Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva

"Criticism is inevitable," after all, this blessing is not a secret technique of Saint Ingo Academy itself, and it even surpasses the current stage. A spellcaster must be at least Sequence 7, and even in a university competition, it would be restricted."

"Saint Ingo is shameless, isn't it? What's there to say? I actually felt a bit of sympathy for Sevia La," someone shook their head.

"But now, Tilan is in danger, Sevia La is not only recovered but even stronger than before. How can the fight continue?"

In the arena, Tilan looked at the gradually rising Sevia La, the golden cocoon enveloping her emitted an increasingly stable and potent aura, smothering any thoughts of resistance in onlookers.

This is... quite a predicament.

Since the Winter Festival competition, it was the first time Tilan felt troubled and tense.

She shifted her gaze to a severed wrist in the distance, retrieved it, and reattached it to the stump on her right arm. After a few seconds, it gradually healed—a spectacle akin to a doll mending itself, which left many spectators agape.

So healing is such a simple matter.

Then, bluish butterfly wings grew from Tilan's back once more as she soared into the night sky, steering clear of the golden butterfly-enshrouded Sevia La and ascending even higher.

With hands clasped, she sang in a clear, melodious voice as moonlight emerged behind her in the night sky, spilling moonbeams and silvery dust into the night breeze.

Despite preparations, it wasn't enough. Even using the move she had against Seraphiel, it would be hard to confront the fairy-incarnated Sevia La, who could dodge in a split second and counterattack.

After hesitating a few seconds, Tilan ceased her singing, blinked, and glanced downwards at the butterfly-encased Sevia La, observing the girl who became more transparent as she transformed into a fairy during her slumber.

Is this what it feels like? She tapped her fingertip, and her little finger began to turn transparent as well.

No, the girl shook her head slowly, allowing her little finger to regain its normal color and status.

It was too twisted. She had an inkling something was off, a disharmony on an instinctual level, as if someone was telling her this wasn't right.

Who was telling her this? And where had she seen a true legendary fairy before?

Suddenly, a vision flashed in her mind—a sky ablaze with flames and lands below, banners of new moons and wisteria waving on the horizon, armies of the dead marching across the land, setting forests aflame, and on the other side of the battlefield, numerous Elves singing prayers under the World Tree, white barriers of energy rising like waves to extinguish the flames.

In the sky, a woman with a black wide-brimmed hat and a black dress descended. She was surrounded by rusting Thorn Iron Blade Rings splattered with blood, which at her command, passed through forests, toppling countless trees and slaughtering Elves under their relentless cutting.

Just when the Necromancy army was about to celebrate, three golden figures emerged from the destroyed forests. They were similar in stature to sixteen-year-old human girls, their flight paths fleeting as distant meteors. In an instant, they passed through the woman in black; fifty-nine consecutive Wingsbeats slashed her body and soul to tatters, then burned her remains to ashes in pale golden flames.

This was a memory from the Ghost Princess, a great war of the second era. The black-dressed woman who perished was known as the 'Blood Thorn Waltz Witch' Clara inside the Mercury Dynasty.

Is this the terror of a legendary fairy? Even a Witch couldn't escape such instantaneous slaughter.

But there were only that batch of fairies; the Fruit nurtured by the World Tree thereafter, the second-generation fairies, was far from matching the first generation.

Her thoughts racing rapidly in her mind, she seemed to outsiders as if she had been lost in thought for a few seconds, then suddenly came to.

She had no choice but to try. She delved deeply into her memories of legendary fairies, finally focusing on the ritual under the World Tree where a girl in a floral crown sang with eyes closed, and in front of her, seven golden legendary fairies joined hands, circling a slowly opening crystal lustrous round mirror.

Suddenly opening her eyes, Tilan looked down at the now gradually Awakening Sevia La, snowflake impressions swirling within her azure eyes. Unbeknownst to when, gusts of chilly wind had begun to blow in the sky.

Filled with endless sorrow and sighs, a distant song began to play in the night sky.

"Fairy's Utopia·Second Movement·Wandering Night of Weeping Snow"

The wind blew stronger, and the bright moon above disappeared, its snowflakes scattering in the cold wind.

"The Silent Night of Tears"

"Forty winters coalesce upon your brow"

"Your visage erodes to grooves upon the fields"

"Envy-worthy gowns and pearls"

"End up as frayed and tattered shreds"

"Merely yesterday's wilted flowers"

Gradually, exquisite ice flowers, shaped like endless spirals, began to form behind the girl.

Spinning continuously, expanding ever wider, the snow-white ice flowers proliferated boundlessly, forming a dome in the sky. The patchy light and shadow resembled the stained glass of a cathedral, gradually obscuring the heavens.

The night sky filled with the ever-expanding ice flowers, and a colossal ice flower dome nearly a kilometer in diameter slowly descended from the firmament, turning the entire venue into a field of white.