Even the harsh and unyielding winter of the North eventually comes to an end.

Though the nights remain bitterly cold, the midday sun now brings enough warmth that Northerners can momentarily shed their fur coats.

Spring has arrived in the North.

"…Where is this?"

Arina Rune Renslet felt the scent of early spring and the gentle sunlight streaming through the barred window.

She relished the soft sensation of a bed and blankets—luxuries she hadn’t experienced in what felt like an eternity.

Simultaneously, she frowned, feeling the discomfort of having gone far too long without a proper bath.

And so, Arina Rune Renslet opened her eyes.

"…!"

Sitting up, Arina looked around.

The familiar sight of her room, a place she had yearned for during her time in the Abyss, spread out before her.

Could this be a dream?

Unconsciously, Arina pinched her cheek.

‘Come to think of it, the last thing I remember…?’

Her memory trailed back to the moments before she lost consciousness.

– The North! I hate this accursed North with every fiber of my being!

Her expression hardened as she recalled Doyle’s betrayal.

– Then, how about welcoming me as your national treasure?

– Because you’re far too beautiful?

Her rigid expression softened, her cheeks flushing as she remembered the conversation with Arad.

"Are you awake?"

A gentle voice echoed from the corner of the room.

"…."

Arina turned to the source of the voice, her lips pursing in dissatisfaction.

"Must you always conceal your presence like that?"

"Hohohoho! It’s a habit, my lady," the figure replied with a soft laugh.

The speaker, a woman with a plump figure and a face lined with age, could have been mistaken for a typical old village woman by anyone unfamiliar with her. She approached Arina in her simple tunic.

"Grandmother…"

"Yes, yes, my lady."

"This time… it was too hard."

Like a child seeking comfort, Arina buried her face into the embrace of Isabelle, the Spring Witch.

If her knights or the bureaucrats who respected her saw this scene, they would have been too shocked to speak.

"Indeed. You’ve endured so much," Isabelle said soothingly.

Arina’s biological mother, the Grand Duchess Renslet, had passed away when Arina was just a toddler. For this reason, she had been raised under the care of Isabelle.

Her father, Baikal Rune Renslet, though deeply fond of his daughter, was often too preoccupied with affairs of state and repelling external invasions to spend much time with her.

To Arina, Isabelle was a nanny, tutor, and chief maid all rolled into one.

"Are you feeling well?" Isabelle asked as she examined Arina carefully.

No matter how thorough her own scrutiny, the person best suited to assess her condition was Arina herself.

"I feel fine. Refreshed. But more than anything, I want to bathe."

"I’ve already instructed the maids to prepare warm bathwater for you."

"And there’s someone I must meet and thank."

"Arad Jin, I presume?"

"Yes. He’s someone to whom I—and all of the North—owe a great debt."

Arina spoke as though ignoring her conversation with Arad from before she lost consciousness.

"Arad Jin is currently staying at High Castle. He’s doing quite well, especially popular among the witches."

"The witches?"

"Indeed. After all, he’s the famed creator of Arad’s Salt."

"He’s a benefactor of the North. I hope the witches don’t bother him too much."

"Of course. I’ve already warned them sternly."

"Do the witches even listen to you?"

"Not very well, do they?"

"But… is it safe? Arad is a mage. I’d hate for him to accidentally violate the witches’ covenants."

"They’re not children. They’ll manage on their own."

"…."

"If you’re so concerned, you should bathe, have a meal, and go meet him yourself," Isabelle said with a smile. Then, after taking a deep breath, she added, "However, Your Grace…"

"Hmm?"

"Because of your recent injury, your lower dantian is empty. Although your life and your dantian have been miraculously restored, you’ll have to start learning swordsmanship from the very beginning."

"…I understand."

From the moment she awoke, she had felt both a sense of refreshment and an undeniable emptiness.

It pained her to know that the core she had cultivated throughout her life had vanished, but she wasn’t despairing.

She was still young, and her mind and body vividly remembered the sword. She believed regaining her former skills was only a matter of time.

