“Yes.” He held his gaze steady on her. “I’ve been piecing together the events of these past several days, including what occurred before my arrival—specifically, from the time you first came to Greystone.”
Veronica’s expression betrayed nothing as she reached calmly for her tea.
“I heard that you came from the forest, trying to find directions. You encountered mercenaries, and in defending yourself from their… less honorable advances, you earned their ire. Once you arrived in Greystone, you helped kill an ogre. You introduced yourself as a Tier-1 mage and began training the guards and helped eliminate the surrounding unruly monsters.”
“Accurate, so far,” Veronica said lightly, finishing her sip.
“From there, you uncovered threads about the cultists, taking it upon yourself to investigate. Old Thom, it seems, was the loudest source of rumor, though few paid him any mind. Understandably so, as there wasn’t much evidence.”
“I don’t blame them,” Veronica said. “The guards did search the ruins, but the cultists covered their tracks well. They used Ashvein powder.”
Leopold’s eyes narrowed, his expression sharpening for the first time. “I see… I hadn’t known that detail.” His tone cooled as he continued. “And during your brief stay in Greystone, you advanced to the second tier. Presumably, you had already been on the cusp.”
Veronica stayed silent. She didn’t bother to correct him.
“On the day of my arrival,” Leopold continued, his voice steady, “you trailed the cultists into the forest. Alone. There, you found yourself face to face with a demonic soldier. And at merely the second tier, you bested it. Not just survived—but killed it outright. Presumably by casting spells beyond your current stage, like you did when fighting Nolhan.”
“I did use several Tier-3 spells,” Veronica admitted. It was the truth. Though it had taken a Tier-4 spell to finish the job, along with an incantation and spell circle. If she had done that without her exalted form, she wouldn’t be alive to tell the tale.
Leopold nodded once. “And with the aid of that boy—the one who ran to warn us—the town had enough time to rally. While Greystone held its ground, and me and Welterman were recovering, you slew a demon in less than an hour.”
Finn had been a major help to her. By warning the town in time, they had saved many lives.
She hadn’t seen him since the attack. Of course, she asked around, but people like Elise and Hadrian did not know where he had gone. She would have been worried, if not after having already gone through the medical tents—Finn wasn’t among any of the injured or deceased.
Perhaps he was hiding, like he always did. After all, he was never one to be found; he was the one who always found her.
Veronica sipped her tea, then inclined her head, confirming his Viscount Leopold’s summary of events.
Leopold’s expression shifted. A broad smile broke across his scarred face. “Miss Veronica, your feats are nothing short of extraordinary. To cast beyond your tier—and to vanquish a creature that would demand a squad of Tier-3 mages—you’ve done what most would call impossible. Were it not for your intervention, Greystone would have fallen… and I would not be here to speak with you now.”
He reached to Claire, resting a hand gently atop her head. The girl leaned into his arm, still shy but safe. His voice thickened, almost breaking. “And if not for you… I might have lost my daughter.”
Then, in a move that made Nolhan’s brows rise, Leopold bowed his head. “Thank you, Miss Veronica. For everything you have done.”
This is unexpected, Veronica thought.
“Please raise your head, Viscount Leopold,” she said softly, extending a hand toward him.
He straightened, though his gaze was warmer now. “When we are in private, simply call me Leopold.”
Veronica inclined her head. “Very well.”
He studied her for a moment, tilting his head. “You speak with refinement unusual for your age. Your manner of address, your poise… it is almost as though you were raised in nobility.”
Veronica chuckled lightly. “No, I’m strictly a commoner right now. Perhaps I spent a bit too much time around nobles and learned a trick or two.”
Leopold’s eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but in curiosity, before he nodded. “Then allow me to return to my earlier question. What is it you seek? Why come to Greystone? Where are you trying to go? I, Leopold of House Ronswick, owe my savior a debt—and I intend to repay it.”
There it is. Exactly what I was waiting for.
“My goal,” Veronica said plainly, “is to reach Annesheim.”
“Annesheim?” His brows lifted. “The capital?”
“Yes.” Her tone stayed calm, firm. “I intend to take a post as professor at Valeborn Academy. Along the way, I plan to accept personal disciples and students, to pass on the foundations of magic to the next generation.”
For the first time, Leopold looked taken aback. “That is no small ambition. Valeborn Academy is the crown of Vitian scholarship, the most prestigious institution in the kingdom. Even with your talents, casting beyond your tier, admission will not come easily. Most starting professors are Tier-7 or higher. Rumor claims the custodians are Tier-6.”
Veronica only smiled, violet eyes steady.
Of course she knew. Maeve, her master, had been a Tier-9 mage and one of Valeborn’s most respected professors. Veronica understood exactly what the Academy demanded. It was where the brightest gathered, where geniuses were forged. And she would return there, one way or another.
