In the dead of night, within the mansion of Pedrorel, a series of explosions echoed from the outside. Yet Ivina, who was leaning against a corner, seemed oblivious to the noise. The leather cords, cut by sharp wooden spikes, lay scattered around her, while her trembling, pale fingers turned the pages of an old, yellowed diary.
"Year 708 of the Holy Calendar, November. A new addition to the Pedrorel family. So small, so delicate. Her name is… Ivina? Am I a brother now?"
"Another day of training. As the eldest son of Pedrorel, I must work harder. Are you watching me practice my swordplay, Ivina? I must try even harder, for you to see…"
"Sparring… how nostalgic… the way I first picked up a sword. This time, it's my turn to be the teacher…"
"Ten moves, I'll give you some face… but must you cry after losing? So adorable, Ivina…"
"Thirty-seven moves. It's only been four months. No, I must not have used all my strength. Next time, I'll be serious…"
"I lost. How could I have lost? Impossible. How shameful it is to be defeated before you, my sister. Next time, I must win back my honor…"
"Ivina, why can you effortlessly master the techniques that elude me? Am I not trying hard enough?"
"Year 722 of the Holy Calendar, July. The first knight examination… if I pass, I can become a priest, and the Pedrorel family can rise again…"
"Failure… failure… failure!"
"The second knight selection, third round. Is this my limit?"
"From dawn to dusk, nothing but training. It's meaningless. I fear I may never pass the knight examination…"
"Father, why do you look at me with such expectant eyes? Why can't you just give up on me?"
"Those eyes again… do you hate me, Ivina? I understand how you feel. A worthless man has taken the opportunity that should have been yours… if it were you, you would have succeeded, my sister…"
"Perhaps without me, everything would be better… Ivina, I will give you everything you desire. It's the only way…"
…
The brown-haired girl turned page after page of the diary, deciphering the cold words that revealed the struggles of the brother she once envied—the one who bore their father's expectations but failed at everything.
She had once resented the unfairness, believing that all her efforts and her pride in swordsmanship were nothing more than tools to attract the attention of the Nordland Duke's son in her father's eyes.
If given the chance, she was certain she could pass the knight examination, restore the Pedrorel family's honor, and make her father recognize her worth…
So, for the brother who had access to all the family's resources and could receive formal knight training at any time, yet repeatedly failed… Ivina felt an intense dislike, bordering on hatred.
"So adorable, Ivina…"
Her fingers grazed the creased pages, and as she read the words, her body trembled. Crystal tears rolled down her cheeks, falling onto the pages.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" Ivina whispered, her mind a blank, as the tears continued to flow. Her heart was consumed with deep regret… Ivina had never hated herself so much.
She had thought she had forgotten how to cry, believing it was a privilege reserved only for those who were cherished.
Outside the mansion, the flames flickered incessantly, while inside, the room was shrouded in an oppressive silence, broken only by the sound of her stifled, intermittent sobs.
It wasn't until the door to the room was violently flung open that the girl, dazed, turned her head.
Baron Pedrorel, who had burst into the room, took in the chaotic scene with a glance. Seeing Ivina, who appeared 'frightened and huddling in the corner, silently crying,' his anger flared. He demanded, in a harsh tone, "Do you have any idea of the chaos outside, Ivina? Why are you still sitting here alone? Where is Lotte? Where is he now?"
As he spoke, another explosion echoed from outside the mansion.
"What's happening outside?" Ivina asked quietly, clutching the tear-stained diary to her chest.
"Those damned witches are wreaking havoc in Harbor Town, using some terrifying sorcery to blow up the entire dock. Priest Adran is dead, Priest Danny is dead, and even Sir Sick... even Archbishop Anluke couldn't escape..." Baron Pedrorel stammered in fear.
To bolster his reputation, he had suggested participating in the witch hunt to the Archbishop of Nordland. Now, he shuddered at the thought that had Anluke agreed, he might have been killed at the harbor.
Hearing the names of those who had been seemingly invincible pronounced dead, the brown-haired girl was shaken to the core, her mind involuntarily recalling the words Lotte had spoken before he left.
"How insignificant… Ivina…"
Becoming a sorcerer… is that the choice you made, brother?
It is said that to gain forbidden powers, one must sacrifice their soul to the devil, but as a result, their personality would change, and their soul would gradually descend into the abyss…
And it was all for her sake.
"Where is your brother? You still haven't answered me. Where is Lotte? We must leave immediately!" Baron Pedrorel grabbed the girl's wrist, demanding answers with a forceful grip.
"He's dead," Ivina whispered. She knew well that if it were discovered her brother had become a sorcerer, the Pedrorel family would be obliterated.
Baron Pedrorel paused, his face twisting into a terrifying expression.
"You better not be playing games with me, Ivina!"
"Let me tell you, even if your brother is dead, you will never inherit the title of baron! Don't ever imagine getting what you can never have!"
Baron Pedrorel shouted, furious. No matter the circumstances, he would never allow an outsider to take over the Pedrorel family, no matter how outstanding they were.
"In that case, I'm leaving…" Ivina broke free from his grasp, tucked the diary into her cloak, and turned to walk out of the room without hesitation.
"Stop! Explain yourself!" Baron Pedrorel was caught off guard by Ivina's defiance, so uncharacteristic of the docile girl he knew. Anger surged within him as he drew his sheathed sword from his waist and swung it hard at her.
Clang!
The sword, still in its sheath, spun out of his hand, landing on the floor with a heavy thud.
Baron Pedrorel froze in place, as a sharp wooden spike, three fingers long, now rested against his throat.
"How long has it been since you last fought, Father?" Ivina asked, her gaze complex as she looked at him.
Cold sweat broke out on Baron Pedrorel's brow, and he slumped to the floor, realizing that Ivina's swordsmanship far surpassed anything he had known. She had completely outmatched him.
Ivina discarded the wooden spike and stepped out of the room without a backward glance.
"Where are you going, Ivina? What about Lotte? Tell me where he is!" Baron Pedrorel finally found his voice, shouting angrily.
"My brother is dead. Consider him killed by me… Father," Ivina said softly. "And I'm leaving Harbor Town to become a witch hunter."
If she could not become a priest through the knight examination, then her only path to gaining power would be through the harsher trials of a witch hunter.
Only by doing this could she hope to save her brother, whose heart had been corrupted by the devil and whose soul was about to descend into the abyss… This was her atonement…