What came next from Arthur was exactly what you’d expect—a long, rambling monologue about hate, jealousy, and his own tragic story.

  Pandora felt sleep dragging at her. Seriously? I’m dead on my feet, and now I have to listen to this?

  “Alright, okay, I believe you,” she cut him off, impatient. “I don’t actually care about any of that.”

  She gave a dismissive wave. “So, the ones skulking behind me these past few nights were you lot, right? Anyone else?”

  Her tone wasn’t confrontational. It was more like… taking inventory. Deciding which trash needed taking out today.

  Arthur was stunned by her attitude and instinctively shook his head.

  “Hmm. Your face says no. Good, then…” Pandora glanced around. “This place… nice and quiet. Let’s keep it that way. We’ll just make this quick.”

  She smiled, saying words that made no sense to Arthur.

  The next moment… Arthur’s perspective suddenly shifted. He was looking down. He saw a headless corpse, its neck spurting blood violently…

  The corpse was standing upright. Whose… corpse was that? It looked familiar…

  That’s… mine?

  Thud.

  The head hit the ground.

  Pandora didn’t hesitate. She moved like an elegant, cruel dancer—a pivot, a slash.

  “AAAAAGH—!!!”

  Piercing screams tore through the woodland path. But soon, the sounds cut off abruptly. Silence fell. Only the thick, coppery scent of blood hung in the air.

  ………………

  Not long after, two figures hurried down the path from the other direction. Aurora spotted Pandora sitting quietly on a bench, her gaze distant, as if resting. Her pristine white dress looked almost unreal in the dappled, dusky light.

  But… Aurora’s keen nose caught it—a thick, cloying scent of blood, completely at odds with the peaceful scene.

  Pandora ‘woke up’ the moment they arrived, as if roused from deep thought. “Elsa’s here,” she said, standing and brushing non-existent dust from her skirt. “Alright. Let’s get to the cafeteria.”

  Elsa gave a slight nod. The trio didn’t speak further, walking silently onto a broader gravel path toward the cafeteria.

  “Elsa,” Aurora whispered on the way. “I’m… still not fully clear on the Academy’s rules.” She paused, struggling to phrase it. “Could you tell me… does the Academy… permit killing?”

  Elsa responded calmly, her perfect eyes unreadable. “That is an interesting question. The Academy doesn’t have one absolutely clear, written rule about it. But regulations do state ‘initiating disputes or conflicts on campus is prohibited,’ and explicitly forbid ‘assassination.’”

  Her tone shifted. “However… if it’s done openly, and based on ‘self-defense’… there is no specific rule against it. According to precedent—‘no rule’ is essentially de facto ‘permission.’ So, the answer is: It is not permitted, but it also… is permitted.”

  A faint, cold smile touched Elsa’s lips. “The Academy hopes the campus remains peaceful, at least on the surface. But for the weak to foolishly provoke the strong… that’s just them courting death, isn’t it?”

  Aurora nodded thoughtfully. She hadn’t seen any bodies, but her knight’s sharp intuition, and that heavy, lingering scent of blood that had clung to Pandora’s dress… those weren’t from minor injuries. It meant at least one or two people had died. Maybe more.

  “Then,” Aurora’s voice was a bit hoarse, “if the Discipline Hall investigated… how would the defender prove self-defense?”

  “The Palmfiends can provide proof. They are always ‘watching’ us. The Discipline Hall can extract any data they want from them. Of course, ‘witness testimony’ is also important.”

  “Witness testimony…”

  Aurora murmured. She abruptly stopped walking, as if making a decision. She let out a long sigh, then turned to face Pandora, whose eyes still looked weary.

  “Pandora… my lady,” she reverted to the old form of address on instinct. “If you ever need it… I am willing to provide testimony for you.”

  Pandora gave an inscrutable smile. “Testimony… for what?”

  “For… anything you say,” Aurora replied without hesitation, her gaze unwavering.

  Meaning, whenever Pandora needed her, needed her to testify to any statement, she would unconditionally corroborate it. Whether it was genuine “self-defense” or something else…

  Pandora smiled and nodded. “Good. I’ll remember that.”

  Looking at this girl who stubbornly clung to old knightly honor, Pandora felt a pang. Aurora really was… a pure, loyal knight. Her loyalty was different from Elsa’s absolute obedience, born of instinct and creation. Aurora’s was closer to an… idealized, spiritual choice.

  And Pandora realized she hadn’t given this loyalty enough acknowledgment. It made her feel a little guilty. Maybe… she should consider Aurora’s perspective more? Like… what could she actually do for her?

  …Ugh. So troublesome. Don’t want to think. Want to sleep. Want dreamless sleep.

  As she mused, Pandora’s thoughts began to drift. Aurora walked beside her, her gaze as steadfast as ever.

