"Wait a second, what is an Honorary President? The Magic Association only has a President and a Vice President, right?"
The messenger hesitated, exchanging a brief glance with the driver still waiting by the carriage. His expression remained neutral, though there was a flicker of unease in his posture.
"We are not fully informed about the internal positions within the Magic Association," he admitted, bowing his head slightly. "Mistress Serie instructed us only to deliver her request. If you have questions, we advise asking her directly."
"..."
'How strange.'
Aura distinctly remembers that when the Magic Association was first established, there were only two positions: President and Vice President. Almost all authority was concentrated between these two roles, currently held by Zanze and Flamme.
'So, with no authority left to distribute, what's the point of adding an 'Honorary President' position?'
'Is this position just created to look good, as a mascot?'
'Humans are so strange——'
'Only Serie has the power to change the Association's structure, but why would she do this? That old elf is just as strange—'
"Why does Serie want to see me?"
Aura remained behind the door, questioning the human outside.
"We don't know. Mistress Serie likely has something important to discuss with you directly, so she sent us to bring you, Lady Aura."
"Can I refuse?"
"Mistress Serie said that if you don't come, she will personally come to find you."
"Then let her come find me!"
"Mistress Serie also said that if you refuse to come, she will indeed lower herself to visit you personally—but she will not leave empty-handed."
"I'd love to go!"
The moment Aura heard that Serie planned to take something from her, she instinctively covered her only intact horn. The enchanted collar around it, placed there by Serie herself, seemed to contract slightly, pressing against the dull keratin with a sharp, splitting pain—almost as if it would snap off.
To protect her last remaining horn, Aura had no choice but to tearfully board the carriage.
The carriage wound its way through the labyrinthine streets of Kribi, navigating the city's complex and lengthy roads before finally arriving at its destination—a secluded area behind the Magic Association. Far removed from the bustling city center, this district was eerily quiet, with only a sparse population scattered throughout. Few ventured here, as there was little reason to. And no one dared to disturb Serie unless it's necessary.Standing at the heart of this desolate area was a grand cathedral-like palace, an architectural masterpiece that loomed with an air of solemn grace rather than intimidation. Its light-colored stone walls gleamed under the sun, adorned with intricate carvings and towering stained-glass windows that caught the light at just the right angle, casting mesmerizing patterns onto the ground. The palace's grand archway framed its imposing double doors, their ornate engravings hinting at the mysteries concealed within. Atop the structure, a magnificent domed roof with a golden cross-like symbol gleamed against the sky, serving as a silent testament to the one who resided within.Serie, the palace's sole master, preferred solitude above all else.
She visited the Magic Association's headquarters only when absolutely necessary, despite the fact that a separate palace had been built there for her work. Instead, she chose to spend most of her time here, in the quiet sanctuary of her personal quarters.
It was in this place, far from prying eyes and idle chatter, that she conducted her research. Many of her magical experiments—some dangerous, others highly secretive—were carried out in this secluded domain.
The carriage came to a halt, its wooden wheels grinding against the cobbled path. The door swung open, and Aura stepped out. Without hesitation, the driver turned the carriage around and departed, leaving her alone before the grand palace entrance.The grounds surrounding Serie's palace were strictly forbidden to ordinary humans. Apart from the rare occasions when Serie summoned someone, only her disciples were permitted entry—and even then, only under dire circumstances.
Just as Aura took her first step toward the entrance, a deafening roar shattered the silence. The sound rumbled from behind the palace, so deep and powerful that it sent vibrations through the air.
Moments later, beams of black energy, dark as the abyss itself, shot skyward, stretching hundreds of meters like jagged cracks in reality. A massive magic circle flared into existence, illuminating the surroundings with an unnatural glow—then, as suddenly as it had begun, all fell silent once more.
Serie seemed to be conducting some kind of forbidden experiment.
Aura swallowed hard.
Taking a slow breath to steady herself, Aura lifted her gaze to the palace gate. In her mind, it resembled a gaping maw, as if the palace itself were a slumbering beast, waiting to swallow intruders whole. Still, she stepped forward nervously.The entrance led to a single straight path, eliminating the need for guides. Aura knew that if she followed it to the end, she would find Serie.Her journey took her through several chambers, each more peculiar than the last.