Leopold studied her, sharp but not lecherous. “You seem very young, Miss Veronica. Early twenties?”
“I’m nineteen,” she said evenly. “Twenty in a few months.”
He inclined his head. “Tier-2 or Tier-3 at eighteen is a good start, but not uncommon. Children as young as eight can reach Tier-1 in an average city. By your age, those aiming for Valeborn could be Tier-4. Without that level of expertise, entry will be extremely difficult.”
By those standards, she did not qualify. Not by age. Not by tier.
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Veronica nodded.
It would not be a lasting problem. Each tier meant breaking into unfamiliar ground, and she had done that before. The upper tiers would take time and accumulation, but familiarity gave her room to advance faster than most.
She had once reached Tier-10, the youngest in history, at thirty-one. The youngest Tier-9 had been closer to forty-five. Dual mana cores and vast resources had given her an edge then, and she would reclaim that peak.
“I’ll be admitted as a professor,” she said at last. “Not as I am now. But by the time I reach Annesheim, I’ll have earned the qualifications.”
Leopold’s brows rose. “You’re that confident?”
She nodded. “Naturally. That means advancing as quickly as possible.”
“As quickly as possible?” He studied her, skeptical. Nineteen years to reach Tier-2 did not suggest miracles.
Her expression hardened. Shadows flickered in her gaze as her tone went low. “There’s an important reason I must grow stronger. And why I intend to gather others to walk this path with me. It’s… personal.”
Silence settled between them.
“I see,” Leopold said finally. Respect edged his voice. “Then it must matter greatly to you.”
“It does,” Veronica said.
He rested two fingers beneath his chin, thinking, then leaned forward. “In that case, why not join me on my return to Ronswick?”
“The House of Ronswick?” One brow lifted.
He shook his head. “Not my household, though you would be welcome there. I mean the city itself. Ronswick, which I govern.”
Veronica blinked. There’s a city named Ronswick? I’ve never heard of a place like that. Though… maybe viscounts aren’t important enough to worry about in the capital. I hadn’t heard of Greystone either, after all… Sage, is there any data on it?
[City Ronswick was founded 273 years ago. It is a relatively unimportant town with not much activity within its territory. Only a few records of significant events have been noted.]
Leopold noticed her distant look but continued smoothly. “Ronswick lies north, directly on the way to Annesheim, though it is still quite far. Nevertheless, it would be a fitting stop if you have time. If you’re seeking students, you may even find some there. We host a modest academy, and the city has mage adventurers of respectable strength. Many Tier-3s, even a few Tier-4s. Most are older, in their thirties or forties, but still capable.” He gestured lightly toward her. “Their potential isn’t on your level, of course, but it is something.”
Veronica filed it away. “If it lies on the way, I see no reason not to. I wasn’t planning to remain in Greystone much longer. I stayed only because I suspected demonic involvement. Now that it’s resolved, I have no further reason to linger.”
Leopold smiled, clearly pleased. “Excellent. I intend to depart this evening, actually, in roughly four hours. I'll need to document what happened here as quick as possible, so I can't afford to delay.” His tone shifted, growing solemn. “But simply offering safe travel is hardly enough. You saved this town, as well as my own life and Claire’s. That kind of debt demands more than gratitude. Tell me what you desire, and I will see it done.”
Veronica didn’t hesitate. She knew exactly what to ask for.
“Kassal oil.”
Leopold’s brows rose. “Kassal oil?”
She nodded. “Its potency is undeniable. With it, I can advance to the next tier. Possibly even the fourth, if the amount is sufficient.”
His eyes thinned. “Kassal oil is extremely costly. That may not be clear to you, but it is the entire reason I came to Greystone today. To celebrate my partnership with Baron Welterman and to offer a major donation to the city. I expected you to ask for vix. But Kassal oil…”
His gaze dropped to Claire, nestled against his side.
His face softened. He exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging. His hand twitched, as if tempted toward his temple. “I don’t know why I’m debating this at all. How ridiculous.” He straightened. “Very well. Some oil is a small price for the lives of myself and my daughter. I will have Baron Welterman prepare a batch for you before we depart.”
“Enough for Tier-4?” Veronica pressed.
He hesitated, lips thinning. “…Yes. Enough to reach Tier-4.”
She caught the conflict flickering across his face, but did not let it sway her.
“Then thank you, Leopold. That is all I ask.”
His smile returned, tight and forced, though his voice remained smooth. “Of course. Anything for the savior of Greystone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Melda said. In her hands lay the ruined clothes Veronica had bought from her, the same set made as part of a trade with the dark elves.
“Are you sure? I could tell a lot of work went into it.”
Melda shook her head, firm. “It’s alright, sweetie. Really. It was just a regular piece. No more important than anything else I’ve made, no matter who it was for.”
