The mirror was pitch-black, reflecting nothing at all, yet an ingratiating voice still spoke: "Eudora, you have always been the most beautiful woman in the world." The old witch set down the magic mirror with satisfaction: "Very good, Trios. You are forever the most honest mirror in the world—not like those others I destroyed, so full of deceit." "La la la, Eudora's hair blazes like the sun, her eyes are clear and emerald-green like a lake, her lips are tender and rosy like rose petals…" The magic mirror Trios sang cheerfully, "sincerely" praising the old witch Eudora's "peerless" beauty. Her voice too had been tainted by the curse, producing a cackling laugh: "Trios, once we leave this godforsaken place, I'll have you studded with all the gems you love best." Amid the laughter, she set the magic mirror down and turned her gaze toward Lucian. Suddenly, she let out a piercing shriek—the terrifying sound waves assailed Lucian like a spell, sending his eardrums rattling and his head spinning, forcing him to stagger back two steps against his will. "Close your eyes! Shut your eyes!" Lucian had no idea what had provoked this change, so he hurriedly shut his eyes. Then he heard the old witch's footsteps pacing back and forth, accompanied by vicious, venomous cursing: "Your eyes are ruined—they must be ruined—otherwise why would they reflect me as ugly? I'll gouge…" Lucian, who was normally composed and patient enough to wait for an opportunity, couldn't help but curse silently. He quickly spoke up to cut her off: "Lady Eudora, may I ask why you summoned me here?" If the old witch decided to gouge out his eyes, he'd be in real trouble. Dealing with a madwoman was genuinely dangerous—danger lurked at every turn without rhyme or reason!
Eudora paused, seemingly distracted from her frenzy, and stopped her rampage. "I brought you here to extract your blood and mix it with this girl's bloodline." Lucian breathed a quiet sigh of relief—at least the mention of an experiment could restore some of her clarity. Then he asked, puzzled: "She's a Second-level Knight. Her bloodline is no worse than mine—why mix them?" It wasn't like using childbirth to combine two supreme bloodlines, as Natasha's parents had done.
At the mention of the experiment's specifics, Eudora became fervent yet composed: "I drew some of your blood while you were unconscious earlier and found it has far stronger regenerative properties than other moonlight bloodlines of the same tier. It appears a high-ranking vampire upgraded you using his own blood. This gives us real hope of overcoming the rejection that normally occurs when directly fusing bloodlines. And if this Second-level Knight can absorb that extraordinary regenerative ability, she will have the honor of becoming my new body!" Ophelia, strapped to the dissection table, stared ahead with hollow, desperate eyes—the tears at the corners of hers had long since dried. Having grown numb after repeated experiments, she had resolved to take each day as it came, waiting for a chance to escape. But she never expected that fate would deliver its final blow, that the old witch would rob her of even that last shred of hope!
Though Lucian sympathized deeply with Ophelia's fate, he was still restrained and couldn't even resist the witch's subtle mental suggestions. He could only shuffle in a daze to the other dissection table and lie down. Click—metal rings locked his limbs in place. A tube with a needle-like black tip, fanged like a serpent's tooth, pierced into a vein in his left hand. The sharp pain jolted Lucian back to full awareness. Then he felt his blood being drawn out, flowing slowly toward Ophelia nearby.
Ophelia's body was wrapped in numerous tubes, as though she were entangled by tentacles. Under the effect of the magic circle, the blood was mixed with powdered gemstones and arcane plant fragments, then dripped drop by drop through the tubes and injected into her. Her vacant eyes could no longer contain her reaction—pain. The blood vessels across her body bulged one by one like blue-green pythons, looking as though they might burst at any moment.
The old witch raised her black staff, coiled like a magic serpent, and pointed. Beneath Ophelia, the segments of the magic circle lit up one by one—azure, golden, silver-white, deep emerald, pure black, and crimson—six colors blooming in succession. The two bloodlines began to merge. This direct fusion inflicted excruciating agony on Ophelia—she wished she could simply die. As the six differently-colored lights flowing through her body began converging into an inverted hexagram, those bulging blood vessels suddenly collapsed inward, and her skin took on the cold, silvery glow of the moon.