"Alternatively, there is another path," Isabelle said, her tone suddenly weighty.

"Another path?"

"To learn magic instead of the sword."

"…?"

At Isabelle’s unexpected suggestion, Arina’s eyebrows shot up.

"Your Grace, this might be a chance to study magic. Incidentally, there are now two circles within your heart."

"Circles… in my heart?"

Arina quickly placed a hand over her chest.

"It seems that when your dantian was destroyed, part of the core transferred to your heart."

Arina felt the unfamiliar energy within her heart and asked cautiously, "You’re suggesting I learn magic?"

Isabelle nodded slowly and replied, "Of course, the decision is yours to make."

"Learning both magic and swordsmanship would…"

"No matter how remarkable it is that Your Grace ascended to the position of the youngest Sword Master, mastering both swordsmanship and magic is an impossible feat. Your body would not endure it."

Magic... Arina recalled the events that transpired in the Abyss.

Had she mastered magic instead of the sword, perhaps she wouldn’t have suffered as she did.

‘The North already has sufficient knights. On the other hand, magic is sorely lacking.’

In that moment, the situation felt almost like a revelation.

Arina’s lips quivered as she hesitated to speak.

Then, suddenly, a voice echoed in her mind:

– Arina, my beloved daughter. The pride of Renslet. You are a once-in-a-millennium genius.

– You could reach the pinnacle of the sword. The legendary Grand Sword Master beyond the realm of the Sword Master.

It was a voice she cherished deeply but could never hear again.

– I wish to see you attain that height.

Her father’s words from his lifetime had now become his final will to her.

"......"

Arina remained silent for a moment before shaking her head resolutely. She clasped her rough, calloused hands together and finally spoke.

"No. I will continue down the path of the sword."

Her words were filled with determination.

"......"

Isabelle gazed intently at her young liege, and then she smiled warmly.

"I thought you would say that."

"You knew?"

"Yes. That concludes your mental and memory examination as well."

"......?"

"I’ll teach you only a few basic life spells suitable for a 2-circle mage. They’re quite entertaining and useful."

Arina narrowed her eyes and asked, "And what would you have done if I had chosen the path of magic?"

"Hmm... I might have resorted to using a complete mind-altering spell on you...?"

"Let’s not go down that road."

Arina gave Isabelle a piercing look.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Isabelle tilted her head, smiling in response to her liege’s gaze.

"There’s a smell of blood. Even the hem of your skirt is stained."

It was an odor and sight uncharacteristic of the Spring Witch, who was usually surrounded by the scents of grass and earth.

"There’s been a purge, hasn’t there?"

Arina spoke with a heavy, sunken gaze.

"Yes..."

Isabelle nodded deeply, her eyes carrying a weight of understanding.

"There were far more rats breeding in the shadows than I expected."

"I thought as much."

"Perhaps it’s because we’ve been focused on Haven, filled with Imperial adventurers, and left other areas unchecked."

"The cost of carelessness was steep. It was truly dangerous."

"I heard about Doyle’s betrayal from Sir Balzac. It was my fault for failing to manage the Frostblade Ghosts properly. Please mete out punishment."

"Repaying your debt by exterminating the Empire’s rats will suffice."

"...Understood."

Having entrusted matters of the purge to Isabelle, Arina rose from her seat. Her legs trembled as she stood for the first time after a long period of lying down, and she almost faltered.

"By the way, Your Grace," Isabelle said as she helped Arina steady herself.

"Speak, Grandmother."

"What do you know about this man, Arad Jin?"

"...I don’t know his exact identity either."

"Indeed? He’s far too suspicious..."

"But he saved not only me but the entire North. I will not tolerate any harm coming to him. Never."

Arina’s unwavering trust in Arad Jin was evident.

"......!"

Isabelle looked at her with wide eyes, clearly startled.

"And... I do have a theory about Arad Jin’s identity."

Intrigued, Isabelle leaned closer as Arina spoke cautiously.

"Please, tell me."

Isabelle guided Arina toward the bath as she kept her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Ahem!" Arina cleared her throat, scanning her surroundings. The aftermath of the great purge was evident in the absence of any servants or maids along the hallway to the bath.