First, she passed the materials vault, where countless artifacts were stored—skeletal remains of unknown creatures, gleaming metals imbued with mana, and rare treasures gathered from across the world.
Next came the botanical garden, an unsettling yet beautiful collection of flora. Plants with twisted, unnatural forms reached toward the ceiling, their colors shifting in ways that defied nature. The air here was thick with an earthy, almost electric scent.
Further down, she entered a vast hall lined with cells, where formidable magical beasts lay imprisoned. Chains, glowing with suppressive magic, bound them tightly, ensuring they remained subdued. Some creatures lay still, their eyes glowing dimly in the dark, while others strained against their bindings, growling lowly as she passed. Aura barely spared them a glance.
Finally, she reached the heart of the palace—a grand library that stretched endlessly in all directions.
Serie floated midair, surrounded by hundreds—if not thousands—of open grimories. They moved in circular orbits, each following different paths, as books were withdrawn from their places and replaced by new ones filling the gaps.
Serie manipulated everything emotionlessly, while various languages from different races flowed from her golden eyes in a continuous stream, eventually vanishing into the unknown.
Aura couldn't see her expression, but she instinctively felt that Serie was in a foul mood—likely due to hitting a bottleneck in one of her magical experiments. Even with her immense repository of knowledge, she seemed unable to break through.
It took about ten minutes before the roaring sea of books finally stilled, and Serie descended.
"You're here, Aura."
Serie lounged on the palace's central throne in an utterly unrefined posture. She had no regard for formalities, and naturally, Aura dared not criticize her for it.
"Stinky old woman, you haven't bathed in days, your clothes are all yellow and dirty—"
Aura silently greeted Serie in her heart.
Then, all of a sudden, she clamped her hands over her mouth, eyes widening in horror as she realized—she had said her thoughts out loud.
"So, this is what you think of me when you see me now?"
Serie, still seated on the throne, showed no anger—at least not outwardly. She simply continued gazing at Aura with her usual impassive and languid expression.
Aura waved her hands frantically, trying to salvage the situation.
"Why are you pretending to be so cool? Even if you are a magician from the mythical era, your experiment still failed, right? The data was all destroyed, wasn't it? The reference materials are gone, right? You've hit a dead end, haven't you? You didn't do a feasibility prediction before the experiment, so you deserved the failure—"
Aura, with the utmost respect in her heart, sincerely praised Serie's vast knowledge and expressed her optimism for the future of Serie's research.
Then she covered her mouth again, on the verge of tears.
"Sometimes, speaking the truth isn't so bad, Aura. Among all my disciples, you're the only one willing to give me an objective evaluation."
Hearing Serie acknowledge their mentor-disciple relationship, Aura's eyes brightened, sensing a chance to recover from her blunder.
"Seriously, you, Serie, are worthy to be my teacher? Treating demon magic as a curse, you're just too stupid to understand it—after living for so long, what have you achieved? You're plain in body and mind, you've wasted your life away! I, Aura, look down on old fools like you. If you've got the guts, come fight me~~"
Aura, with a gentle voice, playfully stuck out her tongue and exhaled warm breath as she tried to flatter Serie in her heart.
Then, she smacked herself hard across the face.
'Damn it! What is wrong with me today?!'
Though these were her honest thoughts, she never dared voice them out loud—if only to avoid ending up in one of Serie's specimen jars.
"...The magic is about half-successful."
Seated on the throne, Serie nodded approvingly.
Even Aura, whose mind was filled with survival instincts, couldn't resist blurting out her true feelings. This proved the effectiveness of the spell—"Revealing One's True Thoughts"—its compulsion was quite strong.
The next step was refining the spell's focus—targeting crucial memories, even prying into deeply buried secrets.
A long road ahead indeed.
Serie jotted notes into a book, then smiled slightly, shaking her head at Aura, indicating that it was merely an experiment. She wasn't actually offended by Aura's earlier remarks.