"It's going to work?!" The old witch's voice rang out in excitement. But then—a tremendous boom, and blood sprayed through the air, creating a pattering rain of crimson. Every blood vessel in Ophelia's body had burst open. A peaceful smile of release crossed her face. At last, she would no longer have to endure torture—just as she had wished.
This ghastly scene left an indelible, shocking impression on Lucian: a living, vibrant life had been tormented to death before his eyes. If Lucian had once harbred some sympathy for the ancient mages—since he was the first to inherit their legacy—he now truly understood why the ancient Arcane Empire, which had been far stronger than the Church even after the disappearance of several Legendary Archmages, had suddenly crumbled under the combined weight of internal strife and external assault, collapsing as history's cart ruthlessly ground over it. The mages who inherited the ancient tradition must be guided onto the path of Arcane Magic. Those who refused would simply be swept aside by the relentless march of time.
"Oh, no!" The old witch's wail pierced the air. Then she quickly stepped into a magic circle studded with gemstones, frantically drawing energy from it until it blazed with the milky-white glow of life. Beneath Ophelia's body, the final magic circle lit up—in stark contrast, it radiated a deep, abyssal black. Gradually, threads of milky white began seeping into the black, while traces of abyssal darkness surfaced within the white. During this process, seeing a rare opportunity, Lucian threw all his strength into wrenching at the metal rings binding him, hoping to kill the old witch while the life-exchange magic circle was active. But the rings held him fast—his wrists were ground bloody, yet without bloodline power or magic, he could not snap metal forged from arcane alloy.
When the light transformation completed and rapidly faded, the injuries on the body upon the dissection table had all healed. The skin radiated an alluring luster.
"Ophelia" spoke an incantation, released her own restraints, then leaped down as nimbly as a young deer. She eagerly snatched up the magic mirror Trios, stroked its surface, and chanted: "Magic mirror, magic mirror, tell me—who is the most beautiful woman in the world?"
"It is you, Eudora!" The mirror was no longer pitch-black. It gradually grew crystal-clear, reflecting "Ophelia's" fair, delicate features—golden hair and green eyes.
The old witch Eudora studied herself left and right with satisfaction, occasionally smoothing her ear-length bob. Hearing their exchange, Lucian felt that strange sense of déjà vu once more. Why was it that both times he encountered the old witch, she spoke words he found eerily familiar? But judging by the facts, there appeared to be a genuine basis for it—it wasn't simply a case of her reading his memories!
Eagerly gazing at her own youthful, beautiful visage, Eudora wished she could stare into the mirror forever. Those slender golden eyebrows like delicate needles, the high and petite nose bridge, the thin and sensual red lips, the fair and elastic skin—every detail filled her with deep satisfaction. Then, abruptly, the skin glowing with youthful vitality dulled. The clear emerald-green eyes clouded over. Wrinkles appeared at a pace visible to the naked eye… The old witch stared blankly as she withered and shrank back into age within mere seconds—her tall, straight spine hunching once more.
"No!" A terrifying scream tore through the room. One after another, glass test tubes etched with magic circles in the arcane laboratory shattered. Fierce, jagged cracks spread across the magic mirror Trios. Lucian's ears were once again struck with a deafening roar. The old witch's scream bore an unmistakable resemblance to a banshee's wail!
After a long time, the old witch finally calmed. Her gaze turned cold as she looked at Lucian, seemingly calculating something. Then she spoke an incantation, released the metal rings binding him, and used a mental suggestion to make him stand and walk out the door. At the same time, she summoned a servant and ordered: "Take him back to the cell." She didn't give Lucian the slightest opening to speak—to try to persuade her with the promise of restoring her youth, to offer her a chance to study Arcane Magic. She shooed him out like a pest.
After Lucian's unsteady footsteps faded away, the old witch murmured: "I can't modify his body for use. I still need him for the soul-splitting experiment."