"Arad Jin is... perhaps..."

Arina leaned in close to Isabelle, her voice barely above a whisper.

"An Ancient One."

"Pardon...?"

"The Abyss is full of dungeons created during the ancient Golden Age. He’s likely a mage from that era, sealed in one of those dungeons and recently awakened."

"......?"

The Golden Age was a civilization that had existed approximately five thousand years ago.

Arina’s conviction stemmed from her experience with space-time distortion barriers in the Abyss. If such barriers were possible today, then in an era when magical technology was at its peak, they would have been even more advanced.

"Hmm... But he seemed far kinder and more gentle than the legends describe..."

"......?"

Isabelle could hardly believe her ears. Her expression turned into one of disbelief—an expression she rarely wore in her lifetime.

Her theory had been that Arad was a low-ranking mage who had stumbled upon ancient ruins from the Golden Age. But Arina’s claim far exceeded her expectations.

"Why... why do you think that? From what I’ve observed, Arad Jin’s magic seems to be at the level of a 1-circle or 2-circle mage."

"That’s exactly why."

"Excuse me?"

"From Arad’s Salt to the Golden Carriage, blazing magical arrows, and even an elixir. Those are not feats achievable by a mere 2-circle mage."

"Well... that’s true..."

"He must be concealing his power for some reason. Either that, or he lost much of his strength after being unsealed."

"Hmm..."

At Isabelle’s stunned reaction, Arina smiled triumphantly, mistaking Isabelle’s bewilderment as awe at her theory.

‘A barrier that bends time by thousands of years... It could be possible with extreme manipulation of subspace or gravity. But...’

To Isabelle, who had studied magic deeply, Arina’s explanation lacked plausibility.

‘To distort time by five thousand years would require all the dragons in legend to awaken. The energy consumption grows exponentially with the degree of distortion.’

Even if such techniques existed in the Golden Age, it was nonsensical.

‘If that were the case, there would be countless Ancient Ones awakening across the continent, not just Arad.’

The theory that Arad might be a dragon seemed more plausible.

However, Isabelle didn’t believe that either. To her, Arad was simply a low-ranking mage who had been fortunate enough to stumble upon ancient Golden Age ruins.

‘Hmm...’

Isabelle deliberated over how to respond to her pure-hearted liege.

Should she counter Arina’s theory with the conclusions she and the witches had reached?

Or should she protect her liege’s youthful fantasy?

‘Mistaking a low-ranking mage for an Ancient One from the Golden Age is problematic.’

Moreover, Arina was the ruler of the North! She couldn’t afford mistakes in judgment.

"Your Grace..."

Isabelle prepared to correct Arina.

"Grandmother, I have a question."

"Yes?"

Before Isabelle could speak, Arina continued.

"I’m genuinely curious about this... Is it possible for someone from the ancient Golden Age to have a child with a person from the present?"

"?!"

Arina’s face was flushed with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity as she asked.

It was a look Isabelle had never seen in all the years she had known her, since Arina was an infant.

"Yes... It’s possible. The people of the Golden Age and those of today are the same species."

"I-I see!"

"Moreover, you’re a Northerner, aren’t you? You know that the Northerners share roots with the barbarian druids, correct?"

"I know."

"The ancestors of those barbarian druids were the Ancient Ones from the Golden Age. They were called nature sorcerers."

"I think I heard that from my father when I was young. In any case... it doesn’t matter. That’s a relief."

"?!"

‘That reaction?! Surely not...!’

Seeing Arina’s unmistakable expression, Isabelle screamed internally.

‘Spring has finally come for our lady!’

Isabelle’s mind raced.

A background of being an Ancient One from five thousand years ago was undoubtedly more appealing than just being a lucky low-ranking mage.

‘For now, I’ll wait and see!’

Thus, Isabelle decided to let things unfold naturally.

Spring had come to the North, and it seemed it had finally come for the Northern Grand Duchess as well.

She thought that revealing the truth could wait until their relationship grew closer.