piece of wood, blackened to the core. He tossed it to Zerik.
"This is wood from the forest where the task was completed," Keil said calmly, his gaze briefly scanning Eviris before returning to the two young men. "I sent a mage to inspect the site as soon as I received the farmer's report of satisfaction. The farmer was so stunned by the speed and... precision of the job that he barely noticed what happened. He simply pointed at the boars, and then they were lying there. And here's what our research mage found. The boars lay almost untouched on the outside, as if struck by an invisible illness. But one tree at the edge of the clearing, right in the path of one of the beasts, was pierced all the way through with this exact, surgical hole. He has no idea how it happened. And yes, Zerik, Arén... I sense residual traces of blue mana spectrum on this wood. This is the work of a mage capable of absolute control."
A murmur spread through the hall. "Blue flashes?" "Surgical holes in trees?" It sounded too incredible and frightening. Usually, fire mages left behind scorched fields, not such anomalies.
Eviris stood still, her gaze fixed on Zerik and Arén's reactions. She analyzed their disbelief, their anger, their confusion. These were new data points for her study of human interactions.
Keil nodded to Eviris. "Your reward will be credited. Go rest, Eviris. It seems you have a lot more work ahead."
Without a word, Eviris turned and walked away, leaving behind a noisy guild hall abuzz with discussion and two very displeased yet now subdued young mages.