[Location]: District 1 · White City · The Tulip Club · Top Floor "Blue Diamond" Private Suite
Rhode didn’t take Hathaway to the famous "Ruby Hall."
"That’s Adeline’s turf," Rhode muttered, rolling her eyes behind her welding-grade sunglasses as the elevator ascended. "I’m not afraid of that Plumed Dragon spawn, but breathing the same air as her makes my lungs feel violated. Besides, she’s been into ‘Botany’ lately. Only the Abyss knows if she’s growing man-eating orchids in there."
The elevator chimed. The "Blue Diamond" suite was a sanctuary reserved for those with High Witch Certification or a seven-figure balance of Gold Solars.
When Rhode kicked open the heavy, ornate doors—her signature "Ludwig Greeting"—Hathaway’s heart performed a frantic drumroll against her ribs.
Seated before a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the sea of clouds was a silhouette that made the world seem to hold its breath.
Lin Zhaojun.
Hathaway’s breathing hitched.
Who is she?
Before the conscious thought could finish, the "Body Cache" slammed a massive folder of data into Hathaway's frontal cortex.
[Target Recognized]
Identity: The Undisputed G.O.A.T. of Dueling.
Achievement: Dominated the cover of Witch Fashion for three years straight.
Combat Record: The "Millennium Sovereign." Infamous for her rookie-year quote: "In the absence of true monsters, even mediocrity can wear a crown."
Emotional Tag: [IDOL / ABSOLUTE LEGEND / DO NOT FAINT].
Oh my god, Hathaway realized, clutching her chest. I’m fan-girling over a tyrant who practically spat in the face of the entire League on her first day. This muscle memory is potent.
In person, she was an aesthetic assault.
She wore a midnight-blue tactical combat suit—the high-spec original of the one Hathaway had tucked away in her own closet—which traced the lean, powerful musculature of a professional athlete. Her blue-grey bob was messy in that effortless, expensive way. Her profile was as sharp and cold as a sculpted masterpiece.
And that legendary staff, [Legion's Bane], was leaning against the sofa like a common fireplace poker.
Sweet Mother of Mana! It’s the living legend!
She’s so cool! Even the way she sips tea radiates killing intent...
Is this the aura of an Arch-Witch? Even sitting still, she looks like she’s brewing a localized hurricane.
"Yo, if it isn't our favorite 'A3 Refugee'," Rhode’s loud voice shattered the atmosphere like a brick through a stained-glass window. She tossed her sunglasses onto the bar. "What? Not at the library today? I thought you’d be burying your head in that three-thousand-page Introduction to Thaumaturgy for your re-exam."
Hathaway winced. Cousin Rhode, is it really wise to talk to a living tactical nuke like that? We’re going to die, aren't we?
The "statue" moved.
Lin slowly turned her head. Her blue-grey eyes swept over Rhode with freezing indifference before locking onto Hathaway. When she spoke, her voice was low, resonant—the kind of sultry, mature tone that made one’s knees feel like jelly.
"Rhode, if you can't say something useful, I can help you uninstall your teeth."
Hathaway nearly squealed. The trash talk! Live! It’s even more intimidating in person!
The next second, Rhode ignored the threat entirely and shoved Hathaway forward like a child showing off a limited-edition action figure. "Cut the crap. Look at this! This is my little cousin, Hathaway. Look at her eyes!"
Lin set down her teacup. She narrowed her eyes, focusing on Hathaway’s face. Hathaway stood frozen, palms sweating, trying to maintain the "Ludwig Composure"—even though her eyes were currently as dark and quiet as a dead pond.
One second. Two seconds. Three.
Lin suddenly stood up. Even in flats, her legs seemed to go on for miles. She closed the distance in three strides, her face stopping less than five centimeters from Hathaway’s.
Hathaway could smell a faint scent of... mint tobacco?
Too close! The idol is too close!
Then, Lin spoke. And past that charming little snaggletooth slipped a sentence Hathaway would never forget as long as she lived:
"...You’re a Ludwig?" Lin’s gaze locked onto Hathaway’s unlit eyes, then flicked to Rhode, who was currently glowing like a searchlight. Her tone suddenly dropped—urgent, desperate, and filled with a ravenous kind of hunger.