  ………………

  The third month.

  As the Red Moon waned again, Pandora spent her usual moment gazing back at that beautiful eye in the heavens. Then, she finally headed toward the triangular building she had long been curious about.

  Today was the first day of the third month at the Academy. In truth, this was her first time stepping into the library—the sanctuary of knowledge she’d been eyeing since arrival.

  Her original plan had been to scour the place immediately, hunting for any trace of “Wizardry.” But the reality of classes had steamrolled her expectations. The workload was heavier than she’d imagined. The schedule was packed. The daily deluge of information was brutal. She often spent hours after class just trying to digest the dry, dense materials.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Her precious scraps of free time? Completely devoured by the “nightmare.”

  With her abilities, she could’ve processed the knowledge faster, freeing large chunks of time to lose herself in the library’s stacks. But that endless nightmare had sabotaged everything. The bone-deep exhaustion had ruthlessly drained her last reserves of energy and will.

  A small mercy: these past few days, the nightmare had finally begun to fade. Maybe because she’d grown too adept, finding less and less challenge in that realm of pure slaughter, its duration quietly shrank day by day. Pandora estimated that in a few more days, the damned cycle might vanish completely.

  And today, though her eyelids still felt heavy, she’d finally carved out a decent block of uninterrupted time. So she delayed no longer. She came.

  Unlike the overcrowded scene of the first days, the library was now sparsely populated—almost empty. Moonlight streamed through the triangular building’s massive glass windows, casting bright patches on the polished floor. In the hazy light, an atmosphere of forgotten tranquility hung in the air.

  As the curriculum advanced, the apprentices’ time became saturated with drills, practical sessions, and small team commissions. With the “three-month” deadline looming, more and more of them realized the vast, deadly chasm between “knowing” and “doing.”

  Their urgent task was to transform classroom knowledge into instinct, into something their bodies could wield without thought. That was what would matter in the longer, harsher world beyond campus. So few had the energy or will to come to the library now for “pure” knowledge.

  At the entrance, Pandora swiped her Palmfiend over the cold scanner, registered her palm print, and stepped inside.

  She took in the grand, peculiar structure. Classical elements fused with a strange, cold technological modernity. Bookshelves built high against towering walls stretched upward like silent forests of knowledge. They held a dizzying array of items: heavy, historical tomes and ancient scrolls sat beside well-preserved data chips no bigger than a fingernail, each with a simple description.

  The stark contrast spoke volumes about the Demon Hunter Academy’s depth. And this was just the apprentice-level campus of the “Corpse-Plague Furnace Branch.” How many such campuses existed throughout the infinite void… was anyone’s guess.

  After a moment, Pandora located the librarian—the figure at the central service desk.

  He was a man with brilliant golden hair. Not human, but not a common Live Iron Golem either. He was a “Wax-Sludge Golem,” independently developed by the “Corpse Hall.” Expensive. No dual-form switching. But his thinking was more nuanced, flexible. Long lifespan, simple maintenance. And a third-rank Wax-Sludge Golem like him was no pushover, making him perfect for a place that needed intellect, patience, and a bit of security.

  “Greetings, Librarian.” Pandora approached the desk politely. “I’d like to inquire about books related to ‘Wizardry.’ Could you tell me which section they’re in?”

  “Wizardry?” The golden-haired librarian slowly looked up from a heavy tome. His gold-rimmed spectacles flashed with a cold reflection. He scrutinized her. “Why would you want to read about Wizardry? Did you… encounter ‘them’ on a commission? Surely not… that low a probability, and you still ran into them?”

  He muttered to himself until Pandora gave a light cough. He shook his head, his tone flat, delivering an answer that surprised her.

  “The library does not collect that category of books. You could try the ‘Miscellaneous Unclassified Section,’ but…” His lenses flashed again. “...don’t place too much hope in the authenticity there. Better to treat them as curious anecdotes. If you’re seeking something scholarly… I wouldn’t recommend searching here. You should try the ’East District of Eden’ outside campus. Perhaps what you seek might appear at the trading gatherings there.”

  The library doesn’t have any? Only outside campus?

  Pandora had anticipated scarcity, but not this extreme. The Academy’s official library simply didn’t collect this category.

  After a moment of silence, she suppressed her frustration. She thanked the golden-haired golem.

  “Do you… have any other needs?” he asked. “Aren’t you interested in popular books on combat, mutated zombies, wilderness survival…?”

  Pandora gently shook her head.

  But she did have another question. One that felt even more pressing.

  “What about books related to… ‘Witches’?”

  Pandora had assumed that if there were no “Wizardry” books, then “Witch” books would also be absent from the library. That would mean everything she wanted to know depended on blind luck at some outside market.

