Imperial capital, Etheric Square.

Ravenna, engrossed in her book on the bench, was perusing a hefty tome. The ancient text embossed in gold on the spine testified to the book’s considerable worth.

However, as she read, her brows gradually furrowed, and a deepening expression of disdain surfaced on her usually indifferent face.

“Why must some equate antiquity with truth?” she murmured indifferently, a young sorceress of some repute, yet controversial in academic circles.

She set the book aside.

“… Such trash requires a significant allocation of resources to access at the Etheric Academy.”

She scoffed, then from the inner pocket of her long coat, she pulled out… a stack of letters.

Ravenna began to read these letters, and in no time, the perennial iceberg on her face began to melt at a visible pace.

Contrary to her increasing disdain while reading the ancient book, her eternally cold, almost emotionless, purple eyes began to glow with a vibrant and captivating light.

Her head moved slowly with her gaze on the letters, her absorption and evident joy were as if she was savoring some unparalleled delicacy.

— Even though she had read these letters dozens of times, the earliest one, more than a hundred times.

Today, she did not invest her invaluable time in endless learning and research, but instead, she was waiting for the pen pal who had been sending her these letters intermittently.

A genius whom she willingly admitted was far superior to her in design and innovation.

To be honest, Ravenna couldn’t remember the last time she felt this emotion called “anticipation”.

The first time she read a book, the first time she manipulated ether, the first time she used a spell… As she grew older, there were fewer and fewer things that Ravenna looked forward to, and more and more things that she despised.

Until now, she, who had only learning and creation in her life, finally welcomed that anticipation again.

An anticipation that swayed her spirit.

Tap, tap, tap—

The sound of a scepter approached, but Ravenna, still engrossed in the handwritten letters, did not notice.

“Um… hello, miss.”

“…”

The interruption of her reading made Ravenna look up, her icy expression probably enough to scare a child into running back to their mother.

However, what appeared before her… was indeed a child.

To be precise, a boy transitioning from childhood to adolescence.

He had radiant, beautiful blond hair that reminded one of a gentle, non-dazzling warm sun. His face, both immature and increasingly handsome with age, had a terrifyingly lethal charm for women of all ages.

Especially those pure yet profound sea-blue eyes.

— But Ravenna was not swayed by this, no matter how good-looking the boy before her was, she only knew that this little devil had disrupted her reading experience.

“If you have something to say, say it,” Ravenna stared at the boy, who was clearly of noble birth and extraordinary background, and said expressionlessly.

Normally, any child would have been scared off by her tone and expression, but this aristocratic boy just tilted his head and slowly smiled.

Ravenna hated that smile and the people who wore it, because they were troublesome, very troublesome, more cunning than a fox, and slipperier than an eel.

“Although I wasn’t very sure at first,” he said leisurely, “but now, judging from your tone and demeanor…”

“You are Venna, aren’t you?”

Ravenna was stunned.

Venna — this was the name that her pen pal, who called himself “Faust”, used to address her in his letters.

Ravenna had always believed that this pen pal must be a middle-aged or even elderly scholar, hidden among the common people, frustrated, but possessing astonishing talent.

Before this encounter, Ravenna had even made up her mind to become this scholar’s assistant, no matter the cost or sacrifice.

But…

But what was going on?

Why was the genius who proposed so many groundbreaking ideas in his letters… a twelve or thirteen-year-old blond boy?

Or was it…

“You…”

Ravenna’s expression stiffened, but it seemed that she suddenly thought of something, and her tone became very unnatural: “Faust, do you also like to act through puppets?”

“Puppets?”

The boy in front of her, who used Faust as his pen name, couldn’t help but laugh: “Venna, what kind of image do I have in your eyes that makes you so shocked that you think I am a puppet?”

“…”

“So, since we have met, let me introduce myself formally.”

The boy, dignified and composed, tapped the ground with his scepter and bowed slightly: “I am your pen pal Faust, real name Ansel.”

“Ansel…”

The boy, with his head slightly lowered, hid the dead silence and malice in his sea-blue eyes to the deepest extent.

Then, he raised his head again, smiling brightly:

“Ansel of Hydral.”

*

Memories remain memories. freёwebnovel.com

Yet now, Ravenna cannot help but reminisce about those times.

The Hydral who still called herself “Venna”.

She was not one to dwell on the past, but the events unfolding now brought her fragmented memories uncontrollably to the forefront of her mind.

“Ansel, what are those bubbles floating in the sky?”

“Congealed ether clusters, replenishing ether for students practicing spells here.”

“Ansel, why do these staircases float?”

“Ah… the Etheric Academy uses magic for aesthetic purposes, I suppose.”

“Ansel, Ansel…”

Walking ahead, Ravenna listened to the endless chatter of the seemingly brainless guy behind her and took a deep breath.

The genius who spent his days discussing magi-metal frameworks and ether circuits with her, experimenting and creating a masterpiece that transcended time, now patiently and meticulously answered one simple question after another like a nanny.

And it even seemed that he enjoyed it.

On the second floor of Yuktreshil, Conrad showed Ansel the foundation of the Etheric Academy in the elemental path. As the most commonly used spells, elements were considered the cornerstone of matter, and thus, as the second major category, they were placed above the extraordinary ether.

“Ninety percent of abilities are in the manipulation of elements, often the stereotype people have of sorcerers.”

Conrad smiled and said, “Although most of our commonly used spells are related to elements, this view is as big a misconception as thinking that warriors have no understanding of manipulating ether.”

As he spoke, Conrad respectfully bowed slightly to Seraphina, “For example, Miss Marlowe can shatter spells with a punch… this is undoubtedly something that only someone with a deep understanding of ether can achieve.”

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