Anastasia opened her eyes and gnced at Roxy, now deep in slumber. A quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips—her earlier hunch had been wrong. No disturbances, no unexpected variables. Just silence. Now, it was time.

  Tonight marked the beginning of her Avatarice Project.

  As soon as she let sleep cim her, Anastasia found herself submerged in a world of swirling fog. The air was thick yet oddly weightless, swallowing her body up to the waist like a pool of dense mist. Everything was vast, dark—yet strangely bright.

  Before her stood two clear figures: Velvyr and Wistoria. The others… were mere ghosts, blurred and unfinished. Incomplete.

  Her heart pounded. Hesitation crept in, but she crushed it.

  Without a moment’s dey, she severed her own finger.

  A violent jolt of pain surged through her, unlike anything physical—this was soul separation. And it burned. The entire realm shuddered, the darkness fshing crimson as if bleeding from the wound itself.

  Anastasia clenched her jaw, refusing to scream. Exhale. Inhale. Again. Her body trembled, but her mind remained sharp. Grabbing the imaginary tome, she pressed the severed piece of herself into its pages. The book shone, its surface solidifying into a tangible, glowing grimoire. The first step was done.

  Now, she turned to her hand. The missing finger throbbed painfully. She forced her will upon it, activating Regenerative Healing Magic—a Tier 5 spell from the Old World. Slowly, her finger reformed, piece by piece, the flesh stitching together in a delicate reconstruction. But when she flexed it… something was off. It was slightly transparent.

  Her gaze shifted forward.

  The swirling mist had begun to take shape. Among the ghostly figures, one was finally emerging into crity—a figure she knew.

  Ange—the Priest.

  Anastasia’s expression remained unreadable, but inside, a thought took root.

  "One step closer."

  Anastasia clutched the book tightly, her fingers digging into its cover as she channeled her will.

  A powerful vortex erupted from its pages, a tidal force of air and energy spiraling outward. The fog churned violently, twisting and colpsing inward as the book’s pull grew stronger. Everything—ghosts, avatars, echoes of forgotten figures—was dragged mercilessly toward the glowing tome.

  The three fully-formed avatars—Velvyr, Wistoria, and Ange—were no exception. They, too, were swept into the swirling abyss, their figures dissolving into streams of light as they were absorbed into the book.

  The vast, endless mindscape shrank, the oppressive void thinning as the book became the sole beacon in the emptiness.

  Anastasia, breathing heavily, pced her hand on the book’s cover. Now that she had fully condensed her Avatarice Project into this singur tome, it needed a foundation.

  "A world within a world."

  She closed her eyes and poured her memories into the void.

  In an instant, the barren realm shifted. Towering spires and grand halls emerged from nothingness. Walls stretched upward, shaping into the familiar corridors of the academy she once worked in—a massive structure of knowledge and power.

  At its center, a statue of Merrylyn—her past self—stood tall and imposing. The core of this world became her office, an expansive chamber lined with shelves, tomes, and artifacts. A pce of command.

  With a satisfied nod, she pced the book on her desk and slumped into her chair.

  "This will do."

  A long breath escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. Sleep took her once more.

  Anastasia's biological clock snapped her awake, her body stirring as the remnants of her dreamscape faded.

  Only to find herself trapped.

  Something—or rather, someone—was weighing down on her chest.

  Warm. Heavy. Unacceptable.

  Her gaze snapped downward. Roxy.

  The blue-haired magician was fast asleep, curled up against her like a stray cat. Her breathing was soft, steady, completely unbothered. The bnket? Nowhere to be found.

  A nerve twitched on Anastasia’s temple.

  "You... YOU CATERPILLAR!!!"

  Her furious shout bsted through the room, ringing directly into Roxy’s ears.

  The unfortunate Magician jerked awake violently, her peaceful slumber shattered by the sheer force of Anastasia’s wrath.

  She blinked, still half-asleep, trying to process why she was being yelled at first thing in the morning. Then, she noticed something.

  Her pillow… was not a pillow.

  It was Anastasia.

  Roxy’s brain short-circuited.

  "…Eh?"

  Roxy sprang up in a panic, her face flushed as she bowed so quickly that it nearly looked like she would colpse forward.

  "IamversorryLadyAnastasia!"

  She blurted it out in one breath, speaking so fast that Anastasia barely caught the words.

  Anastasia raised an eyebrow, amused.

  "At least she knows her crime."

  With an exaggerated sigh, she waved her off dismissively.

  "Fine, you’re excused. But don’t expect me to be so merciful next time, caterpilr."

  Roxy visibly rexed, straightening herself but still looking a little dazed from her sudden wake-up call.

  "I-I appreciate your grace..." she muttered, rubbing her temple.

  Anastasia had already lost interest. She grabbed her training sword from the corner of the room and stretched her arms zily.

  "I’m heading outside. Go back to sleep if you want."

  With that, she turned on her heel and made her way downstairs.

  Anastasia moved towards the back entrance, pnning to begin her morning exercise. But as soon as she stepped outside, she paused.

  The door was already open.

  Her father was there, swinging his sword through the crisp morning air. His movements were precise yet powerful, each strike cutting through the silence with a sharp whoosh.

  Paul, sensing her presence, turned with a bright grin.

  "Good morning, Anastasia! Let's train together today!"

  His voice was far too energetic for someone who had just woken up.

  Anastasia, still half in a morning daze, just gave a short nod.

  "Fine."

  Without another word, she walked onto the practice field, gripping her sword. The sun had barely risen, but today’s first battle was about to begin.

  After breakfast, Roxy stepped outside, inhaling the fresh morning air as she made her way toward the clearing. There, she spotted Rudeus, lounging in a chair like a lord surveying his nd.

  Curious, she approached.

  "Rudeus, have you seen—"

  Before she could finish, Anastasia emerged from the back of the house.

  Her gait was leisurely, yet her presence commanded attention. A wooden sword rested at the back of her waist, a sign that she had already begun her day with training.

  "Let's start, Miss Magician."

  Her tone was sharp, brimming with arrogance.

  Roxy frowned. "Call me Roxy."

  Anastasia shook her head, her expression one of sheer disdain.

  "I refuse. Your insolence does not deserve my respect. Do not command me, you magic-reliant being!"

  Rudeus, sitting nearby, felt a twinge of offense on Roxy’s behalf.

  His brows furrowed as he snapped, "Oh yeah?! Then why do you even want to learn summoning magic if you keep insulting magic itself?"

  Anastasia let out a low sneer, her golden eyes fshing with amusement.

  "Because, dear ghoulish brother, summoning magic will allow me to acquire a servant—one to handle the menial tasks I do not wish to bother with. That way, I can dedicate myself fully to my swordsmanship."

  She tilted her head, her grin growing.

  "I can do everything myself. But efficiency is key. The more I refine my bde, the sooner I will become an unstoppable force—one the world will have no choice but to obey!"

  Her words hung in the air, bold and absolute, her ambition id bare for all to hear.

  Roxy and Rudeus could only stare, equal parts stunned and exasperated.