……
On the way back to the cell, Lucian silently studied several Flesh Golem Knights wielding their tremendous axes and greatswords—just as he usually did. He glanced at the wound on his wrist, now beginning to heal, and furrowed his brow in thought, all while steeling his resolve to find an escape opportunity as soon as possible. No one could predict what a madwoman might do!
That evening during the walk, through Lucian's covert communication with Adam and a certain young servant's loose lips, Karina, Alva, and Brad all learned of Ophelia's tragic end. One by one they became dazed and unfocused, as though unable to accept that she was gone—she had been perfectly fine that morning, chatting with them when the servant delivered breakfast. They had thought becoming experimental material was already horrific enough; they never imagined an even more terrifying fate awaited them.
After returning to his cell in heavy silence, Lucian knocked on the right-hand wall.
"Mr. Lucian?" Karina's weak, dazed voice came through the gap.
Lucian removed the stone brick he had chiseled out during the afternoon and looked across at Karina's neck. "Karina—do you want to escape?"
"What?" Karina dropped into a crouch. Her emerald-green eyes, brimming with tears, locked onto his. "Mr. Lucian, do you have a way to get us out of here? I never want to stay in this godforsaken place again!" Ophelia's death had dealt her a devastating psychological blow.
Lucian's expression turned grave. "Any attempt to escape carries enormous danger. But it's still better than sitting here waiting to die. If you want to flee with me, I need you to do something. It will cause you considerable pain—I don't know if you're willing."
Seeing his tone was deeply earnest, Karina didn't rush to agree. After a moment of silence, she nodded firmly. "As long as I can escape this place and get away from the Witch's pursuit, I can endure any pain, Mr. Lucian. I'll do whatever you ask!"
"Then bring your neck close." Lucian's voice was gentle and calm, easing much of Karina's tension.
Karina rose slightly and pressed her neck against the opening in the stone brick. A flicker of understanding crossed her face. "Mr. Lucian—are you going to analyze the Anti-Magic Collar?"
"Yes. I can't see my own." Lucian didn't lie. Then, softly: "Brace yourself for the pain."
"Mm." Karina nodded.
Lucian reached his right hand through and touched the Anti-Magic Collar on Karina's neck. Then, following his initial analysis of its structure, he carefully pushed at a specific position. Meanwhile, another finger steadily struck the wall, producing constantly shifting, subtle vibrations—resembling the strange, grating incantations that could be heard by anyone.
Under the combined influence of vibration and pressure, the Anti-Magic Collar began flickering with silver-white electric arcs, and beneath the light, runes flowed ceaselessly. Karina's fine body hair stood on end from the shocks. She trembled, her lips pressed together in a tight, white line—though her teeth were clenched hard enough to draw blood, she made no sound.
Although Lucian's soul-based computational ability remained intact, reproducing the precise vibrations with nothing but his currently powerless physical body was nearly impossible. The frequency veered off almost immediately, making exact replication unachievable. But for Lucian, simply activating the Anti-Magic Collar without endangering Karina's life was enough. Without the wall's vibration to disrupt the magic circle's functioning—and reduce the electrical current—prolonged observation could easily leave Karina, an unawakened pure mage, paralyzed from the collar's position against her spine.
Lucian didn't linger too long, to avoid accidents, while also leaving Karina sufficient time to recover.
Late that night, Lucian reviewed the runes and structure he had memorized and asked once more: "Karina—still willing?"
"No problem, Mr. Lucian!" Karina answered through gritted teeth. The electrocution was agonizing, but at least there was hope.
"Wonderful!" Lucian praised her with genuine admiration.
Thus, without the old witch's knowledge, over the course of one week, Lucian extracted the complete structure of the Anti-Magic Collar from Karina. Then he began waiting for the end of the month.
……
On the third-to-last and second-to-last days, Lucian did nothing—simply ate his meals and slept peacefully, tuning both his mind and body to peak condition.
On the final night of the month, the dim silver moon was utterly swallowed by dark clouds. Lucian shot upright in bed.