"Wait... being a Ludwig means you have those 'Overclocked Neural Reflexes.' But you aren't glowing, which means your mana signature is perfectly cloaked?"
She seized Hathaway’s hands, her eyes wide and manic.
"This is an S-Tier cheat! Bestie, can you get me into the exam hall? I’ll give you a micro-retinal receiver. You just need to ‘look’ at the paper, and your hyper-reflexes will beam the questions to me instantly. The invigilators won’t detect a single ripple of mana—because you’re a god-rotted stealth fighter! You’re literally off the radar!!"
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"..."
The fan-girl smile on Hathaway’s face didn't just fade; it shattered.
CRACK.
That was the sound of an idol filter breaking into more pieces than a Wellington monocle.
I thought you were a Sovereign of War gazing down from the clouds. Turns out you’re just the isekai’d version of my college roommate who scribbled cheat codes on her fingernails just to pass finals!
And using my 'Neural Overclocking' as a signal relay? My first job in this new world is being a Human Wi-Fi Router?!
"Hey, hey, hands off the merchandise."
Rhode reached out and grabbed Lin by the collar, dragging the hysterical G.O.A.T. of Dueling back to her seat.
"Stop trying to drag my innocent cousin into your academic crime syndicate. Besides, you're missing the bigger picture."
Rhode adjusted her sunglasses, a smug grin spreading across her face—the kind of expression a person makes when they're about to drop a royal flush in poker.
"The stealth is just a bonus," Rhode said, savoring the moment. "The real kicker is her capacity." She turned to Hathaway, raising an eyebrow. "Hathaway, there's a Platinum Edition detector sitting right on your desk. Don't tell me you didn't check your stats the moment you woke up."
Rhode gestured towards Lin with her chin.
"Tell this 'Second-Phase Peasant' the number. Go on, give her a reality check."
Hathaway blinked, feeling a bit awkward under the spotlight.
"Uh... yeah, I checked. The reading was 42,150 M-Units."
The air in the private booth froze instantly. Even the steam rising from the tea seemed to pause in mid-air.
Lin slowly turned her head. Her blue-grey eyes, which were previously filled with the frantic desire to cheat, were now dilated with complex calculations.
"Four... forty-two thousand?" Lin's voice cracked slightly.
She pointed at herself.
"I am thirty-three years old. I am currently in the peak of my Second Growth Spurt. I consume three tubes of 'Deep Sea Whale Oil' daily to boost my cell synthesis. I just barely broke the 60,000 threshold last month."
She pointed at Rhode.
"This walking lightbulb is also thirty-three. Your family pumps her full of premium bio-serums. She is already cruising comfortably above the 70,000 mark. And that’s not even counting the Liquefied Gold Solars she chugs," Lin added with a twitch of her eye. "She treats her stomach like an external battery, burning actual currency for extra mana reserves."
"You... you drink the currency?" Hathaway blurted out, her Earthling logic struggling to process this before she could stop herself. "I knew Gold Solars was high-energy metal, but... you treat your savings account as a consumable potion?!"
"Why cast from your veins when you can cast from your wallet?" Rhode grinned, tapping her flat stomach. "It's called 'Liquid Assets', literally. Though it doesn't increase my biological cap, it tastes like... success."
Lin waved her hand, dismissing the interruption. "The point isn't her expensive drinking habit. The point is the Math."
Her trembling finger pointed back at Hathaway.
"You are only eighteen. You just finished your First Growth Spurt. You haven't even touched the 'Golden Decade' yet. Your cells haven't even started their second round of division... And you already have a biological base of over 40,000?!"
Lin slumped back into the sofa, covering her face with her hands.
"Biology is a bitch. I hate genetics."
Hathaway sat there, clutching her juice, her mind reeling—not just from the mana talk, but from the number Lin had casually dropped earlier.
Thirty-three?
She looked at the two women who possessed skin so flawless it seemed to mock the concept of time. They looked no older than university sophomores.
Right. I almost forgot.
Hathaway allowed the body's knowledge to surface. [The Eternal Youth Trait]. Witches lock their physical appearance and primary biological aging at eighteen.
