Hate me, Miss Witch!

Norton was one of the very few family elders who didn't show hatred when facing her; he would even ask about her well-being with concern. But now it seemed it was all fake. It was nothing more than a chess player's pretense towards his own pieces.

The life named 'Silvia' was like a drama already arranged by others. All her joy, sorrow, the light in her despair, her aspirations, and hopes—all were actually lies meticulously designed by them.

A girl yearning for light ran clumsily through the Darkness, flailing her arms, futilely trying to grasp that faint beam. Meanwhile, those who planned this drama merely stood behind the scenes, pointing and critiquing the actor's clumsy performance on stage.

Silvia lay quietly on the cold ground, feeling the power from the Bronze Crucifix within her, her own life force also draining away little by little. When Norton finally usurped all the Twilight Authority, that would be her time of death. Yes, in their eyes, she was just a key. And a key that had outlived its usefulness naturally had only one fate: to be broken off in the lock.

Silvia turned her head slightly, her hollow gaze fixed on the silent, black-haired boy standing to the side. Brother Shiayar, Silvia silently called out in her heart.

Even though she had faced such betrayal, at this moment, looking at Shiayar, that familiar address still flashed through Silvia's mind. There was no reason; perhaps it was merely habit.

For some reason, in these final moments of her Life, as she faced Shiayar, Silvia's heart did not harbor much spite or hatred. Compared to those clan members who had regarded her as a menace from the start, so loath even to chat with her that they feared being sullied by her presence, Brother Shiayar, at least, had been willing to come to her side. Even if he was only acting, he had put some genuine effort into being with her. He had even allowed Silvia to behold a glimpse of the Bright World before her death. Though it was just a fleeting moment of light, she was already content.

Silvia's life force was ebbing away at an accelerating rate. On the other side, the dim Divine Power transformed into a blazing aura, enveloping Norton and burning fiercely around him.

At this moment, Norton was fully immersed in the process of his ascension. He had a premonition: with just one more step, he would complete his metamorphosis from human to Demigod.

This was an unprecedented feat. Others on the Western Continent might have achieved similar things, but no clear and definite records had ever existed. Even if the Legendary Beastmaster were present, they would likely fix their gaze firmly on Norton, terrified of missing the instant he crossed the threshold between human and god.

But Silvia was indifferent to the commotion on Norton's side. She simply gazed silently at the familiar yet strange person beside her. In these final moments of her Life, Silvia wanted to imprint Shiayar's image into the deepest recesses of her Soul.

But then, in the next instant, Silvia's eyes suddenly widened in shock.

She saw the black-haired, dark-eyed boy. He had always stood off to the side, his face downcast, and until now, had not even glanced her way once. At that moment, he suddenly lifted his head.

In Shiayar's seemingly empty hand, a silver-white gun materialized out of thin air. Its sleek barrel pointed straight at Norton, who was, at that moment, consumed with a look of frenzy.

A ten-thousandth of a breath later, his slender finger pulled the trigger.

CLICK—

The muzzle erupted with fierce flames, illuminating Silvia's hollow, lifeless eyes.