Chapter Sixty-Seven: Unparalleled Beauty

At the very moment Procis removed her hat, everyone around her drew in a sharp breath—not because her appearance was hideous or unbearable, but quite the opposite. Procis’s features were so exquisite as to be nearly flawless, so breathtakingly beautiful that it was almost unsettling—yes, even frightening. Indeed, it was fear. This woman seemed as though the Creator Himself had lavished upon her the most extreme favor, bestowing an almost perfect appearance. She stood before them like a goddess, her beauty as blinding as the sun at its zenith. Her delicate brows furrowed slightly; her cheeks, as smooth as polished ivory, betrayed a hint of impatience. To wipe away the filth on her body, she carelessly rolled up her sleeves, gently biting those seductive lips that seemed to steal the very breath from one’s chest, vigorously rubbing herself clean with her hat, over and over again.

Ordinarily, women are particularly sensitive to dirt and filth, and it’s perfectly normal to want to clean oneself at the slightest stain. Yet Procis continued to scrub the same spot for over ten minutes, and from her expression, it seemed she intended to keep at it.

Is she obsessive about cleanliness? Vil wondered to himself, frowning in perplexity. He found it hard to imagine that a woman who didn’t even bother to wipe away the blood of others splattered across her face could be a clean freak. Yet, judging by her current behavior, she was the very picture of one—and quite severely so.

With a sigh, Vil stepped forward and drew his wand from his robe. He intoned a simple water spell with utmost seriousness, and with a flick of his wand, a sphere of azure water appeared before Procis. If one looked closely, a tiny whirlpool spun at the center of the sphere, slowly turning, setting the whole orb in gentle motion.

Under Vil’s control, the sphere hovered to Procis and began to wash away the grime clinging to her, cleansing her thoroughly. When the last trace of dirt was gone, not even the faintest hint of dampness remained on her clothing.

“Phew…” Procis exhaled deeply. Though the environment around her remained harsh and unforgiving, her mood had markedly improved.

“Heh, I nearly forgot you’re a water mage… It may be a simple water spell, but it’s solved my biggest problem!” Now that her greatest annoyance was resolved, Procis’s spirits soared. She didn’t even bother to rebuke the narrow-eyed men who were eyeing her with barely concealed greed, wiping drool from their chins.

“Well then, boy, since I’m in a good mood, I’ll grant you one request…” Procis winked at Vil. Before he could reply, she added with a sly smile, “Of course, it has to be reasonable. If your request is too outrageous… not only will I refuse, I might just kill you.”

At the utterance of those last three words, Vil felt an indescribable chill sweep over him. Damn this woman, she still found time to threaten him, even now!

Vil understood perfectly well what Procis meant by an outrageous request. Her warning was simply to quash any thoughts he might have had about asking for an artifact. She fixed him with an unwavering gaze, the corners of her lips curling in a playful smirk. Outwardly, she was expressing her thanks for his help; in reality, she was subtly hinting—forget about asking for an artifact, but you may request some other form of compensation.

Vil sighed inwardly. From the very first moment he’d met this woman, he’d been utterly outmatched, never given even a sliver of opportunity to resist. Procis might appear capricious and unpredictable, but in truth, her every word and action was calculated and precise. Her cunning was at least the equal of that sly fat man, Charlesburg.

And most importantly, Procis had discovered his secret.

Due to the nature of their bodies, mages could only specialize in a single school of magic. Rarely, a mage might be born with two magical attributes, allowing them to practice two types of magic—a nearly unbreakable law in the world of magic. Yet Vil had shattered that law.

A mage who could master seven different schools of magic—if word of that ever got out, the consequences would be unimaginable. Even someone as powerful as Procis, nearly at the level of an Archmage, might not be able to resist such a temptation. Perhaps that was the very reason she hadn’t simply killed him outright…

Vil mused silently. Still, staying by Procis’s side was far safer than remaining near that cunning fox Charlesburg. As for how to achieve true safety…

An idea suddenly sparked in Vil’s mind—an excellent one.

“Honored Lady Triss, are you truly willing to grant me any one request? Of course, don’t worry, I won’t ask for anything excessive or unreasonable…”

As Vil spoke, Procis’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Just now, he’d addressed her with the formal “you,” a level of respect he hadn’t shown in the three or four days they’d traveled together. Until now, it had always been the casually familiar “you” or “Lady Triss.” Given Vil’s cunning, which belied his youth, a sense of foreboding crept into Procis’s heart.

“Ah! That’s wonderful!” Vil’s face lit up with a look of delighted longing as he gazed at Procis. “In that case, I ask you to take me as your student!”

“What?” Procis was stunned by Vil’s request, staring at him in disbelief. This cunning boy had made such a request!

Yes, it was perfectly normal for a fourth-tier mage to seek apprenticeship under a Grand Mage. Yet, given the peculiar relationship between her and Vil, this request would instantly establish a subtle and complicated bond between them.

“Honored Master Triss, you are the president of the Vira Empire’s Mage Guild, a four-star court mage of the imperial palace—the very pinnacle every mage aspires to reach. I have admired you since childhood. I know my request may sound abrupt, but I am truly passionate about magic—I wish to restore magic’s former glory across the continent!”

Hearing this, Procis was seized by the urge to strangle the boy on the spot. All this talk of honor, aspirations, admiration—pure nonsense! His sole purpose was to secure a legitimate reason to stay by her side and enjoy her protection!

Yet, when Procis heard Vil’s last words, a long-dormant warmth stirred in her chest.

A true love of magic… to restore its former glory…

Once, long ago, she too had uttered those very words. But as the years passed, that youthful passion had gradually faded.

Restore magic’s glory? Hmph, naïve and ignorant boy…

With a silent sigh, Procis gazed at Vil and finally nodded. “Very well… from this day forward, you are my student. Let me introduce myself formally then. My name is Triss Myer Procis, Ninth-Tier Grand Mage of Fire, president of the Vira Empire Mage Guild, and, in addition, a four-star court mage of the Imperial Royal Household.”