Eighteen, Hathaway thought, her Earth-logic instinctively rebelling. That’s biologically terrible. Humans aren't even neurologically fully developed at eighteen. You're still a volatile, reckless teenager.
But then, the deeper, colder lore of her inherited bloodline surfaced, chilling her thoughts.
Right. Because Witches weren't 'evolved'. They were engineered.
They were originally created as weapons of war. A biological weapon doesn't need to slowly mature over decades; it needs to reach peak physical lethality, cap its initial structural growth, and hit the battlefield immediately. Their visual aging stops, but their brains and mana circuits undergo continuous "Adaptive Evolution." They keep getting smarter, sharper, and infinitely deadlier, while retaining the bottomless, volatile energy of a teenager.
Physical eternal youth is just the prerequisite for mental eternal youth, Hathaway realized, watching Rhode radiate the unhinged smugness of a teenager. After all, you can't be an immortal, chaos-loving sociopath who blows up mountains if your lower back hurts from old age.
In her previous world, this fact alone would be enough to start a world war, but here... it was just the factory default setting for a species of beautiful, high-maintenance artillery shells.
"Don't be too jealous, Lin," Rhode flipped her hair, blissfully oblivious to Hathaway's internal existential crisis. She was too busy enjoying her friend's defeat. "By the time Hathaway hits her Second Spurt at twenty-six, she'll probably double her pool. You just have to accept that some people are born as Prime Dragons, and some people... well, they are just very determined Terra Dragons."
Lin let out a long, shuddering sigh, her expression shifting from shock to the hollow emptiness of a student broken by life.
"It’s over." Lin covered her face, her voice dripping with resentment. "Heidi, that bitch. Do you know how ridiculous this year’s mock questions were? In High-Dimensional Biology, she actually asked me: 'Without using Transmutation, how do you adjust your mana frequency to simulate the mating signal of a Plumed Dragon?'"
Lin snapped her head up, her snaggletooth grinding audibly.
"Why the f*ck would I simulate a Plumed Dragon's mating signal?! If I see a Plumed Dragon, I’m hitting it with an [Empowered Fireball] until it’s ash! Who wants to mate with those slimy things?! That psycho dragon-slayer is targeting me on purpose!"
Hathaway looked at her disheveled idol and asked cautiously, "Is the A3 exam... really that hard? Even for someone like you?"
"Hard?" Rhode poured herself a drink, leaning against the bar with a wicked grin. "Little cousin, you’ve heard the name 'Theresa', right?"
Hathaway shook her head blankly.
"Understandable. That kind of cursed lore isn't in the textbooks." Rhode took a sip of the stiff drink. "Theresa was a brilliant High Witch. She spent twenty-five years trying to pass the A3. On her fifty-first failure, she finally... snapped."
"Snapped?"
"Total depressive-aggressive personality collapse." Rhode shrugged. "She decided that since she couldn't conquer the universe with her brain, she would 'commune with the truth' through fleshly offerings. She went to the busiest plaza in the White City, stripped off her robes, put on a sheer white veil, and declared herself a 'Saint of Emotional Support'."
"She hung a sign: 'Free Hugs, Soul-Bonding Sex, Saving every student currently getting rawdogged by academia'."
Pffft— Hathaway nearly sprayed her juice. "She... she actually went full E-girl for the masses?!?!"
"Yep. The whole city lost its mind. A High Witch acting like a succubus in heat? She dragged the Witch Association’s dignity through the mud." Rhode threw her hands up. "The police finally had to drag her away. She hid in a folded space crying for weeks, refusing to come out unless they passed her. Eventually, the Association caved just to stop the scandal. They issued her an [Honorary A3 Certificate]—marked 'For Non-Academic Use Only'—just to shut her up."
Rhode looked over at the slumped Lin with a predatory, mischievous glint in her eyes.
"So, Lin, maybe you should try that? Though your skin might not be as thick as Theresa’s..."
Rhode tapped her chin thoughtfully, her voice dripping with the Devil's temptation.
"Then again, if you offered yourself to the Board of Examiners instead of random passersby... I bet it would work." She leaned closer to the despairing idol. "After all, 'Sleeping your way to the top' is a time-honored political strategy among the sisterhood."