’An existence capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with Margaret, the Enchanting Witch, part of the "we" she mentioned, with both the ability and the motive to participate in and exploit such a grand plan...’

"Othilia..."

Murphy murmured the name, his voice instantly swallowed by the howling mountain wind.

In the dark of night, his eyes were as sharp as a sword about to be drawn.

The girl from thirty-seven years ago, the Mechanical Witch who had first threatened his life... her shadow seemed to faintly overlap with Margaret’s disappearance and the sudden shift in the Continent’s balance of power.

’If my speculation is correct, then Margaret’s decade of "no contact" was, in itself, a cover-up of the highest order.’

’Their connection is perhaps far deeper, more secret, and more... dangerous than anyone could imagine.’

The mountain wind howled, and Murphy accelerated again, transforming into a streak of light that shot toward the darkness of the South at an even greater speed.

No matter what lay ahead, he first had to ensure Eleanor’s safety.

As for Margaret, Othilia, and whatever "thing" they were scheming for...

’That’s not something I can worry about right now.’

...

The twilight before sunrise is the deepest, darkest hour of the night.

Taymer Palace, like a giant draped in a white veil, slumbered in the utter stillness of the world.

A figure materialized soundlessly at the edge of the tree-lined avenue on the palace’s perimeter.

He appeared so naturally it was as if he had been standing there all along.

The man wore a deep gray Wizard’s Robe, dark as a raven’s feather. The style was simple, with no extraneous adornments or insignia.

He tilted his head back slightly, and from beneath the shadows of his hood, a pair of deep-set eyes gazed toward the slumbering palace.

"Tower of Secret Silver..."

A young voice escaped from his mouth.

"Such audacity, such decisiveness."

"Five Official Wizards, hundreds of years of accumulation, all abandoned just like that."

"To reclaim the legacy from before the Dawn War, those old-timers hiding behind the scenes are truly sparing no effort, no matter the cost."

His tone was level, making it impossible to tell if he was expressing admiration or scorn.

But then, a flicker of indifference crossed his deep-set eyes.

’But what does any of that have to do with me?’

He was an Official Wizard; of that, there was no doubt.

However, he was also a "Wild Wizard."

He had no illustrious master, no ancient organization to back him.

His Path had been forged more by his own fumbling efforts and the occasional, insignificant stroke of luck.

Among the ranks of Official Wizards, his power could only be considered bottom-tier.

The great storm brewing beneath the Holy City, the titanic struggle for the legacy—that was "their" battlefield. It was a game for the major players, those with the blessings of their ancestors, the support of massive organizations, and enough power to contend directly with the Church Court.

’For a Wild Wizard like me to get rashly involved... how would that be any different from a moth to a flame?’

’Even if there were scraps left on the table, it wouldn’t be my turn to eat.’

’I’m just too far beneath them.’

’Let the old-timers worry about the Holy City.’

He slowly shifted his gaze, refocusing all of his attention on the white palace before him, which stood silent in the deep darkness before the dawn.

Just because he wasn’t going to fight for the "main course"—the richest prize potentially hidden beneath the Holy City—didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in other "appetizers."

On the contrary, it was precisely because he knew his own limits and understood the need to avoid risks he couldn’t afford that he had to focus on targets that might be overlooked but held value all the same.

According to information he’d obtained from an extremely secret—and costly—source, the master of this palace, the noble, elegant, and powerful Duke Temeris, Margaret, had another identity: she was very likely the current heir to the legendary Enchanting Witch.

The Enchanting Witch.

Before the Dawn War, that was one of the ancient lineages that truly stood at the pinnacle of the Wizard World, wielding the power to influence, dominate, and even command all living things and Extraordinary Power.

Even if the lineage had become fragmented over time, and even if the current successor’s might was a far cry from her ancestors’, the significance of the title "Witch" was still immense.

’In the residence of such a figure, even if she’s left in pursuit of some grander scheme, even if this is merely the palace of her mundane identity... surely she must have left behind something related to that heritage?’

’Even the most minor notes, the most basic research manuscripts, or even just everyday items imbued with the aura of her unique power... for instance, her child.’

To a Wild Wizard like him, one who lacked a systematic lineage and had to find his own way at every step, any of these things could hold precious insights—or perhaps the key to solving a problem that had long plagued him.

"Table scraps?" A cold smile touched his lips beneath the hood. "Perhaps to them. But for a Wizard from an unorthodox background like me, any clue or trace from a higher-level lineage is a priceless treasure."

"As for what was left behind..."

He muttered to himself, his voice melting into the last of the darkness before dawn.

"I’ll find out today."

Without another moment’s hesitation, the deep-gray figure began to melt into its surroundings in a peculiar way, becoming one with the night wind as it crept silently toward the white building that symbolized the highest authority in the Southern Territory.