White Crimson's Proof

Floating high in the skies above the eastern continent of Triia was a massive island nation. It was Nihilum, the homeland of the witches—beings who endlessly pursued the truths of mana and magic—and a country founded and governed solely by them. There was no single leader like a king; instead, the forty most influential witches formed a collective leadership system, wielding power together.

Among those forty, the absolute pinnacle was the seven witches known as the Seven Luminaries—supreme existences who heralded the world's beginning and would declare its end, chosen not just by bloodline but by mastery of magic worthy of it. They had just concluded all discussions on post-war reconstruction and the disappearance of Rose Crimson.

As the meeting ended, the massive doors that had been tightly shut began to creak open, and the members of the Seven Luminaries filed out one by one.

"White."

White, who had planned to head straight back to her workshop after the meeting, turned at the sound of someone calling her. The one who had spoken was Carmine Dahat, a fellow member of the Seven Luminaries who had just exited the meeting room with her—the witch hailed as the guardian of the east.

Most witches preferred outfits that exposed a lot ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of skin to better sense mana. But Carmine was the opposite, dressed in an impeccably modest ensemble that covered every inch. Her black hair shimmered with a faint green tint, and her bright golden eyes were fixed on White.

"Might I have a moment for a private word?"

Though White was in a hurry, she couldn't ignore Carmine's intensely serious expression.

"Sure, that's fine. But since I'm pressed for time, could we talk while walking?"

"Aye, that matters not."

The brief exchange naturally led them to walk side by side.

Carmine broke the ice first.

"There is something I wish to ask thee."

"It's about Rose-unnie, isn't it?"

White replied as if she'd known all along. Carmine gave her a wry, bitter smile.

"......Have you already given up on Rose as well?"

White said nothing.

The second daughter of the Crimson family, Rose Crimson, had vanished the moment the war ended. News of her disappearance spread not just through Nihilum but across all of Triia, sowing widespread chaos. Even now, searches continued, but no one had witnessed her vanishing, and not even a trace had been found. It was as if she'd been erased from the world entirely.

Yet the witches of the Seven Luminaries were ruthless. They treated her as gone for good and had called this emergency meeting precisely to fill her vacant seat. As the talks dragged on, Carmine could endure it no longer and argued vehemently for the possibility of Rose's survival and return. But the other Luminaries had already abandoned hope. Even her own blood sisters, Red and White, offered only curt opinions without taking any real action. Rather than debating Rose's fate, they exchanged words only on who would take her place among the Seven.

Carmine was a witch like them, but to her—born and raised in the eastern lands—their behavior was incomprehensible. Seeing the usually confident and dignified Carmine staring at the ground, unable to stand tall, White finally spoke up.

"What do you think is the most important thing in magic, Lady Carmine?"

Carmine's puzzled gaze met White's at the sudden question.

"The most important thing in magic... I was taught that one must never stray from ethics, even if it means deviating from the essence."

"Right. That's the conventional wisdom. But I see it differently."

Carmine, who had been staring at the floor, began to take interest, but White pressed on, eyes fixed ahead.

"Interpretations vary by person, but to me, it's proof."

"Proof?"

"No matter how much you explore and advance on your own, if no one else knows, it's just self-satisfaction. That's not inherently bad, but forgotten spells and research become burdens for us to unravel later. Witches live long lives, but wasting time deciphering them feels inefficient."

"Hm... That's why fields like archaeology exist, though..."

"No matter how grand or trivial, ultimately, you must prove it existed. Hiding things can spark curiosity sometimes, but it wears thin eventually. Our current situation is the same. They're pushing for more efficient paths than chasing after Rose-unnie, whose whereabouts are unknown."

The moment White finished, Carmine's feet seemed glued to the ground. Noticing too late that Carmine wasn't following, White turned back—and there stood Carmine, biting her lower lip, her face a mix of fury and sorrow.

"Thou hast said thy piece well enough. In the end, thou would have me prove that Rose lives and can return?"

White's expression remained impassive, unchanged since entering the meeting hall. Only her pale peridot-like green eyes gazed steadily at Carmine.