Regular, Veronica thought. Nearly seven hundred vix worth of regular. She kept the thought to herself.
It was a shame. She had liked the style. It spoke to how closely Melda studied dark elven fashion.
“You said you were leaving in a few hours, right?” Melda lifted the scorched bundle. “I won’t be able to repair this in time. And honestly, it may not be worth fixing at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re traveling back to Ronswick with the viscount. And from there, likely the capital?”
Veronica nodded.
“In Annesheim, I have a clothier friend. She’s better than I am, if I’m honest. I can write to her and commission something for you. After that, you can take it from there.”
“Really? But even after helping the town, I’m not exactly rich.” Veronica glanced down, tugging lightly at her sleeves. “This should be fine for travel.”
Melda fixed her with a pointed look. “For travel, sure. But in a city? You need something that does more than cover you. You need something that stands out. That outfit the baron gave you looks good. You’ve got the figure for it. But you can do better.”
She leaned in, hand cupped near her mouth. “Besides, my friend could make lingerie that would knock the socks off any guy you meet. Trust me. Back in my day, her work impressed.”
Veronica leaned back with a nervous laugh. “I think I’ll manage without that. I’m not focused on impressing any guys right now.”
Melda blinked. “Oh? Oh! Well, that’s fine too. The girls will love it just as much!”
Veronica stared at her.
She hadn’t had relationships like that before. It was hard to be intimate with a statue. She understood that well enough. Most of her life had gone to the arcane instead. Even the king’s attempts at arranging a political marriage had faded once her advancement outpaced any alliance’s value.
She forced a thin laugh. “Ah, no. That’s not really what I meant.”
“Oh heavens, look at the time!” Melda clapped her hands. “I’ve got orders stacked after yesterday’s attack. Go on, shoo. I’ll send word once the letter’s out. You’ll hear from her after you reach Ronswick.”
Before Veronica could object, Melda ushered her out. The door clicked shut behind her.
Veronica blinked, alone on the street, as two townsfolk slipped past and entered the shop.
She exhaled softly and rubbed at her temple.
Things like this caught her off guard now. They hadn’t before—but things were different. Her gaze drifted down to her hands as she flexed her fingers slowly.
“Would someone…” she murmured.
Her eyes shut tight for a moment as she shook the thought away.
Ignorance.
And envy.
Veronica knew that of herself. She acknowledged it plainly. But she also had responsibilities—burdens she couldn’t simply set aside. Could she really afford complacency?
It had only been a few days since she’d returned to the past. In that short span, she’d accomplished more than most mages managed in years. She had saved a town. Killed a demon. Reached Tier-2. Formed her mana rings. And soon, she would receive a reward that could push her to Tier-3—perhaps even Tier-4.
All of that in less than a week.
No one could deny what she’d achieved in so little time. Reaching Tier-2 within days was considered impossible. If she reached Tier-3 within a month… then at that pace, Tier-10 might be attainable within seven years. She’d be an even greater prodigy than before.
Her thoughts tangled.
And yet—there was still heavy regret.
She had spent nearly thirty years fighting against her own birth. Trapped. Studying endlessly just to survive. Cut off from joy, from relationships, from anything resembling normalcy. She had servants, caretakers—she lived what people would have called a lavish lifestyle.
But none of them were hers. Paid by the Kingdom—they were people there to ensure that their exceptional prodigy was healthy and alive.
With Medusa’s curse gone, she should have been free.
Instead, it was the opposite. Rather than studying to live, she was now forced to grow stronger without pause—to power up endlessly, relentlessly. It was still a curse. Just housed in a different vessel.
Maybe she was never meant for “normal.”
Maybe happiness had never been an option.
Someone has to do it, Veronica. And that someone has to be you.
Maeve’s words echoed in her mind. Those simple but accursed words.
Veronica’s eyes narrowed. Her fingers clenched as she started down the street once more.
Just like her magic, explosions didn’t happen without pressure. Storms didn’t form without warning. Avalanches never fell without layers of piling snow.
Path of Blooming and Path of Tempests
Path of Blooming and Path of Tempests specialize in widespread healing and restoration. Rather than focused healing on one target or injury, their magic spreads wide, traveling in waves or pulses, like sweeping currents to cover as many targets as possible. These can range from healing winds, to shockwaves that can pass through terrain. These mages are particularly effective in large disaster scenarios, where masses of people, animals, or other living beings are injured. One sub-specification, are mages who specialize in revitalizing and growth, and can heal plant-life, and promote wildlife in forests or sanctuaries.
Veronica was once bound by a curse; she is now bound by responsibility, not free to enjoy the life she dreams of. A heavy burden is on her shoulders. How do you think she'll handle it in the future?
