Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 403 - Unmaker

“So…” Rosa began, glancing around. “Any ideas for what’s next?”

Scarlett turned her gaze to her. “This ‘Last Glasswright’ you mentioned — are they a person, or a title?”

“I’m not sure, really.” Rosa shrugged.

“Do you have any notion of how to find them?”

“Besides asking around and getting called impure again?”

“Besides that, yes.”

Rosa scrunched her nose, thinking. “Nothing’s springing to mind from the old idea-workshop.”

Scarlett studied her for a moment, then turned back to watch the crowds.

If there was some method here to increase her mana, she’d do whatever she could to find it. Her pyromancy and various artifacts made her pyrokinesis very mana-efficient, but her hydrokinesis lagged behind, and her total reserves were still limited compared to even most average mages. She could go all out for one battle, which often proved to be enough, but beyond that, she needed to rely on mana potions. She just didn’t think that would be sufficient for what lay ahead.

She still had the [Tablet of Sovegrephor (Divine)] she’d found in Beld Thylelion, and she planned to upgrade her [Depraved Solitude’s Choker] with it. That would be a significant improvement on its own, but if she could find a way to increase her mana naturally, she could do a whole lot more.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched a trio of women cross a delicate bridge arching over a clear canal, expressions distant even as they spoke.

Rosa had said these people were all bursting with mana. That it was incredibly refined, like arch mages. Now that she looked closer, she could almost feel it: a subtle distortion in the air around them, as though power radiated from every breath they took.

What was the source of that power? Were they born with such vast reserves, or had they learned to cultivate them? A person’s mana pool could be trained—she’d expanded hers several times over since waking in this body—but a large part of it came down to inherent potential. That was why there would probably always be a gap between someone like her and Rosa, despite all her progress. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

The most likely possibility, then, was that these people were simply born with greater capacity. It made the most sense if the entire city was at this level. Yet there might still be a method behind their mastery. Something Scarlett could learn. Otherwise, what would she even be here for?

If so…what would it take to convince one of them to share it?

The three women turned a corner and vanished behind a curved building with crystalline walls that refracted the light. Scarlett’s gaze swept the street, watching the other passers-by.

Somehow, she doubted there was much she could offer people like this. Not unless it was the right person.

A sound interrupted her thoughts, and she turned towards a small ripple of commotion further down the street. A figure moved there, standing out in a robe of a single shade of blue, the hood drawn low over their head and shoulders. As they passed, others drew back sharply, whispering, their eyes cold with disgust, as though recoiling from the plague.

“Huh,” Rosa murmured, curiosity brightening her eyes.

Scarlett watched as the figure approached a shopfront, where a woman in gold-and-white robes frowned and exchanged terse words with them. After a moment, the woman handed over a small pouch—presumably payment of some sort—before waving the stranger away with visible disdain. The hooded figure turned and walked on, heading across a narrow bridge into the next district.

“Do we follow them?” Rosa asked.

Scarlett gave her a look. “And why should we?”

“Feels a bit convenient, doesn’t it? We’ve got no idea where to go, and suddenly someone everyone seems to despise walks by calling all this attention to themselves. For what it’s worth, whoever they are, they don’t have the same kind of braggadocious mana signature as the rest of this lot.”

Scarlett’s eyes lingered on her before she turned back to the fading figure. “…You would have made a fine RPG player, Rosa.”

The whole scene could just as well have been lifted straight from a game — the mysterious outcast appearing at just the right time to point the protagonist forward. And considering who had likely chosen this Echo…that wasn’t too far off from what Scarlett would have expected.

“Did you say ar-pee-gee, or was that an acronym?” Rosa asked, voice slightly teasing.

“An acronym,” Scarlett replied as she began walking, the bard falling easily into step beside her. “It stands for role-playing game.”

“Oh, my.”

Scarlett gave her a sidelong look. “Not that sort.”

Rosa blinked innocently. “Hmm? What were you thinking?”

Scarlett regarded her for a beat longer, then sighed and turned her focus forward again.

They quickened their stride to avoid losing the cloaked stranger. No one spared them a glance even as they slipped quietly around a corner where they’d last seen them. Ahead, the figure was leaving another shop, turning away empty-handed.

Scarlett considered approaching at once, but a blend of interest and caution held her back, so they continued following at a distance. The stranger moved from one establishment to the next, sometimes managing to buy things, sometimes dismissed outright, but always met with the same cold attitude. Slowly, they seemed to be heading towards the city’s edge.

