The Villainess is the Villainess [LitRPG]

Book 2: Chapter 23 - Crystal Clarity [Part 1]

There are two powers in the world; one is the sword and the other is the pen. There is a great competition and rivalry between the two. There is a third power stronger than both, that of women.

- Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

Seraphina did something she rarely allowed herself to do: she hesitated. She hovered before the display of scrolls, each one pulsing with arcane promise, every etched symbol murmuring of power. Every scroll filled with imparted madness upon their parchment and vellum.

It was not in her nature to pause—especially now, in front of curious onlookers—but this choice held profound consequences. If she admitted to already being Gifted by Mana, to already being a Mage, she would also have to explain exactly how. That meant revealing the lie of omission. On the other hand, choosing another Path meant willingly binding herself to a second torrent of magic, one that could warp her mind and unravel her sense of self.

For a moment, she stood there, a beautiful figure as if taken from a masterpiece, a figure with determination in her gaze and tension in the set of her shoulders. She remembered every scrap of lore and cautionary tale about those few who dared to master more than one element. Old mages who managed a single aspect of magic were already as rare as dragon tears. Those who mastered two were things of myth and legend.

Yet Seraphina, who in her opinion had lived enough for three lifetimes, needed power and needed power now. Real, formidable power. And she knew, with a certainty born from her own confidence and achievements, that if anyone could achieve the impossible, it was her. Still, traces of treacherous doubt disguised as caution remained.

"Oh, and the first test for you all!" Belfrost's voice rang out in instruction. "Is not to cast your magic until I tell you to do so!"

Listening with only half an ear, she steadied her breathing and surveyed the collection of scrolls. The Elements Major. Each was laid out carefully, as though the Academy wanted to show the breadth of the known magic of the world. The scrolls seemed almost alive under the Zajasite lights, their symbols twisting at the edges of her mortal comprehension. First, she noticed a rare Scroll of Fire with a script somewhat different from her own family's treasure. Next, as though mirroring the set from her past, Scrolls of Earth. Then Water. And, most perilous of all, a single Scroll of Wind—a Path so notorious that no mage in recorded history had ever truly mastered its call.

Further down, she glimpsed more esoteric Paths. A Scroll of Shadow caught her eye, sending a shiver down her spine at the memory of cautionary tales: those who embraced Shadow inevitably became shadows themselves—hollow, haunted, and half-gone from the world. Nature magic was likewise on offer. Popular, yes, and safer in theory, but working with her Holy magic would test her resolve at every turn. And even "safer" was a trite word, for to walk the Path of Mana was to dance on the razor's edge of forbidden power.

She searched for a Scroll of Identify—one she would have liked above all else—but, the Sages of Quas kept their precious knowledge close, doling it out rarely and grudgingly. That door was closed as there was none available.

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There had to be something else, something that would counterbalance the power of the Covenant magic that was growing its roots ever deeper inside her. If not a perfect opposite, then at least a Path that pulled in a different direction, one that offered clarity where the Divine threatened to make her too soft of memory and more altruistic. A fleeting mental image of a spreadsheet from her previous life wafted through her thoughts, but it was fading like an old dream, details blurring by the day.

She knew there was a Path that, at first, would be almost useless—precipitous in its use Mana and awkward in its utility and application. Still, it promised clarity, a sharp focus that could cut through the gentle haze Holy magic might one day impose on her mind. That same clarity could, if she was careless, tip her into obsession. But such was the gamble of power: to embrace it fully, was always a gamble.

Her decision crystallized in that instant. In this world, talk of souls weighed heavy. Magic tugged at that intangible core, straining a Mage's sense of identity. Carrying two Paths would press twice as hard on her essence. She would face a constant struggle to remain whole, to stay Seraphina. But her entire life, especially the worthwhile parts, had been a vivid tapestry of struggle. Stagnation and safety were not options she could abide.

"So be it," she whispered under her breath, setting her jaw. Gathering her courage, she gently slid Eloise, her ever-faithful lady-in-waiting, from her arm. Then, ignoring the curious stares of the other students still wrestling with their own choices, Seraphina squared her shoulders and moved. She was not entirely sure whether she chose the scroll, or if Fate itself chose the scroll for her.

Ironically, it was the same choice that the original Seraphina—her other self, with eyes for glittering jewels, had also taken. A slender hand reached out, drawn to an unassuming parchment set apart from the rest: Crystal.

The moment her fingertips brushed its surface, the scroll's magic seemed to leap up, hungry and electric. Arcs of energy raced along her skin, colliding and mingling with the power she already carried within. There was a searing warmth, then an internal clash as Covenant magic fought to keep its territory. Like two wild beasts in the same cage, they snarled, hissed, and battled for space in her soul.

Seraphina felt her mind flooded and flayed with new words of power. They etched themselves onto her already straining spirit like living runes, demanding recognition and most demanding. The pain was shocking—an agony that pitched her onto her knees. She heard the collective gasp from the surrounding students, felt their eyes pinned on her, and a flush of mortification burned even through the bolts of torment that coursed along her nerves.

Dimly, she recalled her mother's tales of childbirth, how she'd always promise Seraphina ominously that she would "understand one day." Now the young noblewoman feared that she understood all too well.

Wait a moment… were those her memories or her memories? she thought for a moment before suffering from a fresh lance of pain.

She felt as though she was being reborn—her soul and body forcefully reshaped around the second Path. Clenching her teeth, Seraphina let out a strangled scream. The syllables echoed high into the domed ceiling of the Academy's hall, bouncing among the torches and echoing in the hush that followed.

She might have fainted from the agony if not for her unyielding spirit. Instead, she rode the wave of pain, let it shudder through her in one final explosion of feverish light. When the bright agony began to recede, a tight pressure settled in her chest—an uneasy truce between Holy magic and Crystal, each occupying its own patch of her consciousness.