A splendid evening. The pressure was released, and the soreness in her muscles had completely eased. When Lady Farosa opened her eyes, she felt that this moment was particularly wonderful.
There had been fear.
The society she was familiar with was built upon hand mills and ox-driven plows, yet when she awoke, humans had already locked the Mystics away in prisons, consigning everything that went against the tide of history to the scrapheap.
The world's changes were too drastic, meaning she had to uproot her original knowledge structure entirely and start from scratch, digesting all the insights of this era.
Village girl, God Slayer, Supreme Witch, Witch Goddess, Farosa had to switch between different identities, playing too many roles, and the slightest misstep could ruin everything.
It was like walking alone on a tightrope in the dark, with cliffs on both sides, where each step was a gamble with her life.