Scarlett realised they must already be near it. Yet there was nothing in the architecture to mark a boundary. Every street and structure looked essentially the same — not identical, but bound by that same quiet perfection in the angles, the symmetry, and the polished precision.

Eventually, they reached the outskirts. There was no wall to the city, no gates, nor any other kind of barrier. Only a broad canal encircling the outer districts. Beyond it stretched a sea of glass.

Scarlett stopped for a moment. At first, she thought it was water—perfectly still, reflecting the light in unmoving sheets—but when she looked closer, she saw the faint texture of the same crystal used throughout much of the city. The longer she stared, the more its depths seemed to stretch, translucent layers fading downward in endless reflections.

Thinking back, in the ruined vision she’d seen before, all of this had been black. An ocean of shadow.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Beyond that crystalline plain, far in the distance, rose another span of land. Jagged, with uneven hills breaking the horizon, faint plumes of smoke curling lazily from their slopes.

The cloaked stranger crossed a bridge over the canal and stepped onto a thin path before the ‘sea’. They approached a tall crystal pillar that gleamed in the light, and as their hand touched it, the pillar flared. With that, their figure vanished.

Scarlett’s eyes widened, and she crossed the bridge herself.

“It is similar to a Kilnstone, I suspect,” she murmured as she neared the pillar, studying its surface. She couldn’t spot any arrays or a visible means of activation. Simply touching a hand to it did nothing.

Her lips thinned. Missing that person because she’d been too cautious would be irritating.

“I think I saw another flash over there when it lit up,” Rosa said, pointing across the crystalline expanse to the distant shore. “Could be that’s where they went.”

Scarlett squinted, trying to make out shapes, but it was too far to discern anything clearly.

She lifted her hand, and [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame] appeared within her grasp. The dagger’s edge sliced through the air, and a rift of flame tore open before them. Curiously, she didn’t see the usual burning landscape within, only a haze of fire and ash. Still, she felt the connection settle.

Stepping through, she emerged atop a ridge of dark stone on the opposite shore. From there, the sea of glass stretched behind her like a vast mirror, and across it rose the gleaming city, its central spire reaching towards the suspended lattice of magic above, like a false sun.

“You know,” Rosa said as she stepped out of the fading rift, brushing a stray ember from her sleeve, “it’s hard not to feel a touch of envy for all the conveniences you’ve been collecting. No worrying about having to change, no feeling cold or thirsty, no luggage — and now you’ve gone and made distance optional. Give it time, and you’ll probably find some artifact that lets you skip eating too.”

“I would not use such an artifact, even if it existed,” Scarlett replied, her eyes scanning the quiet landscape. A short distance away, she spotted another pillar.

“Fair enough. With a chef like yours, it’d be a sin not to enjoy the meals.”

“Indeed.”

Scarlett started moving. She wasn’t sure where the stranger had gone, but from the pillar she found a trodden path winding up towards a nearby ridge, and they followed it.

When they crested the slope, Scarlett was surprised to find an entire settlement nestled beyond. It was built into the mountainside and scattered across a shallow valley. The buildings were simple, formed of dull stone with glimpses of rough crystal, arranged in uneven tiers that climbed the slope like mismatched steps. To her inexperienced eye, it looked something like a mining settlement.

Beside her, Rosa had fallen silent.

Scarlett turned. “Something on your mind, Rosa?”

The woman didn’t answer at once. She let out a slow breath. “No. Just felt melancholy.”

“Melancholy?”

“Yep. It’s sad, isn’t it?”

Scarlett studied her expression for a moment, then let her gaze drift over the valley. “…I suppose it is.”

After all, there wasn’t a single person in sight. There was an air of stillness here, settled into the stone itself.

Rosa pointed towards a far corner of the settlement, where a ribbon of smoke curled upward. “I’d wager that’s where we’ll find our friend.”

Scarlett followed her gesture, then nodded. “Perhaps.”

They set off through the quiet streets, the sound of their steps echoing among the houses. This far from the city and its artificial sun, the light had dimmed to a muted dusk. Scarlett wondered if it ever changed, or if this place was forever trapped in that same pale twilight.

At the far edge of the settlement, they reached the source of the smoke — a large, dying fire burning low within a sunken hollow near the base of another ridge. What remained was mostly a mass of glowing embers beneath a crust of grey ash mixed with other, more recognisable shapes.

Scarlett’s brow furrowed as she realised what it was.

A pyre.

Someone had been burning bodies.

She and Rosa descended to the edge of the pit, standing before the smouldering remains. Heat still bled from the surface, shimmering faintly in the air. She focused on the blackened silhouettes covered in ash. Remnants of the people who had lived here.