  She was only half right.

  The other half was the librarian’s reaction.

  The Wax-Sludge Golem, who had maintained a strictly professional demeanor until now, stiffened the moment he heard the word “Witch.” His specially formulated facial muscles locked. His expression turned stone-serious. He glanced left and right, like a real person, then leaned forward, hissing in an urgent whisper only the two of them could hear:

  “You… how do you know that word?”

  Pandora was taken aback. “I… overheard it. From a passing Master Demon Hunter. One who seemed very powerful.”

  “Master Demon Hunter…”

  The librarian murmured, as if weighing the authority of the title, then gave a slow, convinced nod. His gaze was grave as he spoke in a stern, warning tone. “I don’s care if that’s true… but that word, you’d best never mention it again. As for related books… they’re not in the library. That’s too dangerous. And outside campus… you likely won’t find them there either.”

  He paused, choosing his words with obvious care, then went for the most direct warning. “If you don’s want to die, don’t get involved with anything related to ’Witches’… Anything!”

  “Why?” Pandora asked.

  The librarian shook his head. “Your rank is too low. Some things, a Master Demon Hunter might know. But you… knowing will only get you killed. Understand?”

  Pandora gave a solemn nod, promising to drop it. But the moment she turned away, her face, hidden in shadow, turned grim.

  Witch’s Bloodline… Witches… So… dangerous?

  But this whole time… she hadn’s felt any adverse effects at all. Quite the opposite. The bloodline had brought only benefits. No drawbacks. She didn’t even have to work for its growth. Just by gazing nightly at the Red Moon with its long lashes, bathing in that strange light, the bloodline grew on its own.

  Pandora felt she didn’s need to do a thing; the Witch’s Bloodline alone could carry her smoothly to the peak of the second rank. It was a marvelously potent power.

  Yet… there’s no such thing as a free lunch, is there? This seemingly perfect power hid a lethal danger.

  But where did the danger come from?

  As Pandora pondered, the image of “Faye’s” smirking face surfaced in her mind. Mysterious. Eerie. Dangerous.

  Her old suspicion resurfaced. Maybe the danger of the Witch’s Bloodline didn’t come from “Witches” themselves. But from… the enemies of Witches?

  A sudden, chilling sense of having glimpsed a truth she shouldn’t have flooded her mind. Pandora shook her head, dismissing the thought.

  Regardless, she took the warning seriously. Not that she completely trusted it, but she pegged its credibility at around seventy percent. The remaining thirty percent doubt was because she knew too little herself. It was enough to make her shelve her curiosity about “Witches” for now.

  But… if it was that dangerous, should she really let the bloodline keep growing?

  After careful thought, weighing the risks, Pandora landed on her decision: continue as before. Let it grow.

  This fit her principles. Power truly in her grasp was real power. The bloodline gave her that—tangible strength. The so-called “danger” behind Witches felt… nebulous. Even that elusive Faye hadn’t actually harmed her.

  She couldn’t abandon real power for a vague threat.

  So her plan was set: keep developing the Witch’s Bloodline, but actively avoid any knowledge about “Witches” themselves.

  As for “Wizardry”… Pandora turned her gaze to the library’s “Unclassified Section.” The librarian had warned her about authenticity, but she hadn’t come all this way for nothing. She had to see for herself.

  ………………

  Two hours later, the librarian was proven right.

  The Unclassified Section had little of use, and verifying anything was nearly impossible. There were books that seemed related to “Wizardry”—one was even titled Detailed Explanation of Basic Spells. But the “spells” inside were pure nonsense, useless gibberish that couldn’t activate her second-rank mental energy at all.

  No choice. Acquiring Wizardry knowledge would have to wait until she got outside.

  But… she couldn’t leave the library completely empty-handed, could she?

  Her three goals: attend classes (in progress), acquire knowledge (blocked), and find a disguise method. The only one still viable here was the third.

  While browsing earlier, she’d memorized the library’s layout. This time, she bypassed the first floor of basic texts and went straight to the second floor—the advanced materials.

  She checked with the floor’s librarian, then began her search among the towering shelves.

  On the Parasitic Nature of Subordinate Plane Biota

  Analysis of Symbols and Sigils in Classical Rituals

  Illustrated Catalog of Mechanical Xeno-Taxonomy (Third Edition)

  ...

  Countless arcane and bizarre titles flashed through her mind.

  Soon, she found it.

  The Paradox of Form: On Biological Transmutation Theory and Its Applications in Potioncraft.

  A brick of a book, sitting quietly in an inconspicuous corner. Its section on “Transmutation Potions” was exactly what she needed.

  A spark of relief cut through her frustration. Without hesitation, she reached out and pulled the heavy tome from the shelf with two steady fingers.