The Voice of the Wand
Olivia wasn't the only one agonizing over how to prove herself. There was one more person at the academy who needed to do just that. Lily. The owner of the seventh masterpiece, the Olive Wand.
She was drawing sharp glares from the students from the Holy Kingdom. They simply couldn't accept that Lily, of all people, was the wand's chosen wielder.
"Our Holy Kingdom is the land of God, where we hear His words and live by them. In return, He grants us a saintess."
These students, raised on that belief from childhood, couldn't make sense of the current situation. The saintess was supposed to be God's most beloved daughter, born with the greatest divine powers. So why had a former slave girl been chosen instead? It was beyond the innocent minds of these young students. They didn't yet know there was no such thing as a child truly chosen by God. A saintess was just a girl with exceptionally high mana levels, propped up by the Holy Kingdom as a propaganda tool. But they were still too young to grasp that.
With the beliefs they'd held their whole lives being challenged right before their eyes, the Holy Kingdom students counted down the days until the practical exam.
"If that girl's really the Olive Wand's owner, she'll have to prove it herself, right?"
"Yeah. We'll see on practical exam day the week after next."
It was a situation that would crush an ordinary student under the weight of pressure. But Lily was a girl who'd been through hell and back, brimming with venomous resolve. She turned the mounting pressure into fuel, igniting her determination to grow stronger.
So instead of heading back to the dorms after class, she went straight to Professor Ria's office.
"Professor, are you in?"
"Yeah. Come on in."
In the pitch-black staff room, the only light came from a small lantern on the desk. Professor Ria was carving wood by its glow, her tiny hands deft at work. With each stroke of the chisel, thin shavings fluttered down. Her furrowed brow and intense focus made her look like a painting—stunningly beautiful.
Maybe that's why Lily forgot what she came to say, staring blankly for a moment.
"What's up?"
"Oh, uh... I..."
Lily snapped out of it a beat later, shaking her head cutely before finally explaining.
"I wanted to start supplementary lessons right now. But I hope I'm not interrupting..."
"Nah. Carving wands is just a hobby I do when I'm bored and have nothing else going on. Perfect timing, actually."
Ria set down the wood scrap and chisel, then pulled over an extra chair.
"But why the sudden urge to start early?"
"The suspicious stares questioning if I'm really the wand's owner sting a bit. I want to prove myself to them in style."
"That's the spirit."
Lily's expression softened at the praise. As a former slave who'd lost her parents, she wasn't used to hearing kind words.
"Pull out both your wands."
"Ah, yes...!"
Lily swept back her cloak, revealing two wands holstered at her waist. One was light brown with a laurel wreath engraving; the other was plain, unadorned.
She placed both on the desk. Ria examined them closely, stroking her chin with interest.
"Fascinating."
"What part?"
"They're both responding to you perfectly."
As she spoke, Ria launched into an explanation.
"Remember in class how I said wands and mages are partners?"
"Yes."
"To make it simpler... a wand and its owner are like husband and wife. Just like a wife wouldn't like her husband cheating with another woman, wands feel something similar."
Lily tilted her head slightly at the analogy.
"But aren't there exceptions sometimes? Like heroes in myths..."
"True. Even among people, exceptions pop up now and then."
Ria smiled brightly at her.
"Looks like you're that kind of exception for your wands."
"Huh?"
"Some owners are so special—maybe their power or personality clicks—that they can wield multiple wands without issue."
Ria handed the wands back.
"Lucky you, Miss Popular."
"Uh, um..."
Lily kept her usual stoic expression, but in the dim lantern light, a faint blush colored her cheeks. Ria chuckled softly at the uncharacteristically shy display.
"Anyway, hand over the one you used to use first? I'll show you a preview of what I'll teach."
"Ah, yes...!"
Holding the wand up to the lantern revealed its traits: chocolate-brown wood, rigid and unyielding, with tough durability. The growth rings clustered on one side made identification easy.
"Darup wood, right? Feels cool to the touch, so crystal core."
Darup wood was more common than its obscure name suggested. Beautiful grain, rot-resistant, sturdy—perfect for furniture. Its flower language was "kindness." The crystal core symbolized purity, diligence, and intelligence. It suited Lily perfectly: a girl with a dark past, vowing to help others like herself—not blindly kind, but earnest and sharp.
"H-how did you know?"
"I'm something of a wand maker myself. Spotting this stuff is basic."
Thanks to elven memory, Ria remembered most wands she'd made: materials, processing, length, flex, core.
"Hmm..."
Holding it longer brought faint thoughts trickling into her mind. This wand was one she'd crafted, after all—like reuniting with a long-lost child, excited.
Closing her eyes, the wand's hazy sentiments flowed in. First: thoughts of its owner. A new wand had appeared, and it wasn't thrilled... but if the owner was happy, that was fine. A harem-heroine vibe. Cute enough to draw a soft laugh.
Next: worry. Would it fall short compared to the Olive Wand? Would she favor the other more?
Finally: a touch of regret.
'I wish the owner would use me like this...'
That was the thought she'd been seeking.
"What's regrettable?"
Her murmur drew more: 'My specialty is combat magic, but the owner has only used me for healing.'
"I see."
Lily was a good kid. She'd chosen healer over combat mage from the start, so no surprise there.
"Thanks for letting me know."
In the first lesson, she'd taught that wands and mages were partners. Now, time to show it in action.
"Lily."
"Yes?"
"Today, let's get to know your wand."
During the ten years of the Maou War, the Maou spawned countless kin. His minions wielded otherworldly powers unbound by common sense. Even magic deemed impossible by mages was just an experiment to them. Their spells, fueled not by mana but life itself, granted infinite power and potential.
Naturally, some dared chase immortality. Among the Maou's four closest aides, the third—the Immortal Sinner Duran.
His title was self-explanatory.
"He achieved immortality."
Sylvia murmured, closing her eyes. To an elf like her, he was a nightmare.
To fulfill his delusional dream, he'd hunted a hundred elves across the continent. After horrific experiments, he sacrificed them all to the Kin of the Outside. The elven population dropped from six hundred to five hundred—a single mage wiping out twenty percent of their race.
In return, he got a half-baked immortality, doomed to eternal torment.
Sylvia loathed him utterly. She never even glanced toward his seal. So why head to its deepest chamber now?
"Hah, that damn Maou... what a mess."
She needed every scrap of info on his resurrection.
Descending spiral stairs deep underground, she reached a massive iron door. Touching it with one of her five wands—the World Tree Wand—set it groaning open.
Grrrrrind—
Beyond lay a vast chamber glowing blue.
"Still the same, huh."
Sylvia's brow furrowed. The space devoured mana ravenously, sparing no one—not even her. The forced drain never sat well.
Determined to finish quick, she focused on the center. There knelt a black-skinned elf, limbs bound by heavy mana restraints.
"Immortal Sinner Duran."
"Ahh, that elf mage from before?"
Duran's face twisted into a grotesque grin.
"Here about His Majesty's return, no doubt."
"Hah?"
"I've been waiting. Elf mage."