"Yes. Otherwise, Nihilum's witches won't budge. That's just how witches are."

"......I thought thee different from Red."

"Red-unnie's reaction is perfectly natural. I think the same."

"Even witches share blood with their sisters...!"

"......"

White fell silent. As a teacher and researcher in magical engineering at the Witch Academy, she viewed all witches as specimens; she couldn't let emotions sway her. But Carmine couldn't comprehend her to the end.

"Rose tried. She approached the heartless witches without hesitation, prepared lavish feasts of delicacies to foster unity."

"No, that's just because our unnie's a total glutton..."

"Thanks to her efforts, those around her began to open up. I hear the Witch Academy even has a gourmet club now, in honor of her antics. But even she couldn't reach her own sisters, it seems..."

"......"

Unable to bear it any longer, Carmine brushed past White and strode away.

"I trust my friend. Rose Crimson will surely return."

With the solid clack of eastern shoes—not high heels, but blunt-heeled ones—Carmine departed. White didn't try to stop her. She didn't even look her way, maintaining her own pace all the way to her workshop.

As she stepped outside, a warm breeze greeted her. Though Nihilum floated high above the clouds, massive barriers blocked external gales, and magical devices regulated the internal climate, ensuring a bountiful quality of life. The architecture ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and facilities were flawless paragons, mocking imperial capitals—perfectly suited to witches walking the path of magic.

Passing through Nihilum's bustling central district, she arrived at an elegant mansion. Beneath it lay White's private space for magical research. The vast ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chamber housed all manner of magical devices, most developed or under study by White herself. It might seem excessive for personal use, but for the genius dubbed the prodigy of magical engineering, it was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠modestly humble.

And there, in the workshop, a petite blonde beastkin girl with cat ears and a tail diligently jotted notes. White's assistant, Maya.

The moment White entered, Maya set down her charts and rushed over.

"Professor~! Welcome back! You took longer than expected."

"Yeah. Nothing happen while I was gone?"

"Nope!"

Seeing Maya's vigorous nod, White's perpetual blank expression softened into a faint smile.

"Oh, right! A letter came from the Magic Tower."

At those words, White's demeanor flipped 180 degrees.

"Maya, where's that letter now?"

"On the drawer next to the mana stone decomposer."

"Got it. That's it for today—head home. Tomorrow's a holiday, so see you after."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Maya snapped to attention, tail straight up, saluting with her hand blade to her brow—not a knight's salute, but some inexplicable gesture. Every time White saw it, she thought of her second sister, who had instilled such odd knowledge in her assistant, and sighed inwardly.

White waved dismissively, and Maya beamed innocently as she left. Once she was gone, White headed straight for the letter.

There it sat atop the drawer. Picking it up revealed the Magic Tower's star-shaped seal on the back. White tore open the envelope, unfolded the neatly creased paper, and read line by line. The opening praised her achievements in embarrassingly florid terms, so she skimmed past to the main point.

And there it was—the sentence she'd longed for.

"......A third party's mana."

White absently twirled a lock of her long side hair.

The sample she'd sent to the Magic Tower was the composite mana of Rose Crimson and her familiar spear Laurus, plus the mana of the Sky God she'd faced. The third party the tower mentioned was undoubtedly Sonia von Trigrad, who had fled the battlefield at the war's outset and was now recuperating in Leafrun, the wood elves' nation.

But the fact that her mana wasn't pure—instead fused with the Sky God's—contradicted Sonia's testimony right after the war. According to her, when she returned to the field, Rose and Laurus were already gone, leaving only the god's corpse. Laurus alone had later been found dormant in the northern mountains.

Crumple—

Her fist clenched unconsciously, crumpling the letter.

"Sonia... You won't escape this time."

White had her suspicions, but without hard evidence, she'd been unable to act. Like the other witches, she'd acted coldly, gathering proof through external aid.

And now, she would prove it.

That Rose Crimson had been made to vanish from this world by someone.

This was the fruition of White's month-long efforts.