“It was the Failing,” a voice said behind them.

The blue-robed stranger approached, arms full of dark, brittle shards that looked like burnt crystal. He knelt, set them down beside a mound of similar pieces near a shallow trough, then straightened.

His hood was lowered now. His features bore the same unnatural perfection as the people of the city, though faintly aged. His hair was long and pale, almost to the point of translucence, and his eyes were a washed-out silver threaded with blue.

“The Failing?” Rosa asked.

“Some call it the Glass Rot. Others, the Dulling. But those from the city know it as the Failing.” There was almost no emotion in his voice, but his words carried a quiet resignation that matched the desolation around them.

Rosa looked to the pyre. “…So it’s a disease?”

He lowered his head. “Yes. But it only affects the impure. Those without Quintessence.”

Quintessence?

Scarlett watched him. He didn’t seem as blind to them as the people in the city had been.

“Were you the one who built this pyre?” she asked.

“I was. They deserved better than to rot in their homes.”

“Were they offered no aid?”

“The impure are not worthy of help. And there is none to give.”

He bent again, lifting an armful of burnt crystal shards, then walked to the pyre. Pulling several pouches from his robes, he scattered powder, crystals, and other materials across the ground before raising his arms.

A faint light flickered through the mixture, floating up to his hands.

The shards rose of their own accord, hovering, then drifted onto the pyre. A ribbon of flame unfurled from his hands, moving to ignite the crystals. It wasn’t enough to fully reignite the pyre, but enough to make it breathe again.

Scarlett watched in silence. When he turned to collect more crystals, she stepped forward. “Do you want help?”

He paused, assessing her. “…If you are willing to lend it.”

She snapped her fingers. A thin layer of water enveloped the shards, lifting them smoothly into the air. The man’s eyes flickered with surprise as she guided them to the pyre and snapped again. Flames roared to life, illuminating their surroundings in red and gold as the pyre breathed once more.

He observed the fire for a long moment, then looked to her. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Scarlett said. “In return, may I ask one question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you familiar with someone called the ‘Last Glasswright’?”

He frowned slightly. “…I am not. But there are those who once called me the First Glasswright.”

Scarlett considered him. “…Is that so?”

Even if the title differed slightly, he was likely the one they were seeking.

“Who are you?” the man asked after a moment. “You are both impure, yet not of Ravenn.”

“Ravenn?” Rosa turned from the pyre. “Is that what this place is called?”

“Yes.”

“What about the city?”

“…That is Vairenne.” His frown deepened. “Where are you from?”

“Let us first answer who we are,” Scarlett said. “I am Scarlett Hartford, and this is Rosalina Hale. As for where we come from — for now, suffice it to say it lies a considerable distance from here.”

“A considerable distance…” He looked as though he wanted to ask more, weighing the words, but then he didn’t. Several quiet seconds passed before he spoke again. “You should leave. You have enough Quintessence to resist the Failing, but there is nothing for you in this place.”

“When you say ‘Quintessence,’ do you mean mana?” Scarlett asked.

“I’m not familiar with that term. What is it?”

“It is the source of the power I used to conjure those flames.”

“Then…yes. Your Quintessence feels strange, but its nature is the same.”

“Good. I feared they might be too different.” Scarlett turned her gaze towards the city, where only the central spire pierced the horizon from here. “We came here to learn, but I am not confident there is anyone in Vairenne willing to teach us.”

“Impure do not learn,” the man said flatly.

Scarlett looked back at him, one brow arching. “Now that is a rather absurd claim. I presume you are ‘impure’ yourself. Do you mean to say you cannot learn?”

“The impure can, but not in Vairenne. They cannot attain perfection, so they are forbidden to study there. Your pursuit is wasted effort.”

“I see. So it is mere segregation.” Her eyes narrowed, and a faint smile touched her lips. “Fortunately, we are not in the city now, and you appear more amicable than those I saw there. What is to stop us from engaging in an exchange of knowledge outside it?”

She lifted her hand, summoning a blue flame that hovered above her palm.

She wasn’t certain what form of magic he’d used earlier—he seemed reliant on external catalysts—and she herself was far from a conventional mage, but with Thainnith’s legacy at her disposal, she believed she could offer something of interest.

The man regarded the flame, a flicker of fascination crossing his features before he met her gaze once more. “You said your name was Scarlett?”

“Indeed.”

“I will give you this warning only once more.” His voice hardened. “You should leave. I am not one you wish to align yourself with.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am Jahror, the one who will either unmake Vairenne or perish trying.”